Category Archives: Mr. Boy

Still more Democrat regulations

Driving one of Mr. B.’s cronies home from an afternoon of video games the other day, I would glance now and then at his iPhone which was displaying a GPS app giving directions.

Poor kid didn’t even know his address, only that it was typed into the app by his mother. The directions were pretty plain. I had no trouble seeing them as he held the phone up for me. The arrows indicating which way to turn were nice and big and black.

The Democrats, however, don’t like these things. They don’t like anything except what they approve and so Wormtongue and his minions are bringing  the law to these apps. And you, of course, if you use them. Doesn’t everyone?

Distracting, they say. Could cause accidents, they say. Not enough graft for them, I say. Unless they have a new regulation to raise the bidding on exceptions. Also known as bribes. The way Obamacare gives exceptions to labor unions and others who’ll vote the Democrat way.

Says Instapundit: “It has the support of automakers because they want to keep charging you $2000 for a nav system that’s not as good as your smartphone.”

It’s about regulating competition, not safety for me and thee. The feds don’t care about your stinking safety. Pretty soon you’ll need to hold the phones lower down so passing cops can’t see them and demand their cut by issuing an expensive ticket. Which will make glancing at them more dangerous.

Via Instapundit.

My recital

My first fiddle recital came off pretty good. I got through the one piece I had memorized thoroughly (having practiced it at least a hundred times) just fine and only momentarily got lost in the second, less-memorized one (dueting with another adult learner) and was able to find a place where I could jump back in.

Teacher was happy, but I expected him to be. He tends to exaggerate my progress, but, as Mrs. Charm says, “Would you rather he criticized you all the time?” Of course not. I just get suspicious when I’m always “awesome” and “excellant.” Of course some sort of criticism usually follows.

Fortunately, Mrs. C. videoed excerpts with her iPhone, so I got to see two problems that need correcting. I was hunched over as if trying to hide behind the music stand and it was as if my poor bow had shrunk to a few inches long I was using so little of it. “More bow, more bow,” the everlasting fiddle teacher reminder.

The best part was the adolescent Mr. Boy whom Mrs. C. decided to drag along, grumbling all the way, to get him there. He later complimented me and exclaimed that he had “really enjoyed it,” apparently struck dumb that it could have been anything but more boring adult shite.

So it was worth it and I’ll do it again in the fall and from now on if allowed.

Public school politics

I was amazed when Mr. B.’s first grade Austin teacher back in 2006 launched into a week-long lesson on the dangers of global warming. He was already so frightened of cigarettes, thanks to the school system, that he wouldn’t get in the car until I hid my pack of Salems in the glove box.

So this report of a California (where else) public school requiring eighth graders to write essays questioning whether the Holocaust (the systematic, in fact industrialized, Nazi murder of six million Jews and millions of others) was an “actual event” is not a surprise.

Nor is the name of the school superintendent: Mohammed Z. Islam. Fortunately some adult complained and the essays are no longer required. We can thank Gen., later President, Eisenhower for what we know of the Holocaust. He saw the future clearly.

Pity the public schools everywhere couldn’t be cleansed of these political creatures who call themselves educators.

China: suck the meat off, spit the bone on the table

An OCS classmate from Army days, recently returned from visiting in-laws in China, posted the following report on the class forum. He was impressed with the country, despite some incongruities, from a lack of refrigeration to rather primitive table manners:

“Vibrant economy with mega construction projects on-going. Infrastructure is impressive, with multiple lane expressways all over the place, but traffic is horrible. Chinese drivers are very aggressive, but don’t show anger when cut off. Turn signals are used occasionally, and horns frequently. If you want to pull into an adjoining lane, you simply pull over, even if there is a car beside you, Whoever gains a 1 inch advantage will win. It’s amazing that there aren’t more accidents. People driving BMW’s, Mercedes and Audis are the most aggressive, because they feel entitled.”

(We see this in Austin, as well, drivers of luxury cars are by far the most obnoxious. Especially the refugees from the terrible Democrat economy who still have their California plates.)

“Spent most of our time in Hangzhou, a city of over 8 million, which is a three hour express bus ride southwest of Shanghai….Got a real taste for how the Chinese urban middle class lives. Everybody has a cell phone, i-pad or equivalent, and cable TV. Appliances, however, are years behind us….In China, families are very important, and grandparents spend as much time raising children as the parents do. We did laundry, and went to market. Meals were interesting. Hot water for tea is available all day.

“Everybody has a bowl of rice at every meal. All the food is served in bowls in the center of the table, and everybody helps themselves, using chop sticks to take bite size pieces. Nobody has a plate. When you get a bone, you suck the meat off and spit the bone on the table. At the end of the meal, the table is wiped off. We were not allowed to help in the cooking or cleanup so as not to offend our hosts.

“Played tourist up in Beijing for four and a half days. Took a bullet train up there, cruising at 306 km/hr. Very impressive. Stayed at a hostel in a neat little hutong (neighborhood) about four blocks from Tienanmen Square. Toured Tienanmen, the Forbidden City, the Summer Palace, and the Great Wall. Incredible history, and all kept immaculate. At the hostel, where the help all spoke passable English, we enjoyed some western cooking and cold Tsingdao, a good Chinese beer.

(We can get Tsingdao at the local grocery, saving us a 13-hour airline flight. 😉 Bullet trains wouldn’t work here unless they had dedicated tracks which would require new right-of-way and many lawsuits. It’s easier in China’s dictatorship.)

“Very few cold drinks in China due to a lack of refrigeration and ice. The train and subways are all modern, clean and efficient. Signs and announcements are in both Mandarin and English.”

Later he added this to me in an email: “China is a huge, complex country. I wrote about the small piece of it that I saw. I was impressed, but then, today [back home], I read about the four human rights attorneys who were imprisoned and tortured, probably while I was there.”

Complex for sure, as most countries are. The English language signs remind me of Israel, where all the road signs are in Hebrew, Arabic and English. It’s not a compliment to Americans or Brits; English is the international language now. Lucky for Mr. B.’s generation. It was French when I was his age. I never could pronounce French well enough to be understood.

Adolescent time

Mr. Boy grudgingly served his detention at his middle school yesterday. He had to meet the teacher at the flagpole at 8:55 a.m.,

Three hours seems pretty cheap to me for more than 30 tardies since last August. But, as our favorite prince, Sennacherib, says, it probably seemed like an eternity to Mr. B. and the rest of the miscreants.

Time passes so slowly for adolescents. I remember. Sort of. Harder and harder for me to imagine, actually, much less remember. Time hasn’t passed slowly for me in ages.

The dying wristwatch

I bought Mr. Boy two wristwatches (trying to find one that suited him) before I decided to investigate his claim that his generation doesn’t wear them.

Sure enough, I’ve never seen one on a kid at his school the times I’ve been around and looking. Or at the grocery. Or anywhere else. But, like him, they carry phones which display the time whether there’s a call or not.

Darkwater says he saw a report that wristwatch sales are down 30 percent. Could be. Then he touts this successor to the plain-Jane timepiece and the pocket-filling phone.

Maybe. But I see two problems: one, Mr. B’s generation prefers texting to voice, for which they need a keyboard, and two they also need a larger screen than these wrist-size screens for the games they play when they’re not texting.

Ray Brownfield, R.I.P.

Another longtime family friend passed away this week, our good bud Ray Brownfield of Quicksburg, in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley. He had struggled for several years with pancreatic cancer.

Ray was a retired Army colonel, former commander of the Ranger School, and fellow Vietnam combat veteran. He was always especially interested in Mr. Boy on our infrequent visits to Reveille Vineyard, jointly operated by Ray and Mr. B.’s godfather Richard Torovsky, the last time in 2011.

Ray, an Army brat, was born in Washington, D.C. But home was Brownfield, a town in West Texas between Lubbock and Odessa that was named for one of his ancestors. He and Richard were Citadel graduates and Ray also had graduated in 1964 from the Staunton Military Academy, a Virginia prep school which closed in 1976. My Corsicana great grandfather was a graduate of Staunton’s first military class in 1890.

Ray was a prominent Shenandoah Valley Democrat who ran unsuccessfully for public office in the largely Republican area. We argued frequently about politics in email exchanges, but it never got in the way of the friendship. As Ray often said to folks he liked, you were a great American, Mr. Brownfield.

And we and the country will miss you.

UPDATE:  Ray’s obituary appeared in the Northern Virginia Daily on Feb. 26.