Tag Archives: #RealLife

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Passenger rail in France

I see a lot of stuff on Twitter — I absolutely refuse to call it 𝕏 — from advocates of a high-speed passenger rail service in the United States. My position is simple: if one of the private railroad companies wishes to build that high-speed passenger railroad, I absolutely support their right to spend their own money to do so. But the federal and state governments should stay out of it.

A lady — or so I judge her to be by her Twitter bio pic — styling herself “Hunter” from the United Kingdom posted the tweet to the left concerning a proposal for high speed rail (HSR) service in the United States, and I thought that I should document my experiences with HSR in France.

It was Saturday, September 7th, when we took the train from Toulouse to Ville de Nice. The travel time is 7 hours and 31 minutes on average, more than twice as long as flying. Driving distance is 560.6 kilometers, or 348.3 miles.

How fast does the train run? At the points in which the rail line ran parallel with the highway, I could see that the train was moving faster than the cars on the road, and French highways have speed limits of 110 KPH (68.35 MPH) or 130 KPH (80.78 MPH), but I cannot say for certain what the speed limits were on the roads I saw. Doing the math, covering 560 kilometers in 7½ hours gives an average speed of 74.67 KPH, no faster than driving. In driving, you have your vehicle door-to-door, and are not left station-to-station.

The reason is obvious: like “Hunter’s” map above, the train between Toulouse and Ville de Nice had several stops along the route. I didn’t actually count them, but it seemed to have been around eight stops.

We took a HSR train from Firenze (Florence) to Venezia (Venice) in July of 2016. Unlike the train in France, which had older cars, the one in Italy was new, and had a speed indicator in the passenger cars. The highest I remember seeing was 225 KPH (139.81 MPH), which is a pretty good clip, but that train as well had stops along the route.

The HSR advocates are nice enough people, but let’s tell the truth here: they are all urbanites, with the concerns and cultures of densely populated urban areas. That the United States is physically different from Europe doesn’t seem to make much of an impact on their thinking, but we have vast, vast areas of land with very few people in it. Population densities west of the Mississippi River drop off dramatically until you get to the left coast, and even east of our great river, densities are not that high until you get close to the east coast. Here in the Bluegrass State, our third largest city, Bowling Green, has a population far below 100,000, estimated to be 76,212 in 2023. Eastern Kentucky, in the Appalachian Mountains, is populated by small farms and tiny towns. The high speed rail systems the advocate want, the systems they liked in Europe, are mostly inappropriate for a country which is as spread out as the United States.

 

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Saturday morning

Polar Bear, a 125 to 150 lb male Great Pyrenees tried to move in with us this past spring, but he had a human of his own who lived ¾ mile away. We have two other dogs, and Bear just loved to come and visit them.

We first met Bear when our younger daughter was taking our two for a walk through the fields, down toward the river, and Bear, who was wandering through the fields himself, saw them and trotted up to join them. He’s so big that you don’t have to bend down to pet him; his head is high enough that it’s right at your hand when he’s walking beside you.

He also leans against your hip when he’s walking with you!

Sadly, Bear was killed when he was hit by a car. He usually walked back to his own home, because his human didn’t want us to feed him, or he’d stay with us forever, through the fields, but for whatever reason he had, he chose to walk down the road and was struck. But Polar Bear quickly made us love Great Pyrenees dogs!

Cotton Bear

A lady in Boston, Kentucky, is selling her farm, and she has to rehome her Great Pyrenees, Cotton. We met Cotton a month and a half ago, and committed to take him, but we had to wait until now, because we were already fostering another dog. That dog has now returned to his human, so SSG Pico and I are driving to Boston Saturday morning to pick up Cotton Bear. He’s 5¾ years old, a neutered male, and he seems great, but it might be difficult rehoming a dog that old.

Pamela, his human, was having to keep him in a kennel on her farm, and in her house, because she has a neighbor who might well be described as the slang term for the rectum, so it’s good that we’re getting him out of there. Pamela told me that she just sold her farm, so we’re heading there at just the right time; I just wish we could have brought him home earlier.

We have a fenced-in yard of maybe half an acre, plus 7½ acres more in which he can roam and play, though we’ll keep him inside the fence until he learns that this is his new home. Wish us luck!

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I make a confession

Robert Stacy McCain’s article Math Teacher Goes Berserk brought to mind some silliness in which I engaged as a seventh grader.

Just a typical day in a Wisconsin school:

Brenda Poulos remembers working in Kenosha last Friday when she received a series of texts from her son.

“I know he’s not supposed to use his phone in school, so the fact that he texted me was already, something’s up right,” Poulos said. “He said, ‘Mom, something’s going on at school. They fired our teacher and something bad is going on.”

Poulos’ son, Ethan, is a seventh-grade student at John Long Elementary. He told WISN 12 News he was in math class on Friday [May 12] when his teacher became upset and started making threats after discovering a swastika drawn in a notebook.

“Five seconds later, he went on this ramble about how this was a disgrace to his people and how he wanted to scorch Earth on us and how he was apparently going to cause pain on all our families,” Ethan said. “How he’d send his daughter to our house with a baseball bat and that he had 17 guns and he wasn’t afraid to use them.”

The teacher in question, David Schroeder, 46, of Grafton, Wisconsin, was charged with making terroristic threats. Under Wisconsin §947.019, if that is with what the distinguished Mr Schroeder has been charged, it is a Class I felony. Under §939.50, a Class I felony carries a penalty of a maximum $10,000 fine and up to 42 moths imprisonment.

If this is Mr Schroeder’s first offense, he would probably not get the maximum, but would be offered a plea deal: three years probation, and a $5,000 fine. The most important part of that would be that the felony conviction would mean the revocation of his teaching certificate, and the felony conviction would bar him from ever owning a firearm.

According to the complaint, Schroeder told the students that he was Jewish, that “all Jews have guns and that he had 17 guns in his basement and that he would ‘F’ them up.”

At that point, Mr McCain started talking about what middle school boys sometimes do:

(I)f drawing swastikas in your notebook was some kind of human-rights violation, basically every kid in my childhood schools would have been under investigation. Our fathers’ generation had fought World War II, which was a subject of lots of TV shows (e.g., Combat!) and movies (e.g., The Longest Day) that we watched as kids, so we were fairly saturated with that stuff about fighting the “Krauts” (as the Germans were habitually referred to in the G.I. slang dialogue of those old movies). Because a swastika is a simple thing to draw (as opposed to say, a Stuka dive bomber or a Tiger tank), basically every schoolboy drew them, in notebooks, on desks, etc. It had no deeper meaning in our minds. Certainly the boys who drew swastikas — and I mean, literally every boy did, back in the 1960s and ’70s — did not intend it as signifying support for totalitarianism, or sympathy toward Germany, least of all Jew-hating. It was like drawing Batman (another favorite schoolboy doodle) or hot rods, just stuff that boys did, without any political intent. But that was long ago, in what may now be viewed as a Golden Age of political incorrectness, when a popular comedy on TV was Hogan Heroes, with the Nazis played for laughs.

Swastika on apartment building at corner of Rose Street and Lyndhurst Place, in Lexington, Kentucky. This building predates the Nazis. Photo by DRP, click to enlarge.

As far as I can recall — and my memory is pretty good — I never drew swastikas in my notebooks or anywhere else; that just wasn’t my thing, and World War II really wasn’t my interest. But here is where I need to confess my very unintentional sin.

Between late August of 1965 and early June of 1967, I attended the seventh and eight grades at Mt Sterling, Kentucky, Junior High School, in what was then the Harrison Avenue Building. Built sometime around 1900, it was a two-story brick building with somewhere around 12-foot high ceilings and big, tall windows. With no air conditioning, Southern school buildings used the trick of tall windows, in which the upper sash could be lowered a bit, and the lower sash raised, to get natural air circulation, with the warmer air escaping through the upper opening and — hopefully! — cooler air entering.

I had Mrs McCarren for English, and Mr Hawkins for history back then. Mrs McCarren was forever assigning some of the other boys, and me, sentences, to write “I won’t talk” 200 times for talking out of turn in class, something I tried to amuse myself with by including an occasional “I’ll shut up” and, with a very sharp pencil, I could get all 200 of them in the blank area at the top of otherwise blue-ruled notebook paper.

But there was something else. Those very tall windows also had very tall, buff-colored roll-down shades, and as tall as the shades were, they also had very long thin, white draw cords. Being a typical 12-to-14-year-old boy, my hands did keep busy, and, seated next to the windows, I frequently made them into hangman’s nooses.

Today? OMG, it would be straight to the principal’s office, but, in the seventh and eights grades, nobody cared, or at least I didn’t think that anybody cared.

The Mt Sterling school system had recently integrated, during my sixth-grade year, after the segregated, black school, DuBois, mysteriously burned to the ground just before school started that year. An integration plan was already in the works, moving four, non-consecutive grades per year over three years, to the regular school system, but the fire forced immediate, total integration. Maybe some of it escaped me, but I really don’t recall any problems with integration. Then again, I wasn’t the most popular kid around, and maybe some other families did have more problems with it, but if so, I was unaware of them.

And there was one other thing of which I was unaware. To me, a hangman’s noose was just something I saw on television, in the Westerns which made up so much of the evening fare. I was unaware that a hangman’s noose might somehow symbolize lynchings.

Did Mr Hawkins, who was black, take offense at those nooses? He had come over from the DuBois school, where (I think) he had been the principal, but if anyone took offense, I never heard about it, nor did anyone ever mention to me what those nooses could mean. The nooses were frequently undone the following school day, but I do not know by whom.

Mr Schroeder, however, did get upset, over things done by kids mostly meaninglessly. Will the kids continue, as a form of rebellion, something junior high and high school boys do? I have no way of knowing, but I do know one thing: MR Schroeder’s overreaction has cost him his job, at the very least, and might well cost him his profession and his right to keep and bear arms.

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I love a green lawn!

This might be a post more suited for The Pirate’s Cove, and I did notify William Teach about the article, but with my nice, brilliantly green lawn, and the whole farm, I just had to write something!

The Suburban Lawn Will Never Be the Same

Homeowners from Las Vegas to Sydney are swapping real grass for artificial turf as climate change forever alters what a normal yard looks and smells like.

By Brian Eckhouse and Siobhan Wagner | Friday, July 8, 2022

The lawn part of the farm. I planted all of the trees myself, and did the brick sidewalk as well.

Judy Dunn moved to her home in the Las Vegas suburbs from Washington state in late 1998, when there was little concern about water levels at nearby lakes. Dunn could nurture the verdant lawn of her dreams in a valley of cacti and sand that developers had recast as an oasis. But then a drought arrived and never left, and now local agencies are fining more residents for wasting water.

For Dunn, the final straw arrived last summer. Lake Mead, historically America’s largest reservoir, plunged to its lowest level since 1937 and the first-ever water cuts were ordered on a Colorado River system that benefits about 40 million people including Dunn. “If we don’t start saving water, we’re not going to have any,” says the 76-year-old.

So, Dunn opted to install an artificial lawn, a choice being made by more and more residents of Southern Nevada—one of the many places that’s getting drier as the planet warms. For some, it’s the cash-for-grass rebates being offered by local water agencies. For others, it’s the realization that the classic lawn is increasingly unsustainable in a time of megadrought. And then there are the residents coaxed into the shift by the water notices or fines.

Well, Las Vegas is in, you know, the desert, with average daily high temperatures reaching 95º F from June 3rd through September 16th, and 105º on July 13th. You move to Vegas, and you get the desert, and desert weather, and desert rainfall.

Beyond the drainage ditch and its too-high weeds is the corn field, another brilliant green part of the farm

For water suppliers worldwide, climate change is raising the stakes. Italy in July declared a state of emergency as water levels in its largest river dropped to the lowest in 70 years. The US Southwest is suffering through the worst drought in over a century. Within the next 30 years, droughts may impact three quarters of the world’s population. While plastic turf poses its own climate challenges, it’s increasingly seen as a viable alternative to real green yards that devour precious water. . . . .

A couple of decades ago, artificial turf was often a thin carpet atop a hard surface—rough on the knees as well as the eyes. Athletes playing on it complained that it wore their legs out. But as the product improved, so did homeowners’ interest. From the US to the UK, artificial grass retailers have seen sales tick up during pandemic lockdowns, when housebound property owners put their money toward home improvements. Indeed, Google Trends shows a worldwide surge in searches for “artificial grass” during the middle of 2020.

I don’t know if it’s still there, because the last time I saw it was the late 1980s, but Newport News Shipbuilding and Drydock Company had, outside their public office, which was not inside the shipyard’s gates, some integrally-colored green concrete where grass would have been expected, by their normal sidewalks! Of course, Newport News got plenty of rain, but this way, the shipyard didn’t have to maintain the grass!

Me? I live in the Bluegrass State, and I’ve got to love all of the rain we get!

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The left just don’t think you live or want to live properly Me? I think that we live the best way possible!

Our farm in winter. Click to enlarge.

In the 51 years since I left my mother’s house, I have lived in apartments, rented single family homes, an owned half-duplex, an owned single family home, and now, finally, an owned farmhouse on actual farmland. We have exactly one neighboring home, about 100 yards away, as our houses are the only two on a country road down which the Post Office will not deliver, and let me tell you: this is the best way to live. My real neighbors are the deer and opossums, our dogs and cats and chickens, and the unspoiled vista that is our view from our northwest facing screened-in porch.

So it was with some amusement that I read how Jason Peasley thinks we ought to all live in apartment buildings: Continue reading →

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Morbid math

The flood waters are finally starting to drop. The crest was 30.15 feet, which did not bring it close to our house, so we’re fine, if still stranded; the only road out is still underwater.

The highest water ever recorded, the 41.00 feet (guesstimated, since the river gauge failed), got into the crawlspace of our home last March, and into the garage, but did not get into our house itself.

As of 9:10 AM EST, the Philadelphia Police Department has not updated its Current Crime Statistics page; the image to the left, on which you can click to enlarge, is a screen capture. Since the page is supposed to be updated “during normal business hours, Monday through Friday,” I have to wonder what has happened. Perhaps the responsible person is taking his New Year’s Day holiday today?

The homicide number for 2021 is still stuck on 559, even though The Philadelphia Inquirer reported that “at least 560 people in Philadelphia were murdered, a bigger tally than in more heavily populated cities including New York and Los Angeles”. If the homicide total is 560, using Philly’s 2020 census figure of 1,603,797, the homicide rate works out to 34.92 per 100,000 population, and a couple more increase it only marginally.

The Philadelphia Shooting Victims Dashboard, which claims to be accurate through the end of the year, stated that there had been 2,327 recorded shootings in the City of Brotherly Love, 486 of which were fatal, and 1,841 in which the victim survived. That means that the gang bangers are pretty poor shots, given that only 20.89% of attempted murders by gunfire were successful, but that’s an ‘improvement’ on the 18.44% success rate in 2020.[1]414 homicides by shooting, out of 2,245 total shootings. Yeah, I know: my math is kind of morbid sometimes.

We have previously reported that KSDK, Channel 5, the NBC affiliate station in St Louis, crowed about the Gateway City having reduced its homicide numbers back to “pre-pandemic levels.”

Experts said the 2020 spike in violence was driven largely by the pandemic and high tensions following civil unrest. More lock downs, people losing jobs and strained relationships between communities and law enforcement all led to more murders University of Missouri – St. Louis Criminology Professor Richard Rosenfeld said.

Yet, if it was the COVID-19 pandemic — and I hate the word pandemic — and the killing of George Floyd, then why did shootings increase in Philadelphia by 3.65%, and total homicides by 12.22%?

We noted that the homicide numbers in Philly had increased by 15.61% since it became apparent that Joe Biden had defeated President Trump in the election. Why, it’s almost as though the evil reich wing Mr Trump had nothing to do with the homicide rates!

Philadelphia is still plagued by the same government, of Mayor Jim Kenney, a Democrat, District Attorney Larry Krasner, a George Soros-funded stooge more interested in slapping down the police than prosecuting criminals, and the appropriately-named Police Commissioner, Danielle Outlaw, a bureaucrat appointee of Mr Kenney’s, who couldn’t lead a two-car parade. Philadelphia’s last Republican mayor left office on January 7, 1952, when Harry Truman was President, and George VI was still King of England. It has been three generations since Philly was led by a Republican!

George Floyd died a year and a half ago, and Donald Trump left the White House 348 days ago. The city leadership surrendered to the mob, and the coronavirus panic and shutdowns did not slow down the rate of violent crime in the city.

That was almost two years ago, and since then we’ve had vaccines, no cost vaccines, against the virus, and many — certainly not all in Philly — of the pandemic restrictions lifted, yet the rate of killing in Philly has only increased. At some point, maybe even leftists ought to be asking why the policies of an unbroken for generations Democratic leadership in Philadelphia haven’t worked.
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Updated: 11:55 AM EST

It looks like someone has been trying to update the Current Crime Statistics page, but just isn’t very good at it. It now shows 562 homicides for 2021, which puts the homicide rate above 35, at 35.04 per 100,000 population.

References

References
↑1 414 homicides by shooting, out of 2,245 total shootings.
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High water!

SSG Pico bought tickets for her and me to see the Oakland — never Las Vegas! — Raiders play the Baltimore Indianapolis Colts today, but the one road in or out from our farm is underwater. Our place isn’t in any danger; even the record flood of a guesstimated 41.00-foot crest didn’t get in the house, though it did get in the garage and crawlspace.

But we have sparktricity, propane, food, water and internet, so life is still good.

There has been some flooding damage in Madison County, but we don’t live in Madison.

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Thank the Lord for fossil fuels!

During our first winter back in the Bluegrass State, we had only electric heat. When what the Weather Channel called Winter Storm Hunter hit, we lost sparktricity . . . for 4½ days. My wife went to stay with our daughter, in Lexington, but I had to stay on the farm to take care of the critters.

The coldest it got in the house was 38º F!

But it sure wasn’t pleasant. While the water was still on, there was no hot water. There was just enough warm water that first morning to take a quick, sort-of OK shower, but that was it.

Our house is an eastern Kentucky fixer-upper, and the kitchen was the first thing to be redone. Mrs Pico wanted a gas range, and that was planned all along. We knew our electric water heater was near the end of its service life, so we planned on replacing that with gas as well. Then, remembering the unheated house, we decided to add a gas fireplace as well. The fan won’t work without electricity, and while the range top will work, the oven will not.

So, will we lose power again?

It’s a little hard to see the county lines, in the red area, but that’s where we are, kind of in between the Berea and Jackson city names.

At any rate, what my, sadly, late, best friend used to call the Lexington Herald-Liberal is telling me that we’re due for another ice storm. The forecast is a bit iffy: we could get snow as well as freezing rain, probably light tomorrow morning but getting worst Wednesday afternoon.

Alas! Mrs Pico has to work Thursday and Friday, and as a hospital nurse there’s no ‘work from home’ for her. My F-150 does have four-wheel drive, but four-wheel drive works far better in snow than it does on ice; nothing works well on ice. The county has pretreated the road, and while we live in relatively flat river-bottom farmland, there are a couple of not-nice places on the way to the hospital.

At any rate, I have asked William Teach of The Pirate’s Cove to watch this site, in case I’m out of communication for a few days.