Sarah A. Hoyt's Blog, page 98

At My Heels

We all know I’m often followed by a black dog who tells me everything I do and everything I am is worthless.

Honestly, I’d be nothing and do nothing, and probably lie curled on the floor of my room for eternity, if it weren’t for another canine in my menagerie.

We’ll call him The motivator.

The motivator snarls and growls at my heels day and night. He’s like the slave that stood behind Caesar at the triumph, reminding him that he’s still nothing, but with a side of sharp teeth and s...

Whistling Past The Graveyard

Humans are really bad at forecasting what is going to happen, and what the consequences of their actions will be. I don’t know if this fault is worse in humans who want to take power and force everyone to obey their grandiose plans, or if it’s simply more obvious in them because the rest of us aren’t displaying our lack of foresight for the entire universe.

I came across an article, recently, complaining that the price of commercial real estate is plunging. And they don’t know what it me...

Grab Your Memes While they’re Memes

First and very importantly I want to make all of you aware of this site: Glorious Meme Commissar of Proletariat.

It is run by a friend of this blog, and collects some great ones. These first few memes come from that. (And we refuse to explain the one about the secretary of transportation. Deal with your disappointment. Whatever possesses you, though, DO NOT LOOK IT UP.)

The next few are memes found in the wild that he hasn’t corralled yet:

And these are m...

Your Duty To Your Country

First, let’s specify that is an honor and a privilege to be an American citizen and part of this grand experiment in self governance.

Even now, with all the fraud and… ah… weirdness, we’re still the best country in the world. More, we might manage to extricate ourselves from this without landing in the dystopia of the Davoisie’s dreams, and that’s pretty much us, in all the world.

Long ago, before embarking on this wild adventure of marrying and raising a family, my fiance and I di...

The Power of Lies

I’m getting very tired of hearing people mindless repeat that the future is “plant based foods” Or “The future is meat free” or whatever the unholy idiocy they keep spouting.

The idiots who are spilling milk in the UK grocery stores — thereby of course, raising the demand for milk, because people still have to feed their kids! — the idiots who sit in front of shelves blocking access to milk — yeah, I note that it only happens in places where people are too civilized to get three strong gu...

I’m Off For the Day

Will be AFK doing life stuff.

Don’t break the blog and please, please, please, I beg you, don’t feed Fluffy sardines again. You think it’s lots of fun, but I’m the one cleaning scale-balls all day long the next day.

Be good. Or at least don’t be google.

See you tomorrow.

This Is Not Your Grandfather’s Grandfather

As we watch the increasingly ridiculous and try-to-be shocking antics of the would-be leading edge leftists, one question keeps coming up: who are they trying to shock?

No, seriously. Look, guys, I’m sixty. That’s grandmother age, even if I’m not one except via duct-tape yet.

Yeah, sure, both my parents and Dan’s parents are still alive, but look, my mom is a boomer, okay? And so was Dan’s mom. And our fathers are only slightly older. They got married in the fifties, raised kids in the...

After The Fair

I collect expressions like other people collect stuff for their scrap book, and I’m very fond of the British expression “Well, that’s after the fair.”

I also know exactly what it means, because I grew up with fairs. They’re open air markets (except when they’re roofed over) where everything is available for sale, and often the fish is right next to the pottery, which is right next to– And some of them are annual, or monthly, most are weekly and some are permanent, like the one in Downto...

Walls, Liberty and Trust- A Blast From The Past From October 2015

Walls, Liberty and Trust- A Blast From The Past From October 2015

When I was a kid in the village, I could tell what the oldest walls around fields or houses were.

You see, in the sixties the new, nice houses being built, would have very short walls.  Maybe four feet.  Walls more for decoration than for anything else.

This didn’t mean there was no theft, of course.  I mean, the smart woman brought in the wash from the line at night, and henhouses and rabbit hutches had as good a loc...

How Beautiful We Were — And How Foolish

Aesop Fan linked this from Gerard Vanderleun’s blog in blogs.

He noted that the original has about 5 links per stanza.
https://americandigest.org/mt-archives/005117.php

What he didn’t note is that most of those are now broken or lead to nothing and I don’t even remember what it was.

    May 5, 2006 The [Linknotated] Law of the Blogger

    NOW this is the Law of the Blogger – as old and as true as the sky;

    And the blogger that keeps it may prosper , but the blogger that brea...