How to be wrong.

Here's my favorite way of being wrong:

1) Notice that someone else is failing to live up to reasonable expectations, or otherwise doing poorly at this or that, or is actively antagonistic.

2) Suffer in silence, showing superhuman endurance and patience, for as long as several minutes.

3) Go berserk.

This is what I did yesterday, mad as hell about a wayward contractor who seemed to be living up to the contractors' code of Not Showing Up When Promised.

So what happened?

Today he showed up, got the job done perfectly and faster than expected, then charged me less than his original estimate.

That's me!

Obviously I need to change my attitude. I have to stop being Mr. Judgey McJudgerface all the time. And I need to stop being pessimistic in my attitude toward others.

Here's more proof! Just on Tuesday I was krexing about the poor job of road maintenance our local government was doing, offering photos of the road crumbling around the storm drains. Well, here's a before-and-after for you!

How about that! Just two days later and they've filled it in. Clearly the job is not complete, but they're doing something about it.

I could say "Fred Gets Results!" and claim that my blogging got the contractor motivated to show up and work, got the roads department to start working on those holes. But no, that's just coincidence, not cause. I underestimated these fine, fine workmen, and now I have to admit I was Mr. Wrong.

Oh, let's also see how they fixed the gaping hole by the other storm drain!

Tuesday

Today

WHAT? That's IT? They just stuck a new cone in the hole? THAT'S RIDICULOUS! These people are MORONS! It's NEVER GOING TO GET FIXED! What a PILE OF LOAFERS and IDIOTS! GAAAAAH!

Commemoration.

It is not generally known that July 6 is another important date in American history, one that we often fail to commemorate with proper regard:

On this date, Monday, July 6th, in the Year of Our Lord 1846, Josiah Pfenpfrurch, a general contractor in Philadelphia, arrived at the hour he was expected at the home of Ezekiel Worble; Pfenpfrurch built and attached a Dutch door to Worble's kitchen to his client's exact specifications, including handles and lock; painted it the requested color; and left on time, removing all debris. His bill for materials and services matched the estimate he had given Worble the day before.

This was the last time upon the American continent that a general contractor performed his duties in such a manner.

If there is one complaint I have repeatedly heard about contractors, even those who competently perform their duties and don't pad the bill, it's that they simply do not show up. He says he's coming Thursday, you arrange for a day off from your own job... and nothing! The appointed hour arrives, no friendly contractor truck along with it. Nor does the next tick of the hour hand bring your man. Later, after your third text or call, maybe a desultory apology and a new date. Even when that magical date and man coincide, you have to keep him welded to the task or he'll slip out the door. One second he's contracting away; next, you look around and-- Ho! He's gone again!

You might gather from this outburst that I've just had an issue with a fellow in the biz, and you'd be right. It's not that he's bad at the job---how the hell would I know? He's as invisible as Griffin.

The outdoor job was too cold to perform when we first spoke last autumn, but an oath was made that by March all would be well. A wet spring led to postponement after postponement, and then, when the weather went full Sahara on us, he had to get caught up with all those other jobs that had somehow sneaked in between my promised March job and now. Yesterday morning was supposed to be D-Day at last, and what do you know? A little rain that ended by 7:30 was enough to prevent the operation. Water soluble equipment ought not to be sold to these leprechauns of the building world.

So here we are. As I write this, once again he is meant to arrive, but we shall see. No rain yet. Perhaps if I sacrifice a goat in the backyard it will summon him. But then I'd have goat stuff everywhere, and that creates its own problems. Alas!

Proper responsibilities of government.

A friend noted that my cartoon yesterday wasn't much about Independence Day, long one of my favorite holidays. And I'm willing to concede the point. The fact is, I'm a bit down this year on my pro-'Merica sentiments. Can't imagine why.

The many abhorrent tales of corruption and cronyism, along with a lickspittle press corps that only cares about their "side," is extremely depressing. But my main complaint is that there are legitimate concerns for the government under our Constitutional system, and while the government instead dashes around like a drunk on a bulldozer over every other area of our lives, it doesn't always take care of the areas for which it is actually responsible.

Take roads, one of the things we early on decided we needed government for. Even the most ardent libertarian probably does not think it'd be a great idea for each of us to be responsible to maintain the little patch of asphalt in front of our homes. So we give the local, state, and federal jamokes plenty of money to keep the roads in order, and what do we get?

Nice! Been like this some time.

But don't worry; they're on the job. When that cave-in up top first appeared, the boys put an orange cone in it to warn drivers that there was an axle-buster near the curb. The cone disappeared but the hole abides.

So we see that our "ruling class" and unfireable civil "servants" are incompetent or worse.

On the other hand...

Thanks to Instapundit, I was alerted to the most American story of the day yesterday--- maybe the most American story of the decade: "Army veteran Jason Galvin rescued helpless bald eagle dangling from tree":

Jason Galvin, who did two tours in Afghanistan, was on a bait run on Thursday when he spotted the eagle dangling upside down from a rope it got tangled in… Neighbors called the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources (DNR) and the Rush City police and fire departments, but were told there was nothing the agencies could do because of how high the eagle was in the tree… Galvin then spent 90 minutes taking nearly 150 shots from a .22 caliber rifle “while mowing down three branches, and finally the rope, holding up the eagle.”

Galvin: "Fourth of July, you know, that's our bird. I can't let it sit there."

Freedom, the name given the bird, was doing okay under professional care in a raptor center, at last report.

An army veteran, eagle, guns, volunteerism, concerned neighbors, a selfless act to help the helpless, bait. American as it gets. You might add a hapless state department of natural resources to the mix.

We salute you, Jason Galvin! Thanks for helping restore my faith in the United States. Top down we may have turned into a corrupt pile of goo, but down at street level, where it most matters, we've still got it.

Independence Dog.

You don't meme it!

Normally the amount of time it takes between going online and seeing something stupid can be measured in picoseconds. And normally I just brush it off.

For some reason, or rather reasons, this little bit of self-affirmation made me angry.

Why did this infuriate me? Oh, let's have a look.

1) It's a bad idea to taunt the devil. The devil is smarter and meaner than any human being. He'll get you one way or another. Even Faust couldn't outsmart the devil. You have to call in help or you are doomed.

2) Smart as he is, though, apparently the devil failed third-grade grammar.

3) Obviously this is another piece celebrating badassery, which I am on record as opposing. Why? See next note.

4) I don't even know for sure what this means. "I am the storm." So from the initial sentence we gather the storm = problems; so therefore you are problems? If you're causing problems, you're making life difficult for others, and therefore you're probably working for the devil, even though you think you aren't. I expect far more of us than we know are actually doing his job for him, and without pay, too. Starting to look more like a dumbass than a badass, Slick.

5) What's with the stupid skull? Shouldn't it be a devil face? Or is it you? In that case, you're clearly dead and have been so a while.

Nope, the only proper response to something like this is to give them Sophisticated Cat:

Be good and begone.

I'm sorry for my friends who are really, horribly, personally distraught over the British vote to exit the European Union. I'm puzzled by my American friends who have taken this as a personal attack somehow.

No one that I've spoken with has made the argument that the European Union's governance by bureaucrat, a ruling class that is unelectable and unaccountable, is a good thing. You can make that case, argue that somehow moral giants will be appointed who will govern better than the Great Unwashed, but that is not the argument being made, far as I can see. And yet it may be the only answer to a primary contention in the Leave argument, that the EU has an accountability deficit.

And this is no small issue. I've heard all my life that the Chinese were inventing things when my ancestors were living in trees, but they also invented a giant bureaucracy that stifled innovation and led to the long collapse of their civilization. The Roman Empire and now the American people also fell victim to creeping stultification by endless rules. The EU has been an accelerated version of this sclerosis, happening daily before the eyes of the world. And yet they could not solve any of the serious problems facing the nations of Europe, such as the economic collapse of irresponsible nations, an inadequate military for existential threats, and the looming menace of retirement entitlements combined with depopulation. So in a way, EU membership was a terrible deal, demanding obedience to endless rules while providing nothing for crucial difficulties.

But even discounting all that, haven't we always been told that smaller is better? The same people who support big government seem to hate everything that's big---big business, Big Oil, Big Pharma, big farms, big military. So why is big government appealing? They support freedom and nonconformity. So why support overbearing government that by its nature suppresses freedom and demands conformity? Moreover, it is self-evident that nations with powerful governments do not remove the wealth of the wealthy, nor protect the interests of the small against them. How does insulation from the popular will do either of those things?

What I've mainly heard from Remainers are a lot of racism charges, and the assumption seems to be that racism is the only reason anyone would not want to be part of the EU. We are undoubtedly at a crisis of civil citizenry when reasonable people cannot accept disagreement with one another. I'm not saying there's no racism in England; there's racism everywhere there's people. But to credit that to all the Exit supporters is a gross distortion at the least.

Maybe being American makes me sympathetic to our British brothers for wanting to be free from an overbearing state that takes more than it gives. (Sounds familiar, eh, my English pals?) This should have been a simple yes or no, with rational arguments made on both sides, and acceptance of the results in the end, and instead we got this horrible tangle of exaggeration, recrimination, and accusation.

I am proud of nations that strike a blow for freedom, never more so than at our own Independence Day. So I say bravo, England. (I just wish more Americans were eager to be independent from government dependence.)

Last thought: I was struck by the proximity of Wimbledon to the Brexit vote. I immediately thought of the Monty Python sketch wherein aliens are turning Englishmen into Scotsmen so that the aliens can win Wimbledon, Scotsmen being poor at tennis.

I wondered if the aliens had returned, and managed to turn 51 percent of Englishmen into Englishmen.

Undercover Bosski.

Narrator: General Secretary Joseph Stalin has the responsibility for overseeing the lives of 250 million fellow comrades of the Soviet Union. But sometimes his heavy load of duty keeps him from spending time with the proletariat. So Comrade Stalin is going... undercover!

Narrator: His illustrious identity disguised, "Comrade Ivan" goes to People's Glorious Revolution Widget Factory #239 in Leningrad to meet with some typical workers.

Tiev: Welcome, Comrade Ivan! I am Tiev Kryptysnk.

Stalin: Call me Ive.

Tiev: Let me show you around, Ive. Here in PGRWF, we are proud of our widgets!

Stalin: They look good. Like good widgets.

Tiev: The best! No imperialist pig can make widgets like our widgets, eh?

Stalin: Nyet! Never! The workers control the state! Happy workers create superior widgets!

Tiev: Here's your station on the line. When a left-handed widget comes in, you insert a right-handed thingamabob in shlotnik A, see? And when it's a right-handed widget, you insert a left-handed thingamabob in shlotnik A. Then send it on its way!

Stalin: Left, right, right, left. Shlotnik A. Got it.

Tiev: Okay! But for today, just sit and relax, maybe have a drink.

Stalin: What?

Tiev: Oh, don't worry. There's no raw materials to make the widgets, so we're in Spiachka. Don't worry, we'll make it all up at the end of the month, in Goriachka. Then we work very hard so bosses can get their bonuses!

Stalin: That's when the raw materials come in?

Tiev: No, that's when they get desperate and we use substandard materials. If there's no steel, so what? Lead is fine. Tinfoil works. Just so we fill the boxes and get them out the door. It's shturmovshchina! Long live the revolution, eh, Ive?

Stalin: Uh, da. I'm, uh, I'm going to step out to the little comrade's room just now.

Tiev: Sure, take all day. Nothing going on here!

Narrator: Having enjoyed his time at People's Glorious Revolution Widget Factory #239, "Comrade Ivan" flies to Stalinsk, coal mining powerhouse of the Workers' Paradise.

Natalia: Hello, I am Natalia Babeski, totally equal worker in Great Soviet Coal Production Facility of Stalinsk, and---holy slappink catfish!

Stalin: What?

Natalia: Comrade General Secretary Stalin! Here in our facility! I am having massive coronary right now!

Stalin: No, my name is Ivan. Ivan, er, Mustachekov.

Natalia: Great General Secretary Stalin is pulling my leg! What an honor to see you here! My God---I mean, my heavens--I mean---screw it! How can we make your trip to our humble coal mine wonderful, Your Supremity?

Stalin: I am just simple Comrade Ivan from Minsk, and---

Natalia: Please, General Secretary, come sit down, have some tea!

Stalin: I think I had best be going and--- Say, is that my, uh, General Secretary Stalin's picture on the wall? Very handsome, eh?

Natalia: Of course! We all love you! We'd do anything for you! I would do anything for you!

Stalin: Well, that's fine... Say, how would you like to fly in an Ilyushin Il-14?

Narrator: Disappointed at somehow being discovered, Comrade Stalin proceeds to his final stop, the world-famous Chelyabinsk Tractor Plant.

Stalin: Greetings, comrades! I am Ivan Mustachekov, and this is my, er, daughter, Natalia.

Natalia: Zdravstvuj. I am Natalia and this is Ivan, who just happens to look familiar to you but is not.

Boris: Hi. I'm Boris Snertyalev. You're here to see the tractor factory, right?

Stalin: That's the plan! Wait here, Natalia.

Boris: So, there's where the wheels are made. Those are the round things. Sorry, but I have to point that out. Some people... Anyway, and down that row they make things out of glass. Not my department.

Stalin: Uh-huh, uh-huh...

Boris: Hey, did you hear the one about the fellow who sneezed in the Kremlin during Stalin's speech?

Stalin: Umm... what?

Boris: Stalin steps forward and yells, "Who sneezed during my speech?" No one says anything. Stalin yells, "First row! Shoot them!" The guards shoot everyone in the front. "Now, who sneezed?" Everyone is paralyzed with fear. Stalin says, "Second row! Shoot them!" Everyone in the second row is killed. Blood is everywhere. The survivors are shaking like leaves in a gale. "Now," says Stalin, "WHO SNEEZED?" One fellow in the back timidly raises his hand and says, "It w-w-was I, G-General Secretary." Stalin says, "Gesundheit." Ha ha ha! Isn't that a good one?

Stalin: A knee-slapper.

Boris: Oh, we have a million of them here. Hey, why is Stalin more democratic than Hitler?

Stalin: I cannot imagine.

Boris: Hitler killed the Jews; Stalin kills everybody! Ho ho! Tell me this, how do we know Stalin didn't kill Lenin?

Stalin: Perhaps we should---

Boris: Because we know where Lenin's body is! Oh, wait, this one will kill you!

Stalin: We shall see.

Boris: Two Ukrainians are discussing Stalin's generous treatment of their people while having lunch. The first one says, "You know, I just can't stand my mother-in-law." The second one says, "Well, try the white meat." Isn't that sensational?

Stalin: Well, I think I've seen enough.

Boris: Ivan, I love a man with a good sense of humor. Come back anytime!

Narrator: Having seen some of the great citizens of the glorious Soviet Republic, Comrade Stalin returns to the Kremlin to think of what he's experienced.

Stalin: Thank you, Narrator. Yes, it is I, the General Secretary. How much fun I had, meeting the people! And I even got a new private assistant, Natalia! As for Comrade Tiev Kryptysnk, I said his hard work has merited an island vacation. So he has been sent to the archipelago. The Gulag Archipelago! And as for Comrade Boris Snertyalev, the one with all the funny jokes? Although that sneeze thing was not funny when it actually occurred... Anyway, I arranged for him to take his act before a squad of our finest marksmen. And I can tell you, he was hit! I mean, he was a hit! A fine farewell appearance. So do your best for the Soviet Union, comrades! And remember, Uncle Joseph is always watching!