Aren’t you glad we have a government to tell us how long our dishwashers can run?
Biden figures wage war on Trump’s high-performance dishwasher rule
A public record of some of my thoughts. Feel free to comment, but don't expect me to respond.
Aren’t you glad we have a government to tell us how long our dishwashers can run?
Biden figures wage war on Trump’s high-performance dishwasher rule
Today’s news tells us the Nashville bomber’s girlfriend warned police that he was making bombs.
This is a common story after a tragedy. “We should have known. There were warning signs! Why didn’t the police do something?”
These stories bother us because we think a tragedy could have been avoided if pro-active steps were taken to deal with some troubled soul. But we’re seeing things from a privileged position — after the fact. We know (now) this particular guy was going to be trouble. What we don’t know — or at least I don’t know — is how many times the police are warned about some potential threat that never materializes.
What are the numbers? How many people who are flagged / accused as potential threats never end up doing anything wrong? Shall we round them all up because one in a hundred (I’m making that up) will end up setting off a bomb?
What percentage would justify pre-emptive action? If, for every five people accused of being “a disaster about to happen,” one disaster actually happens, does that justify taking away some of the liberties of the five? What if it’s one in ten? One in a hundred? One in a thousand?
The police and the justice system have to deal with this sort of thing all the time.
“He comes home drunk every night. One of these days he’s going to kill somebody!”
“He keeps threatening to get his gun and go after those people down the street who won’t keep their dog chained up.”
And, of course, the threats get far more serious.
I suspect it’s very hard to parse through all these possible threats and figure out which ones deserve serious scrutiny.
Back in July I started on a very strange concept for a new bit of fiction. It’s about love and regret and time travel and battles against evil forces in high places. Some of you were kind enough to read it and give me some feedback. The current version is much stronger. If you have time to give it a read, please contact me and I’ll send you the file. It’s just shy of 50,000 words, which at a 6 x 9 trim size would be about 166 pages. The working title is “My Seven Trips Through Time.”
I make the stuff from time to time, and I’m sending a daughter home with a SCOBY and directions, so I figured I might as well post them, in case anybody else is interested.
Kombucha is a tart, fizzy, slightly fermented tea. (With negligible alcohol.) I don’t endorse any of the health claims about it. I drink it because I don’t like soda, I can’t drink caffeine, and I can’t be drinking beer all the time! (I make my Kombucha with decaf tea.)
Here are the instructions to make your first batch at home — assuming you have a SCOBY. If you don’t, you can get one from a friend, buy one, or even grow one yourself, which I won’t explain here.
Every time you want to bottle kombucha, you also make a new batch. So we’ll repeat some of the steps above, but we’ll include bottling this time.
You’ll need enough bottles to hold 1 gallon of liquid. I recommend 8 16 oz. PET bottles with screw-up tops, but you can also use flip-top beer bottles, like Grolsch uses. The benefit of PET is that if you’re not careful with the carbonation and the bottles explode, you don’t have sharp glass flying all over the place. I’ve never had a bottle of kombucha explode, but better safe than sorry, I say.
It’s a good idea to have a kombucha jar for fermenting, and a second jar with a spigot for bottling. You might be tempted to think you can do this with just one jar with a spigot. I recommend two jars.