If you have an old version of an EA downloader; you will be constantly prompted to switch to Origins. But installing Origins gives EA the right to have a service that:

• Is always on (not just when you’re playing an EA game)
• Scans your ENTIRE system and reports back everything you have installed
• Monitors internet usage and tracks browsing history
• Sells that information to 3rd party advertisers

It further goes on to reference the EA Privacy Policy which says: “Information collected will vary depending upon the activity and may include your name, email address, phone number, home address, birth date, mobile phone number and credit card information.” Further down, it reads: “When you use EA online and mobile products and services or you play our games on your PC or console, we may collect certain non-personal demographic information including gender, zip code, information about your computer, hardware, software, platform, media, mobile device, mobile device ID, console ID, incident data, Internet Protocol (IP) address, network Media Access Control (MAC) address and connection. We also collect other non-personal information such as feature usage, game play statistics and scores, user rankings and click paths as well as other data that you may provide in surveys, via your account preferences and online profiles or through purchases, for instance.”

Additionally, EA has plans to launch Origins on mobile devices, and have social network hooks, so not only can they sell the data they can gather from your hard drive, they can also sell the data from your phone and your friend’s list. Nice.

Users who have installed Origins report that no icon for the service appears in the Windows Tray, but that multiple processes associated with it are running in the background constantly. I have read no reports of uninstall issues, so I don’t know if this app, like their rootkits did, will leave hooks in the system that make it almost impossible to remove.

See, here’s the thing that bugs me: I don’t want how I go about my daily life to be a cash point vector in someone else’s business plan. When I buy a product from a company; a fair exchange of currency for product has occurred.  That should be the end of the transaction. I should not, by virtue of purchasing a good or service, then be assigning to that company the right to continuously make money on me by selling the contents of my hard drive, or browsing history, or anything else.

It appears that EA doesn’t think it can make enough money by just selling, distributing or producing games.  That it has put in place a business plan whereby they continuously make money by selling their user’s data to the highest bidder. And while I want to support games, game developers, and the game universe as a whole, I unilaterally refuse to sign up to give my data away for free so some EA executive can have a new Bugatti.

Further reading:

‘I’ve Got Nothing to Hide’ and Other Misunderstandings of Privacy ” by Daniel J. Solove.

RockPaperShotgun writes: EA’s Origin EULA Proves Even More Sinister.

Escapist Forum Member The_root_of_all_evil goes through the EULA with a fine tooth comb.

But, Ol’ John wasn’t alone in driving Rowlett to ruin. The city council has been implicitly responsible for the position in which the town now finds itself.  And if the city council and management follow the path that has been tread for the last 10 years, it’s only going to get worse.

Back when Rowlett was going through a boom, the city chose to give tax abatement to builders and retailers. Tax abatements with contracts that are STILL in effect in many cases. At the same time that the city was refusing to collect taxes from builders, Walmart, and Target, it raised the property taxes of homeowners. Raised it to the point where, when measured by square foot, Rowlett had the 3rd highest tax rate in the state.

And what did we get for all those property tax increases?

• Budget cuts.
• Fired Librarians.
• Layoffs.
• Infrastructure cuts.

All so Walmart could avoid paying taxes, a previous mayor could become the vice president of the builder with the largest tax abatement, and a previous city manager who cut and run as soon as his tea party birds came home to roost.

So, while I agree with many citizens that Mayor Harper thought of himself in the Royal “We”, and tended to believe that Mayors are supposed to “govern”, (an idea contrary to both law and common sense), what really got us into this mess was a more than decade long campaign to cut the taxes of massive corporations at the expense of the citizens in our community.

This is Tea Party Politics in action.  When you give tax breaks to the wealthiest people and corporations, the citizens get the burden of the infrastructure. And if they can’t bear the cost of the infrastructure, the infrastructure starts falling down.

Taxes are the price of democratic republic.  All members of the republic should pay their fair share. Even the really rich members. The burden of democracy cannot be placed solely on the backs of those who work for a living.

Also, I think there is the great possibility that I was really, really, REALLY high for a long time. It’s the only thing that can explain the Jay and Silent Bob dolls…er, action figures.  Complete with bong, dog, beer, and various other accoutrement. Also, ren faire costumes, fairy wings, bat tiaras, coffins and skulls and more goth crap than I should admit to in public. 12-hole, steel toe doc martins, a cutting of long blue hair, stick-on bindis, a shirt held together by safety pins and signed by one of my favorite naked bands, and a hospital bill from a mosh pit gone terribly, terribly wrong. Concert posters taken from walls all over the world.  Giant sheets of newsprint that I put on on walls for other people to decorate and write on.  Pounds and pounds of art supplies, with an equal amount of started and never completed art projects. And comic books. Dear god, I have comic books. So many comic books. And games.  Steve Jackson paper games, D&D 1st edition books, 3 ring binders full of campaigns and characters and worlds and storylines. Boxes and boxes and boxes of software…and subsequently systems that will run some of this ancient code. Apple Plus, anyone?

Apparently, not only was I high…I am now, and have always been, a geek.

And as I face this mountain of collected effluvia, I’m just not sure what to do with any of it.  Part of me just can’t bear the thought of throwing any of it away, or selling it, or burning it in a sacrifice to the gods and guardians that kept me alive during some of the more stupid periods, but I realize that I’m not likely to ever frame and put up the band flyers from 25 years ago, or break out the goth gear for anything but halloween costumes, and what in the name of all that is right in the world, am I going to do with a collection of tattooed brothel-house Barbies?

Packing the books and the china and the media collections was the easy part.  Now I’m down to the stuff I haven’t seen since I looked at it the last time I moved, a decade ago.  Some of this stuff has been moved 5 or 6 times, and has never come out of the original box from 20+ years ago.

It’s like I’m afraid that if I get rid of the Thing that reminds of of the Memory, that somehow I will also lose the Memory.  Having watched what Alzheimer’s can do, I’m terrified of somehow losing connection to the fragile thread that ties me to my past and my memories.

I know that’s just completely illogical. And really, when I’m trying to remember my ill begotten, misspent youth, the odds are I’m not going to need a club-date poster from Sham 69 to do it.  I’m pretty sure that’s what flashbacks are for.

Wish me luck, I go bravely forth to battle the demons of my past, the fears of my future, and the shame of the unfortunate wardrobe choices I’ve made through the years.

But, there comes a point where you just can’t keep toting around boxes for decades, refusing to open them in case you find something icky from your past.  So, today, I put on the big-girl pants and started going through the landmine boxes.

And while I did find stuff that made me cry…letters from friends who have died, announcements from friends I’ve lost touch with, pictures of people who I can no longer name, I also think I found redemption, and peace, and forgiveness. None of which are things one generally finds in a box.

I think today was the day when I could finally put the past behind me.  I found a picture that reminded me why I was once in love with him. And a picture that reminds me why I still miss her, almost 20 years later.  And pictures of us all on the beach, and in the jungles, and atop the ruins. And I could read the love letters and realize that broken hearts heal, that not all love is eternal, and that we can choose to remember the happy times, and forgive the bad ones.

I saw Montana through the eyes of a woman who loved it. I saw Scotland through the eyes of a friend who chose to end his life there. I saw myself through the eyes of a man who loved me then.  I saw him though the lens of the girl I once was. I found old friends, and forgave old enemies. I cried. I laughed. I saved a memento of each. And  then I lightened my load by getting rid of the rest.

As I fed each thing into the shredder, I lived the moment that created it.  And then I let it go.

I feel disconnected, as though I’ve untied a huge part of my reality, but I also feel better. I’ve had my bonfire, and I feel lighter.  I can look back now, not in anger, but in wonderment. I don’t know that I can be forgiven for some of the things I’ve done in my life…but I feel like I took a day to forgive anyone that I’d assigned as a shadow in my heart, and I feel good about it.

Disconnected. Discombobulated. But relieved, and happy, and moving forward.

All that said; I still think it’s a bit insane that I’ve got a giant box full of rocks, which I’ve apparently moved more than once.

I’ll think about that tomorrow.

The Lustie Family Visits the Zoo

I just got back from a fabulous week in Chicago spent with a friend of more years than either of us will admit in public, her charming husband and their newest addition; the best behaved baby in the universe. (Also, just about the cutest thing in diapers. And he has that new baby smell. Altogether, a groovy little dude.)

Here is the coolest family in Chicago, standing outside the entrance to the Lincoln Park Zoo; a zoo which is free to the public, and just one of the outstanding number of public areas, parks, venues, etc. that are scattered throughout Chicago.  I was also astounded by the sheer amount of statuary, art and exhibits  that are everywhere in this town…but I’m getting ahead of myself.

The whole time I was in Chicago, they were filming a new Transformer’s movie, and most of the shooting happened right around my hotel.  This made for some interesting traffic issues, but the most startling thing would be to hear random explosions, see huge clouds of dust, and hundreds of people completely ignoring it.  I jumped and squeaked the first time it happened, but by the end of the week, I was doing what the locals were doing; checking the news for the filming schedule, and then planning routes and schedules around them.

Cooper's Peach Farm

Monday:

The trip started by leaving the Dallas area, and heading into Houston, with a stop by the peach farm to grab a basket of peaches to take to grandmother’s.  (Hey, you never know when you’ll need Big Bad Wolf bait.)

Traffic was way better than expected, and we made it there in plenty of time to grab a quick swim, a canoe trip around the neighborhood, and a quiet night before handing off the Boy to his excited grandparents, and heading for the wilds of airport security.

A brief aside about security; are they just trying to make travel so miserable that everyone is willing to be sedated and put in a sealed tube and shipped like high-tech cattle?  Because air travel has become about the most miserable thing you can pay to do.  The entire theatre aspect of walking barefoot with your little plastic baggie of toothpaste is just absurd, and I cannot believe that millions of Americans are willing to go through this farce every single day. It’s ridiculous.

Tuesday:

Amalfi Hotel Exterior

But moving on.  I got lost a bit in the Chicago airport, but was rescued by the driver sent from my hotel.  Thank goodness for cell phones. After a bit of confusion, we made it to the Amalfi Hotel, in downtown Chicago.  I prefer boutique hotels above chain hotels, and at the price point, the Amalfi was a fantastic value. The interior is trendy, yet not obnoxious, the rooms are well appointed and sizable for a downtown hotel. My complaints about the hotel were so minor as to be insignificant for most travelers, I think.

(The towels were scratchy, and I never realized how important room service breakfast was until I had to wander the halls looking for coffee.  Their heavily promoted breakfast buffet is probably lovely for a one night stay, but becomes redundant and tiresome.  We visited the “cocktail hour” once, but quickly decided it was too annoying to bother with.)

Those quibbles aside, the staff was magnificent, the room was nice, and the price point was more than reasonable for a hotel with such a great location.

Hotel Burnham Interior

Edie and Mark met me at the hotel not long after I arrived, and took me to dinner at the historic Hotel Burnham, also in downtown.  The Hotel Burnham had been scheduled for demolition, as happened to a lot of the really old and fabulous architecture downtown. Fortunately, the renaissance of the area happened in time to save this treasure.  Many of the structure’s original details—marble wainscoting on ceilings and walls, terrazzo floors, mahogany trim, and ornamental elevator grills—were preserved during the 1999 renovation.

Best thing heard at the Hotel Burnham? Edie and I were standing in a hall like the one above, waiting for Mark, and two dapper elderly gentlemen in suits came hobbling out of the restaurant towards the door. They both took in the marble and the stunning wrought iron grillwork and one turned to the other and said “You know, this is the sort of hotel you take Someone Else’s wife.”  And with that, they linked arms and toddled off into the gloaming.  Edie and I were initially shocked, but then couldn’t stop laughing.  Well played, kindly old gents, well played.

Wednesday

The next day started bright and early with a walk from my hotel to the Art Institute of Chicago…one of the coolest museums I’ve seen in a long time.  We got there as the doors opened, and they had to throw us out at the end of the day.  We saw maybe, MAYBE 10% of the collections there in that time.  Although, to be fair, we did spend an extraordinary amount of time in the Henri Cartier-Bresson: The Modern Century exhibit because it was so utterly and absolutely fascinating.  The exhibit is touring, and if it comes within a few hundred miles of where you are, it is worth the trip to see. Stunning. Not to be missed.

Somehow, I seem to have lost most of my pictures from my cell phone of the day at the museum, but their online collection has much better representations than I could have captured. Bigger images from this mosaic can be seen at my Chicago Trip flickr page.

It was astounding to see American Gothic and Nighthawks in person, as well as the truly amazing collection of other American painters like Ivan Albright, O’Keefe, and an astounding array of modern artists.

We were all pretty wiped out after a day of trooping up and down stairs and around galleries and generally playing art tourists, so we pretty much called it a day and went off in our respective directions to soak our feet and let our brains recover from that much culture.

Thursday:

The next morning, while Edie and Baby had plans, I began my adventures bright and early.  After getting directions from the concierge,  I headed in the general direction of Navy Pier. Which I was assured was only a 10 minute walk from my hotel. I guess that’s true, if one assumes that a marathon runner is doing the walking, and not a short, fat lady with a sprained ankle.  Who gets lost.  Didja know that GPS doesn’t work underground?  Yeah. Me either.  On the upside; there is this whole freaking city under the city. It’s amazing. Part of the journey was a little spooky, but I don’t generally stand out as a tourist, and because my basic wardrobe is black, accentuated by black, I think most of the panhandlers assumed I was a staff member at any number of the hotels/restaurants/service industries that have service entrances underground. I didn’t get harassed at all.

Bronze Sculpture at Navy Pier

Eventually I found Navy Pier. Which is surrounded by more astounding sculpture. You’ll have to look at the big image of this picture to see all the texture and whatnot, but this couch is so realistic looking that I watched a number of people go sit down on it before they realized that metal under direct sunlight is HOT. Were I a crueler woman, I would have found this even more amusing than I did. Navy Pier itself is a bit of a tourist mecca, with a plethora of overpriced restaurants, gift shops, amusement rides, and tour docks.

Navy Pier Chicago

The history of it, however, is pretty amazing, and like a whole lot of Chicago, has a secret tucked away in the basement.  The pier itself is about 1.5 miles long, and terminates in a man made reef of sorts with a lighthouse at the end…although I never found a way to get to the light house.  The idea of the pier was the brainchild of Chicago’s foremost planner, Daniel Burnham, and has been in continual operation since 1916, including a stint as the nation’s primary training ground for fighter pilots in WWII.  They estimate that more than 200 fighter jets are at the bottom of the lake around the pier.

But the most astounding thing to see at Navy Pier is the Smith Family Museum of Stained Glass. In a trek that seems to stretch on forever, you can view more than 150 exquisitely displayed stained glass windows and other pieces that were rescued from demolition by the Smith Family. Included in the collection are some of the most astounding and huge Tiffany pieces I’ve ever seen. Truly, this is an awe inspiring collection, if you have any interest at all in this art form.  Clicking on the image will take you to a flickr page that should just have the stained glass images, if you wish to see them in ginormous OMG size.  The mosaic tends to clip the images, whereas my original shots seemed to work amazingly well for a cell phone camera.  HTC really did a great job with the Incredible.

After my jaunt on the pier, I was starving, but not at all interested in the tourist grub.  Fortunately, when I grabbed a cab, my driver was Polish, and upon my requesting  his recommendations for a real Polish meal, took me to a tiny little Polish place tucked away in a little residential neighborhood, where I stuffed myself silly on chłodnik, perogis, kołduny, cabbage and poppy seed pastries .  The cab driver came back for me about 45 minutes later and helped wedge me into the backseat where I made it back to the hotel just in time to get ready for:

(drumroll)

SECOND CITY…OMG!!!

Second City Main Theatre

We saw Spoiler Alert: Everybody Dies, and it was hysterical! Hysterical.  The show cast included Allison Bills, Shelly Gossman, Timothy Edward Mason, Sam Richardson, Tim Robinson and Emily Wilson. It was great fun. I only wish I’d had time to see more improv or go back for one of their improv only nights.

Goodness, this cast was funny.  It’s easy to see why so many of our comedy giants have come from this troupe. They were astoundingly tight, even though they cracked each other up on a regular basis. (Which really, just made it even funnier for the audience.)

Macy's on State Street

Friday:

The next day dawned cloudy and cool, and Edie and I set off for one of the greatest shopping meccas of all time: The Macy’s on State Street.   Housed in the old Marshall Field building, this store is a baroque homage to consumerism.

Vaulted mosaic tile roofs tower over you, supported by gold leafed columns, and marble floors inlaid with rare metals. Truly one of the more impressive historical retail places I’ve seen in America.  The lunch restaurant is legendary amongst the “ladies who lunch” set, and Edie and decided to do just that while we were there.

Really great food, good service, and at probably the most rational prices I’d seen anywhere in Chicago, surprisingly enough.

After Mark picked up Edie, I set out for a night of jazz, and had the best time at a little tiny place, tucked away near my hotel called Andy’s.  The bar had been in that location since prohibition.  They had pictures on the wall of the some of the true jazz greats that had graced the stage over the years…Charlie Parker, Ella Fitzgerald, Miles Davis.  I fell into conversation with a charming old man I called Mister Will.  Now, when I say old, I mean OLD. Older than his birthday. Tribal Elder. Ooooold. He proceeded to walk me through all the pictures and told me stories about the history of that area before the gentrification.  It was a fabulous night. I only wish I could replicate his speech in text, so I could share the magic.  It was amazing.  After a long night of stories and jazz, I wandered home so I could be up in time for:

Chicago from the river

Saturday:

Architecture Boat Tour!

Hosted by the Chicago History Museum, the tour took us all over the river running through the city, looking at new and old architecture and talking about how the city has changed over the years. The weather was cool and overcast, which made the time on the water so enjoyable, as it had been smoking hot most of the week I was there.

Critics say that no other city has influenced and embodied the state-of-the-art in high-rise design and modern architecture as prominently as Chicago: virtually every major architect has a signature building here.

We also got to see the construction site of the Chicago Spire, an ethereal 2,000-foot
tower by renowned Spanish architect Santiago Calatrava. If it is ever completed, The Spire will be the tallest structure in North America and the loftiest residential building anywhere. Currently construction is suspended for lack of funding.

It’s amazing how much there is to see if you’re an architecture junkie, especially when you realize that if it hadn’t been for the Chicago Fire and the architects who decided to go Up instead of Out, we’d have no skylines like Manhattan or Dallas.   The visionaries of plate glass and structural steel such as Jenney, Root, Burnham and Sullivan (Wright’s mentor) and Frank Lloyd Wright were responsible for the Chicago School of ingenious grillage foundations and steel-frame construction techniques that lifted all architecture heavenward.

I have to go back, just so I can go up in some of these buildings to try and get a closer look at the flourishes and decorative touches that were so much a part of the early building of this city.

After the boat tour, Edie and I headed to Millennium Park to grab Mark (who is the sound engineer there) and kidnap him for the few hours between shows he had.  And promptly made him get in Chicago traffic and take us to the zoo.  Where much fun was had by all.

Nom Nom; Tasty Tourist Femur

Except possibly the tourist who gave his life so this bear could have noms. The Lincoln Zoo is another one of those free public spaces that Chicago seems to have in such plenitude, and on a Saturday afternoon, the zoo was filled with families and children and laughter. It was lovely.

After that, we stopped by their fabulous walkup apartment by Lincoln Square. The building is a grand faded lady with gorgeous facade touches and an almost vertical staircase.  How Edie made it up and down four flights of those stairs while pregnant is a mystery.  That she can do it with a baby and a stroller just proves that she’s superwoman in dreads.

After I returned to the hotel, I got dressed for dinner, and went to Keefer’s.  Which, if you’re ever in Chicago, I recommend.  The foie gras was he most amazing I’ve had anywhere, including Paris.  The waiter recommended that I have the veal special as an entree, but I had to explain that unless it came with a Dalmatian coat and a chorus line singing “See My Vest“, that I couldn’t possibly have that much cruelty for dinner.  He didn’t understand.  Some people just don’t get me. However, if you go, have the sabayon lemon parfait. It may be the best thing I’ve ever eaten. So good.

I spent the rest of Saturday night retrieving all my crap from the various corners of the hotel room where they had landed and packing up for my flight on Sunday afternoon.

Greg and Friends perform at the HOB

Sunday – Leaving Chicago:

Sunday morning, we all headed to the House of Blues for the Gospel Brunch.  Edie and I remarked that it was the closest either of us had been to a church in decades. My opinion is that if church served bacon and waffles instead of wafers, I might show up more often.

I got to the airport hours and hours before my flight, but after the security nightmare, just barely got to the gate before it was time for boarding. They were absurd at O’Hare. I had to take off all my jewelry, remove the hair pins from my hair…they even took my Kindle apart and swabbed the interior.  I don’t know what the hell they were looking for.  My checked luggage obviously got the same going over; everything was all muddled together and streaked with grease when I picked up my bags in Houston.  Seriously people, do you really think housewives from Dallas are your primary vector for terror?  Oh…wait…  well, *that* kind of terror?  Really?  Sheesh.

Anyway, got back to Houston, after spending a fabulous plane ride talking with Drew Emborsky, The Crochet Dude, who is coincidentally, a friend of my friend Michael.  Small world.

Welcome Home!

Was so glad to see Boy! We snuggled up all the way to PawPaw and Grammy’s house, even after he passed out in the car.

Monday:

The next morning, we packed him up, loaded up Nanny Ogg (the Minivan of Dooom), and headed north. Whereupon, we were greeted with this:

Because nothing says Welcome Back to Texas like heatstroke.

All in all, it was a fantastic trip.  I can’t wait to go back and visit Chicago again. What a great town.

(Click here for a slideshow of all images, including those not used here.)

One of the things incredibly obvious with this decision, is that there were no women at that table.  Gender is the primary piece of meta data that can be easily gleaned from a real name.

I have been a female gamer since the days of bbs.  I know from harassment, trust me. This decision forces the female player base of WoW to do one of two things:

1. Not participate, and be effectively silenced or
2. Be harassed in text, and now possibly in real life.

With more than 1 in 12 women reporting that they’ve been stalked in real life, and more than 64% of women in a recent study reporting that they’ve been cyberstalked, “outing” the player base is an incredibly irresponsible decision.

I’ve written for a couple of gaming publications.  Mostly unpaid, small niche sites because I liked the people in the community and liked the people running the site/mag/whatever.  One or two of those sites decided that their writers were not allowed to remain anonymous, and could only publish using their real name…at which point, I stopped writing for them.

It’s not that I don’t publish under my real name; I do.  But I don’t publish under my real name in an arena where I’m likely to get stalkers…again; or get my old stalkers back.

Having my WoW account associated with my real name serves no purpose *to me*; it only serves a purpose for Activision/Blizzard.  I, the Paying Customer, derive no benefit from this policy.  In fact, I am effectively silenced, and do not have the full benefits of the game.  In response to similar points; an official post on the EU forums states:

We have been planning this change for a very long time. During this time, we have thought ahead about the scope and impact of this change and predicted that many people would no longer wish to post in the forums after this change goes live. We are fine with that….

Should the decision stand, even though I don’t often participate on the forums, this female gamer will be taking her consumer dollars to a company that realizes putting women at risk isn’t a profit center.

I will not pay to wear Blizzard’s burqa. I will not be silenced.

I got my first sailboat when I was about 8, and from that day on, I spent as much of my childhood on the water as I possibly could. Even though I left the coast when I went to college, and I’ve settled pretty far inland, I think in my head I’ve always assumed that some day, I’d be back by the beach.

And then I look at the absolute destruction being wrought by the BP oil disaster and weep. Because, at this rate, the beaches that I grew up loving, and hoped to show my son, will be naught but memories and photographs.

Already there were huge dead zones in the Gulf because of oil drilling, toxic dumping, and overfishing. The coral reefs have been in danger for more than a decade. But this spill? This could kill the entire Gulf, and then what the hell are we supposed to do?

Forty percent of America’s wetlands are in the Louisiana/Mississippi basin. They are in the direct line of fire from this spill. The wetlands are where the food like shrimp and fish lay breed. Without them, there is no habitat for those species, as well as the hundreds of other species that depend on the wetlands.

Oil is now being seen as far east as Florida. If it catches the loop current, it could travel all the way up the Atlantic.

This spill is unforgivable. We, as citizens, must stop deep ocean drilling. We must assume that all corporations are as negligent about safety and regulations as BP. We cannot survive another disaster like this. We need the oceans. We need the fish and the birds and the sea oats. We don’t need more plastic crap, or disposable bags or cars that get 10mpg.

We need to stop the billions of dollars in tax subsidies to the oil companies, and use that money to fund solar farms, wind farms, hydro electric, and efficiency research for existing tech like cars. This gluttonous draining of oil to the detriment of all other things has to stop.

We have to make it stop.

We left our house at 9:30 am, it was almost 1pm before we saw an exhibit.  And we never did get to see the ones Boy really wanted to see because the lines were 45 minutes long, and neither of us wanted to spend an hour in line to then be crowded out in a matter of minutes.

My opinion is that the museum should do the same thing the zoo does, and stop admitting people when it gets too crowded.  Also, fucking strollers should be banned.  Not all of them, but those  horrible Range Rover sized monstrosities.  There’s no reason to allow those inside places like a museum where people are trying to walk.

And I swear to god, people who cannot control their children should be horsewhipped.  It’s your damn fault if your children can’t behave, and if you won’t punish them, then we should be allowed to punish you.  There was one stupid cow just allowing her kid to pick up BIG stones from the outdoor fountain and lob them as hard as he could at the windows.  “Oh, Duddems,” she’d say simperingly “Now you be good.”  It wasn’t until he lobbed a rock so hard that it bounced off a window and hit a baby girl in the head, and another parent threatened them both with death that she took him away to terrorize another part of the museum. Honestly, drowning both her and Duddems seems like good policy.

My point is this: I’m not good with crowds.  I start getting all misanthropic and planning the downfall of large segments of the population that are in my way RIGHT THIS MINUTE.

Note to Self: Spring Break is no time to go to museums, or possibly anywhere else that isn’t the woods. Good lord.

On the upside: we didn’t go to Six Flags, which had been my original plan.  I can only imagine how hostile I would have been had I been inside with the crowd visible from I30 as we passed it.

We’ve recently come across an abandoned railway in Abkhazia, abandoned as a result of USSR collapse when new “independent” republics couldn’t maintain the complicated and high-cost USSR legacy objects. But this one was abandoned long before the USSR collapse, it was doomed to be abandoned from the beginning. It was built by Stalin’s order in the middle of nowhere – deep inside Northern Siberia between Salekhard city and Igarka town. It was not connected with any other Russian Federal Railway System and the purpose of it still is not very clear, so as a senseless toy it was abandoned pretty soon and now rusts, easily accessible only by helicopter.

via Lost Biker Ru