Thursday, April 16, 2026

Wal-Mart, What's in the Corn?

"Roundup Ready" corn, I was glad to learn, is a stupid mistake of the past. One of the most deservingly detested GMO crops of all time, this strain of corn was produced by splicing genes from Escherichia coli, bacteria often blamed for "food poisoning," into corn so that the corn plant survives heavy spraying with glyphosate. 

How was it possible not to know that this was a bad idea?

In the 1990s US-based Monsanto held a patent on glyphosate. However, the first "Roundup Ready" corn was tested overseas, on poorer people who had less legal recourse than US citizens. The corporation knew the corn was likely to make people sick. Well, it did. E. coli is more often fatal to a larger minority of the population than COVID-19 ever was. The company kept testing, sickening whole towns in the Philippines and elsewhere, until they found a strain of E. coli that seemed relatively weak. The genetically modified corn was then drenched in glyphosate from before planting right up to harvest time, and it made people sick, though usually not as acutely as E. coli itself did. 

So-called corn allergies weren't common before the 1990s. They became common in the 2010s, when the original patent expired and chemical manufacturers were selling glyphosate at competitive prices. Most of the "allergies" were probably glyphosate sensitivity. By 2020, food producers were looking for corn that was neither sprayed with glyphosate nor bioengineered to be sprayed with glyphosate. Corn-based foods became relatively safe to eat. Southerners rejoiced that we could safely make cornbread with Martha White, White Lily, and similar beloved corn meal brands, once again. Those of us who were gluten-intolerant (probably fewer than a tenth as many Americans as went gluten-free and found that not eating glyphosate-soaked wheat relieved their chronic conditions) were getting tired of rice being the only grain we could eat, and started buying canned and frozen corn again. Because stores had had a hard time selling canned corn in the 2010s, it had become very economical. 

A large amount of the corn raised in the United States is still Roundup-Ready and still treated with glyphosate. It was so treated even when Bayer, which now owns Monsanto, released a glyphosate-free brand of "Roundup" herbicide spray "for farm use." In 2024 and 2025 customer complaints caused the formula for this chemical disaster to be changed. Some small farmers, unaware of the changes, bought Roundup-Ready corn, sprayed it with Roundup, and got a small part of what they deserved as the glyphosate-tolerant plants died of exposure to diquat, dicamba, or other poisons. This year, bitter clingers are getting their glyphosate back, and we must all try to laugh when they describe their wives and daughters giving birth to babies with useless eye stalks flopping out of bare sockets in little bare skulls. 

(One of my cat Silver's Seralini kittens was born like that. Mercifully it never breathed. I pickled it in alcohol with the intention of exhibiting it in the Friday Market that summer; the next strain of COVID kept the market from reopening and eventually I burned the body.) 

Those still clinging to glyphosate know by now that even the US government has agreed that the stuff promotes cancer and aggravates just about every chronic condition known to humankind, including the ones that ought to be fully controllable by merely modifying our lifestyle in such a way as to give up all social eating for as long as we live. They know, although they may try to pretend otherwise. The more arrogantly they bray about "the (outdated, disproven) science," the more certain we can be that they know. They deserve no pity. Real farmers, who have been struggling to do without glyphosate and other poisons since at least 2018 or 2020, deserve sympathy and support, as do the old people who are now dying from cancer after years of trying to believe that glyphosate was safe and effective and the symptoms they had after spraying it were unimportant, but the bitter clingers to glyphosate deserve to be denied treatment when they develop cancer.

But the corn monocroppers are clinging, and they are getting away with it, because the majority of the corn grown in the US is either not used as food for humans, or else processed in ways that seem to eliminate most glyphosate residues. Before it has soaked into plants or plant parts glyphosate is pathetically soluble, easily washed into the water supply where it does no "good" to the lazy farmer after just a little shower of rain; when corn is made into high-fructose corn syrup or monosodium glutamate, those processes apparently get rid of the glyphosate inside the kernels.


Photo from New York Animal Agriculture Coalition, by way of Google.

Corn meal is made from "field" corn, which is less sweet than "sweet" corn even when fresh. Hard corn ("field" corn or popcorn) is not usually eaten fresh, because everyone would rather eat sweet corn on the cob. Hard corn contains niacytin, a "bound" form of niacin that should in theory be nutritious but isn't. Niacytin not only fails to be digested as niacin but makes it harder for the body to digest niacin from other sources. Traditionally Southerners loved our cornbread because corn, unlike wheat, grows well in the South and because most of us got enough niacin from other sources that the niacytin was not a problem. By the twentieth century, however, severe niacin deficiencies were appearing in poor people who ate cornbread alone or with cheaper, fattier, less nutritious meat. A campaign was launched to sell the idea that cornbread should always be made with at least half wheat flour, to reduce the niacytin content and add digestible niacin to the bread. 

Researchers now know that an even better way to use hard corn is to process the dry, hard corn kernels in ways called "nixtamalization," which break down and unbind the niacytin. Traditional nixtamalization involved soaking dried corn in a mix of water and wood ashes, which loosened the outer layers of the kernels and produced grits. 

Sweet corn, however, needs little processing. In addition to containing more sugar, sweet corn contains a rich variety--and variety is the word, because the mix varies widely among different ears of corn, but in any case there's a lot--of B-vitamins, including niacin, not niacytin. 

I started mixing Wal-Mart's store brand of canned corn with canned beans and peas. This added variety, fibre, and flavor to what I'd been eating through most of the 2010s, which was rice, onions, and garlic, and sometimes for variety rice, garlic, and onions. Not all beans were safe to eat after 2020; garbanzos, which I particularly liked before 2010, were especially likely to contain glyphosate residues, even if the beans hadn't been sprayed themselves, probably because they were raised in between crops of wheat, in glyphosate-saturated soil. Being a walking glyphosate detector, I found that Bush's pinto beans were reliably safe, as were Bush's butter beans. Black beans and crowder peas were less reliable. Wal-Mart's store brand of green peas, pinto beans, corn, and tomatoes seemed glyphosate-free, or close enough not to trigger my hair-trigger reactions. 

Various combinations of any of these legumes with corn and/or tomatoes and/or some sort of meat made satisfactory meals for me between 2021 and 2025. The corn could be store-brand canned corn, or cornbread made with Martha White or White Lily corn meal, or corn chips. (The Wal-Marts near me all stocked both brands' "self-rising corn meal," with salt and baking powder added, and "self-rising corn meal mix," with salt, baking powder, and a generous share of white wheat flour added. In practice, people who have learned to distrust wheat usually snapped up the wheat-free corn meal so that, nine times out of ten, I didn't find it on the shelf.) I usually bought a case of a dozen cans of canned corn and one or two bags of chips on each shopping trip to Wal-Mart and felt that that yielded a good mix of hard and sweet corn in the diet. I also bought vitamin supplements with all the B-vitamins.

But in 2025 I started to notice that after eating Wal-Mart's canned corn, my tongue felt sore and swollen. That is, of course, an early warning sign of a B-vitamin deficiency or imbalance, including niacin deficiency...if it becomes chronic. But it didn't become chronic. Nor did the vitamin supplements affect the symptom. My tongue, and mouth generally, felt irritated for about twelve hours after eating the canned corn--not at other times. Drinking water helped. Vitamin supplements didn't help.

Regretfully, I stopped buying the canned sweet corn and replaced it with more cornbread (other stores did better at keeping wheat-free corn meal on their shelves). Cornbread with a can of chicken chunks drained in around the edges of the pan, and a can of pinto beans and a can of tomatoes warmed on top of the bread, makes a delicious panada, everyone I ever feed agreed. Children love the sweet undertaste in a bowl of cornbread and milk. Corn chips also soak up the juices from the canned goods, and/or whatever raw vegetables go into a taco salad, in a satisfactory way.

But the last couple of times I've done a taco salad with Wal-Mart's store brand corn chips, the "Original" kind that look like Fritos, I've had the tongue and mouth irritation. I didn't have it before. And don't try to tell me it's because I've eaten too many corn chips in the last five years--I may have done that, but the "White Corn Tortilla" chips did not have the same effect, nor did the cornbread made with Martha White corn meal. What's being sprayed on the corn, Wal-Mart? 

* * * * * 

A primer on why we never need to spray anything on corn...Corn was actually the first crop that rebounded when my family broke the Vicious Pesticide Cycle. Strawberries were close behind.


This is how we eliminate weeds from cornfields. It costs about $15 at Tractor Supply Company. Cheaper and more expensive versions are available, there and at most other hardware stores or department stores that have a garden department--including Wal-Mart.


(Photo from Walgreens by way of Google.) This is how we eliminate corn earworms. We can buy knee-high stockings or use the washed foot ends of laddered tights. We tie the foot part of the stocking around the bottom of the developing ear of corn. When the baby corn earworm tries to gnaw its way in through the corn shucks, it gets a mouthful of nylon and decides to go somewhere else. Its chances of starving or being eaten by a bird, or wasp, or bigger insect along the way are high. Although aggressive (not strong enough to do any damage to a human, it will bite and kick with all its puny might when picked up; it will also eat another corn earworm if it can) the corn earworm has no effective defense against predators, and would never have been much of a nuisance to farmers had the farmers not fallen into a Vicious Pesticide Cycle that destroyed the corn earworm's natural predators.


(Photo from Wikipedia.) This is how we eliminate corn borers (cobworms). All of these little beetles, and a few dozen other species, can be called ladybirds, ladybeetles, or ladybugs, because monks who noticed how useful they were in the garden dedicated the whole genus to Our Lady Mary, the Mother of Jesus. (You can identify the one plant-eating species in the family, the Mexican Bean Beetle, because it is yellow-green instead of orange, amber, or red.) Ladybeetles and their larvae are best known for eating aphids but they eat other nuisance insects too, if the other insects are small enough, which corn borers are. Stop poisoning your insects and watch your corn borers disappear.


(Photo from the Audubon Society by way of Google.) This is how we eliminate corn cutworms. They like to hang around near my home so I think of them mostly as mosquito eaters, but they'll take just about anything to feed their babies, which often happen to hatch at the time of year when corn is vulnerable to cutworms. (The one photographed above appears to be bringing home a beetle--not a ladybird, possibly a Soldier, Net-winged, or Burying Beetle.) Lots of other birds like cutworms, too. Again, stop poisoning the insects and watch the cutworms disappear.

And when we eliminate the borers, we automatically get rid of the worst kind of fungus that infests corn, too...although glyphosate actually promotes the growth of human-toxic Fusarium mold.

Wednesday, April 15, 2026

Napowrimo 15: Love, but Not Romance


[Photo from Google, which credits pet-clinic.gr]

Coconut oil,
they say, is safe for cats
with skin rashes
of unknown origin.
If it fails, go to the vet.

Before a rash can spoil
the long soft coat that's
the color of ashes
and the young tomcat's
biggest asset,

I tried the all-
purpose disinfectant that's
safe, though irritating. Crushes
die hard. My sweet pet's
claws flexed, but he let

the alcohol-
based stuff, through pats,
soak into his skin; made dashes
to air-dry his skin,
came back, good pet.

This failed to foil
the rash. Coconut's
Plan B. It mashes
delightfully on skin,
then starts to set
 
up greasy. Royal
indignation! Cats,
lacking ability or wishes
to sweat through their skin,
hate anything wet.

Licking all
of the spots
his tongue reaches,
he calls in
each older cat:

"Don't let this oil
form greasy mats
and spikes! All creatures
will sneer and grin
if this stuff has a chance to set!"

Nothing can foil
the social cats'
licking where he itches,
taking in
whatever's harming the tomcat.

The social
animals, birds, dogs, cats,
horses, love at all prices,
resist quarantine
like COVID deniers, firm-set.

Is there a moral?
Mortal love hurts
in thoughtless rushes
to ease pain.
The cats need the vet.

Web Log for 4.14.26

Medical Care Rip-Offs 

On Reddit I actually found a page where people were griping because people know Windows 11 stinks and aren't buying it. 

It contained the following confession. I apologize for the language. I actually think the guy's attitude is even more obnoxious than his language, but people need to know...how their medical expenses are being forced up and up, to glut Microsoft's greed.

"
Medical industry sucks ass and I get to stress out on a daily but one benefit is that none of them actually know HIPAA compliance theyre just scared of it so I get to say "this is a security risk, in order to maintain HIPAA compliance for the foreseeable future we need to..." and they listen to me on any security topic. The fact that HIPAA can fine not only the organization but also the individual scares them into compliance much more than any other industry. Ive had zero issues moving people from windows 10 to 11 aside from the Constantine whining about it while they let me do it, which i just say "ya I hate it too, HIPAA though man"

You'll need to scroll down to see:


We need a law. Windows 11 is inherently insecure, inherently impossible to secure, and should never be used to store medical information!

Book Review: Ring True

Title: Ring True 

Author: L. Darby Gibbs

Date: 2020

Publisher: Inkabout / Amazon

Quote: "[T]here's a chant, and it's said that the singer will enter the woods and find a beautiful castle."

Kambry, who has done some archery and some weaving before training as a scribe, lives in a nice middle-class village in a fantasy kingdom with just enough magic to have an enchanted portal through the woods to the castle where, unsuspected by her, the prince is looking for a trustworthy companion. She just happens to find a chant and teach it to some friends, who just happen to decide to chant it with her to see if she's drawn into the woods. She is.

Prince Russal seems nice, except for having become impossibly suspicious. Kambry is told she can never go home--either she'll be banished for treason, or she'll stay. She feels like a prisoner, though the castle is pleasant enough. Will she and Russal ever be able to trust each other enough even to notice that they're attracted to each other? Is someone trying to make Kambry seem untrustworthy to Russal? 

Of course they will. Of course he is. This is a romantic fantasy. Even after the quarrel and reconciliation, at least one more novel-length adventure lies between them and happily-ever-after.

If you like this kind of story you'll probably like Ring True. It's well enough written to make good bedtime or hospital, commute or down-time reading. I don't think it's meant to be as funny as it occasionally is. It's a frivolous fun read.

Unusual Hobbies and Interests

I don't know that any of my hobbies and interests are all that unusual. Minority, yes. 

What might be unusual are the things that don't interest me. Most people are interested in television. I find it soporific. Masses of people read books about money. I don't. Maybe it's because I went to college when I should have been in high school, where talking about "boyfriends" was cringe-inducing...all the other girls in college were interested in having "boyfriends" and talking about them, sometimes constantly, to the exclusion of other topics. I'm interested in people and in personal relationships, who isn't, but I'm not interested in chattering about the people you or I know best--especially not the little details of family life that those people don't particularly want to have chattered about. 

I think all of my hobbies and interests have been discussed on this blog if you dig back:

Textile crafts; the one I practice regularly is knitting. 

Animals. The main ones who share my home are cats. I learned as an adult that my mother started out not only sharing the revulsion I felt toward most insects but feeling revulsion toward snakes, but she managed to teach me to feel more curiosity and empathy than revulsion. I became interested in the paper wasps, which Mother always persisted in seeing as enemies, after learning that they could just as easily be made friends. Later on I became interested in showing people what the little creepy-crawly animals are really like after learning how many people still think an earthworm is trying to bite them, a butterfly is going to eat their fabrics, or a toad wants to be kissed. 

Books. I'll read almost any book once. I like selling books, playing matchmaker between books and people, finding a mix of books for all tastes. I like the idea of a library or bookstore, not as the clunky kind of "community center" that excites extroverts, but as a place where people can look for what they want, as individuals, whether that's only relaxation or education or psychological transformation. 

Politics--the practical kind--what some people might call law and government more than the "our man rules, your man drools" blather. You can't take all the Washington out of a person. Washingtonians aren't usually interested in shrinking government but they see enough elected officials come and go that they cultivate the skill of being able to work with all of them, D, R, G, L, or I. 

Music; especially music that goes back further than the modern music industry, but I listen to new music too. I've not kept up any skills in playing any instrument. I'd like to find a way to make more time for that, but I'm so far out of practice, it's embarrassing.

Houses. I'm not as wild about building or remodelling houses as many of my extended family have been, and are; never considered architecture as a major or construction as a career, but I do like improving a house. From plumbing to decorating. I'm not keen on two-storey-high rooms, a way some contractors used to deal with burnt-out floors; that look was distinctive once, but no more, and those rooms aren't fun to use in winter. I like wheelchair ramps, all-around porches, and creative shelving. 

"Environment" is probably a better word than "gardening" because I'm more likely to be interested in appreciating what grows in a place than in putting a lot of effort into making something grow where it doesn't grow easily and naturally. I do introduce plants, prepare soil, weed, and prune, but the iris is my favorite flower not only because it has pretty colors and a lovely scent. The iris likes to be plopped down in what others consider "dry, thin, poor" soil and left alone. 

The science of not only preserving the simple pleasures of my life, but keeping them sustainable for future generations, interests me. When I was a kid, "going back to the land" stereotypically meant buying a place in the Appalachian Mountains and, usually, although the mountains are a very human-friendly environment, not having the clue one about how to live on the land, not doing very well at it, and crawling back to the city in a few years. I was blessed with actual roots here. My parents had clues; they even had elders. So had I. Now the challenge is weeding out truly sustainable ideas from ideas that only bring urban sprawl further up the mountains. Possibly my most serious interest is biomass. 

Possibly my most frivolous interest is dolls. Not the oldfashioned collector dolls, either. I'm not particular about the brand but I always have liked making models at a scale of two inches to one foot, which fits Barbie and Ken and similar dolls. 

Tuesday, April 14, 2026

Web Log for 4.13.26

Censorship 

I listened to a song about somebody's grandfather on YouTube, and without warning YouTube shifted to a "song" parody by Brian Coyne. I put the word "song" in quotes because it wasn't much of a song. We all produce some gems and some clinkers, and this one struck me as a clinker. The lyrics consisted of "Climate hysteria spreads like malaria," which isn't even true; a little cold weather cools that fever right down. But Coyne has done some brilliant parodies. This one, which was censored for months, has been brought back with new video effects. (Warning: video effects include an anatomically inaccurate cartoon drawing of an abortion.) I think it's one of the great parodies in English literature. Even if you vote "blue," you have to agree the lyrics work and the song rocks. (Well of course...it sounds like, though it is not, Joan Jett.)


Concerns of the Web Site 

This web site is growing. We have repeatedly asked Google to block various foreign bot armies that have artificially inflated our numbers. (They're not hard to spot! They don't actually visit any specific page, so the page view count shows two thousand extra views of the site but only the usual numbers of views of actual pages.) Google has gone after the bot armies with splendid efficiency. And the traffic coming from actual people keeps growing. I always knew this would happen. This web site is doing waaay better than my Associated Content corpus did.

So, monetizing the blog is an option. At last, at long-awaited last! It probably won't bring in much money but it could bring in enough Amazon giftcards that I could read some of the sequels to some of the first-novels-in-series people have sent me..even, eventually, fund the web site's Internet connection.

How do we do that while keeping what this web site is all about? To rake in top advertising dollars, you have to sell out and let the corporations dictate that all photographs of women have to make it clear that they're using lipstick, and other slimy, disgusting policies. We don't want top advertising dollars right? We want ads for things we actually encourage people to buy. Books, first and foremost. Clothes, when people need clothes. Furniture, if they need furniture. Computers, cars, tools--y'know, legitimate merchandise, as people choose. We want no drug ads, no ads that pop or blink, no ads that distract readers from actual posts, no ads with sound tracks, no ads for porn or gambling or similar "vice" sites.

Do we want Google ads if they're quiet and unobtrusive and stay at the bottom of the screen? We've all seen some sites where the Google ads were obnoxious. Google says that's the blogger's choice, but if you don't let the advertisers screech and fling like monkeys you don't get the top advertising dollars. Google would use the site to advertise corporate products, most of which I don't endorse and you probably wouldn't either. Google would allow corporations to try political censorship on topics like climate change. 

Do we want to try Amazon ads, again? Or do we want to let Joe Jackson run with the Amazon ads, which did not exactly rake in the cash here when we had them, but seem to be working for him--so I use Amazon to market actual books? Amazon ads pay bloggers commissions on things readers buy from Amazon. It used to be that you had to buy the same edition of the book to which I'd posted a link, but now you can click on a link to a book, browse around, buy clothes or reconditioned car tires or whatever, and still shoot commissions to Joe Jackson. Would you readers use Amazon links here to buy things you want, whatever those may be?

Do we want more Zazzle? Would any of you readers pay $20 or $25 for a T-shirt if you really liked the graphic on it? I had started thinking that Zazzle was basically dead, and then I checked a page--new to me--that compares how many people click on a product page with how many actually buy the product. For most of my Zazzle designs the number of buyers has been zero, but the number of views is reasonably high. Zazzle has also started rating designers from one to ten, giving me a score of four, which is eligible for a higher commission on any actual sales. (The last commission I made on a postcard that took hours to design was three cents, Gentle Readers. That's why you've not seen Zazzle links here lately.) Do you ever buy things online--which I don't recommend doing--or know people who do? Would you or they ever buy Zazzle merchandise? Do all of you live in places where a local shirt shop can do similar designs for a much better price?

Please use the comments or the e-mail, Gentle Readers.  

Fashion 

That Brian Coyne song steered me back to his YouTube channel. For most of the day, with liberal use of the "pause" button, I listened to his song parodies.

"She Comes in Colours" might not be the song Melania Trump brings to mind, considering how well she wears those "Spring" tans and khakis, creamy whites, and smoky off-black. But she does also own all the bright colors most of us find so hard to wear...the pale smoky blue, the tomato red, the yellows and bright greens...For those who can enjoy exotic beauty for what it is, the Rolling Stones song has been spliced into a video highlighting some of Melania's most memorable looks. This is not a parody; it's a "cover" of the original song in a new video.

Napowrimo 14: Technological Advances


[Photo from Google]

Once upon a time Microsoft Office was reliable.
This morning, Microsoft's wasted more than two hours
On its endless "updates" that seldom change anything
And, if they do, you didn't want it changed.
That Microsoft is getting full of itself is undeniable.
We need to reassert: we pay enough, our tools are ours.
Microsoft is a service, and must accept that little thing
Before the whole relationship is permanently estranged.
When you touch a key on a typewriter, it works, instantly
(If it doesn't, something's broken; mostly that's easy to fix).
If computers can't keep up with that, they're on the wrong side of history.
Keystrokes must not need repeating, nor should even mouse-clicks.
When it's running a computer must not hiccup, must not cough.
Services must run all "updates" while computers are turned off,
And they must not change a thing that's ever worked for us before,
And if they force obsolescence, we should show them out the door.
The computer fad can go the way of buttonhooks and cigarette lighters.
Personally I made more money when we all used typewriters.

I don't think this one has the rhythm and verve of a true Nashery, so I'm not sure what the form might be called. I hope everyone else enjoys the rest of their morning. Growlgrowlgrowl, hiss, and spit.

Book Review: Realm of Dragons

Title: Realm of Dragons

Author: Morgan Rice

Date: 2019

Quote: "There was no doubting the realness of this. This wasn't some joke...This was a dragon."

In the magical kingdom of this novel, dragons mate, lay eggs, and die. King Godwin and his Knights of the Spur find the dead mother dragon in chapter one.  

Then we meet his family. Eldest son: eager to take over, willing to start a war while the King is trying to avoid one. Middle son: a sadist; you'll hope he dies, but in this book he doesn't. Youngest son: small, teased about looking girlish, fully heterosexual, love-starved, and vulnerable to a female spy. Eldest daughter: in love with love, engaged to an unworthy man. Middle daughter: stricken with Scale Sickness, which means she's either about to die or about to turn into a dragon unless she smashes a dragon's egg. Youngest daughter: wants to be an armored knight and fight duels.

This is volume one of a series so none of the six gets what he or she wants in this book. They're all taking the first steps toward their goals when a neighboring king declares war on their kingdom. 

If we learn anything from this book it's that war is never a good idea. Most of us already knew that. But if you like magical kingdoms you may want the whole series you'll have to buy to find out how the six royal offspring's stories end.

Petfinder Post: American Cocker Spaniels, and some Birds

The control freaks who want to render sixty-some dog breeds extinct also disapprove of the American Cocker Spaniel, one of the most popular breeds in the United States. That is, when Americans pay for pedigreed dogs, one of the breeds for which they are most likely to pay is a Cocker Spaniel.

The American Cocker Spaniel is a descendant of the English Cocker Spaniel, but the breeds have evolved different traits due to selective breeding. American Cocker Spaniels are smaller, with rounder heads and shorter muzzles. English Cocker Spaniels have longer legs. Weights can overlap--20 to 30 pounds for a show-quality American Cocker Spaniel, 25 to 35 pounds for its English cousin--but those longer legs are supposed to make all English Cocker Spaniels stand up to six inches taller than any American Cocker Spaniel. American Cocker Spaniels can be up to 15.5 inches tall; English Cocker Spaniels should be over 15 inches tall.

They're called "Cocker" because they were especially good at hunting woodcocks, a game bird species humans used to like to eat in times when chickens and turkeys were less widely available. They're called "Spaniels" because, although it's not documented, the breed was said to have originated in Spain. Both breeds were originally developed for hunting and are now usually kept as pets because of their docile, eager-to-please pawsonalities and long fluffy coats, with lots of fluff on their long floppy ears. They have "big hair," with a mix of straighter and wavier hairs bulking out their ears and feet like a mid-1980s wig.

So, of course, the pretext for a plan to render Cocker Spaniels extinct is that humans, horrid species that we are, aren't going to groom the coats and lift up the ears enough to check for, discourage, or treat infections. 

Consider the Cocker Spaniel owners you've known. How many of them let their dogs be infested with fleas, ticks, mites, or fungus? How many turned grooming their lovely fluffy dogs into daily meditations?

Many people don't want to spend time grooming Cocker Spaniels and should adopt short-haired dogs, but if you're the right human for a Cocker Spaniel you love to comb and brush its long, thick coat. I do mean you love this daily ritual. Wouldn't miss it for anything. A day without combing can be enough for clumps of hair to felt together and form unattractive mats.

Cocker Spaniels usually live ten to fifteen years, like cats. They tend to be good with other dogs and children. They are notoriously affectionate, sometimes even fawning on abusive humans, and motivated to please and stay close to their humans. They like to catch and fetch toys. They don't need a lot of walking; disabled humans sometimes keep two spaniels and let them get their exercise by playing together, but Cocker Spaniels kept as only pets do usually need daily walks to prevent their becoming fat, lazy, and unhealthy. They are about as likely to become couch potatoes as their humans are; they typically like to lie at the feet of an idle human. There can be genetic problems in this breed, but they're seldom seen because breeders work to keep them out of the pool. Spaniels' main health concerns are obesity and infections. Fur needs to be trimmed away from their eyes. 

Show-quality Spaniels seem hairier than they used to be, to me, and I think the change has not been an improvement, but people who love Spaniels still think their pets are the prettiest dogs in the neighborhood. 

Few people put Cocker Spaniels in shelters and, if they stray, these dogs are usually claimed from the pound, but, being so popular, Cocker Spaniels and crossbreeds are fairly often available for adoption. They are often crossbred with other hounds and with poodles (producing a registered hybrid breed called the Cockapoo). 

On the cat side of things, once again we will consider long-haired cats...and, in memory of all those poor little woodcocks, why not some birds?

As always, Petfinder photos are for sharing. We want to Picture Them Homes if possible. If you're feeling munificent you can even sponsor an animal for adoption by people who are nice but don't have the full adoption fee in their pockets.

Zipcode 10101: Vallie (Valentina) from Haskell, New Jersey 


Her full adult weight is 17 pounds. She was the smallest puppy in the litter. She's learned several commands and had all the standard veterinary care.

Sonata from NYC 


Long-haired cats are often aloof. They're not cold and they just finished grooming their coats--why would they want to let anyone mess up their coats now? Sonata is not like that. Dumped out on the streets of the Bronx as a kitten, she might even be described as clingy. She likes to snuggle and even seems to like being groomed by humans.

Keelie and Haku from New Jersey


Tame budgerigars. You'll need to get to know the humans before you can meet the birds; Keelie and Haku are living in a foster home.

Zipcode 20202: Sasha from Hollywood, Maryland 


Sasha may be wary of new people. She's still in the process of learning that treatment for eye irritation and ear infections is helping, not hurting. You'll need to trim the hair away from her eyes and clean and dry her ears. 

Ellie from DC


In transition from a city shelter to a foster family in Maryland, Ellie is thought to be seven years old and weighs a little over twelve pounds. 

Ollie from Fairfax 


Parrots and even parakeets aren't for everyone. The organization will ask you to attend a class on parrot care and spend some time with experienced parrot handlers to find out whether Ollie, or perhaps another adoptable bird, is a good match for your family. Parrots are intelligent birds who can go feral, but are in danger, both of being harmed and of becoming a nuisance, if they do. They live a long time and have opinions about humans that...there's a reason why so many parrots seem to like to learn to say very rude words. Adopting a parrot is a long-term, sometimes multigenerational commitment. If that introduction doesn't scare you off, you might be someone Ollie wants to meet. She will let people she trusts pet the back of her head. She likes to fly.

Zipcode 30303: Cruella from Anniston


This retired breeding dog probably shouldn't have been used for breeding. She's deaf and has some loss of vision as well. She does well with other dogs and can't get enough human attention. She's only four years old; might have been retired when the breeders noticed she was less than ideal breeding stock, despite that adorable black-and-white face.

Sebastian from Atlanta 


"The Last Litter Project" sounds ominous. You might want to support another organization. Anyway Sebastian is a big furry cat whose purrsonality gives rescuers ideas. Is he part Siberian? Norwegian Forest Cat? They think he has the presence of a Norwegian Forest Cat, though that breed tend to be oversized and Sebastian is only on the large side of normal. 

Rah Rah Rasins from Locust Grove 


She's a Conure, one of a bird species in the parrot family that is less often chosen as a pet. Frankly I know very little about Conures and it sounds as if the organization aren't familiar with them either. They are not familiar to North Americans. They can be described as small parrots or large parakeets; the extinct Carolina Parakeet was one of the Conure species. Most species naturally live in large flocks and can be a bit of a nuisance to humans, in their homelands in South America or if they manage to go feral in North America. But such exotic, distinctive pets. If you want to adopt this Conure, please learn what you can about the species and try to be sure you can treat her right.

Monday, April 13, 2026

Napowrimo Challenge: The House Was Built on a Bet

Today's National Poetry Writing Month prompt asks for poems about a place remembered from early childhood. I remembered a house that wasn't really fit for "living" in, I suppose, but we "camped" there for several happy months of my childhood...

Hearing that the young carpenter preferred
Drinking to work, her parents gave the word:
"If you can build your own house and then live
In it, our blessing on you we will give."
They gave him the steep corner of the hill.
He brought in scraps of wood from other sites.
The kitchen perched on stilts; no wood to fill
In walls below. The house was wired for lights,
Not sockets, but no bills were ever paid,
In any case. The dare bet never mentioned water,
So the house had none. The three main rooms were laid
On solid ground, safe for the neighbors' daughter.
No paint nor insulation ever was
Brought in. He only camped there the one year.
The house looked poor, but served the builder's cause.
The chimney was a triumph; kept air clear.
So then he built his bride a better house
And they had fourteen children. Seven died.
He was, just as her parents feared, a souse;
The children brought a mix of shame and pride.
But they grew old together. I was born
The year before their first great-grandchild came.
The house built on a bet had stood forlorn
And empty fifty years, but still brought fame
To the one man who'd built it all alone.
We rented it because the price was right.
The sun shone through walls where the boards had shrunk.
"Too shiftless to fill in, that stupid drunk..."
The doorstep matched my five-year-old knees' height.
"I can't believe this house once passed inspection,"
A visitor said. "You'd bring a child in here?"
I had my own room, for play and reflection.
I loved the house, the next four and that year.
"It will be cold in winter! It's horrid now!
Oh, just imagine it then, how much horrider."
My mother didn't scold the meddling cow
But quietly packed us up and went to Florida.
I went to school from that house. Used to read
While comfortably seated in the door.
People don't think kids sit enough to need
A seat that fits. I'd not found one before.
"When Grandmother comes here, we'll move again,"
The parents said. I didn't want to leave.
We moved to a much nicer house, that's plain.
I liked the house built on a bet. Believe.
Another family moved in, and put in lights
And wiring, too, and panelling on the walls.
The house still felt the chill on winter nights.
(They brought a telephone, too, and took calls.)
We used the house built on a bet again
After Grandmother died. My two bookshelves
Now held a record player; windowpane
Was backed by storm panes. We, ourselves,
Still cooked with wood, hauled water from the spring.
If I'd hauled more of the water, might have seen
How anyone could find a single thing
Wrong with the house built before the Machine
Age reached our lovely time-warp neighborhood.
I was a child. To me it was all good.

Years later, I joined another poetry challenge lamenting for children who had died in refugee camps outside the US border. I wrote verses to the tune of a Spanish lullaby that affirms that "at the gate of Heaven, they sell shoes for the angels" who had been innocent children, too little to wear shoes. I imagined the children rejoicing in parts of Heaven that look like South America, with their grandparents; but the adults who had encouraged the families to try to immigrate illegally "are not found; they never will be found; their souls were never bound for Heaven at all." Some readers' comments were like "Yes!" Others thought I needed to see a photo of the house one of those children had left...I am sorry. I realize that the children were leaving a dirty slum rather than a lovely, spacious, gracious community of hill farms. But I looked at a picture of a bare light bulb stuck into the weathered black planks in a narrow room like the vestibule in the house I had loved, as a child, and what came to mind was "If that old house were still standing, a child who got to live in it would be lucky. Even if that little vestibule where they put the telephone were what the child had for a bedroom, it would be a cool bedroom for a child!"

The oldfashioned "house carpenter" built several houses that are still standing today. That first one was "modernized," with an enclosed ground floor, hot and cold running water, and flush toilets, in 1976; it burned down in 1994. The builder died in 1977, his widow ten years later. The place where the house stood is covered in trees again, too steep to plough or build on with modern equipment. 

The house where my grandmother spent her last years, with us, is the older part of the house where I live now. It, too, was built by the "house carpenter," and had an entertaining history of its own. It was prized because in addition to electricity and running water, it was built all one level and easily made wheelchair-accessible; several people took turns renting it, as needed, and we naturally moved out again by the end of the month after Grandmother's funeral. A few years later we inherited the title and made it a permanent residence. I liked this house, too. I still do. 

Something still appeals to me about the idea of that long-gone, funny-looking house. I think, during the years when nobody actually lived in it, it may have been photographed for one of those collections clueless visitors snapped out of car windows and published as Poverty in the Appalachian Mountains. Its kitchen stood on fifteen-foot poles; the steep downgrade below allowed the kitchen window to look straight out into the top of a flowering pear tree. Oh the poverty and the struggling sense of beauty...some people might have seen. What I always saw was the spirit of a laborer who built a large house, with hand tools and few if any extra hands, just to prove he could do it. And the house stood for more than seventy years. 

Web Log for 4.12.26

he

Celebrity Gossip 

Whingeing about how the rich don't do enough for the rest of society has officially made Bruce Springsteen a billionnaire. He can now reasonably be held responsible for redistributing his own wealth. He is, however, still slightly less wealthy than either Jay-Z or Taylor Swift.


History 

A little reminder that our Civil War was not a simple expression of a simple disagreement on the question of slavery. At the time it was highly nuanced. Very highly.


Lincoln freed the slaves--more as an act of war than as a humanitarian act toward Black Americans, a delegation of whom he received politely enough, as President, but then assured of a "mutual antipathy" between "the races." He was said to have loathed slavery, but there is also a mysterious incident in his biography where, as I recall summarizing it in a report in grade five, he "took a job on a boat, selling." What he was selling, biographers have searched in vain to find any record of anyone ever saying. It was likely to have been slaves. He had no Black friends and never seemed to want any. He does seem to have sincerely tried to act "with malice toward none, with charity toward all," and should always be given due credit for that. But where there is no malice, there can still be revulsion. Lincoln was born and brought up a "poor White" Southerner, and that demographic group were generally known for their detestation of slaves whom they saw as undercutting them in competition for jobs.

Lee, on the other hand, had an "up close and personal" view of slavery. On general principles he opposed it. His wife inherited some slaves. Lee had no use for them and wished he could afford to emancipate them, though when notified that these slaves thought they were already free and were travelling freely on their own he ordered that they be whipped, as a way to show good neighborly intentions. His feelings, too, appear to have been more concerned with the state of White society than with the rights denied to Black Americans. Lee was not a hater, nor does he seem to have been oppressed by fear. He saw clearly that slavery, as practiced in the United States, was unethical, immoral, and also extremely unprofitable. If he had been richer he might have been motivated to do something about slavery because it was unprofitable.

If circumstances had pushed them into different positions it's possible to imagine Lee at least trying plans, or trying to revive President Monroe's plans, to end slavery and repatriate slaves of African descent--and Lincoln tolerating slavery in order to get along with rich political sponsors. Read their letters and see.

Book Review: You've Got the Power

Title: You've Got the Power

Author: Lavinia Plonka

Date: 2022

Quote: "As a dancer and a mime artist, I was always drawn to the expression of emotions."

That's what's to like and what's not to like about this book, summarized in a sentence.  It's a Feldenkrais "body work" course in a book.

These courses were so fashionable in the 1960s and 1970s that even I was referred to one. In grade four. My mother didn't drive me to the classes but she bought the book and had my brother and me working our way through it. Among other things we practiced picking things up with our toes to offset the damage that those "sturdy shoes that support the child's active feet" were doing to my naturally high, weak arches. I may not seem the type who'd gravitate to Feldenkrais courses, and most of my readers probably think they're not, but I am. I'd like to suggest that you readers might enjoy this book more than you'd expect, too. Be tolerant about a little "New Age twaddle" (the author holds it down to a bearable level) and just do the easy, exploratory exercises. 

Feldenkrais exercises are not aerobics. They can help you get more benefit from exercising for speed, strength, or aerobic benefits, but as given they're just free-form exercises where you move in a particular way and pay attention to the thoughts and feelings that come up to the surface of your mind. They're courses in exploration. Some people do get big measurable benefits out of them--finding the source of muscle stiffness after an injury or of emotional trauma or whatever else. Some take the classes for social networking. For most people I think the exercises are just a great way to relax and pay attention to what their bodies are trying to tell them. 

What will it do for you to pay attention to the sensations of opening and closing your hand, of turning your eyes one way while you turn your head the other way, and so on? Depends on what's going on in your life and your body. This book makes no promises about reversing what you might have thought of as an "aging process," although Feldenkrais exercises often motivate people to reverse a stiffening process that produces what they've been calling "aging." It specifically says it's not going to lower your blood pressure, although Feldenkrais exercises give you just enough to do and think about that, if you're working to lower your blood pressure, they will help with that too. No book can anticipate whether you need help, or if so how to help, with playing a character, giving birth to a baby, undoing the residual damage from an old injury, looking more attractive (as it might be to customers? stockholders? voters?), or identifying the causes and working through allergy-triggered migraines. Feldenkrais courses can and do help people with all of those things but your results will depend entirely on what's going on in your body/mind. Generally there's unlimited potential benefit and almost no risk in doing a free course, even though some people do feel that they've overpaid for paid courses in "body work." 

This book begins with a look at how posture may help you feel and seem like a stronger "warrior" (in making business presentations? going back to work after sick leave? persuading your family without a big argument?) and continues through a dozen more ways simple exercises that explore an archetype may help with all kinds of other situations you may or may not be in. Whether you want people to think you're "old enough" or not "too old" for a job, want to work through feelings that your parents didn't love you enough or feelings that the outside world (primary school!) was abusive, want to recover range of motion after a stroke or injury or want to learn to play the role of a character with a disability, this book may help you claim the power to do it. Or, if not, it's still a good way to relax and prevent muscles stiffening.

This book needs only one warning. Don't pay more than $99 for a class working through these exercises unless you know for a fact tht a person you want to add to your network is taking the class too. The "California charlatan" stereotype is not based on physical exercise being useless or harmful; it's based on paying enormous fees to take classes where people didn't even meet any movie stars. The book actually helps you not to feel a need to pay enormous fees. You have the book. You can do the exercises when you're at home alone. 

Butterfly of the Week: Schaffgotsch's White Lady

Why would a butterfly be called Schaffgotsch's White Lady? A subgroup of African Graphium butterflies are called Swordtails if they have long "swallow tails" on their hind wings, or Ladies if they don't. None of the Ladies is pure white. The ones that show more white than black or brown, above, are White Ladies. Then again, sometimes people call this species Schaffgotsch's Swordtails. It's tradition; it doesn't have to make much sense. In view of its actual coloration, some have called this butterfly the Pinto Lady.


Photo from Wikipedia.

Some have proposed calling it the Angolan White Lady, a name that more logically fits Graphium angolanus, which these people call the White Lady.


Unfortunately a lot more is known about the Schaffgotsch family than about the butterflies. They are one of the obscure Graphium species that still offer opportunities for African students to become famous.

So what about Schaffgotsch? This was a wealthy family based in Silesia, a border area in present-day Poland that has also been claimed as part of Germany. The family name was originally Schaff, the sheep farmers; as the original family expanded some of them distinguished themselves as the descendants of the noble knight Gotsch Schaff. The butterfly might have been named in honor of General Hans Ulrich Schaffgotsch, a seventeenth century war hero who was later executed over a difference of opinion with his feudal overlord, or of Johanna Gryczik von Schaffgotsch, a miner's daughter who married into the rich family, received a title, put her money into business, and invested the wealth she gained in educational and humanitarian work. 


Portrait of Johanna as a wealthy patron of universities. Wikipedia has an older portrait suggesting that she looked less off-putting in youth. Anyway she was the first successful business woman in Silesia and was seen as a heroine by Victorian and Edwardian women.

Schaffgotsch's White Lady is a butterfly of what Africans call the Albertine Rift. It is found in Angola, the southern part of the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and Zambia--not often. It was also reported in Namibia, once, but has not been found there since. At this latitude seasons are defined more as "wet" and "dry" rather than "hot" or "cold." Weather permitting, these butterflies seem to fly at any time of year. 

Before 1927 Graphium schaffgotschi was classified as belonging to a similar species, Graphium taboranus. These species are alike enough that they could probably be crossbred with each other or with the other White Ladies, Graphium angolanus, G. endochus, G. morania, and G. ridleyanus


Photo by Rogerioferreira. Of a pair of Swallowtails, the larger one is usually the female; the more colorful one is usually the male. What about this pair?

What this butterfly eats, how long it lives,  what it looks like at any time before it gets its wings, nobody knows yet. Africa needs more biologists. 

Sunday, April 12, 2026

Napowrimo 12: Remembering a Relative

What came to mind was the story of, actually, two relatives. Grandfather was one of the more quiet Christians in my family history. He never preached a sermon; the college was close enough that he might have taken classes before the War, but I've found no record of it. He had his own kind of ministry. The cousin who kept the store, every day for fifty years with (eventually) some help from a wife and children, was always held up to my brother and me as an example of a righteous man.

They said no one was hungry
and no one was cold
in the Depression 
days of old.

Down by the railroad tracks
was a little store,
ten feet by twenty
or not much more.

Third cousin much removed
had two brothers
who died of stupidity,
left two others

he never could educate;
they had no need
beyond food and shelter,
never could read.

Grandfather reckoned he
had a long row
of mostly weeds and
rocks to hoe;

Backed his bid on
the little store.
"Help those who need help;
can't do more."

Whoever needed
food to eat
could get food at the store
till on his feet.

Whoever needed
coal to burn
could get it from the store
till season's turn.

If an account had run
on too long,
Grandfather paid it;
his word was strong.

All of his childhood
my father was poor
but not so poor as some
clients at the store.

Had food, books, blue jeans,
and not much more,
while everyone got food
from the store. 

Had lots of friends, 
he and his brothers.
Friends followed them home
and all the others

ate all they wanted
of farmers' dinner.
Grandma and Grandfather
weren't much thinner.

Grandfather had a cough
from nerve gas
in the War to End All War;
let it pass,

farmed and did odd jobs
better than some,
had a princely manner
and steady income.

Always said "communist"
was a good word,
long as it was the choice
one preferred.

Said private property
was the way
for those who looked forward to
no Brighter Day.

After my Grandma died
we found out
how much money kept their faith
past all doubt.

Thirty-five dollars, 
or less, not more,
each month, ran the farm
and the store.

Book Review: Sources of Strength

Book Review: Sources of Strength

Author: Jimmy Carter

Date: 1997

Publisher: Random House / Times

ISBN: 0-8129-2944-6

Length: 241 pages plus indices

Quote: “Al­though I began teaching Sunday School classes when I was eighteen years old, I’ve retained...transcripts of entire texts only during the past twenty years. I asked Karl Weber, a fine editor, to help me choose some of the more interesting ones...abbreviated...down to a few pages.”

That’s how the 52 brief chapters of this book came to be written. Although they’re not written in the Bible-study-workbook format to which Southern Baptists, Seventh-Day Adventists, and perhaps some church members are accustomed, each one contains enough Bible references that if you dig up your own nuggets of religious knowledge you’ll get quite a course of Bible study out of Sources of Strength. Former President Carter was always been known for his bland and mild public personality; if you want more salt’n’pepper on your daily Bible studies, the original texts and classic commentaries will supply that too. What the book tries to convey is a sense of what you’d hear if you’d visited the Maranatha Baptist Church where, Carter modestly admitted, Sunday School classes taught by a former President of the United States became quite a tourist attraction.

Carter’s politics were considerably to the left of many Southern Baptists’—consider Jerry Falwell. I have to say that while I read Sources of Strength I kept thinking, “Methodist...Methodist...” but no, Carter was still a Baptist. Right-wing Baptists may have wondered about this. Studying his Sources of Strength won’t convert you to the left wing—it may in fact inspire you to be more active on the right wing, if that’s where you feel at home—but it will help you understand what’s going on in the minds of left-wing Christians. Christianity is timeless, and cannot be truly divided between the “wings” of passing political reactions to specific times. We need to let the quest for real truth reunite us, even if we have disagreed sharply on political questions.

The texts he chose for study will be familiar to long-term churchgoers. I’m thinking now of my late “Aunt Dotty,” a family character who sustained some permanent brain damage from cancer treatment at age 50, but retained a good memory, and announced around age 55 that as a lifelong churchgoer she felt as if she ought to have graduated from Sunday School. Aunt Dotty learned a great deal in her ecumenical life; she remembered most of it into her late eighties. I don’t want to endorse the Catholic understanding of what makes us remember some Christians as saints, but in her way I think Aunt Dotty was that kind. I mention her because I had the thought, reading Sources of Strength: “Is this a book for people who come to churches as tourists? Is there anything in here for Aunt Dotty?” The answer to both questions is yes. Yes, it’s written partly for those who visit celebrities’ churches as tourists, and yes, there’s at least one lesson that might have had something new to offer even Aunt Dotty. It’s too late to ask her, but I think Carter’s story of how he reconciled himself to a personal enemy will be fresh for most Christians.

Although it does contain a couple of Carter’s long original poems, overall this book is well edited, easy to read, and warmly recommended to all Christians and to all historians studying the 1970s.

Web Log for 4.10-11.26

I went offline for the usual 24 hours; I did not stop writing...three poems and Thursday's main feature post. Some rain fell. Not enough. 

Animals 

The blogger known as Messy Mimi often posts photos of adorable adoptable cats and dogs (in Louisiana; some of the ones our Petfinder photo contests miss). This week the shelter where she volunteers has an unusually adorable Amber-Eyed Silver Tip with dapples on his head and neck. 


Books 

It seems some people think the "Bogus Books" listed in our April Fool post are actual books. They are not. However, if you want them as joke gifts, you can commission me to write them. They can be published on Amazon if you want "e-books" or printed and bound, for a naturally higher price, if you want real books. I've never ghostwritten a book for anyone whose pen name was Shoi Do-Fu or Ich bin Ein Dummkopf, but why not?

Like all books I ghostwrite, even the Bogus Books would contain actual research. That is, Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings was a character invented for one throwaway line in one comic novel and I don't believe anyone has ever been stupid enough to write poems about the internal parasites that are killing the writer's dog, but if you ordered that book you would get real information about internal parasites that might be injuring real dogs you know, and what a person more intelligent than P.N.M. Jennings would do about them.


Chores, Another One to Do While the Weather Is So Nice 

So that you won't have to do it when it's more urgently needed and the weather is uncooperative, e.g., freezing.