The Village Idiot Knows No Shame #WordstoLiveBy

There is a reason that we should not elevate imbeciles to positions of power. That's all I have to say today. Excuse me, I need to unplug for a moment.

New #CastleDoctrine: Protect Your #Home From #Virtual Intruders #BroadbandPrivacy Block #ISP #Spying #Vote Against #Slavery

Congress sold you to your ISP. If that sounds a lot like virtual slavery, that's because it is what it is. ISPs do NOT have the right to your data without your consent regardless of what Congress rubber stamped. Take action! If you value your privacy, if you believe in the sanctity of your home (and that what you do behind closed doors is your business and not the purview of BIG business), protect your data NOW.

This is the new American frontier. Your home is your castle. You have a right to protect your home from intruders, including the virtual kind. Block ISP (and third party) spying, use a Virtual Private Network or VPN to encrypt all data whenever you go online AS A DEFAULT. Trust no-one and look out for you and yours.

Congress sold you to the highest bidder (the cable and telecom lobby) in what is the new standard for bad customer service and a new low for a promise to "serve the people." Refuse to be enslaved. Fight back. Escape from bondage. Protect your data NOW.

And then, vote the spineless bastards who approved this anti-privacy bill out.

Fight for Your Right to ... #Privacy Your Home is Your #Castle

The United States Senate recently voted to pass a bill that would allow ISPs (you know the people who control the internet pipes and can see all the data flowing through them) to track you, package you and sell you to advertisers --- all without your consent. Apparently, the senators voting for this bill have forgotten that privacy is an inalienable right. If any internet businesses should be bound by strictures it is ISPs due to their (mostly) unfettered access to everything their users do online. With privilege comes responsibility and giving ISPs free reign with customers data is not a good idea any way you slice it. There is nothing wrong with being tracked with consent, there is plenty wrong with trying to say that a consumer does not "own" his own data and its OK for companies to use said data (including browsing history) without asking. If you can't be transparent about data collection, then it's likely shady. Just saying. If you don't want ISPs "tapping your wires" call Congress and give them an earful. Tell them, "I am not your product, so stop trying to sell me."* (As a staunch privacy advocate this crap makes my blood boil.)

*My slogan. Order your T-Shirt now! (Kidding about the Tee. But this is my slogan.)

Fly the Unfriendly Skies: #UAV Commercial Pilot's License #Drones #FAA #DroneDatabase

I love flying. I became fascinated with all manner of flying machines at a very young age. I dreamt of being a fighter pilot when I grew up and was very disappointed to learn that women were still being barred from such service at the time I graduated from high school. (This is the main reason I did not go to a military academy, though I was heavily recruited by all of them due to my ASVAB scores being off the charts.) I thought to get my pilot's license instead, but got sidetracked by life. I still may get it one day, but my interest in flying machines has recently migrated towards drones.

There are so many practical uses for a drone on an estate. For example, I plan to use drones to inspect fields and crops on my farm, to aid with safety and security (one can survey the property for damage after a storm, for instance), and to monitor areas that could be cumbersome to reach otherwise (rooftops, border fencing, etc.). While I'm a moderately proficient hobbyist, I want to become an expert (commercial level pilot) and have begun researching the FAA qualifications for obtaining a professional drone pilot's license and looking for educational & training opportunities.

To this end, I was pleased to discover last night that a local library will be offering a class on drones. (I think I might have found out too late to attend, I plan to call later today during business hours to see what's required.) Regardless whether this particular class works out for me, I hope to eventually figure out a regimen that will get me properly trained and licensed. Additionally, I also wish to acquire a small fleet of drones to employ upon my private property, automating a list of tasks that previously would have required several people to undertake.

Amending the #GoldenRule: Treating People #InKind #Manners

I spent my life (up to this point) living by The Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. This is a nice thought. Unfortunately, humans are base creatures and when one treats them with civility and respect (which is how I wish to be treated), many of them view it as an invitation to take advantage. You treat people well, but in response they consistently behave as assholes, abusers, users and idiots (and sometimes as all of the above), which, of course, leads to your life being of out whack.

Now that I'm older and wiser, I have amended The Golden Rule to instead treat people in kind, to treat people as their actual behavior warrants. This means that if you act like an asshole, I will treat you as an asshole. Imbeciles are given no quarter. If you're an idiot, expect me to cut you no slack, etc., etc.. This little tweak has made my life much more peaceful and equitable. You should try it.

Those Wild & Crazy #Vikings! #Norway Ditches #FMRadio, Goes #Berserker. #DAB #BFF

I have a thing for Vikings, or perhaps, more accurately Vikings have a thing for me, because I certainly seem to attract all manner of them. (I kid you not, I was once handed a credit card and told to book myself a flight to Sweden in order to rendezvous with a certain Swede at his cabin in Göteborg --- 'twas quite the pickup line.) It's appropriate then, that one of my besties is a Viking... er... mickay... I mean, he's Norwegian.

The two of us have been good friends for well over 15 years and presumably we'll remain as such for the rest of our lives (baring his or my turning out to secretly be a serial killer or something worse). We met in California when I was still a student at university and he was working as a Silicon Valley Venture Capitalist and afterward spent a LOT of time in each other's company. We were so close that people often assumed we were a married couple when encountering us out & about, and I seemingly picked up a Norwegian inflection to my speech at times.¹

My friend and I continue to keep in touch via Skype (mainly in-app txt & Skype-to-phone), regular txt and email though he's since returned to his native Norway and I'm back in my native Georgia. We crack each other up, as we both have a sometimes acid sense of humor, coupled with a VERY secure sense of self.

An etymological aside: The English word "berserk" meaning crazed or crazy is derived from the Old Norse term bearserk, the frenzy into which bear-skin wearing Vikings or bearserkers would work themselves with all that raping and pillaging, which apparently takes a lot of energy. (You've got to respect a culture that gives yours the word for crazy.)

We spend a good deal of time ribbing each other over the various and sundry things which make our individual countries and cultures great. For instance, a month or so back an entire herd of reindeer were struck by lightning when a freak storm caught them out in the open on a random Norwegian plateau. After seeing the article on a news site, I sent him a quick Skype txt asking why Norway had it in for reindeer and pondered whether Santa Claus would be next on their "hit list."

Norway also happens to be one of the most oil-rich nations in the world and so, (circa 2003, i.e., the Iraq War) I would tease that he'd better watch out because America might "discover" Norway held WMD and use it as an excuse to invade any day now. In his turn, he, of course, laments American hubris and gets in his own zingers. We argue good-naturedly over who's selected for the Nobel Peace Prize each year ---- Norway names its recipient, while Sweden picks the recipients of the remaining Nobels --- and sometimes watch the annual Nobel concert together virtually. Between us, nothing is sacred.

On 11-01-2017 at 11:11a local time, Norway began turning off FM radio transmissions, becoming the first country to officially ditch the band, and started moving to Digital Audio Broadcasting (DAB) which proponents say will be cheaper to operate and provide more clarity of signal. Opponents, of course, worry about the Norwegians who live in far flung rural areas and who travel in older vehicles who might not be able to receive digital signals. It will be interesting to see how this plays out, but either way, it was so kind of Norway to act as world guinea pig in taking on this endeavour. I sent my friend a quick txt asking if he could still hear me now or if the broadcast signal was fuzzy where he is and attached the article. (He lives in an Oslo suburb, so I was obviously being facetious, but that's the point.)

As for the transition to DAB, as a tech geek, I like the idea of a crisp digital radio signal. And I also believe America will have to cross this same bridge soon enough --- rather like our recently completed transition to DTV. But as someone who grew up in a rural area, I can definitely understand the concerns that Norwegians in rural areas are voicing. As America is a much larger country with huge swaths of wide open spaces, such issues will no doubt be compounded for us and a solution (potentially a subsidy like that employed to assure rural America could get telephone service) will have to be found. Fun times are ahead!

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¹An explanation for my Norwegian accent: At a friend's house party in San Francisco one evening, I happened to end up standing next to some guy who was regaling everyone with tales of the years he'd spent working in Finland. He'd also traveled extensively throughout Scandinavia, he said. He kept trying to cozy up to me and at one point asked if I wanted to go back to his place, which so happened to be right around the corner. Shaking my head "no," I made an offhand excuse which elicited a very odd look from the guy (odder than being politely turned down should have elicited). When I inquired as to why he suddenly looked as if he'd seen a ghost, he responded, "This is so strange, but you just spoke with a Norwegian accent." I laughed so hard I think I probably snorted my drink through my nose. In between my peals of laughter, the poor fellow tried to find out why on earth this was so funny. I finally gasped that as I spent nearly every day hanging out with a Viking, I suppose that was fair consequence and that I'd also never hear the end of it, if said Viking ever gets wind of the fact that he's succeeding in "turning" me Norwegian.