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November 2018

At least be honest with yourself

You can say that you’re a Republican who doesn’t support Trump all day long, but if you continue to vote for candidates who do support him (or don’t do anything to stop him) then you are supporting Trump, whether you want to admit it or not.

If you can’t bring yourself to cross the aisle in this extremely important referendum on our country’s future, at least have the courage to admit what you’re doing. This is a terrifying point in our history, particularly for those of us who don’t look, love, or worship in a manner acceptable to the current administration. It’s not “just politics” for us and it’s not about saving a few dollars in taxes. It’s life and death.

Just make sure you understand all the implications of what you do in the voting booth on your loved ones and on the very system of government that Americans hold dear. It’s not a game and it’s not a fucking reality show.

What was I thinking?

Why do I start doing things that will make me crazy at 9:00 on a Friday night? In preparation for getting this site SSL compliant (which actually was easier than I expected, despite some weirdness stemming from two very old WordPress plugins I should have gotten rid of a long time ago) I ended up doing a global find and replace. There were problems, and to oversimplify, when I finished the process, my site reverted to a state from sometime in 2009. I’m not entirely sure how that happened; it seems a bit random.

And then I tried to restore from my nice, fresh backup…which was apparently corrupted.

Anyway, after lots of SQL and FTP and SSH and all those other acronyms I’m glad I still remember how to use, I’m back up now for the enjoyment of all three of my fans! And everything should be pretty SSL compliant by later tonight, so you will stop seeing those “not secure” warnings that really don’t matter because you’re not submitting data anyway.

And I have a good, clean backup again. I know because I just restored from it.

Yes, I could leave the server stuff to someone else, but I don’t want to.

Anyway, I’m glad I did this site before the other one, at least.

After 15 years…

…your risk of heart disease and pancreatic cancer are the same as for someone who never smoked.

I quit smoking fifteen years ago today. You can do it too.

Election night

I’ve been tagging photos and doing some Groceteria updates all night. I’m about to read a bit of my Expo ’67 book and go to sleep. I have been on a complete social media, messaging, and broadcast blackout since I finished teaching a class at 7, so I can avoid the election returns till morning and get some sleep tonight. I have no idea right now what’s going on.

Two years ago, I spent election night in Ottawa, vowing not to watch the returns. I broke my vow and had one of the worst nights of my life. I will not relive that.

I’m fucking terrified.

The old hometown

Just an excuse to post a pretty picture I took when I was over there for a conference earlier this week. The colors are nicer when you look at it full-size.

It’s been over five years since I really lived there, and more than three since I sold the house. Time flies when you’re — um — old.

I’m in purging mode

Lest anyone misinterpret, the fact that I’m really into getting rid of things right now is not a sign of underlying depression. It actually stems from the fact that I’ve finally recovered from the last move and have found the motivation to do the next round. I hope to remove the equivalent of a room full of crap by the end of winter. I started tonight with magazines and newspapers than have been in boxes more or less untouched for more than ten years (plus some things I got custody of in the divorce).

The motivational part is that (as I also had to do when I merged three houses into one) I have decided that I don’t really give a flying fuck how much most of this stuff might possibly be worth in some perfect world. I’m on a cleaning kick. I just want it fucking gone.

I am keeping the essentials, though, like all my TV Guides (no…I really have a lot of them and they’re actually organized), and my “Best of the Bay” issue of the Guardian, and the first porn magazine I ever bought as a 16-year-old in 1980.

But those old Interviews and Advocates are history.