Climatology is not Science!!!

In response to a Washington Post Editorial
"Scott Pruitt demonstrates what climate denial sounds like"


    Truly objective scientists approach science from the perspective of what do we know. Anything which involves what we think or believe is called a hypothesis.

    There are five steps in the scientific method. They are;
    1.  make an observation
    2.  ask a question
    3. form a hypothesis
    4. conduct an experiment
    5. accept or reject the hypothesis.

    There is no consensus in true science.
    True scientific work welcomes dissent. If you have a belief you put it up for others to examine using the scientific method.

    There are no lobbies or lobbyists in true science. If you can’t prove your hypothesis then you don’t get to have a meeting of your friends, or fellow opinion holders and then claim it must be true because the majority says it must be true. That is not Science.

    Modern Climatology is at best a modern day brand of hand waving magical illusion on the order of the Wizard of Oz. It operates on the belief that you don’t need to actually do any science, just put your numbers in the climatology computer machine and out pops a prediction for thirty years in advance!

    It is most comfortable dealing with great unknowns. For instance the amount of carbon dioxide mankind is putting into the atmosphere. Scientific answer We don’t know. Climatology’s answer its all in the model.

    Compared to Meteorology, it is a huge hoax. If it were possible to predict with accuracy what the world’s temperature will be in 30 years, you should be able to nail it every day 30 hours in advance.

    Predicting sea-level rise 30 years from now? Heck why not show us how really good you are? Tell us precisely when the next hurricane will hit Dover, Delaware. Date and time please. How high will the tides be? What will the winds be?

    Even the best hurricane predictions just three days from the event can’t dependably mark out the hour and place that the center of the eye wall will be. Otherwise explain the Katrina debacle of New Orleans.

    Until you can, please stop the miasma of silly terms like settled science, scientific consensus and all the other non-scientific hokum that you pass off as common wisdom. But then I am just one true scientist who denies non-scientific projections trying to pass themselves off as facts.

What can be worse than to dwell here?

 - if there be in Hell Fear to be worse destroy'd: what can be worse Then to dwell 
here,-
 (Milton, Paradise Lost. Book II.)


 Last week, on Groundhog day in my daily passing through the  phantasmagoric world of the 
21st century America, I came across a silly story. One so silly as to be typical of the 
logic of Social and Legal standards of our brave new nation. Thus, quite normal and 
worse; Logical?

 A sheriff arrested a 72 year old school bus driver for slapping a 6 year old child in 
her care. The child’s mother was pressing charges for child abuse, and civil penalties in 
the high six figures.

  - BLUE EARTH, Minn. (AP) -- A Blue Earth school bus driver has been charged with 
slapping a 6-year-old passenger who she says was unruly.

Seventy-two-year-old Jane Brooks is charged with fifth-degree assault.

Brooks says the 6-year-old was hitting a smaller child on the head with his book bag 
during an afternoon route Sept. 14.

She says the boy refused to move to another seat so she had to physically move him. The 
child then began kicking passengers across the aisle. Brooks says she radioed for help 
and school staff told her to move other children away from the boy.

The Fairmont Sentinel reports as Brooks was doing so, the boy spit on the children in the 
seat behind him.

A criminal complaint says Brooks told the boy to stop spitting and when he did so again, 
she slapped him across the face.-

 The mother in her de rigueur on camera interview for the local news media the mother 
admitted the boy has - behavior problems.- But even if he spit on another kid or the 
driver that wasn’t any reason to slap his face.

 What can be worse than to dwell here?

A few days later, I came across this follow up story.

BLUE EARTH — A former Blue Earth Area Schools school bus driver charged with assaulting a student on a bus has reached an agreement with a state prosecutor in the case. According to the agreement, the criminal complaint against Jane Brooks, 72, will be dropped if she has no assault-related or disorderly conduct-related violations for a year. Failure to do so would result in a reinstatement of criminal proceedings. A fifth-degree assault charge was brought against Brooks after a September incident involving a misbehaving 6-year-old boy on Brooks’ bus. Brooks slapped the boy’s face after repeated attempts to stop him from hitting and spitting at other children, according to court documents. Brooks resigned from the job in October. Prosecutor Troy Timmerman told the Fairmont Sentinel it was a difficult decision to file the assault charge, and in a case such as this the agreement is the most equitable resolution for the accused and for the state.

The final 2 results seem to have been.

1)   Terminated one caring adult driver who was disciplining an out of control 6 year old spoiled brat.
She will stay home and no longer contribute to society.
2)   Formalizing in the soon to be 7 year old spoiled brat that no one has the right to tell him what to do.
He'll be back!

And all my liberal friends are crying about how against the grain and undisciplined President Trump is?

A Seventh Century army, known as Isis is finally invading Twenty-First Century Europe.

Its shock forces are made up of 500,000 Syrian and other Arab countries uprooted and displaced refugees who are overwhelming the frontiers of Europe. Heart-wrenching videos of fleeing families, with their children in tow are nightly being projected on every Western TV screen for their viewers to see and respond to. The most human of impulses is to open the borders to these waves of humanity who are seeking to get out of the way of warring forces on both sides of the various conflicts which have in common one element. The combined forces of Muslim jihad. The modern return of Mohammed's Muslim war right out of the seventh century texts with all their brutality and viciousness are being unleashed against the civilization of Christian and Jewish faiths and others who have allied themselves, Muslim infindels. 

A new theory for Gun Control

        Military Grade
    This week the 4th Circuit U.S. Appeals Court (www.ca4.uscourts.gov) found in favor of Maryland’s gun control law on the basis that the restrictions were based upon a weapon’s military grade.

    In an interesting application of - Resistance is Futile - the man who was responsible for writing the law in 2013 and pushing it through the Maryland State Senate was then State Senator Brian Frosh.

   Now in 2017 Brian Frosh has become Maryland’s chief law enforcement agent; Attorney General. In his new job he defended his own law against a legal challenge and  managed to get a ten to four vote in favor of Maryland's gun law.

   The reason they supported it was a new theory created by the Court Justices themselves strong opponents to the Second Amendment. The theory? Weapons could be proscribed it they were "Military Grade!"

    My immediate question for you; is there an actual definitive line between what is "military grade" and civilian grade thus not protected by a Second Amendment?

Oh My Aching Back!

The year after Dad passed, was perfectly bracketed by my lower back finally crippling me.

Two days after Christmas 2014, I was out in the yard with Paul and Andy Bucko kind of on-looking as Paul had Andy clean out Dad's boat which was part of his inheritance. We were at the Cove, and my back was sore, a condition that over 53 years has been a more or less constant companion until that day!

Suddenly in a spasm of excruciating pain in my spine, I found my right leg paralyzed in an ever increasing tightening of the pain. I could barely hobble back to the house and drop onto the couch to get any relief. But there was no relief of the pain for the next 16 hours until I finally fell asleep about 5:00am. It was the weekend so I just took some Ibuprophren to ease it. On Monday I was able to reach my doctor, described the symptoms and my distance from the nearest Kaiser facility.

She prescribed a six day course of Prednesone steroid treatment to relieve the swelling and pain. But my leg by then was truly paralyzed, I could not raise my foot from the ankle, I had no feeling in the top of the foot, or the front of the leg. I could not raise the leg in a scissors motion when I was on my left side.

And I was falling down a couple times every day, like a crippled mule.

The Prednesone helped with the pain, nothing improved the paralyses or lack of sensation.

It took another ten days to get MRI scans and see the Neurosurgeon. His conclusion was I had two ruptured disks, pressing on my leg nerves, and spinal stenosis pinching off over half of my spinal canal. I was a fucked up wreck, waiting to be dumped in the junk yard.

We scheduled surgery for February 6th at Arlington Hospital Center.
I walked in, and expected that I would walk out later that day, maybe with my feeling and leg restored.

Two days later the nurse yanked out the catheter. If you were dumb enough to have any modesty about such an event, then having a strange woman pick up your limp dick and say, "this may hurt a little, but it won't last long," then with a hard yank pull out a prodigiously long tub the size of an elephant's trunk out of your little itty bitty pecker is hardly a "little hurt."

Then I had to convince them to let me out. By five pm, Miki had rescued me and I was headed for home. Still paralyzed and now with a hole in my back about 6-inches long where my spine had been worked on. A bleeding sore to pee pecker, and a bottle of pain meds which I refused to take. After all, there are worse levels of pain. I just hoped I'd get better.

Its 14 months now.
Feeling and foot are about the same.
But, I can now raise my leg in scissors style.
I have better muscle control of the leg.
I have transitioned from walker, to cane, to ankle brace to standard shoes again.
I do exercises which steadily improve my control of the leg.
I walk a good bit.
And yet yesterday, a half inch rise in a carpet at Fair Oaks Mall sent me into a tumblers' head over rolling fall. It wasn't anything, and when I was 20 I wouldn't have thought much about it, except it wasn't planned.

For a long while after the operation, my physical strength was that of a ten year old girl. The effects of anesthesia, or the surgery, whatever it was scary.
But that too has recovered. I have much of my old ability to lift and haul and work back, though my upper arms really need more exercise.

I am still a spavined old fart.
But, I am optimistic.
After all, many others younger than I during this year and some month, including the performer formerly known as Prince, found they can't say this.

I am still alive!

Two Years Later.

It has been a time in which much has happened.

Probably most important for my life was the death of Paul's and my father on January 2, 2014. He was 98. Somehow I had thought he'd live forever, at least the rest of my life.

He had Alzheimers  the last 5 or 6 years of his life which took him away from us. He still recognized the main members of his family. But much else shutdown. I suspect it was enhanced by his progressively deteriorating hearing.

In his good years he had loved music of all types, loved going to live stage plays in New York or London. And enjoyed pithy conversations, though in these he often found himself a participant of one because the other members of the circle were not of a similar caliber intellect.

He was a popular man in his age cohort.

An inveterate crossword puzzle fan, and a constant figure-rer. From his childhood he could sit by the hour and work out math problems long hand in his cribbed hand. We would often find long columns of computations along the margins of newspapers or magazines where he had simply worked out a long question of the square root of a number or the percentage of another or the profit he'd make on an investment.

My good fortune was that he was my father first before my brother Paul came along, and the step kids from his second marriage. Because of my favored place in the family order I had the treasures of spending time with the younger man who had served in war and in peace, and who held his family above all in his world.

My bad fortune was that he was my father first before my brother, . . . Because it required of me a stricter standard of behaviour and performance which sadly I often failed to meet. For that I still apologize to his ghost each day.

But hindsight is so clear. And if you could talk to yourself back then what might you say, to that headstrong lazy fellow I was, which could make any real difference?

So Dad's ghost haunts me. But not in a bad way.