Gone, Gone, Like the Snows of Yesteryear

“The ugly fallout from the American Dream has been coming down on us at a pretty consistent rate since Sitting Bull’s time — and the only real difference now […] is that we seem to be on the verge of ratifying the fallout and forgetting the Dream itself.” – Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing: On the Campaign Trail ’72

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Turn around, puppy, she’s standing right there.

If you’re lucky in 2016, maybe you’re better off than your parents or grandparents. Maybe you got a better education, or are able to own a home. Maybe you’ve got a pension (ha, Google it). Maybe you’re simply able to negotiate a stroll without being harassed, beaten, tazed, or straight up shot dead. And maybe your own kids will be better off than you are. That’s what most parents hope for, anyway, but look at the rising costs and disappearing opportunity for nearly everything, and that hope might feel increasingly desperate.

Those of us lucky enough to be U.S. citizens have a heritage that’s the envy of the world. Millions of acres of wild land and clean water are bequeathed to all of us as a happy accident of birth, or the fortunate benefit of negotiating a long and costly immigration process. And in the absence of property or money or opportunity, we can at least pass this inheritance along to our kids, as long as we’re vigilant and the well isn’t poisoned.

And, you know, if it isn’t stolen by greedheads like the American Lands Council and their pet politicians, who are attempting to force the divestiture of our public land and water to the states, where they can be, or in some cases must be sold off to private interests who can keep your kids’ dirty feet from soiling it ever again.

Screw that. Start here, and here, but don’t stop there. Raise hell. Don’t be forced to tell the kids that you’re sorry, but you just didn’t do enough. It’s easy to type words about heritage and the home of the brave, but that doesn’t amount to a hell of a lot when they’re willing to set the dogs on you.

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Free the Collect!

“On the lower end, two fair-sized streams drained the interior. One rose from a series of springs that poured forth from hillocks around today’s 20th Street and Fifth Avenue. The Saponickan band living there called it Ishpetenga. It flowed southwest into the Hudson near the mouth of another trout stream. This one had its origins in a deep, fair-sized pond where Worth and Centre streets now cross. It flowed northwesterly, almost in a straight line, and became the course for today’s Canal Street. The pond was known as The Collect. The Dutch name for this trout pond was derived from one of its beaches, which they which they called Kalk Hoek – Chalk Point or Chalk Hook. It was given the name because the early Dutch settlers came here to collect the shells of freshwater mussels, which were ground and added to the mortar used to build their homes. When the English took over management of Manhattan in 1664 they assumed many of the Dutch words already in use for geographic features. Their inelegant pronunciation of Dutch turned the monosyllabic word “Kalk” (or “Chalk”) into the dissylable “Kal-leck”- hence, “Collect.” The pond’s name had nothing to do with collecting water in the area, as some writers have suggested, although it did have two small feeder streams. For decades, in the 1600s and 1700s, it was the source of drinking water for all of lower Manhattan’s residents. The Collect and its associated streams contained brook trout as late as 1740.”

– from Brook Trout by Nick Karas

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…and a shovel and a fly rod!

Bush Admin Attempts a Parting Upper-Decker

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Awwww MAN!

Apparently not content with trashing the kid’s room and putting out their Kools on the floor, the Bush administration is shooting for a last-minute rogering of the Clean Air Act in the form of a new EPA rule weakening pollution regulations for power plants, allowing them to increase emissions without adding controls.

And as a special bonus, they’re also “expected to decide in November on another eleventh-hour rule that would allow more power plants to be built near national parks and wilderness areas.”

Whatever happened to just pardoning a few crooks?

The Extra Stabby Fisherman

The last couple of days of the grind before a long-anticipated trip to a tailwater full of big wild trout during the green drake hatch are good for nothing more than slowly wearing down your teeth from chewing through the restraints. Meetings should be avoided until the return (if the bastards are lucky), and the TPS reports might as well be written in Vedic Sanskrit. The gear is piled and the launcher is primed and more flies should probably be tied but, as Howard Beale would say, I’m out of bullshit.

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I’d say you were nothing but a scurvy little spider.

I wish I had a million dollars. Hot dog!

Internet Flotsam

 

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Purity – To Seas!

Interesting example of Soviet propaganda poster art from the 70’s. Quite different than the primary colors and crazy detailing usually seen in these things. Maybe a bit of hippietude aesthetic crept under the curtain? They look like humpies to my untrained eye, with some PNW-flava totemic stylization.

Translation: Purity – To Seas! – a departure from the expected pro-party sentiments. Why are they flying? Could it have something to do with the alarming orange water? Maybe Brezhnev had a secret plan to use trippy giant salmon-shaped airships to invade Berkeley? Probably wouldn’t have caused much of a fuss.