Kat’s Den

So much for the dire predictions of 90 category 5 city destroyers this year. Not that I’m pulling for a devastating hurricane; but as somewhat of a weather junkie the season has been rather ho-hum this year. But that’s ok… the fall silly season is just around the corner. Annual qualification, citizen’s law enforcement academy, poker run, annual banquet; all of which require me to work on some special project in addition to my normal work. And, of course, the usual crop of new-hires. I’m determined to take a week’s vacation this year, though; I haven’t done that for several years now.

Played with the new lens a little today, taking macros. A Tamron 28-75 f2.8 with a long string of acronyms after it’s name. Pretty sharp lens, and seems to work well with macro rings. I need to get off my fat ass and mess with the camera more, but it seems once I get home from work all I want to do is… sit on my fat ass. Laziness takes dedication. Newest pics in the gallery under macro.

A lot of times, I’ll have a television on in the background while I’m doing something else. Most of the time, it’s some bland show that doesn’t really attract my attention and doesn’t distract me from whatever else I’m doing. Why have it on, then? Beats me. If I really need to concentrate I’ll put it on an all-music channel. But I’ve found one show that demands my attention… and really shouldn’t. “How It’s Made”. Some Canadian show that, well, shows you how various mundane, everyday objects are manufactured. Really mundane items, like wire fencing, or swizzle sticks, or cotton swabs. Who cares? Why should I care how they manufacture valve stem caps? But… I can’t stop watching once it comes on. There’s some subliminal signal that turns me into a drooling vegetable that stares unblinking at the screen while an insanely complicated machine carves out popsicle sticks.

In other news, we had a fellow get in an argument with someone else and decide to drive past his house and shoot it up with an SKS rifle. Apparently this fellow was quite full of machismo, loudly proclaiming to anyone who would listen how he was the “baddest guy in the county” and could have anyone he wanted killed. He also had a habit of waving a pistol at anyone who looked sideways at him. Needless to say, all this earned him an arrest warrant with a no-knock provision- in other words, due to the higher risk in serving the warrant, we are allowed to enter without knocking in order to take the person by surprise. The tactical team served the warrant and the self-proclaimed baddest guy in the county was arrested in his underwear about 5 seconds after his door was knocked in with a ram. Guess he wasn’t as bad as he thought. Anyway, his mother, whose house it was, sought me out (as the team leader) and demanded to know who was going to pay for the damage to her door.

Umm, gee, ma, how about…. your SON? You know, the one who shot at a house full of people with a semi-auto rifle? The reason we were there in the first place? Maybe you need to think about telling him to find another place to live so your door doesn’t get knocked in again the next time we have to arrest him? Because if you think I’m going to politely knock and meekly wait outside while your son loads his guns, you’re quite wrong.

Argh. People.

I’m always amazed by the capacity of human beings to rationalize whatever beliefs they may hold, no matter how outre they are. Sure, I do it myself, but I think the Westboro Baptist Church folks take to unbelieveable levels.

I read this in the Athens Daily News this morning:

“Kansas-based religious zealots convinced America’s tolerance of homosexuals has invoked the wrath of God say they will picket today outside the Athens funeral of an Army sergeant who was killed in Iraq.

“Members of Topeka-based Westboro Baptist Church, claiming that God hates America because of homosexuality, on Friday said they plan to demonstrate against what they’re calling a “pep rally” associated with the funeral of Staff Sgt. Marion Flint Jr.. who was killed May 15 by a roadside bomb during combat in Balad, Iraq, about 50 miles north of Baghdad.

“Services are scheduled for 1 p.m. at Hill Chapel Baptist Church, 1692 W. Hancock Ave., with burial to follow at Evergreen Memorial Park on Atlanta Highway.

“Members of the Patriot Guard Riders, a motorcycle group formed partly in response to Westboro funeral demonstrations, plan to escort the funeral procession to the cemetery.”

Needless to say, I felt like this was one circus I couldn’t resist, and drove down to get some photographs. Not of the funeral itself; that family has enough to deal with and I stayed well away from the church, and concentrated on the protesters instead.

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Some more of the pics are here.

Of course, the Westboro folks are all one big extended family, and almost all of them are lawyers. They live for the hopes that someone will take a swing at one of them during one of these protests so they can sue everyone within arm’s reach.

Truth is truly stranger than fiction at times.

Kublai’s blood work came back this week, and the results were about what I expected. Everything points to either Cushing’s Disease or a spinal tumor, exacerbated by his spinal arthritis. Either way, the odds that he would be able to stand on his own again were slim, and the best I could expect was maybe a year’s more life. Last night he whimpered and cried all night, today he cried if I left his side for any length of time.

My last dog, Alex, developed a fast-growing, aggressive tumor on his hip when he was 9. I gambled that surgery would be able to remove to tumor, but they had to remove a lot of muscle tissue as well. He was in a lot of pain after the surgery and I had to feed him morphine for two weeks. The tumor came back, faster than before, and spread; and I had to have him euthanized. I wasn’t about to put another dog through that kind of pain and frustration again, not when the odds are that slim.

Kublai was put to sleep this afternoon. Be good, buddy. Your daddy loves you.

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It’s been a roller-coaster week. I’ve been looking for a new car, and had settled on a Mustang GT; but only in a 5-speed… because what’s the use of having 300 horsepower in an automatic? Unfortunately, none of the area dealers had a 5-speed GT. Until Friday… I stopped by one just to see what was on the lot, and there it was; a tungsten grey clearcoat 5-speed GT. A quick consult with the insurance company and I signed the papers. Pictures up in the Gallery under Garage.

But that’s tempered by the fact that Kublai can no longer stand up on his hind legs on his own. A day at the vet’s on Sunday showed that he has spinal arthritis, and blood tests, which are still incomplete, are pointing towards either Cushing’s Disease or a tumor. Neither of which has a very good outlook.

More comment spam. You won’t see it from reading, but it’s on the rise. I’ve changed the ‘blog configuration so that anonymous comments are no longer allowed… which means that if you want to leave a comment, you’ll need to create an account and log in. It’s a hassle, I know. Blame the Cialis advertisers.

Kublai’s incontinence is reaching new levels. His dog bed reeks of piss no matter how often I wash it, and the carpet is going to get threadbare from being steam cleaned. The vet says the next step is an ultrasound to see if there’s anything visible causing it. If it’s senile incontinence, there’s not much that can be done about it.

And the fact that it’s great makes it suck more. The weather’s finally beginning to get nice, I’ve got a new camera I want to play with and it’s finally nice enough to get out, the bike is calling out to be ridden… but spring and fall are always the busiest times for me at work. Several classes come together at about the same time, resulting in lots of work, and little time for play.

Or ‘blogging for that matter, it seems. A number of things have happened in the past month, but I’ll get to them a little later. One other sucky spring phenomenon has made itself known… as in, as soon as the weather starts to change, I get sick.

And, to the spammer trying to insert spam comments on the ‘blog? Nice try. Better luck next time.

[thumb:195:l] Actually, I hate this stereotype… the donut-eating cop. You can see the donut shop is closed, and they’re actually eating at the restaurant next door to it. But… I do still have a sense of humor, and this is a funny picture. I can still laugh at myself.

Kublai is having bladder problems. He started taking a long time to urinate- not a lot of starts and stops, but it just trickled out. Got a sample for the vet, who says he’s got a raging bladder infection, and he’s on 2000mg of Amoxicillin for the next two weeks. He also seems to have developed a bit of incontinence, which may or may not be related to the bladder infection. Sigh… He’s 13 years old, and his mortality is becoming more obvious to me. The vet already hinted at that to me, mentioning possible treatments versus his age, which is not something I really wanted to hear from her. He seems fine otherwise, despite the arthritis in his hips.

Speaking of the vet, as a male, I feel a little uncomfortable in her clinic. It’s a very nice clinic, newly built, upscale looking without being expensive (cheaper than my old vet, in fact), and she seems knowledgeable and caring, but… I haven’t seen a single male working there. None. All female. Nothing wrong with that, no, but…

Well, at least no one’s threatened to neuter me while I’m there.

Film, the purists cry. And for a long time, I was with them.

Photography is another one of those hobbies that I dabble in from time to time, starting back in high school when I got my first camera, a Pentax K-1000, from a pawn shop. That venerable gadget lasted me for well over 12 years, until it took a tumble. I replaced it with another Pentax, a ZX-50, as I had several Pentax lenses by then. Well, the interest waned, and after a while I sold the whole setup, lenses and all. Someday I’d get another camera, maybe a digital SLR.

You know where this is headed. My federal and state tax refunds came in, and I went to the store. Since I’m not tied to any particular brand because of the lenses I used to have, I did a lot of research and came up with the Canon EOS 20D. Digital SLR’s are still a considerable chunk of change when compared to their film bretheren, but I think the advantages for my type of shooting are worth it.

What advantages, the purists want to know? True, no one cares about megapixels with film. With the right type of film, large blow-ups are no problem; with digital, you’ve got to have a lot of pixels for the same large print. Fine grain films and papers yield some stunning images. But… I’m not a professional photographer. I’m not going to make billboards with my prints. What digital allows me to do is see my images immediately after I shoot them. If I’m not sure about the f-stop or exposure, I’ll find out immediately if I need to change something. For an amatuer, that’s a godsend. I can learn from my mistakes right away, rather than waiting until the film is developed when I’ve forgotten what settings I used for print #25. And at 8 megapixels, while I won’t be doing any banners, I can still print a clear 11×17.

Below are a couple of sample pics I’ve taken while playing around over the last day.
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I like to think of myself as an author, or at least a writer. Published authors tend to sneer at that; because if you’re not published, you’re not an author. In any case, I like to think that I can take a nebulous concept or experience and articulate it well enough that anyone who reads it understands the concept or is transported to that experience. But one experience I’ve always had trouble conveying is riding a motorcycle. How do you concisely explain such a visceral experience? How do you make the reader feel the same things you did? I’m not alone in this, I know; many others before me have tried with varying results. The word “freedom” gets tossed about a lot, itself a rather vague and nebulous word. And “freedom” in some senses is the wrong word- I can hop in a car in a split second and get to the same places. If I want to hop on the bike, in involves a pre-flight list. Cold out- thermal undies? Check. Long pants? Check. High-top boots? Check. Leather jacket? Check. Helmet? Check. Winter gloves? Check. I ride a carbureted bike, so starting it in this weather involves a bit of choke tweaking and a warm-up period. Riding itself involves a lot more concentration that the average car driver gives to their driving- There is no protection on a bike, therefore all the clothing. Everyone else on the road is out to kill you; and sometimes, the road itself is too. You’re going to hit the pavement in a wreck, usually at a decent speed; and with two wheels, it doesn’t take much to end up in a wreck. So why the hell does anyone ride a motorcycle?

As you’ve probably guessed, I went for a short ride today, despite the fact that the high was somehwere just over 40. Those of you from cooler climes are probably scoffing right now; but I’m a Georgia boy. 40 is downright cold. We only see temperatures below freezing for a few weeks out of the year, and then usually only at night. But, I try to ride the bike at least once a week in the winter to keep from having to winterize it and put it away; as it’s supposed to snow/rain tonight, I figured this would be the only chance I’d get this week. So I shrugged into all the clothes, put on the helmet, and rode one of the shorter loops around the county.

The same drawbacks I mentioned above- the preparation, the lack of protection- are probably the very same reasons I ride. It is something more than just hopping in the car and going to the store- it’s a process, a ritual almost. While there are some that will hop on a bike in shorts and flip-flops (squids), their life expectancy is usually low. (and yes, I’ve done it before myself) “Pre-flight” was an altogether apt description of what’s going on. It turns the ride into something more than just routine. The lack of protection means that your life really is in your hands… the only thing that will keep you from becoming a skidmark is your own skill in handling the bike in any condition, no matter what the other drivers on the road are doing. You can’t trust in the airbag, the seatbelt, or the crumple zones to save your life if something happens, because their aren’t any.

Where my description breaks down is in describing the sensation of riding. You’re zipping down the road at 60; if you take your foot off the peg and drop it a foot or so, you’re touching pavement. There it is, rushing under your boot, a hard reality that modern cars make a distant notion. “Becoming one with the vehicle” is another oft-used phrase that’s so much cliche; but that’s what it is. If it wouldn’t screw up the center of gravity, I’d like to see a bike that doesn’t put anything in front of you- no gauges, no windscreen, nothing in front of you but the road. It’s the closest sensation to flying you’ll get in a land vehicle. On a good bike, every move you make is translated into the bike- you want to zip through this tight right-hand curve, you move the bike with your body. If you do it right, it’s not just a curve; it’s your own personal roller-coaster ride that you control. Riding the line through a good set of sweeping curves is a tremendous sense of accomplishment; akin, I would guess, to the feeling jet pilots have executing a tricky aerobatic maneuver; just with less chance of ending up as a fireball.

That’s probably why I’ll never own a cruiser or huge Goldwing-ish touring bike. I haven’t ridden one yet that didn’t remove you even further from the road, which is why I’m riding in the first place. Too much bike and you might as well be driving a car.

In other news this past week, I completed Field Sobriety Instructor. Another buy-bust that ended up in a car chase… Our Heroes were supposed to be selling 25 pounds of weed, but instead were aiming to rob the sellers- us. They ended up ditching their car in a neighboring county and I got my good shoes covered in mud searching for them in a field. We caught the driver that day, and the bag they ditched… which contained 40 pounds of primo, high-grade pine straw. That’s right, pine straw. Well, it’s still conspiracy to traffic; and at least they didn’t go further with the plans to rob the buyers; that could have turned out very ugly for all involved. Heh… the biggest grass bust in the county’s history… literally. Tomorrow I teach a basic RADAR class, provided the weather isn’t too ugly to scare off the students.