More Thoughts On “John”

The comment from “John,” in this post, urging me to read Andrew Sullivan, wasn’t just rude–it was clueless.

Even accepting the (dubious) premise that Andrew is a “conservative,” why would John think that I would care, or that labeling him such would make me take what he says more seriously? I can only presume that it is because “John” deludes himself that I’m a “conservative,” and that therefore I’m intrinsically impressed by what other “conservatives” have to say. I’m not a conservative, but even if I were, I judge peoples words by the words themselves, not by the arbitrary political labels that are (mis?)applied to their authors, whether by themselves or others.

More Thoughts On “John”

The comment from “John,” in this post, urging me to read Andrew Sullivan, wasn’t just rude–it was clueless.

Even accepting the (dubious) premise that Andrew is a “conservative,” why would John think that I would care, or that labeling him such would make me take what he says more seriously? I can only presume that it is because “John” deludes himself that I’m a “conservative,” and that therefore I’m intrinsically impressed by what other “conservatives” have to say. I’m not a conservative, but even if I were, I judge peoples words by the words themselves, not by the arbitrary political labels that are (mis?)applied to their authors, whether by themselves or others.

More Thoughts On “John”

The comment from “John,” in this post, urging me to read Andrew Sullivan, wasn’t just rude–it was clueless.

Even accepting the (dubious) premise that Andrew is a “conservative,” why would John think that I would care, or that labeling him such would make me take what he says more seriously? I can only presume that it is because “John” deludes himself that I’m a “conservative,” and that therefore I’m intrinsically impressed by what other “conservatives” have to say. I’m not a conservative, but even if I were, I judge peoples words by the words themselves, not by the arbitrary political labels that are (mis?)applied to their authors, whether by themselves or others.

Lull

The long delay between posts had nothing to do with conditions; it was the normal one that occurs almost every night as I sleep. We’ve stokd up on canned goods, water, batteries, fuel, and other necessities. Last night was the time to stok up on slumber, because we may not get another chance at it until late Sunday. Fortunately, the storm didn’t disturb us, though I heard a few gale blasts about 7 AM.

It’s relatively quiet right now. Trees are blowing, but not hard, and it’s not raining much. Based on the forecasts, I don’t expect that to last long. Fortunately for us (and unfortunately for many others), it continues to head further north. If it makes landfall near the current prediction (up near Melbourne or Fort Pierce), we’ll get off pretty easy in Boca, all things considered, even if it restrengthens this afternoon and evening. Most of the storm surge (our biggest fear) will occur to the north of the storm, and most of the winds we get will be from the north and west.

I don’t know how much longer I’ll be blogging, but at this point, if I quit, it will be because I no longer can (most likely due to power out–the battery’s shot in my laptop), not because I’m voluntarily unconscious.

[Update a couple minutes later]

Whoops. Wrote too soon. The wind is picking up now. And there are a couple crazy people out driving down the street.

The Hurricane Fraud Continues

There’s a light drizzle outside now. No wind worthy of the name, just a gentle breeze.

Damn you, plywood manufacturers! Damn you to hell!!

[Update after a little reflection]

Well, to be philosophical about it, it’s kind of like washing your car to make it rain, or carrying an umbrella to prevent same. If the storm doesn’t hit us, we’ve done a great service to southern Palm Beach and northern Broward counties by preparing our house for a hurricane and spending the money to move out of it.

But perhaps I speak too soon. The demon, at whatever strength or intention, continues to lurk off shore.

Anyway, for now, for those grateful, the tip jar is to the left.

It’s A Conspiracy!

It’s a beautiful balmy night in Boca Raton. No one would ever suspect that there’s a killer storm lurking just a couple hundred miles off shore. In fact, I’m not sure that even I believe it.

I’m starting to think that this is an elaborate joint conspiracy by the Plywood Manufacturers of America, and the Association of Concrete Fasteners. They knew, after years of “the boy who cried wolf syndrome,” that after Charley’s abrupt right turn, after evacuating Tampa, and sending everyone to Orlando, after which they were hit there instead, that people will disbelieve any track projection, and that they could get everyone on the Sunshine State to purchase window-protection accoutrements by simply pretending that there was a storm out there.

To paraphrase Homer Simpson, here I am, sitting in a motel with my house boarded up, like a sucker.

It’s A Conspiracy!

It’s a beautiful balmy night in Boca Raton. No one would ever suspect that there’s a killer storm lurking just a couple hundred miles off shore. In fact, I’m not sure that even I believe it.

I’m starting to think that this is an elaborate joint conspiracy by the Plywood Manufacturers of America, and the Association of Concrete Fasteners. They knew, after years of “the boy who cried wolf syndrome,” that after Charley’s abrupt right turn, after evacuating Tampa, and sending everyone to Orlando, after which they were hit there instead, that people will disbelieve any track projection, and that they could get everyone on the Sunshine State to purchase window-protection accoutrements by simply pretending that there was a storm out there.

To paraphrase Homer Simpson, here I am, sitting in a motel with my house boarded up, like a sucker.

It’s A Conspiracy!

It’s a beautiful balmy night in Boca Raton. No one would ever suspect that there’s a killer storm lurking just a couple hundred miles off shore. In fact, I’m not sure that even I believe it.

I’m starting to think that this is an elaborate joint conspiracy by the Plywood Manufacturers of America, and the Association of Concrete Fasteners. They knew, after years of “the boy who cried wolf syndrome,” that after Charley’s abrupt right turn, after evacuating Tampa, and sending everyone to Orlando, after which they were hit there instead, that people will disbelieve any track projection, and that they could get everyone on the Sunshine State to purchase window-protection accoutrements by simply pretending that there was a storm out there.

To paraphrase Homer Simpson, here I am, sitting in a motel with my house boarded up, like a sucker.

Hurricane Blogging

But who knows for how long? It turns out that the Residence Inn that we’re staying at has broadband, but I didn’t find out about it until a couple hours ago. Then I discovered that I hadn’t packed any ethernet cables with my laptop…

So after a trip back to the house between feeder bands (with an additional delay to cover up one door that we missed earlier), I’m on the air, until the power or bandwidth give out, whichever comes first.

As anyone who’s been following the storm knows, the damned thing slowed down to nine MPH today, so landfall is coming later than anticipated. We haven’t seen much yet, except a couple feeders, with (fortunately) no tornadoes. It still looks like it’s heading somewhat north of us, and the Cape is still in danger.

We’re still in the target area, at the extreme southern end, as far as being hit by the eye. If it hits north of us, it will be a blessing (for us) because most of the heavy winds will be off-shore, and there won’t be as heavy a surge (flooding of the house was the biggest concern, and one that we could do nothing about, other than wrapping it in whatever they put Han Solo in). But the door that we belatedly shored up was on the west side of the house, so we decided to buttress it a little more.

I’m anticipating an interesting twenty-four hours, with (at a minimum) steady tropical-force winds hitting sometime before morning, increasing to hurricane force throughout tomorrow, with eyefall on the land sometime during the day or evening. Earlier is bad, because that means it will hit farther south (us). Later is better, even though it prolongs the agony of the decibels and groaning structure.

We’re in a comfortable hotel room, built fifteen years ago, but if the storm hits here dead on, it will be the biggest one it’s ever seen, even though the intensity has dropped off to a Cat 3 (it may increase once it’s done scouring the Bahamas, in anticipation of slamming the Treasure Coast–lucky us). We’re enjoying a meal (possibly our last nice one for a while) of grilled salmon and Caesar salad and champagne (the place has a kitchen).

We’re hoping that the hotel will hold out all right, but the worst case is that we all huddle in an interior bath (four of us, with no windows) for the few worst hours, screaming above the winds howling through the broken windows. Obviously, I hope (but don’t pray–I still don’t know to whom to do that) that it doesn’t come to that.

Oh, and to commenter “John” in the previous thread? I rarely use language like this in my blog, but fuck you. With sandpaper.

Biting Commentary about Infinity…and Beyond!