I Am What I Am, Even on Thursdays

Something else I snapped while on foot downtown Chicago last week: the front of the I AM Temple on W. Washington St.

I didn’t go in. A sign on the door says ring bell and wait for someone. I prefer my religious sites to be self-service.

The organization’s HQ happens to be in the northwest suburbs, not downtown. Without digressing into detail — a foray into the rabbit hole, that is — it’s enough to say that, according to Britannica, “I AM movement, theosophical movement founded in Chicago in the early 1930s by Guy W. Ballard (1878–1939), a mining engineer, and his wife, Edna W. Ballard (1886–1971)…. Ballard claimed that in 1930 during a visit to Mount Shasta (a dormant volcano in northern California), he was contacted by St. Germain, one of the Ascended Masters of the Great White Brotherhood.”

Is it possible that Popeye is a prophet of this movement? After all, he appeared ca. 1930 and was known to say, “I yam what I yam.”

Also, why are rabbit holes a metaphor for endless, bewildering complications? Are rabbit holes that complex? Maybe warrens are, but that isn’t the way the saying goes. Wouldn’t ant nests or prairie dog towns be more suitable?

Another day, another stash of Roman coins dug up in Italy. Late Roman imperial era, the article says.

Bonus: they were gold coins. That’s something I’d like to find in the basement, though strictly speaking, we don’t have a basement. Roman gold-coin hordes must be pretty scarce in the New World, anyway.

Late Roman imperial era, eh? I can imagine it: “Quick, find a place to bury the gold! The Visigoths are coming! We’ll come back for it later.”

The event probably wasn’t that dramatic, but someone put the horde there, presumably not to lose track of it — but they did, for 1,500 or more years. Distant posterity is the beneficiary.

Strictly by coincidence, Ann and I watched the first episode of I, Claudius last weekend, which is available on disk (but not on demand: what kind of world is this?). Been a long time since I’ve seen it. Early ’90s, I think, as it was available in Japan on VHS. I also saw it when I was roughly Ann’s age, on PBS when it was pretty new.

The other day I used bifurcation in an article. That’s more common in business writing than one might think, since it’s sometimes used to describe markets dividing in some way or other (often, winners and losers). It’s also I word I can never remember how to spell, so I always look it up.

Google has replaced a trip to a dictionary as the default for spelling. Sad to say, since the possibility of lateral learning is rife while thumbing through a dictionary. Many times in earlier years I spied an entry, not the one I was looking for, and thought, I didn’t know that word.

Then again, there can be sideways learning with Google. If you let it. Not satisfied with mere spelling, I fed “bifurcation” into Google News to see what would happen. Every single hit on the first page linked to items in the Indian English-language media.

From the Times of India:

GMDA can’t plan drain bifurcation now, say greens

Bifurcate HC too: Centre backs Telangana’s petition in SC

Bifurcation of Badshapur drain on cards to avert flooding in Hero …

From The Hindu:

‘Telangana drawing water from NSP without KRMB approval’

Demand for bifurcation of municipal corporation getting stronger

From the New Indian Express:

Centre to expedite High Court bifurcation: Vinod Kumar

Clearly, the word gets more mileage on the Subcontinent than in this country.

RIP, Amando Chavez

I didn’t know Amando Chavez. I only heard about him after he died a week ago Wednesday in a traffic accident on a road near where I live. A road I drive on frequently.

A small, informal memorial is at the site. I stopped by there this afternoon.

To give a little more context to that image, here’s a wider shot.
An ordinary suburban road. “Accident” isn’t quite the word, though, since by all appearances, a DUI driver was completely at fault. That road isn’t particularly busy at that time of the evening, so there’s even less excuse for what happened.

Looks like the driver at fault was one of those young fools who darts around other cars as fast as his engine will take him. Everyone’s seen that kind of ass, in a hurry to get to the next red light, as he weaves around you or around the cars ahead, with scant room for error — and error’s all too likely when DUI.

It’s the kind of accident that sets my teeth on edge. It didn’t have to be Mr. Chavez. It could have been me or anyone in my family. All the same, I’m not going to avoid that road.

Primary Day

Today Illinois held its primary election for divers offices. At the entrance to my polling place at Quincy Adams Wagstaff Elementary were divers signs.

At about 2 p.m., when I went, the poll wasn’t particularly crowded. Voting took all of about 10 minutes. Many of the offices had only one candidate. Others, I knew little about. In that case, my strategy is usually to vote for the last person on the ballot, because I’ve read that the first person has an advantage just for being first.

In the last few days, the postcards and robo-calls have been pouring in. One robo-call I got yesterday — note that it was yesterday, the day before the election — said (details changed):

“Hi, this is Mortimer Snerd, candidate for state representative. I will bring honesty, integrity and transparency to Springfield. Today is election day, so please don’t forget to vote. Polls are open till 7. I hope I can count on your support. I’m Mortimer Snerd, and I approve of this message. Paid for by Citizens for Mortimer Snerd.”

Oops. The robot doing that robo-call jumped the gun just a little.

A couple of days ago, a voice purporting to be the wife of a candidate — let’s call him Charlie McCarthy — was left on my answering machine:

“Recently, you might have received calls on behalf of his opponent, making false accusations about my husband. The truth is, everything we’ve told you about Yancy Derringer’s questionable record is completely true and properly cited. Since it’s hard to counter facts, he’s resorted to name-calling. Please join me and punch number 666 on your ballot, Charlie McCarthy for judge.”

I’m afraid I can’t vote for Charlie McCarthy (campaign slogan, “He’s no dummy.”) That would put the nation at risk of another wave of McCarthyism.

Thursday Debris, Online Edition

As part of my work, I spend a fair amount of research time on sites devoted to news in specific cities, and besides the items I’m looking for, I see a lot else besides. It doesn’t take long to realize that murders and traffic accidents and fires still lead, even in the age of digital media. Pop any major city name in Google News and that much is clear.

Sometimes the headlines, or the lead paragraphs, are a little lighter. Even if violence is involved.

Wanted Akron Pimp Shot through the Ear in Cleveland

Painful, I bet, but with time and maybe plastic surgery, the Akron pimp might recover. He’ll also have a story to tell at the pimp conventions.

Then there’s news about things I’m only vaguely aware of. I don’t mind it if they stay that way.

Sharknado 6 is set to be released on July 25, 2018… the film will feature time travel, Nazis, dinosaurs, knights, and Noah’s Ark.

Six? Anyway, the movie will be full of things any 12-year-old boy might want. Left out were cowboys, astronauts, UFOs, and the Bermuda Triangle, though I guess boys aren’t quite as interested in those things as they once were. There’s always Sharknado 7.

News about thrill seekers. Type T people, I’ve heard them called. Nuts, that is.

Your Facebook and Instagram feeds are full of it: People on vacation pushing themselves to extremes by diving off rocks, skiing dizzying backcountry drops, walking rickety paths above death-assuring canyons.

My Facebook feed is full of no such things. But I do remember interviewing a real estate executive well over a decade ago, and the most interesting part was off the record — and not directly related to commercial real estate anyway. It was about him rafting on some river in Mongolia. Off the record because he didn’t want the other investors in his projects to think he was doing anything they’d consider dangerous.

And other oddities.

Saint Louis University is seeking a name for a Midtown district that straddles part of its north and south campuses and includes the Foundry and Armory projects. Voters can choose from Prospect Yards, The GRID, The Circuit, The 1818, or write in their own name.

I don’t much care for any of those, except maybe 1818. I suggest “Bob.”

Not Indicted Yet

First things first: Remember the Alamo. Today is a good time to listen to some Dimitri Tiomkin.

Wind and cold yesterday to remind us that winter lingers, that it’s the time of the year when the season is an unwanted guest who gives no indication of packing his bags. Then in the evening, snow. Just a covering, so I figured it would melt today. No. We got more in the morning. Then it melted. Mostly.

Got an oddity in the mail not long ago: an anti-Bruce Rauner campaign booklet called The Governor You Don’t Know, subtitled “The Other Side of Bruce Rauner.” It’s an actual paper publication, and a smallish thing, 4 in. x 6​¾ in., with a four-color cover but all text on its 48 pages (three forms of 16 pages, I bet). And I mean all text — not even any black-and-white illustrations.

The byline names the chairman of the Chicago Republican Party as the author, with a forward by a Republican state representative. Interesting copyright note: “Permission is hereby granted to reproduce any part or all of this book until March 31, 2018.” After that, all rights reserved.

I’m not going to do that, but I will quote from the forward: “In this book, you’ll be taken behind the scenes as the author reviews the salient events that explain why we are taking the extremely rare step of unseating an incumbent governor from our own party.”

The Illinois Republican party, it seems, is a tad peeved at the governor. I can certainly think of some criticisms of him myself, but I will give Rauner this: he’s never been indicted. In some states (Illinois, Louisiana) that’s a pretty high bar for a governor.

On the back of the booklet, we’re informed that the woman looking to unseat the governor in this month’s primary, or rather her campaign, paid for the book. As politicos go, she’s a dime-store demagogue, as noted by the underrated columnist Neil Steinberg.

All very interesting, but I’m still left with a nagging question. Why did I get it? Am I on some kind of dime-store demagogue fan club mailing list? If so, I’d prefer not to be.

Space Oddity

I found out that pictures of the Roadster in Space were put into the public domain, and I couldn’t resist.

Wired reported: “SpaceX revealed last weekend that a mannequin wearing the company’s new spacesuit would ride in the driver’s seat of the electric sports car. Nicknamed Starman, the dummy will listen to some tunes on its long and endless journey: David Bowie’s ‘Space Oddity.’ ”

I watched the Falcon Heavy launch on my computer after the fact, as one does these days. Aside from the fact that it didn’t explode on the pad, the remarkable thing was the robust cheering from the crowd at launch.

Did Mr. Musk hire a cheering section? Probably not, but it’s a fun thought. Compare with the launch of Apollo 11 — you can hear faint cheering briefly right after liftoff. Maybe the microphones weren’t in position to get much crowd reaction in 1969.

An aside: Jack King, who announced the Apollo 11 liftoff, died only in 2015.

February 1st Miscellanea

February, bah. A really cold week lies ahead, with some snow. The only good thing is that January is over.

We got a call one recent day at 7:41 a.m., not the best time, but I guess it couldn’t wait. Our machine recorded it, so I can transcribe it here, with a few details changed.

“Please stand by for an informational message from your community. There may be a short delay before the message begins.

(pause)

“This is an important message from the Schleswig-Holstein Police Department. Please be on the lookout for a missing juvenile named W—-. Male, white, five feet tall, approximately 90 pounds, brown hair, brown eyes. Last seen wearing a purple Washington Huskies sweatshirt, gray sweatpants, and black, white and red Nike Air Jordan sneakers. Please call the Schleswig-Holstein Police Department or 911 if you have any information. Thank you.”

At 8:44 a.m., there was another call.

“Please stand by for an informational message from your community. There may be a short delay before the message begins.

(pause)

“This is an important message from the Schleswig-Holstein Police Department. The missing juvenile referenced in the previous message has been located safely. Thank you for your assistance.”

That was a first. Maybe W—- wandered off without telling anyone. It was a relatively warm morning.

Something I happened across in my online wanderings, an incident in New Jersey: “A 16-year-old from Willingboro was arrested by West Windsor Police on Dec. 4 after attempting to steal a car. The theft was thwarted because the car had a stick shift, and the would-be thief only knew how to drive cars with an automatic transmission.”

You’d think the JD — there’s a term to bring back — would have backed away when he saw that the car had a stick, and before police got involved. Then again, JDs aren’t known for their brains.

This falls under the My, How Things Have Change File: Recently I got an email from a grocery store that has my address. The subject line said: ORDER YOUR SUPER BOWL SUSHI PLATTER FOR $29.99.

I’m not holding a Super Bowl party, or going to one, or watching the damn thing at all, but somehow I don’t associate it with sushi. Just me being old. I vaguely remember, about 30 years ago, Mike Royko (maybe) mocking in print the fact that sushi was being sold at some baseball game, probably in California. That seemed strange, I suppose.

Since then, though still associated with Japan, sushi has been fully assimilated into American eating habits. Probably not too many people younger than me would give sushi at a Super Bowl party a second thought.

Bayeux Tapestry Odds

Faux spring no mo’. Woke up this morning to a light coat of snow. Not even enough to warrant shoveling, but snow all the same.

I check the Paddy Power web site now and then, not because I’m interesting in betting, but because its predictive powers seem pretty good. Usually. The Irish bookies got the 2016 election wrong, but they get a pass for that, since everyone else did too.

Last week Amazon winnowed its second headquarters site selection to 20 cities, something I’m following as a professional matter. I was a little surprised to see that the odds favor Boston right now, at 2/1, with Atlanta, Austin and Washington DC next.

All very interesting, but what really caught my attention on the site was, “Bayeux Tapestry Location Display.” What? It’s going to be displayed somewhere outside Bayeux?

Apparently so. At some point in the next few years, at someplace in the UK. Exactly where is the betting matter.

Paddy Power puts the British Museum as the clear favorite, at 1/2, which seems reasonable, but also possible are Canterbury and Westminster Abbey at 5/1. Less serious possibilities are at Paddy Power Tower or “Any Carpet Right store.”

I assume the tower is the company headquarters in Dublin. As for Carpet Right, which is actually styled Carpetright, that’s a carpet retailer with 426 stores in the UK and 138 in the Low Countries and Ireland. Just a spot of fun from the Paddy Power bookies.

The Internet, being what it is, allows me to find out about other things related to the Bayeux Tapestry with ridiculous ease. For example, if I wanted to spend $230, I could have my own Bayeux Tapestry tablecloth, 95 percent cotton and also made in France. Nice, but no thanks.

O Tannenbaum Where Art Thou?

Something I didn’t know before, courtesy of the National Christmas Tree Association: “Christmas Trees were added to the federal agriculture census in 1997, when the responsibility for census shifted from the U.S. Department of Commerce, Bureau of the Census, to the United States Department of Agriculture (USDA), National Agricultural Statistics Service (NASS). The agriculture census is conducted every five years.
The 2012 Census of Agriculture results were released by USDA in May 2014.”

That means that for this year’s census, we’ll have to wait until 2019. Then we’ll know for sure whether there was a Christmas tree shortage this year, as has been reported.

The association says: “Recent price increases are due to a tighter supply of harvestable size Christmas trees. The current tight supply situation results from fewer trees being planted 7 to 10 years ago. This was due to a combination of excess supply at that time and the recession both pushing prices downward, along with some growers exiting the business.”

I will say that all of the Christmas tree lots I’ve visited in recent years are gone. Even the nursery that sells trees not too far from my home has none this year. But it didn’t have too many last year.

So this year I went to a big box store, my last resort when it comes to trees. I was late anyway, only getting around to it on Monday. Even that store only had a few. The price was right, though: about $16 plus tax for something not so different from last year’s. Guess the store was trying to get rid of its remaining inventory.

Back to the census. In 2012, there were 309,356 acres of Christmas tree farms nationwide, down from 446,996 in 2002. That could indeed help account for a paucity of trees this year. The number-one state when it comes to acres of Christmas trees under cultivation? Oregon, at more than 53,600. North Carolina is next at about 40,300 acres and then the state I’d have guessed at number one: Michigan, nearly 38,000 acres.

Wyoming is at the bottom at zero acres. Nevada, North Dakota and Oklahoma are all listed as (D) with no explanation. Maybe the data is incomplete. Remarkably, some 52 acres of Christmas trees were cultivated in Hawaii in 2012.

One more thing. The motto of the National Christmas Tree Association is “It’s Christmas. Keep it real.”

The New Oldest President

This came to my attention the other day. Last Friday, George H. W. Bush became the longest-lived president in U.S. history, at 93 years, 166 days. He bested Gerald Ford — who isn’t getting any older — that day, and topped Ronald Reagan about a month and a half ago. Reagan had the longest-lived distinction for a few years in the early 21st century, and more recently, for about the last 10 years, Ford was the oldest.

Presidential longevity is reaching new heights here in the 21st century. For a very long time, about 175 years, John Adams was the longest-lived president. He famously died on July 4, 1826, aged 90 years, 247 days. Reagan passed him only in 2001.

Now each of the four presidents who followed Richard Nixon have lived to be at least 93, with the elder Bush and Jimmy Carter currently gunning for 94. To reach 93, George W. Bush and Donald Trump would both need to live to 2039; Bill Clinton, to 2040; and Barack Obama, to 2054.