Setting Limits

In the news this week – an abundance of tolerance.

I’m proud to be an American raised to recognize that America is a melting pot and to accept the differences in folks that brings.

I know we don’t always get it right, but the idea is out there. I say, good for us.

This week the English Heritage Foundation opened the new visitor center at Stonehenge. They built a museum. Took out a road. Made quite an effort to return the site closer to its original incarnation.

This includes, within the museum, an exhibit of Neolithic remains found at the site.

A group of British druids took exception to this exhibit, demanding a proper reburial for the Neolithic Brit.

The modern druids are led by a man called King Arthur Pendragon*, Battle Chieftain of the Council of British Druid Orders and Titular Head and Chosen Chief of the Loyal Arthurian Warband Druid order. In other words, a loon. They staged a protest and threaten to disrupt the site all next year.

What amazed me was the calm tenor of the English Heritage response. “English Heritage Commissioners considered Mr. Arthur Pendragon's request to use replicas very carefully in September 2013 but decided that the original plan should go ahead.”

Okay. It is well-known the druids did not build Stonehenge. Whether they worshipped there is unproven and improbable. They may have passed through in a fashion similar to the way a million plus tourists do today.

But label any lunacy RELIGON and it’s hands-off. Let’s not be intolerant. God forbid.

My usual religious tolerance stance is this – I don’t care what you believe as long as you don’t try to force it on me. If you want to worship little blue fishes and pray at the foot of a lodge pole pine, have at it. Just keep it to yourself.

I’m rethinking that.

Maybe there should be a limit to tolerance.

Maybe, a better response from the English Heritage Foundation to the self-named druid king would have been – Look, you lunatic. Piss up a rope.

Seriously, the guy’s crest is a griffon with an erection. I say that pretty much proves he’s a dick.

Back in America, a reality television star made news by getting removed from his show for spouting racist and homophobic rhetoric.

I’m not providing a link to this fool, but you can’t Google “water fowl” without hitting the story.

And now, there is a campaign across social media to protect this racist, bigoted idiot’s** freedom of speech.

Freedom of speech, one of the foundations of this great country of ours.

Maybe it is about time that we called bullshit on this one.

Maybe spouting hate speech isn’t protected free expression.

Maybe we should call it what it is and not support its purveyors.

Maybe we should not tolerate intolerance.

Or ignorance. Or bigotry. No matter how delivered or labeled.

*His real name’s is John.

**The reason most sited is because he’s a “good Christian.” Really, good Christians, is this who you want as a poster boy?

Salutations

Hi, how are you?

I'm fine.

How are you?

I'm fine.

Keep moving. Don't stop. 

I know we are just being polite.

Connecting in a way of non connection. 

Treading the path of least resistance, together.

Hi, how are you?

I'm fine.

How are you?

I'm fine.

I don't want to hear about 

your divorce, 

how you beat cancer, 

or your teenager with a drug problem.

And, be honest, 

you 

don't want to hear about mine.

So, why oh why, do we ask?

Hi, how are you?

I'm fine.

How are you?

I'm fine.

When we really mean . . .

Greetings fellow traveler, 

in this lovely day the Universe has delivered, 

I'm doing the best I can with what I have, 

and I hope the same is true for you.

Hi, how are you?

I'm fine.

How are you?

I'm fine.

A Picture's Worth 1,000 Words

Or maybe, just one.

Fall.

Hug.

Mine.

Suzie Bootlegger

The hooch is coming along fine.

I actually didn't think anything was going to happen so am pleasantly surprised.

Six more months to wait.

Since I became a bootlegger, I decided to cast my net wider and what would be better than lime-infused rum for summer mojitos?

I can't think of a thing. So I giving that a try too.

Yes, I realize I'm pouring perfectly good rum into quart jars, but just wait until next summer.

Wired

My journey from regular person to wired geek began when I was stranded at the Schipool Airport in Amsterdam.

In 2010, a volcano in Iceland with the impossible name, Eyjafjallajökull, disrupted air travel in Europe in an ever-widening arc from April 15 intermittently until May 17^th.

In a traveler’s Catch 22, approximately 3,000 souls were stranded in Schipool unable to leave the secure area without a boarding pass to return. No boarding passes available, as flight after flight was canceled.

The number of disgruntled tourists quickly overwhelmed KLM customer service and soon blonde pony-tailed airline representatives were advising the stranded to go online and rebook themselves.

Go online.

I didn’t have a computer with me. I sit in front of one so much at home, there was no way I’d lug one around on vacation. I’d left the laptop at home on purpose. Silly me.

Airport officials opened the internet café to free service. Every teenager among the 3,000 immediately sat down to update their Facebook page. When I finally got a turn, at least I was familiar with the internet. Not everyone was. I helped a woman in tears navigate a bus booking site. She had never interfaced with anything or anyone online. Welcome to the New World, Mrs. Unfortunately being net savvy didn’t help with European websites refusing to accept US credit cards. When my new friend left to board the bus, all I could do was wave, bye.

We finally abandoned the airport and flung ourselves into Amsterdam which, it turns out, is not such a bad place to find oneself stranded.

Once I got home from my extended European vacation, I looked for a handheld something or other capable of accessing the Net without weighing me down like a laptop. Did such a thing exist? That’s how naïve and unwired I was.

I didn’t want a whiz-bang phone. I don’t get that many calls. Neither do I make them. I like to be out of contact sometimes. Really, why is everyone on the phone all the time now?

I found an Apple product called the iTouch which looks like an iPhone without the phone part. It’s just a little handheld computer. Takes pictures. Stores pictures. Goes online. Keeps a calendar and address book. Fits in a pocket. I love that thing. I’ve been through three now. Last upgrade was for the better camera and slimmer build.

But it’s a slippery slope. The iTouch led to – what else – an iPad – which, I actually didn’t want and had no use for until I did and did. It was fun. It was cool. Displayed my photography portfolio like I was in a sci-fi movie. Carried that thing on vacation to back up vacation pictures. It didn’t fit anywhere and seemed always at risk, but it was lighter than a laptop.

Which led to the iPad mini. Oh baby, this little bitch is sweet. (Okay, I may have been watching too much Breaking Bad.)

The mini is a perfect size. Does the same stuff as the bigger version and you can pretend you’re on Star Trek.

The problem with the mini, as with the regular size iPad, is that it is almost a computer which causes it to almost drive me around the bend pretty regularly. Apple engineers don’t seem to have as much imagination as their customers. There are plenty of annoyed iPad users ranting about what if and why not online.

And I can access every rant, even if I’m at Schipool, Amesbury, Dublin or home.