“Russia needs Russians to survive.” Apparently a very high rate of ending pregnancies continues in Russia. It’s unthinkable.
In other news, Planned Parenthood doesn’t believe child rape is a cause to fight against. Another clinic worker has been exposed for trying to sweep the rape of a 13-year-old under the rug in favor of aborting her baby.
Officials in the Guangdong province of China are warning the overly affectionate to kiss with care, if they must kiss at all. An unfortunate incident, in which a woman had hearing loss following a kiss, “prompted a series of articles in the local media warning of the dangers of excessive kissing. ‘While kissing is normally very safe, doctors advise people to proceed with caution,’ wrote the China Daily.”
But can we ever be sure that a kiss is safe? Maybe we should tax kissing to help pay for the health care costs it may incure.
(I shouldn’t do two posts like this one day, but perhaps you’ll understand.)
Our chances of a White Christmas look pretty good. We’ve got a substantial blanket now, and more is expected overnight. It’s always possible that it could still melt off before Christmas, but the balance of power has tipped.
I may very likely have to shovel snow in the morning.
It was a frustrating weekend. I’d planned to do some Christmas shopping, but Mrs. Hermanson failed me. (I mentioned this problem a few days ago, but it got worse.) The Chevy Tracker has an ignition system that requires the operator to depress the clutch while turning the key. Lately I’d been having trouble with it. It had been taking several minutes of repeated attempts to finally get her to turn over (my leg’s still stiff from bearing down on the clutch). The thing was, I’d had this sort of problem before, especially in cold weather, so I didn’t figure it was serious. But Saturday I found myself stranded in a shopping center parking lot. So I called AAA, and they towed me to a shop where (thank the Lord) a loaner was available. They didn’t get to my car until today.
Not surprisingly, it turned out not to be the simple thing the mechanics predicted, but something about twice as expensive. Add in some other prudent maintenance steps they suggested, most of which I had to admit were necessary, and I dropped three Cs today.
Ah well. That’s why God gave us credit cards.
Got the news from Norway this morning. Cousin Andreas died on December 1.
Cousin Andreas Andreassen (I call him a cousin, because they’re all some kind of cousin over there, and it’s too much trouble to work out the degrees) was my host the last time I visited the relatives in Norway. He was an elderly widower who lived in a house on a small wharf. He rented the lower floor to some kind of business and lived upstairs (or rented from the business; I never inquired). Living alone, he had plenty of room for a guest. What was notable was that he was a very quiet man; nearly as quiet as me. The upshot was that not a lot of talking got done while I was with him. Which was kind of relaxing, to tell the truth.
But I wish we’d talked more. I heard a few things about his life. He’d been a merchant seaman, if I recall correctly, during the Second World War, when the Norwegians who were at sea when the invasion happened found themselves the de facto navy of a government in exile. There must have been stories connected with that. I think I even heard one, one that was quite dramatic. But my Norwegian comprehension wasn’t up to following it, and I’ve lost the shreds I had.
You miss a lot when you’re pathologically shy.
This is a picture we took the last time I saw him, when I was doing my first lecturing cruise. Andreas is the one on your left. He and Cousin Tom-Erik and Cousin Arne drove up to Bergen to meet my ship, and they bought me a snack in a coffee shop.
While I’m thinking of Norway, I’ll link to this site, Haugelandet.net It’s in Norwegian, but most of the stuff is translated. It showcases photos from southwest Norway, the area around Haugesund (Karmøy Island, where Cousin Andreas lived, is just across the sound). The site’s proprieter, Eirik Hustvedt, hasn’t posted much for a while, but recently he’s gotten active again. So if you click over there, you’ll encourage him. And see some interesting scenery. This is really my favorite part of the world, my “quiet place.”
Line-Cutting Dispute Led to Wal-Mart Trampling Death (between those who stood in line and those who stayed in their cars during the hours before the doors opened)
Some California people are offering a new online classified site with visibility requirements in an effort to stop criminals hiding behind anonymity. Echoing Apple’s marketing, they call it iList.
Thanksgiving was good, thank you. As usual, the family gathered in my CBBS* house. Everything went according to programme. It goes without saying that, being me, I drove myself nuts anticipating disasters (forget propagation of the species; a man needs a wife mostly in order to have somebody competent on whom to shove these responsibilities), but either everything went fine, or my family kindly overlooked it and kept me in the dark.
The turkey might have profited from ten more minutes in the oven, I think, but I also suspect that’s a matter of taste. And I could have bought a larger one (those leftovers, I now see, are there for a purpose).
Now, on to Christmas. Tree decorating is for me a gradual process, but the thing’s up and lighted. Only the ornaments remain to be hanged, together or separately. I have tea lights to burn (in pine scent). Last night I watched my videotape of Sissel’s Christmas concert with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.
And tonight I’ll begin the Christmas Letter. I wonder if I took any pictures this year worth including in it. Probably not.
Come to think of it, the whole letter may be no more than a couple paragraphs.
Not such a bad thing, actually.
*Clean By Bachelor Standards
Ross Mackenzie calls us back to simple living:
Thanksgiving . . . is, perhaps fundamentally, the season of hope. In this season, maybe the current condition of the global economy will focus Americans on essentials: family, nature, eternal verities, a new frugality, a simpler life. With its focus on money and “things,” materialism diminishes our appreciation for what we have. It fosters frustration, exasperation, even anger at what we don’t, and a redefining of wants into necessities and have-to-haves.
He quotes historian Paul Johnson, who says the financial crisis is result of a moral one. “We are traveling along the high road to incompetence and poverty,” Johnson states, “led by a farcical coalition of fashionably liberal academics on the make, assorted eco-crackpots, and media wiseacres.”
And here’s a story of self-reliance.
In other news, a Wal-Mart stock clerk was trampled in New York by a crowd of early shoppers. A pregnant woman was also knocked down. The crowd took down the front doors too. I think the store should have been closed and all of the shoppers thrown out of their ears.
By the way, I’m thankful for you. I don’t think I’d still be here, if I were the only one in this room.
Today is the day many retailers anticipate going into the accounting black, meaning all of the red ink of deficit spending will be removed by the black ink of profit. But in the middle of “the worst economy in 50 years” or whatever the propagandist said last time around, will we spend much today or this weekend? I’ve wondered if consumer debt has raised retail expectations unrealistically so much that responsible spending will be labeled a disappointing cut back. We’ll have to see.
Reports say most people will spend just as much as last year. And if that’s so, Blue Crab Boulevard wants to snap a few photos. “. . . take a picture of your local mall’s parking lot. Send them here,” he says, “. . . with info on when and where you took the picture and I’ll post them. Take some pictures of your local restaurant parking lots as well.” With these photos, BCB plans to counter the dark news from major media outlets.
But fear not, news reader, because reporters will always be able to say expectations were not met and though today may have been pretty good for retailers, it was not enough. Dark days ahead for sure.