Big Red Barn

Hovander Park, Ferndale.

Update on Updates

My Dad turned 94 today.  He had a birthday party at his nursing home with my sister and nephew and Good Friend of The Family.  He looked really happy, and knowing him he's probably setting down for a nap.

The wheels are rolling on selling the house.  There's still a lot to do, but we've got a realtor helping us out.

I'm planning of driving back east, two kitties in tow, in two months.  I'll keep working at the shelter until then.

The fluffy ones are getting their spay/neuter this Friday.  They'll hate it of course, but I'll also officially be able to adopt them once the procedures are done.

It's raining in Bellingham, of course.  Things are pretty good.

Cops

Given what's happened in Memphis and Alabama recently, it's worth reflecting on my relationship with cops.  Which is to say, it's non-existent.  As a white driver I don't get pulled over unless I want to -- if I speed or don't keep my tags up to date.  As a twenty-something I was pulled over a total of three times, all for speeding tickets that were completely my fault.  The point is, my relationship with cops has always been, in the truest sense, consensual.

I think what cops are risking now though is both cultural and permanent.  It's becoming obvious that cops exist to serve other cops, not you or me.  If you do happen to be in a situation where you acted lawfully and a cop didn't, and it's your word against his or hers, you're the one who will pay the consequences.  Even now you'd have to be stupid or ignorant not to realize, deep down, this is already the truth regardless of skin color.

To try and put it another way, "post-racial" policing in America does not mean what it should -- a justice system where people are treated equally under the law.  What it means is that even white citizen are waking up to realize that every police department in America is a racket, a private operation, a conspiracy of silence, where cops will always do their damndest to protect each other, their pay, and their benefits.  They will always act to ensure that this self-protecting and self-enriching machine keeps running.

Our health and safety and rights?  Eh, they'll be protected when it's convenient, but certainly not if we in any way challenge or threaten that machine.

The essential question becomes, why are we paying so much for this shit?  Why do we continue to subsidize what are essentially modular cartels in every American state, city, and county?

Back To The Lake

Lake Padden, Bellingham.

I've made it to all the major parks in Whatcom County, but probably will miss you a few of the smaller ones.  Very pretty.

RIP Trugoy

De La Soul, "Stakes is High"

To go from the hippie vibes from five years earlier to the pissed-offedness of this?  Genius.

Trugoy the Dove is dead at 54.

"I'm sick of bitches shakin' asses

I'm sick of talkin' 'bout blunts, sick of Versace glasses

Sick of slang, sick of half-ass awards shows

Sick of name-brand clothes

Sick of R&B bitches over bullshit tracks

Cocaine and crack, which brings sickness to blacks

Sick of swoll'-head rappers with their sickenin' raps

Clappers of gats, makin' the whole sick world collapse"

Adulting!

Me and my sister have the ball rolling on getting my Dad's house sold (the one I'm currently caretaking).  It's going well, but it's also the first time I've done something like this and dealt with this amount of money.

I'm trying to learn as much as possible from the experience.  Curb appeal!  Curb appeal!

Without getting too far into the weeds, I'll hopefully be moving back to Maryland some time in April, with two cats in tow.

From there I'll look for a new job, and also visit my Dad in his home as much as possible.

The hardest parts are over (taking care of my Dad full time).  But spending two days cleaning the house wasn't a bed of roses either.

And that was just an "acceptable" clean for the realtor.  A "deep clean" will come soon, although we'll likely pay for that.  I imagine I need to get started on selling some furniture.

Then again, I'm a lazy git.

This weekend, back at the Animal Shelter.  They know I'll be gone pretty soon, which is genuinely sad for me.  I hope they'll miss me nearly as much as I'll miss all of them.

Time doesn't fuck around, does it?

Because Nobody Asked

I love Patrick Mahomes but I don't see how you could bet against the Eagles in this Super Bowl.

Philadelphia 38 -- Kansas City 24

Two of those K.C. touchdowns come in garbage time.