The lure of the open spaces

Because Summer, I’ve had to take my daily walks earlier than in other seasons. Viz: I’m on the pavement by 0500 and even then I’m soaked when I get home an hour later. One morning I woke up at 0345 and just got up because I knew I had no hope of more sleep before I had to start walking.

When I start out, there are only crickets to accompany me, with the occasional sleepy bird. About halfway through, the rest of the chorus has started up. I don’t use manmade sound, largely because I don’t need it, but also because I like to hear my surroundings when it’s still black all around me. The People’s Republic being what it is, there are actually no streetlights between my cluster and Wiehle Avenue (about a mile or so), so when I say “black”, I mean it. The darkness starts thinning around 0530, and it’s almost light when I get back home.

So I rely on Artemis to light my path. She’s been waning over the past two weeks, as you can see—here she is on the 25^th; not quite full:

The next morning, she was playing with her companion, Mars:

By the 27^th, she was outracing him:

And the day after she left him in the stardust:

Here she was yesterday, a completely different position in the sky:

Here she was this morning, just a shadow of her former self, although you can see her full outline (Mars was actually behind me when I took this shot):

 

(I may need to carry a flashlight for a few days, until she returns from her monthly rest.)

In honor of my silver companion, today’s earworm is Mary Chapin Carpenter singing “The Moon and Saint Christopher”. Right now, the lure of the open spaces has to be satisfied with a walk, but the open door still tempts me. 

 

Recruiter fail

Okay, this is a first; offshore recruiter reached out to me for a position I would not touch with a barge pole…using my work email.

I mean—the offshore and completely irrelevant job are not new; it’s the work email part that’s cherce.

Here’s what I have to say about this: if you claim to be MD of an executive search firm, and you check out my profile on LinkedIn but you can’t contact me through that platform, then you’re either spectacularly incompetent or your company is too cheap to buy a recruiter’s subscription that would allow you to do that.

Either way, blocked.

 

 

All aboard

An industry publication, The Cyber Post, reported Monday on a cyber attack on the Iranian rail system that occurred in July. According to researchers, on 9 July a wiper attack disrupted train service and directed customers via all the displays and message boards at train stations to call 64411, the number for the office of Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei, for information.

Look, cyber attacks are bad; I am not arguing otherwise. Ransomware operators in particular are zeroing in on hospitals and healthcare systems because they’re more likely to pay than negotiate to get their life-critical systems back up and running. These people are despicable.

But bringing the nation’s railway system to a halt and then redirecting customer service calls to the head of state?

Chef’s kiss.

 

 

Neighborly encounter

Yesterday was temperate enough (read: high 70s with reasonably low humidity) that I was able to take an early afternoon walk in addition to my usual before-the-crack-of-0500 one. Look who I met also taking advantage of the weather:

I dunno—I just thought he was kinda cute. Seemed to be in rather a hurry, too.

 

 

Gratitude Monday: sociability

My yoga instructor ended Friday’s lesson with, “See you tomorrow!” I basically responded, “Wait—what?”

Some months ago, she’d invited me to a party that was sort of a make-up for two Seders that she and her husband couldn’t hold because of COVID-19. I’d accepted, but forgot about it because stuff. And I ignored Facebook’s reminders because I pretty much ignore anything Facebook sends me as irrelevant.

But Saturday evening I put on earrings and one of my good tee-shirts, went to their house and schmoozed and ate barbecue with 20 or 30 of their fully-vaxxed friends. I think it was in fact the first social event I’ve been to since my company’s holiday party in December of 2019.

I won’t pretend I didn’t consider the Delta variant complication. In the past week, when I come across others out walking or running in the People’s Republic, we separate off the sidewalk. This thing is not to be messed with, even if you are fully vaccinated. But, an evening of social engagement reminiscent of the Before Times was such a mitzvah, and I’m grateful for it.

 

 

You want a good time

So, the four asses of the white supremacy apocalypse pulled a couple of stunts this week to distract attention from the House committee investigating the events of 6 January at the Capitol.

On Tuesday morning, as the committee was convening and swearing in two US Capitol Police officers and two from MPD, the Republican 4G crowd with a combined IQ of 97 (Matt Gaetz, Louie Gohmert, Marjorie Taylor Greene and Paul Gosar) held a “press conference” in front of the Department of Justice to decry the totally-made-up “injustice” of 1/6 rioters being held in jail. The presser lasted less than five minutes because the self-styled freedom fighters for the RWNJ constituency felt dissed by protestors, particularly one guy who was blowing a whistle. Some beard hustled the asses away (with Gaetz dodging one reporter’s “Are you a pedophile, Congressman?” all the way to his SUV) and then flounced about the whistle being an assault.

A reporter for one of the RWNJ outlets confronted the whistler (who—total props—was blowing it behind his mask), trying to…well, I don’t know, exactly, except that it got her airtime. Gaetz later tweeted video of that, repeating the assault claim, because he’s a moron.

On Thursday, Gaetz, Gosar, Gohmert and Greene were refused entry to the D.C. jail (jail, mind you, not prison) where some of the insurrectionists are being held pending trial because they’re batshit crazy and have demonstrated their intentions to continue with their acts of violence. This was another stunt intended to get them media attention, because they had to know all along that they’d be denied admittance. They’re neither criminal lawyers (although they certainly should become acquainted with some) nor are they freakin’ Amnesty International or the Red Cross. No whistles this time; Gohmert flapped about the outrage of being turned away and then it was over. Greene did go full Karen and asked to speak to the supervisor, but the people with actual jobs to do told the three loons to leave or be admitted on a more formal—arrested—status. It had the same effect being whistled at had..

(Honestly—I expect the woman who told them to buzz off scared them all. I certainly would not mess with her.)

Any roads, in honor of the whistle guy who scattered the 4G Know-nothings, today’s earworm is Donna Summer’s “Bad Girls”. Crank up the volume.