Well, here we are, campers. The Winter Olympics are over and CPAC has begun, so perfect time for Vladimir Putin to wave his willie by invading Ukraine.
Again.
I’m a military historian and I work in a sector that very often
sees the lines blurring between cyber and kinetic warfare, and we are
definitely there.
My earworm for today is the plaintive and haunting “Find the Cost of Freedom”, by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young. Because I have no words.
A couple of years ago I got a heated birdbath. It’s not like a hot tub; it doesn’t even make the water warm. It just ensures that the water doesn’t freeze, so birds can drink. Or bathe, I guess, although I’ve never actually witnessed that activity.
Well, the other day, I looked out at the patio and noticed that robins were bellying up to the bar, so naturally I took video. (It's shot through the screen door; sorry.)
This birdbath really was a good investment.
I started following comedians Trae Crowder and Corey Ryan Forrester on Twitter because I love the cognitive dissonance of literate anti-RWNJ rants in their southern accents. (Crowder is from Tennessee and Forrester’s a Georgian.) They travel the comedy club circuit with Drew Morgan as the Liberal Rednecks; tickets at WellRED Comedy.
I also subscribe to Crowder’s and Forrester’s podcasts and posts,
even though I don’t like podcasts. Listening to Forrester’s “This Week in
Southern History” drops alone is worth the $60 a year. And Crowder’s “Help
Reviews”, in which he rips apart political scandals are cherce. (The Valentine’s
Day one on political sex scandals could have gone on for hours, given all the
material; he didn’t even hit Warren G. Harding, the bull in the herd.) And his "Learn Us Something" drops are also edifying, which seems like it's the point.
I confess I’ve not gone down the Morgan rabbit hole yet; but I
suppose that’s inevitable. The three are such an antidote to the MAGA crowd.
Well, evidently Crowder is now living in California, so here’s a
sketch they did, which lampoons both rednecks and Left Coasties.
You're welcome.
Lordy, can it be less than a year ago that I posted about abandoned motor scooters in the People’s Republic? Time certainly has blurred during the pandemic.
As the months went on, I was kind of hoping that the community
would celebrate by seasonal decorations. I definitely had hopes after the
unoperable one was crowned with a plastic wreath someone had tossed out.
Even the one with plates got a bit of a spruce up (besides the ticket).
But then the latter disappeared from the street. And a few weeks
later so did the gutted one.
I rather suspect that the Fairfax County police couldn’t be arsed
to tow either of them, so maybe an artist hauled one or both away to use in
some installation piece.
At least I hope so.
I confess that I still haven’t got past using my new camera in AUTO mode. And we have not exactly had prime shooting weather here in the District They Call Columbia. However, there have been some days that just yell, “Grab your camera and come shoot!”
Yesterday was one of them, and I didn’t have to go far—just to my
back yard. I did have to change my perspective tho.
Photography is all about perspective, the conscious choice we make to view something from this point or that one. A week ago, I shot the winter aconite from a height of about half a meter, to catch the snow on it. Yesterday, I took a worm’s eye view. Where you can see the winter sun shining through the petals.
Decades ago, a photography professor advised his students to pause
after we’d lined up our shot (back in the days when we used separate light
meters and film in cameras, children) and look around to see if there wasn’t a
better angle to capture what we wanted. I’ve tried to apply that suggestion to
more than just photos, but practicing the art reminds me to do it when I get
too stuck in a course of action.
And consciously choosing different perspectives is my gratitude
today.
Also, winter aconite. So tiny and so beautiful, whichever way you
look at them.