Easter service

These two make quite a pair. It’s a pear tree! That’s a joke, son!

Spring isn’t a date on the calendar. It’s more of a feeling. A warm one, if you’re lucky.

For me, the vernal equinox is rarely the starter’s pistol. I don’t hear that big bang until Herself asks whether her Soma Double Cross is ready to ride after a long winter’s nap on its hook in the garage.

Turn your radio on.

By that reckoning, spring arrived in The Duck! City on April 9, Easter Sunday.

It was a few degrees short of ideal — I like to think of spring as that time when I can unsheath the arms and knees, charge those solar batteries, collect a little free vitamin D.

But if we had to roll out in arm and knee warmers, so what? As you know, you go to ride with the spring you have, not the spring you might want or wish to have at a later time.

And exactly one week later the experience gives rise to a spring-feverish episode of — yes, yes, yes — Radio Free Dogpatch. The doctor will see you now.

P L A Y    R A D I O    F R E E    D O G P A T C H

• Technical notes: Once again the sonic environment was less than ideal at the indifferently equipped Infernal Hound Sound studios, so I thought I’d try an audio experiment. This episode was recorded using an Audio-Technica ATR2100-USB microphone (now discontinued) hooked via XLR to a Zoom PodTrak P4, which in turn was connected to my 13-inch 2014 MacBook Pro. Recording and editing was handled via Hindenburg Journalist software (since rechristened Hindenburg Lite), with a sonic bump from Auphonic. Music and sound effects are courtesy of Zapsplat (shoutout to David-Gwyn Jones for “Looking Back Over the Hill”); the Free Music Archive (a snappy salute to the U.S. Army Blues for “Walk That Dog”, from “Live at Blues Alley”); Freesound, and Your Humble Narrator.

Some rides are better than others

It was just peachy out the back door.

While a 21-year-old Air National Guard tech-support REMF was getting rousted in his skivvies on charges of playing Sun Tzu for an online audience of teeny-boppers, I was out riding the old bikey-bikey on a fairly glorious spring day.

If I have a choice, I’m always gonna go for the latter over the former. It’s hard to shift and brake with the bracelets on.

Thursday’s conditions were not quite as sunny as they were Wednesday, when the high was a blistering 81° (!).

But they had to be a whole lot better than the atmosphere in the SUV with the FBI as they ferried our man Airman First Class Jack Teixeira down to the federal jug and a date with Magistrate Judge David Hennessy of the U.S. District Court for the District of Massachusetts, who ordered him jailed until a detention hearing next Wednesday, according to The Associated Press and The New York Times.

Down by the river, I rode my Wazoo. …

My conversations with judges have mostly been brief and costly — the dollar-to-word ratio is appalling — and I try to avoid them whenever possible.

So, yeah. The bike ride. The single-ring, seven-speed Voodoo Wazoo and I went for a leisurely spin around the Elena Gallegos Open Space, which is generally a low-traffic area on Thursdays, as was the case yesterday.

The water feature remains in operation, as you see. I hurdled it cyclocross style and went along my merry way. Here’s hoping that pleasant little rivulet helps dilute the shitshow downstream from Jemez Springs, where spring flooding has overwhelmed the sewage-treatment plant.

Ain’t much gonna dilute the shitshow over OG, The Great and Powerful, Duke of Discord. The Creature from the Sewage Lagoon, Margarine Trailer Greenhorn, has already expressed her “thoughts” on the issue (link not included), and the less said about that the better.

‘OG?’

The Real OG. Or is it?

It’s not me.

I don’t care what you’ve read, what you’ve heard, or what you’ve seen.

It’s not me.

“What ’ave you been up to, my lad?” asks my supervisor, code-named “M.”

For starters, nobody in their right mind would give the likes of me access to a “secure” area. I do my little bit of business in an extremely insecure area at the corner of Social Security and 401(k).

I don’t take pictures of classified documents. I take pictures of sunrises and mountains and cute lil’ kitty-cats.

And while I may occasionally cause discord, I don’t use Discord.

Now, who you gonna believe, me or your lyin’ eyes?

Oh, before I forget: Please burn your computer, laptop, tablet, or phone after reading.

’Scuse me, someone’s at the door. …

 

On the wings of a dove

This year’s tenant.

The Duck! City is something of an aviary all of a sudden.

I’ve heard a couple hummingbirds buzzing around (haven’t actually seen one yet). Quail I have seen, and heard. Finches are hitting our feeders like the working press swarming an open bar.

And we have the usual dove nesting beneath the overhang by the front door.

Speaking of our feathered friends, it seems E. Lawn Mulch must’ve gotten lonely in those Twitter offices he’s worked so diligently to empty. His latest attention-getting ploy is to do a flyby on newsletter platform Substack, which has announced plans to launch the latest Next Twitter Thingie, called Notes.

Captain Free Speech — who croaked his own newsletter platform — has apparently gone all Twitter Über Alles on Substack, forbidding embedded tweets in Substack posts, links in tweets to Substack articles, etc., et al., and so on and so forth.

According to Taylor Lorenz at The Washington Post:

On Thursday, Substack writers discovered that they were no longer able to embed tweets in their Substack posts. Writers who tried were met with the message, “Twitter has unexpectedly restricted access to embedding tweets in Substack posts.”

On Friday morning, Twitter began blocking users from retweeting, liking or engaging with posts that contained links to Substack articles. Users also could not pin posts containing links to Substack to the top of their profiles. On Friday evening, Twitter began marking links to Substack as “unsafe.”

Even Substack’s corporate Twitter account was restricted, with users reporting that they were unable to retweet or quote-tweet the handle’s posts.

A number of Substack writers are very much not amused, among them Matt Taibbi, who announced that “beginning early next week I’ll be using the new Substack Notes feature (to which you’ll all have access) instead of Twitter. …”

Judd Legum, Matt Swider, and Laura Jedeed were likewise critical, with Jedeed telling The Verge that she sees subscription bumps “every time Musk does something stupid.”

“I think people realize Twitter is dying and they want to keep hearing from me after it falls apart,” she says. “He’s driving traffic my way by being stupid but, like everything he does, it’s killing the goose that lays the golden egg.”

Hey, dude’s still laying eggs. The smelly brown ones. Anyone promoting an online presence anywhere other than Twitter should probably invest in umbrellas and air fresheners.