We had an interesting sequence of events here the other day.
One of Kubota's friends came over to visit him. Redneck opened the door and started walking across the living room to the hall that leads to Kubota's bedroom.
Zeus, our younger German Shepherd nipped at his butt.
Redneck looked over at Mrs ERJ and said, "I don't know what is with that dog. He always does that to me!" implying that our dog was inherently unstable and perhaps even dangerous. It is telling that Zeus only does that to Redneck.
Mrs ERJ replayed the sequence events over in her mind and then she told Redneck "Zeus knows that he is a watchdog. You do not live here. You did not knock on the door. You did not wait for me to let you in. You greeted neither one of us as you walked across the room toward the bedrooms. What do you think a guard dog should do under those circumstances?"
Redneck responded with something like, "Well, I texted Kubota and he knew I was coming."
Mrs ERJ observed, "I guess Zeus did not read that text. Next time knock when you come to the door and wait for me to let you in."
Frankly, I think Zeus showed a lot of restraint. He nipped at Redneck's butt-cheek rather than ripping a chunk out of it. Basically, Zeus was saying, "I am keeping an eye on you."
I wonder how many good dogs, dogs who were simply doing their jobs, have been put down because a guest ignored the common rituals of being greeted and welcomed into a home.
Friday, August 25, 2017
Differences between Socialism and Communism
Sometime I will find myself engaged in discussion from a person who is "left" of my political inclinations.
Often they will defend themselves saying that they are not Communists. Nope, everybody knows Communism does not work. They are Socialists. Much, much better than Communism, that.
My curiosity piqued I looked at Wikipedia to tease apart the differences between Socialism and Communism. This is what I found:
So there you have it, in English speaking countries Communism and Socialism is identical except Socialists only hate Catholics while Communists hate all people who practice religion.
I hope this was helpful.
Often they will defend themselves saying that they are not Communists. Nope, everybody knows Communism does not work. They are Socialists. Much, much better than Communism, that.
My curiosity piqued I looked at Wikipedia to tease apart the differences between Socialism and Communism. This is what I found:
The words socialism and communism eventually accorded with the adherents' and opponents' cultural attitude towards religion....In Protestant England, the word communism was too culturally and aurally close to the Roman Catholic communion rite; hence, English atheists denoted themselves socialists.
So there you have it, in English speaking countries Communism and Socialism is identical except Socialists only hate Catholics while Communists hate all people who practice religion.
I hope this was helpful.
Mr Pepper is a hellova shot...
I had a question via email regarding a comment I made about Mr Pepper.
"Mr Pepper is a hellova shot. He once killed 13 possum with one shot."
First, a few details about Mr Pepper.
His wife left him shortly after this song came out. She left him with four kids and the two youngest were still in school. Life was too hard for her. After she left, life became twice as hard for everybody she left behind.
About ten years ago Mr Pepper was sure he was on the brink of death. He decided that the only way to ensure that his property was divided to his satisfaction was to do it himself. He knew that the division of property can destroy families. Families have been known to irreparably shatter over inherited property, even to the point of exchanging blows and gunfire.
Also, somewhere he had heard that professional estate executors took a healthy percentage of the estate. Mr Pepper had some farm property and some vehicles but very little folding money. A typical probate sequence would involve selling the property thus incurring a 7% hit and then another haircut administered by the trustee.
Mr Pepper dragged himself off his deathbed and went to the county seat some ten miles away. He deeded his house to his oldest daughter and split up the farm into three pieces of equal acreage and handed them out to his three younger children. Then he went back to his sick bed to die.
It did not go well from the very beginning. Two of his sons came to blows when they figured out that "Dad" had run one of the dividing lines right across the middle of the Honey Hole, the best deer stand in this corner of Eaton County. The friends of the oldest daughter introduced her to Home Equity Loans and the economy of Los Vegas picked up. Mr Pepper's son, the one who inherited the slice with the best road access, built a house and assured Mr Pepper that he was including a bedroom for him in the unlikely event Mr Pepper pulled through.
Mr Pepper survived. There was no extra bedroom.
Mr Pepper now lives in a 20 foot travel trailer that is parked in the barn he used to own. He heats with wood. The smoke stack goes through a hole cut in the roof of the trailer and then through hole in the roof of the barn. He is electrified by a 16 gauge extension cord. The barn itself is badly tattered. A third of the roof is blown off. Several of the rafters are split and the bases of the center support poles are gnawed to nubbins from being hit for decades by the Bobcat scraping cow shit.
He would heat with LP gas except for the fact that his kids and grandkids steal from him. It is bad enough when they steal his firewood and his chainsaw. But he can identify his chainsaw and steal it back. He can always cut more wood. He hides the gas can. The problem with LP gas cylinders is that they are anonymous and they, and the contents, cost real money. That $700 a month that he gets does not go very far.
This information does not come tumbling out of Mr Pepper. He is not a complainer. This information leaks out in tiny dribs and drabs over the years. Mr Pepper has little use for whiners. His people are from Central Europe. They were "Hunkies".
For those who are unfamiliar with the term, "Hunkies" were the bleached-out "niggers" who worked the steel mills of Gary and Pittsburgh before the industrial north realized that "niggers" were available in technicolor. Ironically, "Hunkie" morphed to "Honky". It is a truism that the competition is fiercest for the first rung of the social ladder. In this regard Karl Marx could not have been more wrong. He believed that all competition was due to class differences. It is easy for Gates and Zuckerberg to be gracious. Their livelihoods are not threatened.
Mr Pepper does not have much, but what Mr Pepper does have is cats. He has five or six and that number stays constant because he has a defective tomcat. His tomcat is either gay or nearly sterile. The exact reason is not relevant. The important thing is that the number of barn cats neither rises nor sinks by any great amount.
They are barn cats. A twenty foot travel trailer does not have much room and Mr Pepper has no easy means of laundering soiled bedding or clothing. He simply cannot afford the territorial monkey-business of inside cats. So his five or six cats stay outside and keep him company when he is "wrenching" on one of his trucks or sitting outside watching the contrails in the sky.
He feeds them in the barn about fifteen feet from his travel trailer.
And they become very talkative when a boar coon, possum or skunk comes into the barn and starts to eat their food. The walls of the trailer might as well be made of tissue paper for all the sound they block out. Mr Pepper sits up and plucks his single-shot 20 gauge from the bracket above the window. He cocks the hammer and pokes the barrel out the window which he leaves cracked for 12 months of the year. You need damned good ventilation if you burn wood in a rotted out woodstove in a very confined space.
Then he shoots the varmint from fifteen feet away.
He does not have much of a pattern and the shot skitter all over the place after bouncing off the concrete floor and hitting the engine blocks he uses for backstops. But this is not a story of how the skipping shot obliterated unintended targets. That is a story for another day although I can share that Mr Pepper hates spending money on window glass.
One of possum he got last year was a mother carrying twelve kits. Those are the details of the story of Mr Pepper slaying 13 possum with one shot.
"Mr Pepper is a hellova shot. He once killed 13 possum with one shot."
First, a few details about Mr Pepper.
His wife left him shortly after this song came out. She left him with four kids and the two youngest were still in school. Life was too hard for her. After she left, life became twice as hard for everybody she left behind.
About ten years ago Mr Pepper was sure he was on the brink of death. He decided that the only way to ensure that his property was divided to his satisfaction was to do it himself. He knew that the division of property can destroy families. Families have been known to irreparably shatter over inherited property, even to the point of exchanging blows and gunfire.
Also, somewhere he had heard that professional estate executors took a healthy percentage of the estate. Mr Pepper had some farm property and some vehicles but very little folding money. A typical probate sequence would involve selling the property thus incurring a 7% hit and then another haircut administered by the trustee.
Mr Pepper dragged himself off his deathbed and went to the county seat some ten miles away. He deeded his house to his oldest daughter and split up the farm into three pieces of equal acreage and handed them out to his three younger children. Then he went back to his sick bed to die.
It did not go well from the very beginning. Two of his sons came to blows when they figured out that "Dad" had run one of the dividing lines right across the middle of the Honey Hole, the best deer stand in this corner of Eaton County. The friends of the oldest daughter introduced her to Home Equity Loans and the economy of Los Vegas picked up. Mr Pepper's son, the one who inherited the slice with the best road access, built a house and assured Mr Pepper that he was including a bedroom for him in the unlikely event Mr Pepper pulled through.
Mr Pepper survived. There was no extra bedroom.
Mr Pepper now lives in a 20 foot travel trailer that is parked in the barn he used to own. He heats with wood. The smoke stack goes through a hole cut in the roof of the trailer and then through hole in the roof of the barn. He is electrified by a 16 gauge extension cord. The barn itself is badly tattered. A third of the roof is blown off. Several of the rafters are split and the bases of the center support poles are gnawed to nubbins from being hit for decades by the Bobcat scraping cow shit.
He would heat with LP gas except for the fact that his kids and grandkids steal from him. It is bad enough when they steal his firewood and his chainsaw. But he can identify his chainsaw and steal it back. He can always cut more wood. He hides the gas can. The problem with LP gas cylinders is that they are anonymous and they, and the contents, cost real money. That $700 a month that he gets does not go very far.
This information does not come tumbling out of Mr Pepper. He is not a complainer. This information leaks out in tiny dribs and drabs over the years. Mr Pepper has little use for whiners. His people are from Central Europe. They were "Hunkies".
For those who are unfamiliar with the term, "Hunkies" were the bleached-out "niggers" who worked the steel mills of Gary and Pittsburgh before the industrial north realized that "niggers" were available in technicolor. Ironically, "Hunkie" morphed to "Honky". It is a truism that the competition is fiercest for the first rung of the social ladder. In this regard Karl Marx could not have been more wrong. He believed that all competition was due to class differences. It is easy for Gates and Zuckerberg to be gracious. Their livelihoods are not threatened.
Mr Pepper does not have much, but what Mr Pepper does have is cats. He has five or six and that number stays constant because he has a defective tomcat. His tomcat is either gay or nearly sterile. The exact reason is not relevant. The important thing is that the number of barn cats neither rises nor sinks by any great amount.
They are barn cats. A twenty foot travel trailer does not have much room and Mr Pepper has no easy means of laundering soiled bedding or clothing. He simply cannot afford the territorial monkey-business of inside cats. So his five or six cats stay outside and keep him company when he is "wrenching" on one of his trucks or sitting outside watching the contrails in the sky.
He feeds them in the barn about fifteen feet from his travel trailer.
And they become very talkative when a boar coon, possum or skunk comes into the barn and starts to eat their food. The walls of the trailer might as well be made of tissue paper for all the sound they block out. Mr Pepper sits up and plucks his single-shot 20 gauge from the bracket above the window. He cocks the hammer and pokes the barrel out the window which he leaves cracked for 12 months of the year. You need damned good ventilation if you burn wood in a rotted out woodstove in a very confined space.
Then he shoots the varmint from fifteen feet away.
He does not have much of a pattern and the shot skitter all over the place after bouncing off the concrete floor and hitting the engine blocks he uses for backstops. But this is not a story of how the skipping shot obliterated unintended targets. That is a story for another day although I can share that Mr Pepper hates spending money on window glass.
One of possum he got last year was a mother carrying twelve kits. Those are the details of the story of Mr Pepper slaying 13 possum with one shot.
Fake News Friday
Kentucky is famous for many things. Race horses, fine bourbon, basketball teams and Burley tobacco come to mind. But for some inexplicable reason the eponymous product that brings the most joy to people's lives is rarely associated with Kentucky.
This is the time of year when, across the great state of Kentucky but most especially in the coves and hollers of the eastern part of the state, rural families pick the bounteous wild fruits of the field and forest and make huge vats of jams and jellies. Incredible amounts are sold all across the United States and the passion around this product is completely out of proportion to its surprisingly bland flavors and insipid color.
While more seasoned citizens no longer purchase it with the passion of youth, they find comfort and ease during those occasions when they renew their acquaintanceship with this artifact from their youth.
So if you should find yourself blessed to know somebody from Kentucky, take a few minutes sometime in late August, September or October and thank them for their genius.
This is the time of year when, across the great state of Kentucky but most especially in the coves and hollers of the eastern part of the state, rural families pick the bounteous wild fruits of the field and forest and make huge vats of jams and jellies. Incredible amounts are sold all across the United States and the passion around this product is completely out of proportion to its surprisingly bland flavors and insipid color.
While more seasoned citizens no longer purchase it with the passion of youth, they find comfort and ease during those occasions when they renew their acquaintanceship with this artifact from their youth.
So if you should find yourself blessed to know somebody from Kentucky, take a few minutes sometime in late August, September or October and thank them for their genius.
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| Life just would not be as much fun without Ky. Jelly |
Thursday, August 24, 2017
Wetland remediation
Cattails are OK in their place but they are not fun to wade through nor are they particularly ornamental.
Biodiversity, Wetland Remediation and Native Species
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| Purple Loosestrife often grows in association with Cattails. |
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| Canadian Thistle is not really from Canada. It is from Eurasia. |
Believe it or not, there are even species of Cattails that are invasive aliens, the Narrow Leaf Cattail and its hybrids. It is OK to suppress cattails as long as it is to encourage other, native wetland species.
Enter Hibiscus moscheutos (Rose Mallow)
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| Hibiscus moscheutos grows to over six feet in height so they will do a good job screening the cattails. |
It is, after all, a legitimate member of the wetland community found in Michigan. It could happen.
Filbert Seed-nuts
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| This is a gallon bag with nuts from Larry Sibley's seedling that survived the EFB. |
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| Larry's seedling on the left and Grand Traverse on the right in all pictures. |
The amazing thing is that some years he has good pollination. This was not one of those years. The trees looked fine but the nuts were few and far between.
Hoping to help out my friend Larry, I sent an email to Dr Thomas Molnar. Dr Molnar is a filbert breeder at Rutgers University in New Jersey. I asked him if he had any recommendations for pollinators for Grand Traverse.
Dr Molnar answered my questions and sent me a copy of a paper on filbert pollination. While looking at the paper I noticed that the authors of the paper are masters of compressing large amounts of information into compact, easy-to-read charts. I want to share what I saw and try to explain why these charts are so cool.
The pictures
Finding a good pollinator for Grand Traverse involves finding cultivars that have peak shedding period slightly before, during and slightly after Grand Traverse's peak female receptivity.
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| The black arrow pointing in from the left side identifies the pistillate timing for the cultivar 'Grand Traverse'. |
To summarize what is cool about this chart is the amount of information that is embedded within it and the author's use of color schemes that intuitively link the information captured in the chart to the biological realities of the filbert plant: Pollen is yellow and pistils are red.
The Cost of reloading .410 shells
Reader Milton F. asked "What do you estimate the cost (of reloading .410 shells) to be?" in the comments section of the post "The Forgiving Zone".
Capital equipment cost: Essentially zero. This post discusses how one gentleman in Alaska uses common tools to reload .410 shells. Those tools are things like 5/16" and 7/16" sockets and bit drivers.
I intend to cut a funnel with slits in the small end out of material from an old pop bottle to help ease the wad into the case. I may use a piece of broken, fiberglass tent pole instead of the bit driver to press in the wad. I have to play with things to see how it goes.
On a per-hundred basis:
The hulls were given to my by Russ Nelson at Family Shooter's Corral. I buy brass from him and he threw in the hulls just because he likes me. If Russ was out of .410 hulls my plan was to find the local 4-H shooting club and make a donation, then ask the advisor to collect .410 hulls for me to reload.
Powder: I paid about $25 for a pound of H-110 powder at Bob's Gun Shop in Hastings, Michigan. At 15.5-to-16 grains per hull that works out to about six cents a shell or $6 a hundred.
Wads: I bought 500, Federal wads from Graf and Sons. Including postage that came to $22.53 which pro-rates to 4.5 cents a shell or $4.50 per hundred.
Lead shot runs about $2 a pound. One hundred shells will use 50 ounces of shot at a half ounce per shell. That works out to six-point-two-five cents a shell or $6.25 a hundred. For the record, Mr Pepper plans to use the shells for in-barn pest control so we will use the softest 7-1/2 shot we can find to minimize the danger from "bouncers". Mr Pepper is a hellova shot. He once killed 13 possum with one shot.
Shotshell primers run about $30 a thousand or $3 a hundred for an additional three cents a shell.
Totting it all up, I get about $20 per hundred loaded shells or $4 for a box of twenty...not counting time.
Pictures of reloading the hulls with some simple, handmade tools
Capital equipment cost: Essentially zero. This post discusses how one gentleman in Alaska uses common tools to reload .410 shells. Those tools are things like 5/16" and 7/16" sockets and bit drivers.
I intend to cut a funnel with slits in the small end out of material from an old pop bottle to help ease the wad into the case. I may use a piece of broken, fiberglass tent pole instead of the bit driver to press in the wad. I have to play with things to see how it goes.
On a per-hundred basis:
The hulls were given to my by Russ Nelson at Family Shooter's Corral. I buy brass from him and he threw in the hulls just because he likes me. If Russ was out of .410 hulls my plan was to find the local 4-H shooting club and make a donation, then ask the advisor to collect .410 hulls for me to reload.
Powder: I paid about $25 for a pound of H-110 powder at Bob's Gun Shop in Hastings, Michigan. At 15.5-to-16 grains per hull that works out to about six cents a shell or $6 a hundred.
Wads: I bought 500, Federal wads from Graf and Sons. Including postage that came to $22.53 which pro-rates to 4.5 cents a shell or $4.50 per hundred.
Lead shot runs about $2 a pound. One hundred shells will use 50 ounces of shot at a half ounce per shell. That works out to six-point-two-five cents a shell or $6.25 a hundred. For the record, Mr Pepper plans to use the shells for in-barn pest control so we will use the softest 7-1/2 shot we can find to minimize the danger from "bouncers". Mr Pepper is a hellova shot. He once killed 13 possum with one shot.
Shotshell primers run about $30 a thousand or $3 a hundred for an additional three cents a shell.
Totting it all up, I get about $20 per hundred loaded shells or $4 for a box of twenty...not counting time.
Pictures of reloading the hulls with some simple, handmade tools
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