Photo 1 is a forward shot taken by Beresheet as the spacecraft enters the dark side of the moon.
The second photo was taken upon exiting the dark side of the moon when the spacecraft got scared and turned around instead of completing its orbit. What a copout. And after all the trouble of getting there.
Trump repeats everything that he's said all along so you can skip half the video and not miss anything. The people who follow Trump reinforce what Trump has been saying all along in their own words from their own perspective.
Man oh man, you will notice that people in uniform for the United States sure do appreciate a leader who appreciates them and proves it by observable actions, and that appreciation shows.
Frustration: the thing that you need to open a tightly sealed package is inside the package.
Grrrr, grunt, hiss.
Here's the thing: The coconut coir liners that come with the railing trough planters are flimsy. By the end of the season they're raggedy and falling apart. They're all leaned over and spilling their contents. They cannot hold water, obviously, and constant daily watering, sometimes twice, their threads are hanging out. They become shaggy. Such that birds come and pull them apart to build their nests.
Maybe I made up that last part, but it could happen.
I'm tired of replacing them over and over and over end over Andover.
See how thin they are?
The best one is $21.00 and it lasts only one good season. Two seasons tops, but that's pushing it.
X 4 that's, what, that's $84.00 right there.
Shirley, there's something more permanent.
We home gardener types are always thinking about ways of hacking the system.
I could buy plastic railing trough planters and glue patches of coconut coir and paint green and black stripes to make it appear as metal basket holding coconut coir lining.
Previously I bought a very large roll of this flat coconut coir liner to use for the germination material to grow microgreens in 1020 nursery flats. Presently those heavy duty flats are being used to start plants for the terrace garden, not for microgreens, and this huge roll is just sitting there.
And it is a lot more than I expected. The roll is 36 inches X 33 feet.
I can use this roll to make my own inserts. It's a lot thicker and much more consistent, a lot denser than the liners. I can make super heavy duty liners with this.
Then line it with spray on rubber so that they hold water like a pot.
I did this before with regular replacement liners and it worked very well for holding water in the shallow troughs in this exceedingly arid climate, so much like a desert, and held up to the dry breeze five stories high, such that each day becomes a water-emergency.
But it did not work that well for keeping the saggy liners together.
The coconut coir is difficult to cut. My most fierce scissors do not work well at all. That's what the knife is for.
I also bought an upholstery sewing kit with long strong steel needles with large eyes to thread with fishing line. To sew the required seams.
The shape is not like a bisected tube. It's flat on one side and curved on the other to create a bulge. Then the ends are curved too so that the top is longer than the bottom.
The replacement liners fudge this whole thing. They're formed into a simpler shape. And that's why they get pressed all out of shape. The weight of the dirt and the water forces the liners to the shape of the metal basket. They bulge through the spaces of the metal basket so the whole thing is bulging through all over the place especially the bottom. The sides sink so that water spills out.
This will be a lot more stiff. Possibly 4X as stiff or more.
The liners are made for root aeration, but these will have zero aeration except from the top and the worms that I put in them.
The soil that I put in there is mixed specifically for worms.
Turns out, the stuff that's perfect for worms is also the best base and the best fertilizer for plants.
The soil is potting soil and fungal dominated compost and all kinds of additional goodies that include rock dust, kelp meal, humates, chitin, biochar and super premium worm castings. This goes into all of the containers, not just the troughs on the railing.
Wow. The kids are getting really good at this. I love it when it's obvious the young person practiced so much that there's no longer any thinking left to do except to keep on track. Their body internalized the signs. They taught their bodies how to express so the signs come automatically as hand configurations for piano chords do or guitar chords form and place themselves automatically, the hand turns into the right shape claw and goes to the frets without thinking, "here's whre I put my fingers just so"
"Tiger" is clawed hands raking stripes across the cheeks.
"Roar" is the same double hand configurations extending forward from the mouth.
So "tiger" and "roar" look very similar.
"I got up" is shown the two legged fingers standing up on the floor of the opposite hand. Similar to "dancing" people tend to show this at an angle so it appears people stand up on a slope or stand sideways on a wall.
The show follows the action of Customs Border Patrol at Northern American airports. We see passengers picked out for secondary screening. Thing that you will notice: everyone lies.
They must hate that. Cops too. This must be a human trait to automatically lie when interrogated by people that you regard lower than yourself.
Over and over they say the same thing, "If you are lying then you are in trouble. If you tell the truth then I can help you. We found ______. Now is the time to start telling the truth."
The show is edited by an incurable schizophrenic.
Chopped to pieces then jumbled. At each point where they pick up a track they dropped earlier they backtrack and replay the previous ending thus stretching each episode with unnecessary redundant repetition that keeps repeating itself.
Who even does that?
And everyone's trying to bust some kind of move; sneak something in, bring in their stupid native food and all the bugs that come with it, their bizarre Middle Eastern drugs like khat, chemical drugs, money, gold, clothing, knock off goods. Every kind of fer'ner on earth making a move on good old Ewe Ess of Aye.
A lot of people are incredibly arrogant.
You start out thinking, "Aw, he didn't get through," and "Aw, she's being sent back." and "Aw, she lied about her months of pregnancy and they're both refused entry." And you end up thinking, "Good! Get the hell out of my country. All of you. Out!"
And the travelers from English speaking countries are the worst. They've all got some kind of game. They all come off as regarding America as their trailer park cousin where they go for their slumming.
While our CBP handles them with class sending them packing or passing them a gigantic fee.
And dogs! You could say they are working quite hard, but I seem them playing like mad. This is their best game ever! The thing they can do very well and get their rewards. You can tell that the dogs are having a blast. Their handlers are so sweet to them.
But the really weird thing is our lovely neighbors to the north. The ones that travel here, shown on this show, all think America is their little bitch. The first woman shown is perfectly obnoxious. She just cannot believe that she's getting the treatment. "This is all so unnecessary." She says repeatedly, "I'm may not be the usual Canadian" then, "I'm not the usual traveler" then, "I'm not the usual sixty-year-old." Bitch, you are a lot more common than you imagine yourself to be.
The agents are portrayed as very well centered. They really have seen it all and their patience is remarkable with a steady stream of arrogant liars.
There is also a Canadian version of this show that ran into some controversy. It picked up protestors complaining about intrusion into privacy. Viewers did not like what they saw about their own Canadian Customs and Border Patrol. The issue went all the way to Parliament. Wikipedia explains.
"Why hello Major West. Fancy meeting you here."
"Hamana hamana hamana."
"Why are't you dressed properly for our leather party? I am very disappointed in you. I guess you don't want to do any exploring. Oh well. I guess I will have to make do with the robot. He is the Joe Biden model you know. He knows what to do with his hands."
This is another of those one-thing-leads-to-another then another where you end up out in the woods.
There I was patiently watching a video on starting petunias from seed. (It all has to do with the mixture you start with) And in the background a woman is singing softly a recognizable tune. It's a cover of "Latch" but the faint lyrics are not what I know.
And I think now here is a song that would be popular with the kids to interpret into ASL. Sure enough there are a dozen of them. The interpreters all do poorly.
While the song that I know is actually "La La Latch," same melody, but its lyrics are more harsh. Depending on the cover, a woman or a man is singing to the original "Latch" except with more energy and telling her significant other that they covers their ears, turns up the radio, and goes "La la la la" whenever the other one speaks.
Also popular with kids interpreting into ASL and all of them do poorly. They all get lost in the lyrics, lost in their interpretations and lose the song. Through a dozen videos I never did see a single "border" for the original, and never saw any "silver lining" in the second derived song.
None of the signers show the song and express the antipathy so well as the K-Pop dance studio. They cover their ears in the right place, and they show dropping their jaws for "stop talking" and they move with the beat throughout.
W-a-a-a-a-a-y down the list of results I saw this teenage boy just learning a song that now is a few years old, "Sail" by AWOL Nation. Chosen because it is so slow, no doubt.
All his signs are correct. If he were to put a sail on his boat then he'd be showing the sign for "show" and not a sailboat. Best, I suppose, for the boat not to have a sail.
And this caused me to look for another favorite video featuring this same song. I showed this here before. It shows an exceedingly thin French young man who walks into a swept studio. The camera is at floor level and it goes past all the trash, paper, broken bottles and such that were swept to the side. The guy comes in, sets his beatbox on a chair, kicks away a bit of trash, and goes through his yoga-like routine twisting his legs around in impossible configurations while doing handstands.
And the whole time you're going, "Man, there sure is a lot of strange athleticism in the world."
Also watched AOL Nation live and that is less interesting than the recording. Still, I'm ever impressed how art that is finished point for one artist becomes the starting point for other artists. Each song is like a coloring book. People do such varied things with other people's music. What artist could guess their music would become the theme song for some politician's campaign?
This cannon was owned by the guy who lived right down the street from CL in SV, and he was in great demand to be part of the concussion section when local orchestras played the real 1812 Overture. I helped him fire it in a park in downtown San Jose back in 1984. As far as I know he still owns it - he was such a big Civil War buff that he moved to Gettysburg and became a docent and tour guide of the battlefields. That boy sure knows his stuff, that's for sure.
While driving home from walkies this evening I heard the P. D. Q. Bach 1712 Overture, and since I am not much of a fan of P. D. Q.'s work I didn't recognize it and could not figure out what the heck I was listening too. It is seriously good musical parody, which is not easy to achieve. I swear at one point I thought it was going to break out into I. Ron Butterfly's Inagaddadavida.
I am drinking tonight in Spangler's Bar and I remember the cows I once painted in Art class and they looked good they looked better than anything in here. I am drinking in Spangler's Bar wondering which to love and which to hate, but the rules are gone: I love and hate only myself-- they stand outside me like an orange dropped from the table and rolling away; it's what I've got to decide: kill myself or love myself? which is the treason? where's the information coming from?
books . . . like broken glass: I w'dn't wipe my ass with 'em yet, it's getting darker, see?
(we drink here and speak to each other and seem knowing.)
buy the cow with the biggest tits buy the cow with the biggest rump.
the bartender slides me a beer it runs down the bar like an Olympic sprinter and the pair of pliers that is my hand stops it, lifts it, golden piss of dull temptation, I drink and stand there the weather bad for cows but my brush is ready to stroke up the green grass straw eye sadness takes me all over and I drink the beer straight down order a shot fast to give me the guts and the love to go on.
It's like when you quit smoking. That whole world is closed off to you. No more ashtrays, no more lighters. No more need to make sure you have sufficient cigarette supply, and some kind of handy fire source, and no need for ash disposal, no more butts, no more burnt holes in fabrics, no more cigarette breath, no more need for supplemental breath mints, no more undue pressure on your lungs. No more coughing. No more black lung disease. No more smoke crawling around like a snake. No more stinking up your clothes, your car, your hair. That world has ended.
Pluperfect, it began and ended in the past. That world is dead. Dead and gone.
So how then is it that so many people are still smoking? That doesn't even fit. Those smoking people all over the place are anachronisms in my world.
Same thing with Fox. Exactly the same thing. Except different.
No more Giraldo to tolerate, no more more Juan Williams dummkopfery, no more Shepard Smith gay liberalism to bear, no more Peter Doocy and Chris Wallace nepotism to stand for, no more doses of liberalism voices that must come with conservative points of view. No more interviewers interrupting their interviewees, no more "five seconds, please" and "we've got to go" rushing through good explanations.
In fact, no more f'k'n cable period.
So how is it then we're still presented with straight up disasters like this?
Shut up. Both of you.
I have much more important things to do.
*squeaky ventriloquist voice* "Like what?"
Like searching [coleus germination temperature] and [pansy germination temperature] and learning the heating pad I provided them is actually working against me. I must move their pods to another room where it's cooler. Now that's information I can use. And it's education that comes to me free. Without two vastly overpaid obnoxious dopes and their two bizarre psychologies and two ugly faces.
This is a live stream video I enjoyed watching yesterday and I think you can enjoy it too if you have any interest in this sort of thing.
His viewers are global. A man from the Middle East chimes in and tells John that John's videos have inspired the viewer to start his own group in his country. A man from Argentina writes in. Canada as well. His followers are playful with him. Their respect is obvious. I sense that most would like to know him. A woman says, "I blame you for me starting a garden."
A few are interested in marijuana. John says he never smokes pot, not ever. Except that one time, no wait, two times, and back in High School. And he never eats it. Except that one time when he made that video that everyone likes, and that other time on the airplane that they think makes such a great story. And he never ever ever grows it except when he did, and if the state ever catches up with Trump's federal law then he's eager to grow hemp. So he's all over that world of things but keeps insisting that he's not. It's funny. One senses if you torched up a joint in private and passed it to him he'd smoke it without hesitation.
People have some astute questions about gardening that you might find interesting. They want his responses to other things they encounter on the internet. Their sincerity is touching.
Eric has two videos of this poem posted to YouTube. Apparently he's had insights about its meaning. His first video is dissimilar to his second.
Hope is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -
And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -
I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.
Ha ha ha ha ha ha, stop it, Eric, you're killing me.
This is a first. I've never seen Emily Dickinson done anything like this. It's like punk metal Emily Dickinson. It shouts a voice that whispers. It's like sticking dynamite in Emily's Dickinson's butt.