NYC mayor pleased with PD
shutting down “illegal” Jewish school. Various estimates of students from news
stories – 60, more than 60, 70, 100, more than 100.
Tuesday, May 19, 2020
Let’s wave goodbye to California
Or, give them the finger. Whichever you believe is appropriate.
Governor Newsom wants to cut state
worker salaries by 10%. Budget deficit, don’t you know. Paying unlegal alien
households up to $1,000 a month started Monday. Some firefighters have been
laid off.
Monday, May 18, 2020
Tennessee v California
From Wirecutter, commenting
on a story about masked robbers in California: “Right before
they closed the bank lobby down, I was standing in line and a woman walks in
with a mask on her face and a pistol on her hip and nobody batted an eye. God
bless Macon County.”
That’s Macon County in Tennessee.
‘It is a mystery why the homeless are coming to San Francisco’
Yeah, we’re all wondering that. Free booze,
pot, a hotel room and three meals a day didn’t have anything to do with the
influx. Nah.
I would pull some quotes, but SF officials
quoted say some unbelievably stupid
things.
People just keep moving in
Neylandville, Texas, is in
Hunt County, between Greenville and Commerce, onTexas Highway 224.
The town’s population in 2000
showed 15 families, 56 people and 24 households. By the 2010 census the
population had jumped to 97. Demographic breakdown from the 2000 census showed
93.43 percent African American and 3.57 percent White.
Median income for the town
was $50,417. No families were listed below the federal poverty level, but 40
percent of those older than 64 lived below the poverty level.
Wikipedia notes: “Neylandville
is home to one liquor store and one beer and wine store. It is the closest town
to Greenville that allows the sale of alcoholic beverages.”
Neylandville once was a town
of some importance.
“Neylandville is on Farm Road 2874 ten miles
northeast of Greenville in northeastern Hunt County. The settlement, originally
an all-black community, began when James (Jim) Brigham bought his and his
family's freedom from Robert Neyland, a planter who had owned land in the area.
In the 1880s the residents formed a farmers co-op, which built a general store
and a cotton gin and purchased a wheat drill and a wheat-harvesting machine.
During the early 1880s St. Paul's School at Neylandville became the educational
center for local black children. In 1886 the tracks of the St. Louis and
Southwestern reached the town, and a post office operated in the community from
1888 to 1924. The St. Paul school district consolidated with the Commerce
Independent School District in the late 1960s. Before 1940 it had been one of
only a few black schools in the area to offer vocational courses. The trustees
and superintendent were all African Americans. In 1954 and 1964 the population
of Neylandville was estimated at 200. Neylandville incorporated in 1970, and in
1990 it reported ninety-four residents. By 2000 the population dropped to
fifty-six.”
Here’s a thing about Google maps: You can, from
the warmth and safety of your own home, explore just about any place on Earth.
In Neylandville, I took a quick trip down Hunt County Road 4311, which begins
at State Highway 224, goes east for a while and then turns north and intersects
once again with Highway 224. In that short distance are located three churches:
St. Paul Baptist, House of Compassion Ministries and New Bethel CME. Bethel
means “House of God.” The CME Church is Christian Methodist Episcopal and was
started by former slaves in Tennessee in order to have a church separate from
the white Methodist Episcopal.
The only other place I have seen more churches
in a smaller area was in Hensley, Arkansas. My wife and I lived near Hensley
for six years. Like Neylandville, Hensley was a predominately black town, 65 percent
African American according to the 2000 census.
Neylandville also has A. Munoz Transmissions and
Auto Service, LLC. A picture from Google showed several automobiles and two
ATVs under repair or waiting for a space in the Munoz repair building.
We need the rain
I looked outside before raising the Kevlar®
screen on the lanai. “Looks like rain,” I said aloud and decided not to raise
the screen. I put my phone and e-reader on a lamp table and went into the
kitchen to fix my breakfast. My phone rang just after I had a bowl, spoon and
cereal box on the counter. I walked to the living room, arriving just as the
ringing ended. A common thing, reaching the phone too late, when I walk
unaided.
The screen had a message.
This area is under a severe thunderstorm alert until 9:30 a.m. As write, the
time is 9:19 a.m. Rain falls outside, a moderate rainfall. Certainly not a
Texas rainfall and somebody in the house says, “Whooee! Would you listen to
that!” Even when we went through the edge of a hurricane in 2018, it was no bigger than a good Texas thunderstorm.
“It’s going to rain,” I said
to myself when reading the message. “Imagine that.”
One thing about Florida
storms, you never know which direction one might come from. In Texas, most
weather comes from the southwest. In winter, a double-c cold winter, storms
sometimes come in from the north, occasionally from the east. Here in Florida,
the weather God set thing up so weather can come in from any direction.
Sometimes there will be a strong upper wind suddenly make a 90-degree turn.
Weird. But, that’s Florida.
Rain has pretty much stopped
now. But in the background I hear something that sounds like another wind and
maybe some rain. The weather service hasn’t told me anything new, though.
Okay. 9:30. Rain’s gone. But
I hear thunder.
Sunday, May 17, 2020
Cartoon duck on grammar
Mallard Fillmore, cartoon
duck, discussed use of “literally” a couple of days ago. The cartoon panel
reminded me of possibly the greatest
misuse of “literally” since the word was invented.
A couple of years ago I was
searching for information on a certain Byzantine archaeology site and came
across the blog of some American who had nothing but time and money and was
exploring Turkey. The blogger wrote of his trip through the airport in
Istanbul: “We literally almost missed our flight.”
My physical reaction was the
same as if I put a teaspoon of salt rather than sugar in a cup of coffee. My
brain clenched.
“We literally almost …”
Even now my brain goes, “Whaaaat??”
“Further” brings almost the
same reaction.
The rule is simple. Further
is time, farther is space. “It was five miles farther than I thought.” If someone
says, “It was farther than I thought,” a listener can correctly ask, “How far
was it?” The same cannot be said of, “It was further than I thought.” A response
of “How fur was it?” likely will bring a “What?” look, and you can then tell
the speaker he/she is using incorrect grammar. At that point, an argument might
ensue, but when you are right, you can hold your own.
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