Some Hope and Change for the Democrats

Democrats try to raise their spirits by observing, "See, some people hate Trump, or Musk." Musk is the ingredient in perfume that smells like sweat, an undertone perfume seems to need; in order for people to smell like gardenias the flower essence has to mingle with a hint of sweat but, when they smell it directly, most people do dislike musk. You have to give Elon M. some sympathy points just for going through life with that for a name. But, more seriously...for Ds reading this...please, please, please don't try to base another election on hate. Learn from past mistakes. 

Ds don't like to admit it but their voter base consists of people dependent on government funding, whether honorably, as mail carriers and public school teachers, or not, as women who prostitute themselves in order to get subsidized for being single mothers of more and more young children, or men who set out to drink their way to disability. Rs say, and quite rightly I might add, that putting the entire latter group on day labor sites all day, forcing them to sit up and be quiet and sober until they're led off to work and then work until they're brought back to the sites if they want their handouts, would do them the world of good. Rs have less to say when faced with people who have carried mail, or taught six-year-olds the alphabet, or pulled injured passengers out of burning cars for thirty years. But people can agree to blame any young person who's never worked for the government himself, who's told to start firing people and begins by firing people the public could actually miss. As a total outsider, not even an American, Musk is unimpeded by any sympathy for the likable time wasters who love to go to the office, look busy, hang out with each other, and barely manage, on their best days, for three of them to do what one real worker could get done before lunch, working from home. Huzza. But he's also clueless about who the time wasters are. Instead of saying, "Right--at this office it's Carol, Susan, Dave, Steve, and Olufemi," he's likely to be programming a computer to go down a list of names and fire the person named on every third line. 

And he's also well accustomed to  being disliked. Bright, funny-looking kids usually are disliked. They experience school as torture: being locked in a sensory deprivation chamber with twenty strangers who all hate them, for no reason. And what do they do about it? They learn to hate back. Pull up those memories if, and only if, you want to watch someone with no emotional attachment to you turn before your eyes into someone who sincerely hates you. 

We'd be stupid not to rely on Musk's genius for all things car, computer, and rocket-related so it would probably be a good idea to turn off the hate machine. Do we want him to build spacecraft that can rescue stranded astronauts, or spacecraft programmed to cut off astronauts' oxygen supply? To search government computers with our real names, home addresses, and medical records in them, detachedly, using an algorithm, or hostilely, going after people who try to sabotage his work? Musk has made some trans-humanist noises in public and, yes, if driven back into Cornered Rat Mode he probably would know how to manipulate enough computers to use DNA "therapies" to turn an enemy into a toad. 

There might be things Ds can do to reconnect with their voter base, besides training stupid people to be haters, which never works well. Consider, for example, something Robert Reich e-mailed this morning: 

"When oligarchs talk about free markets, they mean markets they're free to control." 

So, instead of those Marx-inspired ritual wails about "ooh, ooh, hate those oligarchs," meaning rich  people who are not big donors to their party...what about defining what public-spirited people mean when we talk about free markets? "We mean markets that are open to the public. We mean replacing handouts with licenses to operate small businesses, starting with a license and a box of pencils, or some other small item Wal-Mart agrees to let them sell in Wal-Mart parking lots, and continuing unimpeded for the first five years." Even Rs have to like that kind of idea so the Ds can reclaim the feeling of solidarity with Rs, which they so desperately need after these long ugly years of hate-based campaigning. Even the handout-dependent have to have, buried somewhere deep inside them, an inner child who always wanted to grow up, who will be thrilled to hear: "No food stamps for you this month. You're not an infant, nor even an addict, so you are now Wal-Mart's socks department. Go and earn a respectable living selling socks." 

All that Rs will be able to say against this idea is "We can do it better." Can one party do it better than the other? I have no idea, but I think finding out would be a total win-win.

Petfinder Post: Always Something to Learn

I think my outdoor cat Serena is slowly recovering from the effects of poisoning. It's been an experience I hope everyone else can avoid, but it did prod me to update what I learned about cat diseases many years ago. (When our Founding Queen Black Magic came here I read everything I could get about the care and feeding of cats.)

The effects of poisoning didn't look like enteritis or like what we usually call distemper. I'll admit they did look like panleukopenia, but (1) Serena had enteritis as a kitten--not a bad case--so she was immunized to panleukopenia, and (2) Serena's grandkitten Drudge, who has never had enteritis and would logically have been the first to die if panleukopenia were going around, but who didn't cross the property line between mine and a nicer neighbor's woodlots, has never sniffled, while his mother died and his aunt and grandmother were so ill. Almost anything that goes badly wrong with a cat's body can look like panleukopenia, because "panleukopenia" means "all the white blood cells are damaged," so when a cat is diagnosed with that, everything is going wrong. But what damaged the neighborhood cats' blood cells was not the natural infection to which they were immune. 

We lost Serena's daughter Pastel. We lost Pastel's mate, a long-haired stray I called Borowiec after googling "male model with long red hair." We apparently lost the father of Serena's kittens, to whom I never gave a name, and Serena's other daughter Silver. We may have lost the two possums Silver proudly presented to me as her pets. (Social cats often do have pets--normal cats, or other animals.) If the poison has reactivated any virus we'll probably lose Drudge and the Manx tomcat I call Trumpkin, because they are social cats; you could set out more dishes than you had social cats, and social cats would still rotate around, each taking a sip or a nibble from every dish. Trumpkin and Silver have been sniffly when I've seen them. Serena was merely sniffly while Pastel was dying, and then her temperature went up and her symptoms looked just like Pastel's.

For about a week I was sure Serena was dying, she was wasted and feverish and glassy-eyed and generally a mess, but I gave her water with and without powdered food-grade charcoal in it. I had some of those cans of chicken from Wal-Mart that are advertised as "white meat...may contain dark meat"; she ate them, sometimes cooked with corn, rice, beans, and/or tomatoes, sometimes straight out of the tin. Cats who have panleukopenia usually die of dehydration so, although there is no cure, vets recommend giving them as much water as they can drink and a little chicken broth to maintain electrolyte balance. If the immune system was strong and the disease hasn't destroyed too many white blood cells, cats can recover from panleukopenia.

Food-grade charcoal is also sold at Wal-Mart--they put it in with the "nutritional supplements," though it is not nutritious, in fact it can block the absorption of nutrients, and CVS does better, displaying charcoal in with the over-the-counter digestive medications. The function of charcoal in the body is to soak up chemicals, including most poisons, some infectious diseases, some of the acid-alkaline reactions that cause flatulence, and also some vitamins and minerals, so it should be used only when the patient is sick. When the patient is sick charcoal seems to be safe and helpful for all species. It might not be recommended for panleukopenia, because before going down with that disease the cat would probably have been malnourished, and because the disease would be in the blood. It is recommended for poisoning. I could not have afforded a veterinary hospital, but instinct and intuition happened to guide me to do what a veterinary hospital would have done for Serena.

So Serena took some charcoal, reluctantly, and her nose cleared. She smelled food and ate and drank, greedily, trying to restore lost weight. Her temperature dropped. She got up and went outside--one cold night she left a puddle on the porch, but although she scurried back inside right away she went all the way to the sand pit most of the time. For about ten days she clung to me as if for moral support; then she seemed to feel more confident and curled up in warmer or cooler places. Day by day she slept less and moved around more. This week, we've had a real February Thaw after all, and she's seemed to want to spend some time outdoors, in the sun. She will not be spending time outdoors when I'm not at home, moving in and out, until the poisoner is in the sort of hospital where he belongs.

I know who it is...and if my cats hadn't been harmed, I would have been pleased to have such clear evidence. I have known who was trying to ruin the neighborhood for years now. The problem has been getting clear evidence. 

Serena chose her name as a kitten. She should not in theory have been able to hear words when humans started thinking of names for her. She ignored other proposed names but squeaked as if answering to "Serenity," then accepted "Serena" as a short form. She did not embody serenity but her sturdy, tough body and rough, aggressive, yet affectionate and motherly personality reminded me of Serena Williams, so "Serena" was the name that stuck. Most people would probably not like her; she usually wants a good fast game, so, having matured and observed my behavior, she's gone from slapping and nipping to doing anything that I've been known to get up to stop her doing, just to have an excuse to run away, tail waving, enjoying being chased. I adore her. I chase her up and down the road about as often as she allows me to pet her, as a show of real affection.

The property is a Cat Sanctuary. The cats are never kept indoors or outdoors; the cellar is their part of the house; the resident cats come and go as they wish. There aren't a great number of homeless cats in the area, and sometimes I've arranged to keep a few and they've been adopted before they were delivered here, but there is a big roomy cage where cats who need to be confined can stretch and climb a bit. (I know people would expect the cage to contain at least one shelter foster cat at all times, but none of the humans in the house wants to have strangers coming up to meet the foster cats.) There are also a few little carrying cages, which the cats who listen to words know as boxes, for short-term confinement, and a few baskets and cartons for kittens, which the cats also hear being called boxes--one tends to simplify the language when talking to Listening Cats. While Pastel was dying she wanted to be in a warm place and was not inclined to move, so she lay in a carton lined with newspapers near the heat. 

When Serena became ill she also wanted to be in a warm place, but not in a carton like Pastel. (She was still hearing words, and showed an aversion to any suggestion that she was like Pastel.) I spend most of the winter in the warmest room in the house, which is the one with the Net-free computers in it. 

I sit on a low, wide bench. You may remember having been told that it was healthier to sit with your knees bent at a 90-degree angle, which means on a seat about as far off the floor as your knees are, and then noticing that your knees are 14 or 15 or 16 inches above the floor, while most chairs are 18 inches above the floor. You could buy one of those ugly chairs on wheels that don't fit into any part of the house, but if you have even minimal skills it's easier to make a nice little bench out of cheap, thick plywood. If you have any carpentry skills to speak of you can put storage drawers in it. If you don't you can get some  large sturdy stackable crates (heavy plastic or wood) with one side lower than the others, stack them in two columns, put a matching board across the top, and store things in your desk drawers. Guess which I did...desk drawers of course!

Anyway, the bench is wide enough that I usually just lean over and  sleep on it rather than go into an unheated bedroom. So it has blankets stacked at one end. While she was ill Serena lay on a folded-up blanket right beside me. As she grew stronger and sassier, when I lay down she'd curl up on top of me and my blanket. I think she went from twelve healthy pounds (she's a big-boned, broad-framed, British-type cat because one of her ancestors was Manx), to seven or eight emaciated dehydrated pounds, to ten skinny but well hydrated pounds, all in one week. 

Then the Big Freeze passed, and Serena, no longer feverish, no longer craved warmth. She started spending nights on a storage box, watching for mice and crickets. 

I woke up one morning this week. Serena had awakened me by knocking the cover off an unsealed storage box. For an encore she then climbed up on top of her water bottles.

Serena is a spokescat for Pure Life bottled water. One evening when Twitter was still Twitter I'd got into a discussion of brands. I had been selling books in an open-air market with bottled drinks "for a dollar or free with a purchase"; on hot days chilled drinks sold well, and enough people asked for chilled water that the cats and I had compared a few brands. I mentioned that Serena had grown up being offered the first spoonful or so from the bottle of water I opened on coming home from market, and become an adult cat who, if I didn't pour a little bottled water into her dish even on a cold wet day, would look at me as if to ask "What's wrong?" During the next week a lurker from a local store told me that the store had had a problem with the brand we liked best, but the store would supply our second choice, Pure Life, so that I could show affection to Serena every day. I've been doing so ever since. 

And Pure Life is a pretty good brand of bottled water if, for some reason, you distrust your regular water source, or don't have one. It's preserved with traces of magnesium chloride. I've felt less stiff, on the day after an unaccustomed exertion, since I started drinking it. People usually notice stiff muscles more as they grow older. I think it's possible that I'm actually getting some benefit from the magnesium. 

Anyway, the bottles were in the office so they wouldn't freeze during the Big Freeze; when Serena jumped onto the plastic wrapper that surrounded them, they all fell over sidewise. So I said, "Why, you've not gone out for six hours! You must want to go out right now!"

Serena refused to go out. Instead she curled up on the floor as if she wanted to take a nap.

I looked at her incredulously. She really did go to sleep--as deep a sleep as cats seem to achieve. Some say they never do sleep as deeply as humans, but Serena stayed on one spot, barely moving, for more than three hours.

I understood her to "say," nonverbally but clearly: "I watched over you while you slept. Now it's your turn to watch while I sleep. Then I'll want to go out to the sand pit."

For a "cat lady" I've not shared sleeping spaces with a lot of cats in my life. When I have, they've usually been sick kittens--heat-seeking Velcro. 

Or Buster, a friend's cat, who let me know that the guest bed was his because he escorted his humans' guests toward it and stayed on top of the quilt while they slept in it. shws 

Or Murphy, the old boardinghouse cat who liked to dump his seventeen years and almost as many pounds on top of soft sensitive parts of people until they made their feelings clear. Throwing Murphy across the room was not enough. He had to be kicked, harder than a decent human wants to kick a cat, to receive the hint. I was actually fond of Murphy, a dignified and sensible old soul, but, to be able to sleep in peace, I had to convince him that I hated him. In order to avoid rearing any cats like Murphy I've generally led kitttens, after they got big enough to leave their mother's nest, into the big roomy cage for the night. 

But it seems entirely congruent with Serena's life and behavior that she would think of sleeping indoors with a human as watching over her human at night. She still has symptoms of illness, but she feels better and thinks she's running the whole house.

She has been invited to sit on my lap and participate in selecting the cutest adoptable cat and dog pictures in the urban hubs of the Eastern States. So far she's not doing it, despite a background-sound video featuring live chickens and a few wild songbirds in the trees around the cameraperson's chicken yard. Well, she's old enough to know that any bird a cat can catch is unlikely to be fit to eat. She also completely ignored a Kiffness video where the man improvised a song around a video of an e-friend's cat meowing. She did, however, tell me to be quiet and not sing along with Danit's "Cuatro Vientos" earlier in the evening. I'm not sure whether that meant she thought Danit's voice should be savored and not interfered with by singing along, or she didn't like the song and wanted it to be over.

The only benefit Serena and I get from this photo contest is that, if you share a photo with people near where an adoptable animal is, the animal might find a good home. Please share! (We're hoping, though, that since Petfinder is sponsored by Purina and Serena's always liked Purina Kitten Chow, we might qualify for some sort of deal on kibble.) Each week we try to pick different types of pets; this week's picks have thick, dark coats in common.

Zipcode 10101: Topaz and Tourmaline from NYC 

Topaz's web page: http://petfinder.com/cat/topaz-75124015/ny/new-york/anjellicle-cats-rescue-ny488/

Tourmaline's web page: https://www.petfinder.com/cat/tourmaline-75097086/ny/new-york/anjellicle-cats-rescue-ny488/

Two web pages tell one story. Topaz is the darker sister. These two June kittens are looking for a home together. They like to snuggle and play together. (Why is a "wand toy" preferred? Probably because a human has to bring it to "life" for cats to chase. Cats' interest in objects lying on the floor is limited but their interest in things humans move about usually lasts well into middle age.) They've been in a shelter long enough to be accustomed to other cats and dogs. 

Zipcode 20202: Goody from DC 

Her web page: https://www.petfinder.com/cat/goody-74999849/dc/washington/lucky-dog-animal-rescue-dc20/

Goody is a small cat with a large coat. Her actual weight is seven pounds, and that's probably close to as much as it should ever be. I'm not sure whether it's possible for a cat to be a goody-goody, but presumably they mean that she's a good cat. She is available as a foster pet so you can find out for yourself. 

Zipcode 30303: Mirabel and Bruno from Atlanta

Her web page: https://www.petfinder.com/cat/mirabel-57357649/ga/atlanta/southern-animal-rescue-ga653/

Together. He has his own web page, though: https://www.petfinder.com/cat/bruno-57357636/ga/atlanta/southern-animal-rescue-ga653/ .

"Mirabel or Bruno?" I wondered, looking at their photos side by side on the index page. "They're both appealing but I think I've picked a picture like his before." When I read Mirabel's web page I thought it couldn't have been the same cat, because this brother and sister are available for adoption together. Their story is the old shelter cat cliche. Spring kittens, growing past peak cuteness in the shelter, born to someone who didn't want kittens and didn't make the time to prevent kittens. 

("Should we use the Nag photo, Serena?" I thought at her, considering her behavior as conversation.

"Whatever that is."

"A Nag is an old, tired horse, or an old, tired reminder for someone to do something. Like prevent kittens."

"Why ever would anyone want to prevent kittens?"

"Maybe they live in town and their street is full of cats with nothing to hunt."

"Well, I want more kittens, actually. That's why I'm taking my main nap in the office now. I'm avoiding Trumpkin and hoping a real kitten-daddy will come here tomorrow." 

"Well, there you are, then. You hated Trumpkin with a passion until he'd been neutered. Maybe other cats show the strong form of a lethal gene, and other cats of the opposite sex hate those cats, and, being very social, those cats won't be happy until they've been fixed so that they can't produce kittens. In any case, if people don't want kittens, they need to get those cats in for surgery now."

"Some cats may have started kittens last week! Some of us start kittens in the February or even the January Thaw. But it's not too late for male cats.")

Anyway, Mirabel and Bruno will not be producing kittens, separately or together, and their adoption fee includes a substantial vet bill. 

DOGS

Zipcode 10101: Effie from Texas by way of NYC 

Her web page: https://www.petfinder.com/dog/effie-tx-75157812/ny/new-york/rescue-dogs-rock-nyc-ny1274/

I don't like the tone of her web page at all, but for the dog's sake I'll overlook it. Effie is a young poodle who's done well in her "rescue" environment and is expected to become a good pet. 

Zipcode 20202: Axel and Canada from Texas by way of DC 

Their web page: https://www.petfinder.com/dog/axel-and-canada-75028164/dc/washington/save-some-souls-tx2502/

Their story does raise some red flags. These dogs were "rescued from a backyard breeder"? Are we sure that this doesn't mean "stolen from their owners"? Local people usually have the information to know the difference, but when "rescued" animals are advertised far away from where they live, it's important to get both sides of the story. "Rescuing" does unfortunately have a certain built-in appeal to control freaks. Animals are not usually the ones who object to their being allowed to reproduce. When control freaks are told to go home and mind their own business, the world becomes a better place.

But when we know the facts, sometimes it is possible to adopt an "out-of-town pet" with a clear conscience. For example, huskies and malamutes tend to do better in cooler climates than Texas--or for that matter DC. When the "rescuer," now the dogs' "foster mom," says she'll deliver the dogs to other States or Canada, she may well be remembering them panting on the ground beside empty water dishes in last summer's heat. "Canada" is the black dog's name, but we associate sled dogs with a snowy country for valid reasons. 

There are other special considerations for adopting two untrained sled dogs. They weigh fifty and sixty pounds. Do you have experience wrangling large dogs who pull on leashes and don't want to visit vets? Axel, the white one, will lean his considerable weight against your feet and legs when he wants to be petted. Will that be fun for you, or painful, or even dangerous? They're strong, fast, and excitable--they need a strong, high fence around a yard big enough for them to race through. Do you have such a yard and fence? If you don't, their web page says, don't even ask. These dogs are not for anyone who once read Silver Chief or White Fang. They're expensive to adopt and will be expensive to keep. 

If you're accustomed to living with large dogs, and have the kind of time, space, and energy they need, please consider adopting them. Whatever they "have gone through" with the "backyard breeder," they're described as friendly, affectionate dogs with a lot to give the person who can meet their special needs.

Zipcode 30303: Kirby from Atlanta 

(If you don't see a photo, just click on the link. Chrome is msibehaving.)

His web page: https://www.petfinder.com/dog/kirby-75304395/ga/atlanta/carolina-german-shepherd-rescue-sc425/

He's one of a litter of Australian-Shepherd-mix puppies. All are cute babies, likely to become handsome dogs. They need someone who is patient and firm with puppies. "Aussies" are neither from Australia nor ideal sheep herding dogs; the breed was developed in the US by someone who fantasized about raising sheep in Australia. They're pretty, they often but not always have a distinctively mottled coat that is produced by an undesirable gene, and they tend to have lots of energy. Purebred Australian Shepherds are big enough to need strong, fit humans to run with, but this litter's ancestors had been crossbred down for smaller size and Kirby's healthy adult weight is expected to be under twenty pounds. His plain black and white coat should be taken as a good sign--he's likely to run up lower vet bills than the glamorously mottled Aussies. And will he "herd" people to the door when it's time for his trot around the block? Remains to be seen. But consider Barb Taub's Oh My Dog and how much fun she had being herded by her Peri.

The dog seems like a keeper. I wish I could say as much for the shelter. Both the price and the demands they want to make are ridiculous. They want, among other things, to be assured that this little dog will be kept indoors. Well, he's just a baby; how well he'll be able to control his body remains to be learned. You might try haggling.

Then again, you might decide that the thick dark coat theme of the week means nothing to you, and adopt a short-haired dog, and live happily ever after. It's always possible that visiting a shelter, in real life or on Petfinder, will bring to your attention an animal you consider even more adorable than the one whose photo I picked. All to the good.

Book Review: His Wicked Games

Title: His Wicked Games

Author: Ember Casey

Date: 2013

Quote: "You sit through dinner with me, and I sit through your speech about your little Center."

Calder pledged money toward the charity Lily and her father are trying to get going, but he's not paying up on schedule. Lily barges into his family property to nag at him. Instead of having her arrested for trespassing Calder, who thinks she's cute, starts a series of bets and games that will, of course, lead to Romance. Fairly explicit. 

If you want a novel as a marital aid, and like a slow burn with liberal mention of body parts, you will enjoy this book.  

Web Log for 2.26.25

Just a little fluff and reminiscence...

Music 

For those who remember the 1980s fad for Irish traditional music of all genres, as I do, here's a documentary about one of the Irish bands that started it all in the 1970s.

https://www.tg4.ie/en/player/home/

Miranda Lambert has a song about the emotional damage that a nomadic life does to children.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DQYNM6SjD_o

The charity she's sponsoring, in the sidebar? ??? Good intentions tend eventually to be exploited by people with bad intentions. We need more places where at least small, harmless animals can roam around as they like, not more places where they can be hustled into cages. We also need more space for no-kill shelters. This web site takes no position.

Nomadism, Continued

I don't remember ever feeling that my parents' nomad phase did me as much damage, as a young adult, as just being socialized to groups of overcrowded hostile children did. But I remember feeling that more was lost than was gained by every move. I remember feeling that it was no use to learn names or directions since they'd be relevant to my life for only a few months. I remember feeling that nature had given me a home, and the places we rented were not it. And I remember the satisfying feeling of closure I have about two places we rented that were reasonably close to my home--the one I could still walk out and visit if I wanted to, the one that I remember so well that burned down--and the lingering bewilderment of not remembering which of the other houses I half-remember was which. Children do not see places in the same way adults do. A three-year-old remembers that at some time in per life person lived in a place where the bathroom had colorful tiles on the wall. An adult wonders "So, which place was that, exactly, and how long were we there, and was that the same house that had the fireplace that I grew too big to stand up inside while we were living there?" 

I remember the address of one rented house. I don't have any desire to go back there--it was a neighborhood where everyone was only renting, so no old friends would be likely to be there, now, even if we'd had close friends there, which I don't think any of us really had. People got along but didn't plan to know each other long and didn't bond. Anyway I was able to look up the address online. The house was up for sale or rent again so I could take a virtual walk through the rooms. They looked just the way they had before we moved our things in; it was nice to see that I'd remembered the house where I spent most of a year very much the way I see it as an adult. I'll probably never have that experience with a few dozen other places where I spent a night or a week or a month or a year.

Have you readers gone back to places where you were children? How accurately had you remembered those places? Did long-lost memories rush back and make you smile? 

(The bathroom door, in that house I virtually revisited online, used to lack about half an inch of meeting the floor. My natural sister did her "toddling" phase that year, and used to toddle up to that door, when someone was in the bathroom, and stick her fingers in under the door, trying to peer in. It became one of our family jokes. We sang a little parody of a once popular song, "Put your fingers to the door, what d' you get? Bony fingers!" I couldn't see, on the virtual walk-through, whether that door had been replaced with one that fitted better.) 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iyzMJ3f2XeQ

Status Update: Teeth

I know people are wondering, because my mother never drank soda pop and I drink soda pop daily, and because Mother had beautiful, straight, even teeth and I had ugly, crooked ones...I lost my front teeth on exactly the same schedule Mother did. (Not counting the vampire fangs, which were removed to give the others a chance to last when I was thirteen.) The incisors didn't crumble painfully away, as Mother's back teeth were still in the process of doing, thanks to lots of expensive refillings, in her eighties and mine are starting to do now; they just loosened and popped out, painlessly, like the incisors of six-year-olds. One of mine was chipped, one perfect except that it was no longer attached. They fell out in 2021 but a lot of old acquaintances haven't seen me since then.

The difference is that Mother was staying with a patient out of town and wasn't seen in Gate City until she'd had a "partial plate" fitted, and I don't have the money or--considering the inconvenience it was to Mother--the inclination to bother with a "partial plate." Dad wasn't altogether happy with the choice he made unnecessarily early, but on the whole I think it was the more frugal and successful...live with the demise of ugly teeth until only a couple of them need to be pulled out of the way of your pretty new store-bought teeth. I expect to have pretty teeth, for the first time, the way Oogesti had, at some point in my late sixties.

I do not feel that having a second chance to sing "All I want for Chrithmith ith my two front teeth" looks much worse than my original front teeth always did. Mother looked beautiful with her "partial plate" because she was born a Beauty. I look like the child whose unfortunate paternal genes just prevented her being a Beauty because I was born, well, that. But, looks apart, my teeth are behaving just exactly like Mother's. Youall didn't notice that, because Mother, being a nicer person than Kamala Harris, did not grin like a possum and expose the bad back teeth to the world. Now you know.

But let me add one more generally unknown bit of truth to restore yourall's impression of Mother. Her teeth started to need all that maintenance when I was earning good money. She told me all about the pain of living with brittle old teeth and having them artificially repaired, but she never once took money from me to cover the cost of all the dental work. Not from Dad, either, and not from her emergency back-up mother-figure, my Aunt Dotty. She paid for every bit of it all by herself. She was not always as perfect as you might have imagined, but she was, by and large, as valiant.

So, if evenness/crookedness and soda pop consumption don't explain how natural teeth can be held up strong and solid for sixty-five years, what does? DNA probably has some influence. Also, paying attention to the balance of minerals in the diet. Mother would add, watching fat consumption. People who actually digest saturated fat use a lot of calcium to digest fatty food. Saturated fat tends to pass rapidly through skinny celiacs. And, of course, exercise...Walking tells our bodies to maintain solid bones, at least if we ingest enough calcium to make that possible. People who drive everywhere, don't keep gardens, don't do a lot of heavy house and yard chores, generally live out the lifestyle the TV sells us as "ease and convenience," start to have reasons to be afraid of falling down in their fifties. People who walk and carry weight do not. Chewing carrots and whole almonds is a workout for teeth and jawbones that helps maintain them in good condition right up to the point when they're genetically programmed to go into bad condition.

Sigh. I do miss carrots and almonds. But I was cheated out of them by glyphosate for years when I still had the ability to chew them.

Book Review: Nocturne House

Title: Nocturne House

Author: London Clarke

Date: 2020

ISBN: 978-1393140283 

Quote: "If the woman in the hospital is Laura, you will find her very changed."

Laura Massabrook does a lot of changing in this novel. More, I suspect, than a real human could survive. 

She's been labelled bipolar, a mental illness that's hard to define and often used as a way to discredit normal young people...as it might be by abusers, or exploitative institutions. Laura may actually have a physically based mood disorder. In the hospital she's predictably unhappy about having her symptoms mis-medicated with drugs that produce unpleasant physical effects. But then she meets a wonderful new doctor who wants to help her reframe her moods as the "empowerment" and "beautiful sorrow" of a brilliant mind. Laura has given no evidence of a brilliant mind, of any talent for leadership or entrepreneurship or "creativity," but trying to become something she probably is not has to be preferable to being legally doped to death...right?

Er, um...the alternative being presented to Laura is the vampire cult that ran Whickering Place and employs Pearse. (The series is a trilogy with a prequel; I've not reviewed them in order because I've not received them in order. Nocturne House is volume three.) 

The vampires in this novel are mostly the kind we sometimes find in real life: human beings who are excited by the idea of drinking other people's blood. They're not "undead," but they think they'd like to be. They consume large amounts of blood: some pilfered from hospitals, some drained from more or less consensual victims at their parties, some exchanged with one another. They also prostitute women and children. Their cult is dominated by abusive men, but promotes a few women to "leadership positions" where they help the men torture and kill other women. Nocturne House also seems to be occupied by ghosts and demons; Laura sees them, but then Laura is coming off a lot of drugs.

The squick level is high. There's a lot of blood and violence, suicide and murder, with quite a few moldering corpses as evidence that can help Laura,, her husband, Pearse, his wife, and law enforcement personnel deal with most of the cult's leaders by legal means. The mood in this novel alternates between terror and gross-outs with no contrasting wholesome scenes for the reader's relief; it's not an emotional roller coaster but an emotional deep-sea dive.

What I didn't like, although I can imagine it being what some readers will like, is the moral ambiguity of Laura's character. She doesn't like being drugged. She doesn't trust her mother or her husband, who lovingly send her back to hospitals to be drugged. So in the vampire cult, while still going to "classes" that seem to be standard business school blah-blah, she gets into an adulterous relationship with one of the cult leaders who seems to be nicer than the others. Of course he's not nice and, in order to break off the adulterous relationship, Laura will have to do things to him that aren't nice either. This is a story where the protagonist does things that certainly aren't virtuous throughout, and her climactic choice is between loyalty to a man who represents absolute evil and loyalty to one who represents self-harm, if not complete self-destruction. So...meh. I like stories where at least one of the alternatives at least some of the characters choose is good, or decent, or natural. 

In the real world there are people who feel that their mental disorders are more unbearable than the effects of drugs intended to damage their brains. Others feel that the drugs and their side effects are more unbearable than the mood swings, "depression," even hallucinations or tremors. There is an industry that wants it to be believed that the first type of mental patients are always closer to sanity than the second type are. Mainly because that industry's motives are so obvious, I'm skeptical about this. I would have felt that the nastiness in this story was justified if it had concluded with some evidence that Laura's mood swings had stabilized, as those of young people often do, and Laura could safely stay off drugs and practice her way to responsible adulthood. 

The writer known as London Clarke says that this kind of "weird, gothy stuff" is reaching some audiences as a good influence. I'll take her word. I don't know whether anyone who feels trapped in situations where all the choices available seem bad reads this web site. If you do, this novel is for you. 

Book Review: The Pale-Eyed Mage

Title: The Pale-Eyed Mage

Author: Jennifer Ealey

Date: 2022

Publisher: Next Chapter

Quote: "The pupils are black and the irises a very pale lavender...hmm...but they look white."

In a magical kingdom, in some alternative world where the landscape resembles Australia, a little boy called Jayhan is born with albinism expressed only in his eyes. This gives him a resemblance to a legendary ancestor of his who sounds awful, and causes him to be both feared and taunted, as a child. Nevertheless, he shows premature compassion toward another little boy who is being abused by an adult, and this starts a chain of events that are plausible only in magical kingdoms and lead to Jayhan's discovering and restoring an exiled Queen to her realm. Jayhan will go far. There will be sequels.

Partly it's the Australia-like setting that makes this modern fairy tale seem fresh. I found it entertaining, despite a lot of distractions from the Internet going in and out with rain that's reached dangerous levels while a cat whose grumpiness was a relief from a previous mood of hopeless passivity, but was still very grumpy, was occupying my knees. (I'm reading fiction but I'm actually watching for flood updates from Clinchport.) A real fantasy fiction fan is likely to buy the sequels.

Web Log for 2.24.25

Animals, Non-Resident

British butterflies, including one of the rare gender-confused individuals. It can fly but its wings don't match because it has male-type wings on one side and female-type wings on the other.

https://eastsussexwanderer.blogspot.com/2025/02/fritillaries-in-sussex.html 

Animals, Resident 

Serena was feeling sassier, though sniffly, and wanted to spend the afternoon out in the sun. Since I was puttering around the yard, I let her. She seemed to enjoy her adventures in convalescence, inspecting her territory, but didn't try to get me to run any distance with her. Yet. I'm beginning to have faith that she'll be doing that again this summer. She's reached the level of energy where she enjoys spending time indoors doing things that make me say "No," just so I'll get up and shoo her off the place she shouldn't be climbing on, or at least something will fall over, just to relieve the boredom of being in a place where she doesn't belong.

Just a data point...The tomcat I call Trumpkin has been close to Silver, who's not running around with him this week and may be dead or dying. He's been close to Serena, who's been very ill. If what they had even included panleukopenia as a secondary infection, at best he's a super-immune carrier. He looks healthy, mischievous, annoying, and stinky as a tomcat can be.

Health News 

Can yogurt and "a special form of Vitamin B-9" help people with autism? (The real thing, I mean, not a mislabel slapped on any quiet child by schools that get extra funding for enrolling students with major learning disabilities. I'm convinced that many young people currently classified as "autistic" are just fine--even admirable--the way they are and need respect more than "help." E.g. the lad who never became my stepson.) Studies suggest, not yet prove, that these factors in the diet may help relatively high-functioning autistic patients relate to the rest of the world. This page contains summaries of several autism-related news items; yogurt is at the top, Vitamin B-9 further down.

https://childrenshealthdefense.org/defender/ch-chinese-scientists-identify-food-ingredient-autism

Music 

This came in the e-mail. Stringed instruments. I liked it.

https://owls-are-everywhere.bandcamp.com/track/ricecar?

Stupidity 

"No proven hazards with pesticides," parrot-squawk mindless, testosterone-poisoned drones like "Doctor" Mike. Oh nooo. Warning: you won't have to watch all six minutes of the video to want to dip him in a vat of the chemicals used.

https://childrenshealthdefense.org/defender/farm-to-fuel-documentary-neonicotinoid-pesticides-destroyed-small-town/

Microsoft Needs Brakes

Rant cut from the link log, since it doesn't contain a link...

I noticed something interesting about this computer. Sponsors are paying for full connectivity, 24/7 if I could work 24/7, but the connection is usually feeble these days. The company has noticed this all over its service area; people have come out in trucks, pruned trees, tinkered with lines. The faltering connections continue. Sometimes the computer blames the router, sometimes the server. Sometimes rain really is affecting wireless connections. Then again, sometimes, like today, there's not a cloud in the sky and  not a leaf on a tree to affect wireless connections. So I checked my hardware in the "settings" window. Seems the computer is currently within range of four connections. The one the company still owns is Ethernet, the cord that plugs into the router box inside the house. I don't use that. The two that are supposed to maintain connectivity belong to Microsoft. Microsoft gives no reason why they've been consistently "non-operational" at least since January, when I started checking this. The connection has worked sporadically because it's a Realtek emergency connection that is "built" to last 24 hours at a time. Seriously.

I think Microsoft has a very bad case of hubris. Just as a guess, the Microsoft connections for which everyone who's put in a private connection has been paying are "older software," maybe three or four whole months old, that Microsoft wants the local company to replace with "updated" ones that cost more. I think we need a federal law about this. Microsoft needs to accept that the Waste Age is over, even if it has to be forced by law to stop trying to push "change" (meaning waste) and just maintain and repair existing devices for the next hundred years. I did not see computer centers with eight or ten computers for a neighborhood actually being crowded--the Gates Foundation had told people to limit visitors' access to computers so that more people would see unused computers, want to fiddle with them, and get sucked into Internet "games" and "chat"--but, if a felt need for privately owned computers really has been created, then ONE DEVICE PER PERSON PER LIFETIME needs to be the standard. Ten computers could easily meet the needs of a thousand people. One per person is more toxic waste than we should, ethically, tolerate.

Actually I bought two computers in my lifetime. The Amstrad didn't count; it was a piece of garbage that was on sale at a notoriously untrustworthy store in notoriously untrustworthy Rockville, Maryland. It was returned to the store within the week, and was their problem. Then I bought a decent little box from Radio Shack and enjoyed it for seven or eight years. That was the computer I intend to buy in this lifetime. The company went out of business, and the kind of floppy disks it relied on weren't being made any more, but it was still functional when a grateful client gave me the Brother "smart typewriter." Again the company went out of business and the floppy disks went off the market while the device was still functional. I still have both of those devices; don't know how corroded they are, but when last used they still worked. 

Anyway I worked for other grateful clients who gave me other last-year's-model computers that belonged to the current "generation" of computers--they could be connected to the Internet and used some form of Windows. The one I sold. The Perfect Toshiba Satellite, which I regretfully turned in for recycling, last summer, because its plastic case kept cracking and exposing working parts, making it unsafe to use. The Dell laptop named "The Sickly Snail" from its very best operating speed...I used it mostly offline, but now I wonder whether Microsoft had something to do with its feebleness. The two lovely desktop computers with Windows ME, both currently in the repair shop. The shiny new HP laptop, top of the line in 2010, still good for offline use today. The Piece Of Garbage. The mini-desktop with Windows 7 that's good for transferring information from disks and cards, and that's about all. The Unsatisfactory Toshiba Satellite I'm using now. If we charitably call what the POG did working, all but the Perfect Toshiba (and I don't know about the one I sold) are still capable of working today. Now Microsoft is sending me push-to-buy messages saying it won't "support" this one after some time next summer, ooga-booga, buy a new laptop today...

Seriously? My town's shown no signs of recovering from the COVID panic's effect on the local economy. Most of the "jobs" listed at the hack writing sites are scams. So are most of the "jobs" listed in the local newspaper. One store claims to have hired dozens of teenagers--because it's adopted policies that amount to hiring them on a probationary basis and firing them in a week or two! Why the bleeping blip should I, or my town, make Microsoft any richer? I buy no more laptops. I have three laptops, two of them excellent name-brand machines. Microsoft needs to be required to keep those laptops working better than ever. On this round world we can't afford any more toxic waste. No more "buy a whole new device." It can be "buy a new chip every five or ten years," or it can be "no more computers, no more Internet, back to the real world where there were entry-level jobs that paid students' way through college." I think we need a federal law, this year, forcing Microsoft to choose one or the other. 

Sooner or later someone will, undoubtedly, give me another last-year's-model laptop. I rescue computers the way I do cats, just because I like to hear them purr. They have a home here until they find another one. But I think Microsoft needs to be required to upgrade itself, or get out of the way of some rising-star company that will, to the point where the only computer I ever really need will be my Radio Shack model from 1988. About all it was ever built to do is integrate the functions of a clock, a typewriter, and a calculator, and guess what? Apart from taking a floppy disk into town and uploading content now and then, that's all I need, or want, a computer to do in my home. Microsoft can roll their shiny new apps into a very small ball and stuff them in their ears.

Microsoft can pay, too, for all the garbage they're running on computers they did not buy, in buildings they did not buy or lease, on electricity and phone lines for which they're not paying. Look at your "Task Manager." How many programs are running, and how many of them did you open? As many as half of them are probably spyware, and more than you're using are the ones Microsoft is using to slow down your computer with endless "updates" to things you didn't even ask to have taking up space on your computer. Microsoft needs to be forced to pay individuals and local companies for any of those little "push to install" thingies that cause wait time. What they should "install" is a button that automatically, even if you choose not to click on it, notifies the FCC of WAIT TIME and sends you a message, "MICROSOFT OWES YOU (AMOUNT OF MONEY) FOR STEALING TIME ON YOUR COMPUTER." That will teach them to run the "security updates" only one hour after the last keystroke on any computer, ever. Spyware, likewise, can wait until the end of our work days. And if Microsoft sabotages entire local companies, Microsoft should pay everyone's bills for the months during which the sabotage affected customer satisfaction, too. 

And somebody Out There ought to be building new cases for the Perfect Toshiba Satellite laptops, most of which are probably still functional if the companies were forced to allow them to connect to the Internet--or for people who don't actually want them to connect to the Internet. It is possible for computers to last long enough to be more than toxic waste. It just hasn't been the predominant practice in the industry.

Book Review: Caging Ella

Title: Caging Ella

Author: Andie M. Long

Date: 2022

Quote: "I just came to tell you that if you still believed your poor mother was going to save up enough money to go to court and get you away from us, it's not going to happen now, seeing as she's dead."

In this twenty-first century version of the Cinderella Fantasy, Ella spent her teen years hiding in the cellar of her remote yuppie father's house, while her mother, discarded to make room for a second wife, went to work for the vampire who lived in Moonstone Castle. Ella's Mum believed Ella was getting a good education. In fact stepmother Glennis didn't let Ella go to school at all, but kept her busy doing chores for her hateful blended family.

And Ella was no sweetie-pie who endured everything in the hope of a glimpse of a spiritual reunion with her mother when she admired a tame white dove. In this story Ella wants revenge. And what happens when she goes to the castle and meets the vampire? Let's just say she doesn't run away screaming. 

Long has written several e-books, published on Amazon, and her writing certainly rates as "voicey" even if some of her phrasings are awkward. People who like erotic fantasies about vampires will probably love Caging Ella. I don't share the kink, nor do I judge those who do. I will note, however, that in Caging Ella it's not just detailed bedroom scenes, although there are some X-rated scenes. Nor is it only Ella's vengefulness. There's a distinct antichristian feeling about this story (in contrast to the Christian motifs found in early versions of the Cinderella Fantasy, such as the spiritual comfort in the form of the white dove). Long seems to be wallowing in the idea that Ella's happy ending involves doing everything a good Christian wouldn't do. We don't actually see her lying or stealing but we see her sleeping with other men, ordering torture, dumping men because they care about her. Some readers may be turned on by the fantasy of misbehavior on every level except for overt tackiness; some will think that, if it's antichristian, a good Christian shouldn't read it and I should repent of the sin of having read on past Ella's first childish act of revenge.

Meh. I did note too many references to body parts for the book to remain on my computer. 

Link Log for 2.23.25

Cats, Resident

The Big Freeze broke up. I didn't want to let Serena roam around alone outdoors, or even alone with young Drudge, so I went out and puttered in the yard with them. It was a pleasant, sunny afternoon, a little above refrigerator-temperature, quite pleasant after a Big Freeze as long as we dress warmly and keep moving. 

Trumpkin came back to visit. Silver did not. I'm fighting off thoughts of "If they hadn't let Trumpkin STEAL my junior cat, I might have SAVED her," because they may or may not be true; I think the home treatments I can offer may have saved Serena; they did not save Pastel; the chance that they would have saved Silver is, therefore, one in two. But, although as a loyal beta cat she never really acted like a pet, I was very fond of Silver.

Cats, Other 

Too funny! And the photos of British cats are all clear and adorable.

https://tomcox.substack.com/p/cat-horoscopes

Christian 

St. John Chrysostom made a good case for the "continual celebration" philosophy, reprinted online with minimal commentary:

https://www.plough.com/en/topics/culture/holidays/meditations-for-lent/is-it-possible-to-rejoice-continually

But although there are measurable boosts to our moods and even our health from singing, praying, and doing works of charity (how else could Mother Teresa have lived so long?), I think Chrysostom's argument still needs balance--today. In bygone days when people were taught from infancy that it was rude to laugh out loud, open their mouths wide in a tooth-baring grin, or indulge in jokes or giggles in the presence of the recently bereaved, the idea that there was still something it was possible to celebrate with spiritual songs and good meals might have needed more publicity. Today we're more likely to run off the other side of the road, as people who are in fact tired drag themselves to church to encourage others and are then battered with discouraging remarks--"Why so glum? Where is your smile?" We need to insist that, despite the benefits of the genuine smile that can't be faked (although it can be kept from baring teeth), the physical reaction that shows when "my eye delights in the sight of you," there is no benefit at all in demanding that people smile when the mood the body actually intends, and needs, to communicate is weariness. We need to tell the people who think they're called to be cheerleaders that, unless they are in fact young women employed to add sex appeal to sports events, they are mistaken, and that CELEBRATING THE GLORY OF GOD DOES NOT INCLUDE INDULGING THE SELFISH, BOSSY MANNERS OF EXTROVERTS. Not for a moment. 

When a Christian looks tired, the correct response that needs to be pounded into the heads of some contemporary Christians is "Thank you for coming to church, in spite of everything!" Any little note of discord with that chorus needs to be pulled aside for some prompt and strict discipline.

Michigan 

Toward the development of that healthy pride that motivates people to help their neighbors recover from disasters...That's sooo condescending. The blogger just took visitors to the museum. This web site has no way of knowing whether it's being read by any rich people in Michigan but, if it is, in view of last week's news this web site wants to encourage that sense of We take care of our own! Hurrah! And Jeanie takes such good clear photos...

https://themarmeladegypsy.blogspot.com/2025/02/at-home-michigan-history-museum.html

Psychology 

Here is a video interview between two men who were at least trained in medical fields, though neither one identifies as MD, a degree people usually want to publicize if they've earned it. The one who says the sensible things has been discredited for his errors on COVID, we are told. (In this video they don't discuss COVID.) The one who parrots the lies that are not merely stupid but toxic--like "there are no proven risks with pesticides," so go ahead and eat those poison-soaked grains and buy pills to try to medicate your symptoms forever--does not disclose having been disciplined by an employer. Wouldn't it be instructive if YouTube received thousands of messages this week, from regular viewers demanding that he disprove some of the known risks of pesticides (which he can't) or pull down the video? 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xNvi045LExI

Would that change his views? Probably not, because of the phenomenon sometimes described as testosterone poisoning. He's just been educated by a more competent "doctor." Did that help? No, he'll dig further into the delusions he's been paid to parrot, lock horns with anyone who tries to help him bring his beliefs closer to reality, and spew hate over those who correct his errors. Men like that can be discredited and banned from practicing medicine, but they can't really be helped,  because they would rather die than admit they were wrong. 

In some speculative fiction I've written, males are just not admitted to academic professions, because, even though some men can do science honestly and well, the risk of having science done by testosterone-poisoned greedheads is thought to exceed the benefits of competent male scientists' contributions. I would hate to think that the real world needs to go that far.

Book Review: Ice Mage

Title: The Ice Mage

Author: Julianne Munich

Date: 2022

Quote: "To enter, one had to possess the magic need to pass through the secret portal."

If you were born with the magical ability either to cover things in ice (which would chill, but not always kill, living creatures) or to turn them into ice (after which they would melt into water), what would your career be? Would you be willing to take a job of freezing convicted offenders on command? 

What if their offense was marrying an ordinary human with no magic talent...in eighteenth century France, where people were starting to disbelieve in magic and worship "Reason," but were still inclined to feel that magic might exist and, if it existed, it would be evil, and people who could do magic probably ought to be burned at the stake...?

These are the questions raised in The Ice Mage, which is volume two in a trilogy. If you like the fantasy of an eighteenth-century France where the servants weren't forced to be dirty and ignorant enough to put their employers off, sugar was spooned rather than coming in cubes, and everyone spoke twenty-first-century English, you may want to buy the whole trilogy with its prequel.

Butterfly of the Week: Tabitha's Swallowtail

This week's butterfly, Graphium dorcus, is another South Asian island specialty. On Sulawesi island it's sometimes found at the same puddles with the Yellow Zebra.

Both photos by Manggetotok. 

Dorcas was the oldest person believed to have died and been brought back to life in the New Testament. People who are active after age 80 were often a bit hyperactive when younger, and this may have been the case with this lady, who used two names, both of which were the words for "gazelle" in different languages. Dorkas was the Greek word for a gazelle. Tabitha was the Aramaic. The brown, black, and white color scheme may have suggested this butterfly's name. It reminds me more of an okapi, but the okapi was a legendary animal, not positively known to exist, until 1901. Graphium dorcus was named in 1840.

Despite looking completely different from Graphium deucalion, G. dorcus has been confused with it--recently--probably by someone who read the caption on a photo showing the two species together and didn't know which was which. The two species do have a few things in common. Their wings have different shapes but are close to the same size; neither is endangered, and the Internet is full of carcass traffickers promising to ship dead bodies to people who have never been in the South Pacific. And if scientists have written a serious study of dorcus yet, that's more than Google knows.

All photographs of this species alive, on the Internet, may be of males. The wingspan is about three inches. The pale stripes on the undersides of the wings can look greenish or yellwish on some individuals in some lights. 

Do females resemble males? What do the caterpillars eat? Apparently an opportunity still remains for someone to become famous by being the first to find out.

Morgan Griffith on Trump's Tech Dreams

From US Representative Morgan Griffith (D-VA-9):

"

As I have discussed in a previous column, my Congressional calendar is going to be filled with new assignments.

I still serve on the House Committee on Energy and Commerce, but I was recently appointed as chair of the Committee’s Subcommittee on Environment.

The Trump Administration will be pursuing a number of environmental reforms to unleash American energy dominance and lower the costs of energy consumption.

One of Trump’s first Executive Orders declared a national energy emergency to facilitate domestic energy production.

Another Order rescinded President Biden’s executive actions that restricted Alaskan energy development.

Alaska will now be free of regulations that hindered its ability to explore and develop liquified natural gas in the region.

A key asset to carrying out Trump’s environmental agenda is the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA). The agency is now headed by my former colleague in the U.S. House, Administrator Lee Zeldin.

After Zeldin’s confirmation in January, he went right to work.

Zeldin visited disaster-impacted communities in North Carolina, Los Angeles and East Palestine.

As it pertains to the wildfire recovery efforts in Los Angeles, the EPA is engaged in the agency’s largest wildfire cleanup ever.

These visits come on the heels of Vice President JD Vance’s visit to Southwest Virginia, where he met with Governor Youngkin in Damascus to update the region on Hurricane Helene recovery efforts.

The Trump Administration has signaled its commitment to helping these communities respond, rebuild and recover.

Further, Zeldin is heading a new initiative at the EPA.

“Powering the Great American Comeback” consists of five pillars to promote environmental stewardship without restricting economic growth.

Pillar One is entitled “Clean Air, Land and Water for Every American.”

President Trump was committed in his first term to conservation efforts, cleanup of hazardous waste sites and reduction of emissions in the air while fostering economic growth. Pillar One reaffirms those practices.

Pillar Two is “Restore American Energy Dominance.”

During President Biden’s Administration, domestic energy production was hampered by “green new deal” policies.

Biden imposed a pause on approving terminal applications for exporting liquified natural gas.

Biden’s actions also shut down the Keystone XL Pipeline, which could have helped the United States prevent draining our Strategic Petroleum Reserve.

And the Keystone XL Pipeline would have kept gas prices lower.

By unleashing American energy, Trump will bolster American energy security and over time help lower the fuel costs we saw rise sharply under Biden.

Pillar Three focuses on permitting reform.

In line with the above, too many burdensome regulations undercut our ability to attract investments from able and innovative companies.

Zeldin makes it a goal of his EPA to work with state and federal authorities to ensure projects are not unreasonably harassed by radical left environmentalist policies, but instead welcomed with appropriate environmental oversight.

By streamlining this process, companies can invest millions in our nation and promote job growth.

Pillar Four sets a goal of making the United States the world’s artificial intelligence (AI) capital.

AI data centers take a lot of energy in order to operate. We need energy at a cost that is competitive, or we will lose the race to lead on AI.

Recently, Vice President Vance visited France for the global AI Action Summit.

Needless to say, AI is an emerging phenomenon with implications for economic growth, security and governance. It is critical for the U.S. to not fall behind, and I am glad that Zeldin recognizes this.

The fifth and final pillar emphasizes American manufacturing of cars and vehicles.

The auto industry faced considerable concerns under the Biden Administration. Biden’s “green new deal” policies promoted the use of electric vehicles and discouraged consumers from purchasing American-made gas-powered cars.

In many parts of the United States, including large segments of the Ninth District, electric vehicles are just not practical at this time.

Further, such policies threaten American auto manufacturing jobs and an industry that so many American families rely upon.

Protecting and bringing back these auto jobs to the U.S. is a step in the right direction for the EPA.

These five pillars will take into careful account environmental stewardship while inheriting the energy demands of the country.

As chair of the Environment Subcommittee, I will explore ways to support Administrator Zeldin in Powering the Great American Comeback.

If you have questions, concerns, or comments, feel free to contact my office.  You can call my Abingdon office at 276-525-1405 or my Christiansburg office at 540-381-5671. To reach my office via email, please visit my website at morgangriffith.house.gov. Also on my website is the latest material from my office, including information on votes recently taken on the floor of the House of Representatives.

"