The New American Digest

Those in the know, know …
A post from HJB – inspired by “Oh Wow Man The Colors!”

Nope – not too long for a post.

Your piece today on the ‘newly-discovered’ controlled substances reminds me of a short story from the years at Mines –

I had driven up to Boulder very early one Saturday morning to attend a geology lecture. On the way back down Hwy 93 to Golden, mid-morning, on the dead-straight and flat section about half-way I found myself catching up to a slow-moving Volkswagen Beetle.

When I was about 100 yards behind, the Bug suddenly made a 90° right turn, ran through the roadside ditch and came to rest impaled on the barbed-wire fence along the adjacent pasture. I pulled over quickly and jumped out to render aid if needed. As I got to the car a long-haired, bearded flower child of the late 1960s Boulder / CU variety emerged with a wide-eyed look on his face …..

“Did you see that?? Did you see that??? Oh my God, did you see that??” …..
“See what, I hollered” …..

“That giant purple chicken in the middle of the road …. there was a giant purple chicken!!” ……

Seeing that he was not visibly injured, I returned to my car and made my way back to Mines, thanking my stars for having not chosen CU.

“The most dangerous man to any government is the man who is able to think things out for himself, without regard to the prevailing superstitions and taboos.” — H.L. Mencken

“Truth seekers often find themselves alone.  This is part of their initiation in order to gain self mastery.  One cannot know thy true self by being constantly surrounded by others.” —  Anonymous 

“We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.” ― Plato

Too many Left-Coasters moving in

“Providing a welcoming and inclusive space to learn about your bike“

The Boise Bicycle Project is hosting their third annual emergency bike repair clinic with Idaho Women’s Bikepacking. The event provides women and those who identify as female support and education around fixing their bike. Accepting people of all skill levels, BBP says it’s a place for people to feel safe and comfortable around a hobby they might not normally feel welcomed in.

A “safe space” for bicycles? What? Lessons on how not to interfere with motor vehicles when driving in the middle of the road?

It’s a bicycle. OK, a repair clinic is good – but why dump all the woke crap into it?
(because we’re all inclusive and safe and welcoming and all that – and we want people to know that they’re safe here)

“safe here” didn’t used to be an issue – but I certainly wouldn’t feel safe and welcome at such an event.

OK – I don’t go into Boise city much anyway (but then I don’t go into the nearby town here much either) – usually only because that’s the center for medical specialties.

Boise used to be a nice city … parking wasn’t a hassle, traffic was light enough that “jay-walking” wasn’t an issue – and didn’t deserve a ticket, one could walk around without being bothered by “support-our-issues” people, shops were nice without being pretentious, the city hall wasn’t full of rainbow flags and trimmings.

But that was then. “Then” wasn’t long ago – it happened quick.

Just to counter my own bitching, this was also a headline in local news:

Eagle firefighters rescue cow after it falls inside an irrigation box

“The cow fell into an irrigation box at a nearby ranch when the fire department was called. Responding crews found the cow in the irrigation box and quickly constructed a mechanical advantage system, according to EFD. The firefighters managed to extricate the cow, showing the skill and capabilities of the firefighters who responded.”
[They put straps under the cow and lifted]

Eagle is not Boise.

originally posted by Jean December 04, 2007

If I
had my way,
if it were
up to me,
I’d know
what to say
and how
to say it.
I’d know
what to feel
and when
to feel it.

The people entrance to an old grain mill in Michigan. When I was but a lad, I was fascinated by these places – many still in operation; most if not all, in their last days. The older mills of 1890s vintage might still have had the original belt driven machinery; the sounds and smell of the operating equipment drew me in and held my attention long enough to get chased out of the workmen’s way … though often just to a safer place to watch.

If I was really lucky, a freight train would come by to load or unload whatever it was the mill needed or shipped: usually sacks of ground grain going out, machinery and hardware coming in – the mills in small towns often did double duty as the local hardware store.

Leonard was never large; its population was usually in the mid-200s, occasionally reaching 300.

So on one of my journeys home – that itself long, long ago, I re-visited this old mill. No longer in business, waiting its fate. The trim is new, the door is old. The photo was film.

Due to the miracle of Google Street view, I took an internet journey back to Leonard to see what I could see.

The part of the mill where this door once was no longer exists – the door opened onto what is now near the sidewalk; one would park a vehicle in what is now grass. The outline of the former wall still marks the location. The paint is worn, the windows and doors sealed off with hopes of preventing scavengers and vandals from entering, the road is paved, there’s now a sidewalk and curbs, and what was once a worn-out, over-grown tertiary rail line is now a manicured and paved walking path, and there is no sign of the siding where boxcars and flats once were parked for loading and unloading.

Better days gone forever..