Saturday, July 25, 2015

Saturday AF

I Can't Help Myself...

I try to avoid more serious topics on weekends, but I came across an article yesterday that made an argument so asinine, so preposterous, so obtuse, that as a person who champions the art of rhetoric I felt compelled to defenestrate it immediately.

"I'll make the popcorn!"
Believe me, I understand why progressives everywhere are so desperate to spin away the scandal that currently threatens their sacred cow Planned Parenthood, but even spinners ought to be ashamed to put forth an argument so stupid as this:
Just as there are people who believe the moon landing was faked, there are those who refuse to believe that the full scope of reproductive health care is grounded in medical evidence. [My emphasis added.]
In other words, the folks criticizing Planned Parenthood for selling pieces of the babies they slaughter (her "medical evidence" claim is that fetuses developed enough to have parts worth harvesting aren't human, by the way) are no different than the nutjobs who think that Capricorn One was a documentary about the Apollo missions...

Herewith the list of logical fallacies contained within this single sentence:
That's quite an impressive accomplishment in illogic for a single sentence. I am truly in awe. And so I award Ms. Jen Gunter the coveted

"Wielding the lasso of truth" my ass. By the way, my mockery of Ms. Gunter is not the "appeal to ridicule" fallacy because, unlike her argument, I actually provided reasons to justify my mockery.

"He's right. Mockery backed by reasoning is totes legit."
Thanks, taught me well...

My "Sports" Car

I put the word "sports" in scare quotes because the version I had wasn't the go-fast Z28, or even the snazzy Berlinetta model. My 1979 Camaro was the base model. When I went into the car-selling business years later, I learned that cars like this were called "secretary specials" in the trade. If they still use expressions like that nowadays, I'm sure they do so sotto voce.

Anyway, when I foolishly decided to replace my 1977 Pontiac LeMans coupe (which I wrote about here), I wanted something even "sportier." (What can I say? I was 27 years old, single, and stupid.) What I really wanted was a Pontiac Firebird like my hero Jim Rockford drove, but the Firebirds available at the time didn't look like Jim's anymore, so I widened my search. And fell in love with...

1979 Chevrolet Camaro
The one in the picture is a Berlinetta, which was just a trim package that was mostly the fake wire wheel covers. Mine had regular wheel covers, but it did have whitewall tires (mock away, philistines) and was this shade of red. It also had the 305 V8 engine, and a two-barrel carburetor, so it actually was able to zoom at least a little bit...

I only had her for about a year and a half before she had what professional drag racers call a "rod event." I had the engine repaired, but when they told me this engine had a history of such troubles, I promptly sold her. She was nice enough that I was actually able to get more selling her than I still owed the Credit Union.

There's no way I could handle such a low-slung car nowadays, of course. I feel a twinge in my lower back just looking at the picture...

"You know no one is surprised at that don't you, old man?"
It's a sunny day...go eat-murder some ants, why don't you?

Wild Kingdom Bed & Breakfast Update

One of my favorite things about running the B&B is learning about the birds who are my customers. It's interesting to see which species like the feeders, which ones prefer the patio or the lawn, which ones eat on the premises and which ones take something and fly away to eat it elsewhere, etc.

It has been very warm here of late, and I've noticed that many of the sparrows and finches are panting, which I gather they do in order to regulate their body temperature. I knew some mammals did that, but never knew birds did it, too. It is funny to see them sitting on the patio railing, or the feeder, with their beaks wide open, but it also makes me glad I added the bird bath so that they'll always have fresh, filtered water to drink, and to cool off in, if necessary. (Yeah, I wipe out the bird bath and put fresh water in it every night before I go to bed. So what?)

"We appreciate it man! It is hot AF out here!"


"Wow. Does he understand that hardly anyone will get that joke?"
Sometimes Wiley does panels that are aimed at people like me, who do get it. If other people need to consult a dictionary, that's up to them. I like comic strips that assume a certain amount of erudition...

Until Next Time...

In that weird way that such things often happen in the modern, connected world, I stumbled across a wonderful tribute to the songwriter Wayne Carson yesterday by one of my favorite writers, Mark Steyn. I hadn't heard about Carson's death (he passed away on Monday), but as Steyn's tribute makes clear, his music will live on. And, just as Mark does, I prefer the "lesser" of his two best-known pop hits, "The Letter." I loved the version by The Box Tops, so it was an easy choice for today's send-off, a clip from an episode of American Bandstand. Feel free to mock the way teenagers dressed (and danced) in 1967. I'm used to it, and even indulge in it myself on occasion. Enjoy...

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