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Finn’s high school was ranked in the 99th percentile of Maryland high schools, according to the 2024 school report card. Not too shabby.
One of my favorite local joints from the old neighborhood is closing down after 30 years in business. Nacho Mama’s, a staple of Canton from back when Hons still walked the streets, was our go-to Irish-owned Mexican restaurant, with cheap National Bohemian on tap and a great menu for eating in or takeout on movie night. I have tons of great memories both eating in the restaurant and scarfing down a towering plate of Mesa Fries across the park at Rob’s house.
One night I met friends for dinner there, wearing my National Bohemian delivery shirt, and ordered some kind of draft beer. The waitress took our order and noticed my shirt; she turned and called over to Scunny, the owner, who was a voracious collector of all things Natty Boh, Orioles, Baltimore Colts, and Elvis. Pointing at me he yelled, “HEY!” and the noisy bar got very quiet. He leaned over the bar and boomed, “WHERE DID YOU GET THAT SHIRT??!”
I stammered back something about Saks North Avenue (IYKYK) and he began to offer me money for it, then spied whatever beer I was drinking. “YOU CAN’T DRINK THAT SHIT. HERE! HERE’S A NATTY BOH!” The beer hit my table, I took a long swig, thanked him, and the bar returned to its normal volume.
Sadly, Scunny passed in 2012 from a freak accident in Ocean City. His family kept the bar running, but it wasn’t the same; I went back several times but the food wasn’t as good and the vibe was gone.
Over on the Scout weblog, I went into detail on the reupholstery and installation of a rear seat in the Travelall.
After doing some online research and gathering all of the materials, it was actually quite easy to do, but it’s still clear I would need practice to get it perfect every time. I’ve got the base to the front bench pretty much wrapped up on a table in the basement, and tomorrow I’m going to haul the backrest down from the garage attic to get that started.
I can’t remember where I found this link, but it’s a Google doc outlining how we got to our current political situation and what we can do to change the direction our country is going. One paragraph stood out above others, and it bears repeating here because I haven’t seen any of the chuckleheads on TV saying this, and I don’t think I’ve really fully processed what happened yet:
Voters rejected the status quo — they didn’t embrace fascism. The best way to understand this is that voters were given a choice between the status quo and “not the status quo.” President Biden’s approval rating sat under 40% for this entire election season; by wide margins, Americans said the country was on the wrong track, and large majorities cited lingering and intense economic pain due to inflation and the aftermath of COVID. Vice President Harris ran an impressive campaign on an impossible timeline — but she couldn’t overcome the widespread frustration with the incumbent. The result was that a bunch of people chose “not the status quo,” either by voting for Trump or not voting at all.
There’s so much more good stuff in here—I’ve read through it once and my head is kind of full—but I’m going to return to it for a reality check and a roadmap to help make things better.
From the Electronic Frontier Foundation: a guide to Surveillance Self-Defense.
Surveillance Self-Defense is a digital security guide that teaches you how to assess your personal risk from online spying. It can help protect you from surveillance by those who might want to find out your secrets, from petty criminals to nation states.
I’ve got some reading and some configuring to do this Thanksgiving break.
In the Yale Review, Chris Ware looks back on the author/illustrator Richard Scarry:
The Busytown books, as they came to be known—with their dictionary-like visual presentation paired with lightly slapstick situations and the presence of recurring, memorable characters like Huckle Cat, the Pig family, and my favorite, Lowly Worm—grew into a real-feeling big world that Scarry seemed to be letting little ones into.
As a kid, I spent countless hours poring over our collection of Busytown books: There was a welcoming simplicity to them, and they described people and places in a way I could understand easily.
I also picked up on something Ware mentions in his essay: a markedly European feeling to each book. There were cars and buildings and words that weren’t like the ones around me in Massachusetts or New Jersey and I was smart enough to notice the differences. So it made sense when he mentioned that Scarry lived in Switzerland after 1967, and during the period when his most popular books were published. There’s also an approachable quality to his artwork I always appreciated. His early work is technically excellent, but the loose style of pen and guauche artwork in the later Busytown series influenced my drawing style in ways I hadn’t really realized until thinking about it.
Here’s the video update from the last two weeks of work on the red bus.
→ This is a syndicated post from my Scout weblog. More info here.
Carole Cadwalladr in the Guardian:
2 Journalists are first, but everyone else is next. Trump has announced multibillion-dollar lawsuits against “the enemy camp”: newspapers and publishers. His proposed FBI director is on record as wanting to prosecute certain journalists. Journalists, publishers, writers, academics are always in the first wave. Doctors, teachers, accountants will be next. Authoritarianism is as predictable as a Swiss train. It’s already later than you think.
5. You have more power than you think. We’re supposed to feel powerless. That’s the strategy. But we’re not. If you’re a US institution or organisation, form an emergency committee. Bring in experts. Learn from people who have lived under authoritarianism. Ask advice.
7. Know who you are. This list is a homage to Yale historian, Timothy Snyder. His On Tyranny, published in 2017, is the essential guide to the age of authoritarianism. His first command, “Do not obey in advance”, is what has been ringing, like tinnitus, in my ears ever since the Washington Post refused to endorse Kamala Harris. In some weird celestial stroke of luck, he calls me as I’m writing this and I ask for his updated advice: “Know what you stand for and what you think is good.”
10. Listen to women of colour. Everything bad that happened on the internet happened to them first. The history of technology is that it is only when it affects white men that it’s considered a problem. Look at how technology is already being used to profile and target immigrants. Know that you’re next.
(via Kottke)
There’s always been something fascinating to me about the history of the U.S. Navy on the eve of and directly after the Pearl Harbor attack: a fleet of mostly obsolete ships manned by an understaffed and threadbare service, spread across a vast ocean in outdated facilities. As the Japanese war machine rolled quickly over European colonial holdings and then America’s bases, there was a frantic rear-guard operation to either stall for time or escape back to the mainland in any way possible. Among the horrific losses suffered in the Philippines and various tiny island holdings, there are stories of heroism and adventure. Years ago, a blurry picture of what looks like a ship lifted out of the water by either shell splashes or torpedo explosions caught my attention, and I tracked down the story.
The image is a still from Japanese newsreel footage taken in March of 1942. The ship was actually the USS Edsall, a 4-piper destroyer laid down in 1920 at the end of the building spree following World War 1. The Edsall was one of a handful of US Navy ships still left in the Southern Pacific, shuttling men and supplies to and from the bases we had left in the area, and on the day she was sunk, she was going to the aid of the oiler USS Pecos, which had been sunk by a huge Japanese task force. The Edsall blundered into the enemy formation and immediately took evasive action. Outgunned and slower than most of the enemy ships, all the skipper could do was evade and hope for a miracle. The Edsall zigged and dodged shellfire for an hour and a half, frustrating the Japanese commander. He then ordered 26 dive bombers from his carriers to attack, one of which finally hit and immobilized the ship, and she was quickly overwhelmed and sunk by gunfire. Her fate was unknown for years until Japanese records were translated and the story became clear.
The wreck of the Edsall was finally located late last year by an Australian research vessel, and they announced the discovery today. The ship is sitting upright on the bottom in excellent shape, in 18,000 feet of water south of Christmas Island. Godspeed, and thank you for your service.
I spent a beautiful Saturday morning at the pick & pull out out in Mt. Airy to find an electric steering setup for the Travelall before the cold weather really sets in. After I’d removed a complete unit from a bright red Nissan Versa and hauled it out to the car, I went back inside with some tools to walk the aisles and see if there was anything interesting to look at. Cash for Clunkers really thinned out the herd here in Baltimore so there isn’t usually anything older than 1990 in the yard, but every once in a while you see something fun.
I’d dressed for cold miserable weather—I wore my bike tights under my jeans and several layers of cold-weather clothing up top, but wound up stripping down to long sleeves as sunlight warmed up the day. Everything in the yard was covered in three weeks’ worth of dust, and my boots were covered in it when I left.
This MG was the first classic I stumbled across, flanked by two late-model sedans; from the sag in the front fender I knew it was in bad shape even though all the parts were still there. Peeking inside the passenger door, I saw large areas of gravel underneath—the entire floorpan was gone, the seats barely attached to the remains of the body. The engine was mostly intact, but this car was only good for chrome parts and signal lenses. It seems like I always see an MG in the yard, no matter when I visit.
The next classic I saw was this giant Chrysler Cordoba, which looked to be a 1978 model from the front grille. A smogged V8 was hidden under a nest of vacuum lines, and the plush velour upholstery was actually in very good shape. I couldn’t see any damage on the outside, so I wonder why this beast was sitting in the yard…?
The third classic was this Datsun 280Z, which had led a hard life in the sun somewhere. The interior was cracked and brittle, the upholstery one touch away from bursting into a cloud of hazardous dust. I couldn’t get the hood up any further to look at the big inline 6, but most of the panels were in decent shape.
Finally, I passed this bright yellow taxi up on the hill and stopped to seriously consider pulling the roof cap off, but ultimately passed; it would wind up being another thing sitting in the garage taking up space, and I already have enough of that.