Author: Mark Alexander

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Taking a Little Break

After yesterday’s last post, I realized that I needed to take a break from obsessing over the downfall of western civilization and made the conscious decision to step away from that nightmare-I-have-no-control-over for a while.

To that end, I’m just going to be posting a lot of pictures.

I’m attempting to organize my photos library and I realized that I have hundreds of pictures that have caught my eye over the years that I downloaded with every intention of reposting. Like with a lot of things however, it never quite happened, and they’ve been languishing in storage ever since. So for the next several days (unless something truly major happens on the political front to break through the now-usual effluent spewing from 45’s administration), this here blog thingie will be nothing more than a stream of visual consciousness.

Enjoy. Or not. Whatever…

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Pay Attention To His Words!

45 has always told us exactly what he’s planning, either outright (not that any of us actually believed him at the time) or by projecting whatever it is onto his opponents.

Over the last few days, he appears to be laying the groundwork to preemptively shift all blame for any future terrorist attack on the country from his administration to the federal judiciary, as well as the media:

“If something happens blame him [Judge James Robart] and the court system.”

Let that sink in for a minute. The asshole in the White House is attempting to de-legitimize an entire branch of government in advance of “something happening.”

HE IS PROJECTING HIS PLANS, FOLKS.

In the twisted, fevered minds of Bannon & Co. I’m sure America’s very own Reichstag Fire is in the planning stages, if not already finalized. And if/when it happens, you can expect Martial Law to be invoked and there will be troops in the streets. All media not complimentary to 45 or his minions will be silenced and at that point, it’s game over. You thought it was crazy under Bush/Cheney in the aftermath of 9/11? THAT WAS JUST THE WARM UP ACT. Someone PLEASE convince me that if there is another attack on this country, The Land of the Free and Home of the Brave will not cower in the corner, desperately wanting Daddy 45 to protect them at any cost.

Even if there is no false-flag operation, the mere fact that 45 is driving out the best and brightest from the echelons of government—people whose job it is to keep us safe—and replacing them with a bunch of pathologically incompetent sycophants  is leaving us vulnerable to real attacks and should be setting off alarms from coast to coast.

But what do I hear from the Republican party? You know, the ones who can actually remove this tiny-handed man-child from power? It’s been either crickets or thunderous applause.

THIS IS HOW EVERYTHING AMERICA—AND EVERYTHING IT STANDS FOR— DIES.

Over the past few days I’d been feeling somewhat encouraged because of the amount of blowback 45 is getting from ordinary citizens and the courts, but hearing this today on NPR while driving home sent chills down my spine. I’m now back to feeling like I’m trapped in one of those nightmares where you know what’s coming and are completely powerless to stop it.

So how difficult would it be for a 50-something PC Technician with no degree and his 30-something Teacher husband with a Masters to emigrate to Canada or New Zealand or Australia? Would our relationship even be recognized?

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Such a Buzzkill

I hate to burst your bubble, but while this is very pretty, in real life it wouldn’t look anything like this.

First off, assuming this is supposed to be the Pleiades (based on the shape of the “beam ship“), you can’t get close enough to the cluster for it to fill the sky to the degree shown in the artwork above and retain the same configuration it does when viewed from earth. In order for it to retain the same shape as seen from Earth, you’d have to be no closer than approximately 40 light years out from the nearest star in the cluster and at that distance it would appear only about half the size shown here. Any closer, and the relative positions of the stars start to shift so dramatically that the cluster quickly loses it’s “tiny dipper” shape altogether.

Secondly, even with the stars of the Pleiades being extremely bright blue-white giants hundreds of time more luminous than our sun, at 40 light years out they still wouldn’t cast shadows; they’d only be as bright as the brightest stars in Earth’s night sky.  Hell…even if you’re standing on a hypothetical planet orbiting one of the stars in the cluster, the brightest stars of the rest of the cluster would still be outshone by Venus in Earth’s sky (currently seen in the west after sundown—go outside and take a look!) by an order of magnitude. Yeah, pretty, but they wouldn’t cast shadows.

So science kills fantasy again. Almost as disappointing as when I learned that even if you’re close to stellar nebulae you still wouldn’t see the colors captured in those amazing shots from Hubble. (Another discussion for another time.)

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This…

…is going to send some delicate snowflakes into a complete meltdown.

And it makes me very, very happy.

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Trying To Get Back Into It

One of my favorite blogs, Life of an Architect, recently penned a post called—for lack of a better phrase on my part, “The Joy of  Sketch.” Bob’s blog has always provoked a combination of misty-eyed nostalgia, envy, and abject admiration in me. It’s a constant (although not unwelcome) reminder of the career I regrettably—albeit voluntarily—walked away from 20 years ago. In fact I’ve exchanged a few emails with the him regarding my own sense of loss at having left the field. He’s urged me to get back on the horse if I miss it that much, but at this point in my life I know if nothing else my knowledge of construction (how the bits and pieces actually go together to create a structure)—if not my CAD/drawing skills themselves—are too far gone to ever entertain returning to the profession, but at doesn’t mean a guy can’t dream…or at least dabble on his own.

A few weeks ago, while waiting with Ben in the checkout line at Michael’s, I spied a display of sketch books that were on sale. They were sitting there screaming in my ear to buy them, but I dismissed that siren call by rationalizing, “When do I have time to sit and draw?” After we’d left, I immediately regretted that decision. It was now like an itch I couldn’t scratch. Make time, damn it! Seeing those sketchbooks reminded me of how much I used to enjoy drawing. I mean at one point, architectural drawing and sketching was my life.

The itch didn’t go away, so the following weekend I returned to the store and picked up one of the books along with an assortment of pens.

My first attempt, a free-hand sketch of what we’d like to do to our house if we ever bought it, didn’t turn out well. I mean, it was acceptable in a first-attempt, amateurish sort of way, but certainly not what I remember myself being capable of doing. I didn’t beat myself up too much over it because I knew those skills had atrophied over the years from disuse, and it would take a concerted effort to get them back to where they once were.

So to that end, I cracked open the book again this past weekend and this time (armed with a pencil and architectural scale) I did much better. Still not what I used to be capable of—I could actually draw perfectly straight lines without assistance at one point and wondered why everyone else couldn’t—but it definitely more in line with what I was hoping for. And quite frankly, I was surprised how easily using the scale returned to me…

All I can say is, “Practice, practice…”

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Not This Time, Motherfuckers

Not. this. time.

https://www.facebook.com/gregoryalocke/posts/1279925448727304

“I got on the subway in Manhattan tonight and found a Swastika on every advertisement and every window. The train was silent as everyone stared at each other, uncomfortable and unsure what to do.

One guy got up and said, “Hand sanitizer gets rid of Sharpie. We need alcohol.” He found some tissues and got to work.

I’ve never seen so many people simultaneously reach into their bags and pockets looking for tissues and Purel. Within about two minutes, all the Nazi symbolism was gone.

Nazi symbolism. On a public train. In New York City. In 2017.

‘I guess this is Trump’s America,’ said one passenger. No sir, it’s not. Not tonight and not ever. Not as long as stubborn New Yorkers have anything to say about it.”