The North Alabama Human Trafficking Task Force now has a Twitter account. Come follow us!
- This week I learned that just because your A/V receiver can switch 1080p video over HDMI doesn’t mean it can switch 4K video over HDMI. It has to do with the chip set inside the receiver, not the cables.
- As I type, Charles Manson is on his deathbed. I don’t know his heart, but I believe no one is beyond redemption.
- The Iron Bowl matters (beyond bragging rights). It’s always more fun when that’s the case. I think Alabama got an up State team, but it was still considerably more thrilling than it should have been. I hope we get some defensive personnel back before we play Auburn.
- The new Pink album is good, but I think I enjoyed her last record more. I wish her songwriting would mature a bit. I’m not opposed to a good, effective cussword once in a while, but it feels a bit too forced this time around. (But goodness gracious sakes alive, what a set of pipes on that chick.)
- I met Brandi for the first time in person this week! She is just as precious as you’d think.
- Looks like the Mobile BayBears are going to be the Madison…something. (I hope they do change the name, because we don’t have a bay. I hate when they don’t and you get stupid nonsensical crap like the Utah Jazz.) Perhaps I’ll pick baseball back up.
- Lea, the boys, and I went to Wayback Burgers for Rocket City Mom and had a marvelous time!
I was thinking on the drive home tonight about an old friend. (Well, maybe she’s “someone I used to know” now. We haven’t had any contact in 12 or so years.) She and her husband moved to Colorado a few years ago. I don’t know whether it was for a job, or for the excitement of it, or some other reason. She’s got roots here, though, including family—so it wasn’t without trade-offs.
I thought about the adventures to be had in both urban and rural Colorado. Then I considered for a moment how blessed I feel to be in northern Alabama—to have a career here, to be raising a family here.
I arrived at age 15, with my father, in August 1986. The population of Huntsville has grown a good bit since then, but the population of the metropolitan area has doubled. We are rapidly closing on half a million people. It’s a significantly larger city than the one I moved to. Yet I’ve grown with it. I’ve called myself a native for 20 years or so now, and it still feels like my home.
A lot of the blessings are easy-to-measure metrics. The crime rate is low. The cost of living is low. The job market is excellent. I have a choice of good Vietnamese and Thai restaurants. A big one for me, though, is more abstract:
There are several things I still want to do in my life, and I can effectively do them here.
I haven’t exactly considered them dreams, or wishes, or anything else—they’ve just been things I think I’d like to do. Well, it’s time to call them goals. It’s time to codify them. It’s time for me to identify manageable chunks that I can check off. It’s time for me to clear obstacles (some of which have been obvious to me for some time yet I dared not call them by name).
I’ve made racket like this to myself before. I know it’s different this time because I’m much more excited than I’ve ever been.
I’ll keep you posted.
I have never liked Roy Moore. Whatever common political ground I have with him has always been far overshadowed by his ignorance and boorish behavior.
I was, nevertheless, prepared to vote for him in the December 12 special election. Chances are excellent that President Trump will nominate another Supreme Court justice, and despite my differences with Trump, I thought he made a fine choice in Neil Gorsuch. The Senate is close; whatever else Moore would be, he’d be a reliable Republican confirmation vote; there you go. Distasteful, but there’s a defensible path through the position.
With the accusations of Leigh Corfman and three other women, however, I will not be voting for Roy Moore. Bluntly, I find his accusers credible, and his “alleged” actions inconsistent with human decency. My alternate-reality girlfriend Katherine Timpf is quite persuasive and instructive in this matter. I also like what David French has to say about faith in God.
Moore needs to be quiet and stay away from nice people. That’d be a good to-do list for the rest of his life.
Democratic opponent Doug Jones seems like a fine fellow, and certainly someone you’d rather have lunch with. However, despite his encouraging rhetoric about compromise and reaching across the aisle, I find nothing on his web site to indicate he’d be anything but a down-the-line Democrat in office.
We need a write-in candidate who is well-known and uncontroversial. State Senator Arthur Orr, on our friendly neighborhood agitator Dale Jackson‘s show, floated Bob Riley. I voted for Riley twice, and I could easily write him in. I think many Alabamians could. Alas, as I type it is only a month until the vote, and we need organization right now. It would logically fall to the Alabama GOP to execute such a plan. However, as they’re the same feckless navel-gazers who gave us Roy Moore, I wouldn’t invest much hope in such.
So there’s not much chance of a satisfactory ending here, kids. Jones or Moore will win.
Perhaps we couldn’t expect any more in the year of Trump and Bentley.
I did not go to war, though I love and support many people who did.
With each year that I am able to love my family and pursue my interests in peace and liberty, I appreciate their sacrifices more.
God bless you, veterans. Thank you.