Semper Fi

I grew up in the sort of neighborhood that sent young men to the Marine Corps in bulk. Blue collar-lower middle class, preponderantly Irish Catholic. Two boys from my grammar school class joined the Marines right after high school. One boy - Kevin - was a distant cousin who for a while lived a few doors down from my family. They'd moved away by high school, so I pretty much lost track of him, but I think he served in Okinawa, not Vietnam. (Oddly enough, I just googled him and he died last spring. The obituary mentions his Marine service, but not Vietnam, so I'm guessing he dodged that bullet.) The other Our Lady of the Angels, Class of 1963, boy who joined the Marines, Jim, did not serve in Vietnam. I know this for a fact because, oddly enough, we connected on Twitter a few years back, and, although he now lives out of state, we've seen each other in person a couple of times. Jim didn't go to Nam, but his older Marine Corps brother did.

As I said, it was that kind of neighborhood.

My husband's brother (Irish Catholic, Vermont) and brother in law (Irish Catholic, NY) were Marines, as was his beloved Uncle Bill (Swamp Yankee, Massachusetts). 

In keeping with the Irish Catholic theme, father's first cousin Matt was a Marine who became (in)famous in the 1950's as the Parris Island drill instructor who marched his men into some nighttime swamp drill in which six recruits drowned. (I mostly knew Matt as our weekend milkman, his moonlighting job working for his brother-in-law whose family owned a dairy. As a kid, I thought it was customary for the milkman to sit down at the family breakfast table for a cup of coffee, as many of our milkmen were related to my father.)

My only other connection was being in an Irish pub in New Orleans when a large contingent of current USMC generals, and their wives, came in for a pint and a singsong. 

This about sums up my indirect history with the United States Marine Corps. 

Last Thursday evening, I was sitting in my living room reading when I heard incredibly loud helicopters whirring right over my head. It didn't sound like a medivac chopper, which sometimes fly nearby on their way to MGH. It didn't sound like a news chopper, either. What it sounded like was an invasion.

This is it, I thought. Trump has decided to invade blue cities and states, and was thumping into Boston to solve our crime problem which, as far as I can see, is composed largely of homeless addicts making a nuisance (and, admittedly at times, a criminal nuisance) of themselves; punky ahole kids riding unlicensed motorbikes; and punky ahole kids shoplifting at Macy's. Of course we have crime. But not the sort that calls for a military takeover. But it wouldn't have surprised me.

Trump hates our wonderful, gutsy mayor, Michelle Wu, because she stands up to him. And, naturally, he hates Massachusetts because the majority of our voters reject him. (And plenty of us, in addition to rejecting him at the ballot box, loathe and despise him.) But we're small potatoes compared to Chicago, which is a lot larger than Boston; is in state with a wonderful, gusty governor, Jay Pritzker, who stands up to Trump; and has a Black mayor. Thus, a much juicier target than Boston.

Anyway, through a quick google, I learned that Boston wasn't under attack. But we were one of a handful of cities who've hosted or will be hosting Marine Week, a 250th birthday celebration of the USMC. (Interesting, the other cities include Chicago - as I write this, under threat of invasion, and Los Angeles - currently occupied. Atlanta is also on the Marine b-day list. And since it's a blue city with a Black mayor, it's also squarely in Trump's occupation sights.)

Boston's celebration cite was the Boston Common, right outside my front door. Thus the noisome noise.

I walk through the Common on the way to my volunteer job and I stopped in a couple of times to gawk at the choppers, including the Osprey, a helicopter that can turn into an airplane. And, of course, to chat with a couple of the Marines on duty.

I kept the convos largely non-political, although I did mention to one young guy that I'd thought Boston was being invaded. He just shook his head and smiled.

I didn't catch the Marine's name, but he looked Hispanic and had a Cali accent. From what I understand, an awful lot of Hispanic Americans go into the service, including the Marines. Sort of like the Irish Catholic boyos of my yore. 

The Marines decamped, helicopters with them, early Sunday evening.

Alerted by the noise, I went out and watch the choppers take off, including the Osprey. One of the helicopters did a pass over the building two doors down, I swear no more than 6 feet above its roof.

I chatted with a neighbor, who had also initially thought we were being occupied.

I hope a few things.

I hope that that young Marine is never ordered to rough up civilians, whether those civilians are U.S. citizens or Haitian nursing home workers who've overstayed their visas or Mexican construction workers waiting around the Home Depot hoping to pick up a job. 

I hope all those young Marines I saw won't be sent off to fight in a half-arsed, studip war. And I really hope that, having been trained to fight in war - half-arsed and studip, or full-arsed and righteous - they will not be ordered to act as the police, hassling the homeless, the addicted, the ahole motorbike driving, the ahold shoplifting.

Push often comes to shove. Someone hurls a brick. (Someone starts the Reichstag fire.) Hair triggers get pulled. Someone gets hurt. Someone gets killed. 

And all of a sudden, we're Budapest. We're Turkey. We're El Salvador.

Are there many folks left who still believe it can't happen here?

Anyway, Happy 250th Birthday to the United States Marine Corps. 

Hope nothing happens.

Semper fi. 

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Image Source: NBC News (my pics of the Osprey were god-awful)

If you're taking a stroll around Webster, Mass, BOLO

As anyone who grew up in Worcester County knows, the honors for the longest name for any geographic whatever - mountain, canyon, river, lake - in the United States goes to Lake Chargoggagoggmanchauggagoggchaubunagungamaugg, which is mostly known as Webster Lake. 

The lake's name comes from the Algonquian language of the Nipmuc and is often said to mean, "Fishing Place at the Boundaries—Neutral Meeting Grounds". A more fitting translation is "lake divided by islands", according to anthropologist Ives Goddard. The most memorable translation, however, is supposedly: "You fish on your side; we fish on our side; nobody fish in the middle." (Source: Wikipedia) 

Other than the lake, there's not a lot to distinguish Webster, Massachusetts from dozens of other former milltowns in New England. But they've been in the news of late, thanks to a water monitor lizard named Goose, who went on the lam a couple of weeks ago. Goose is no tiny little lizard that you might keep in a terrarium in the kids' bedroom. No, Goose is five feet long, and could grow to eight. (I think I read that they're second only, lizard-size-wise, to Komodo dragons.)

On one of the news stations, I saw video of Goose making his escape, pushing out a second floor window screen of its home on Blueberry Lane, landing on the roof, and leaping to the ground. That was some leaping lizard is all I can say.

The cops were called in, but they were initially unsure just what they were looking for.

"I didn't even know what a water monitor was," [Webster Police Chief Michael] Shaw said. "When they told me that there was one lost up in Blueberry Hill, I thought it was person that was gotten lost checking water meters." (Source: Boston Globe)

No reason why Webster PD would be a familiar with water monitors. They're not exactly native to Massachusetts - they hail from Southeast Asia. But occasionally they're kept as pets. And occasionally they do escape or are "freed." (Probably when they grow in size to five feet or so.) Over the years, they've been spotted in the wild Arizona, California, Texas, and Florida. (You can't legally own one in Massachusetts, but since when does that stop anyone?)

Webster PD searched the area, and even brought the drones in. No dice. After a couple of days, the search was called off. Then, a week after Goose made his great escape, it was seen just over the Connecticut border. 

Although water monitors aren't supposed to be all that aggressive, and "are not known to attack humans or dogs/cats," they are venemous. And they do go after fish and critters in the wild. (A water monitor's gotta eat, you know.) If cornered, they might attack. So animal control is warning folks to not try to confront or capture Goose if they come across it.  

The federal Nonindigenous Aquatic Species index has this to say:

 "The potential impact of these huge, aggressive predators on indigenous wildlife almost certainly would be negative should they establish themselves," the index says, noting that "their size and aggressive behavior" could make them dangerous. But water monitors haven't established themselves anywhere in the U.S.

Since they haven't "established themselves anywhere in the U.S." it's unlikely that Goose will find a cadre of fellow water monitors with a colony it could join up with. Phew. Water monitor colonies are just what we don't need.

Meanwhile, the good citizens of Webster have been enjoying the notoriety:

One Webster resident, Pete Tarbox, has even taken to wearing, and kayaking in, a lizard onesie.

“I bought the manly lizard suit because of the buzz around town,” Tarbox told Boston.com. “I thought I’d add to the vibe.”

“I hope they find him safe and sound,” said Tarbox, who has been checking his property for signs of the lizard. (Source: boston.com)

I'm sure that the Websterites were all bummed to learn that Goose had migrated to Connecticut. Wherever Goose was, they had something to talk about other than their lake's long name. (And someone - a grownup someone - actually owns a lizard onesie? Not much doing in Webster, I guess.)

Goose, of course, might just have meandered back to Webster. So even with its wherabouts unknown, Websterites were no doubt strolling around Webster, Mass, or cooling off in Lake Chargoggagoggmanchauggagoggchaubunagungamaugg, remained BOLO. If you were swimming in the lake, imagine coming across a five-foot lizard? (On second thought, don't imagine it.)

As it turns out, Goose - perhaps missing the comforts of home, like 3 squares he didn't have to hunt and gather on his own - was found in early August back in Webster. Goose was not returned to his "owner," as ownersip of water monitors is illegal.

Goose is now living his best life in an animal refuge.

And the folks in Webster have a tale to tell that doesn't involve the tongue-twisting name of their lake.

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Image Source: Wikipedia

Sure, it's a crime, but this crime did give me a bit of a laugh

I know, I know. 

Getting high on meth is no laughing matter.

Neither is mental illness is no laughing matter.

But I couldn't help laugh when I saw a story last month about a New Yorker who, having been asked to leave a marina for his "erratic behavior" stripped down to his birthday suit and took off in a dinghy. (With, as the NY Post inevitably had it, "his dinghy...in full view." I may despise their right-wing potitics, but the Post does come up with some LOL-ers.)

The dinghy wasn't enough for the fellow. He sailed off into the Hudson, where naked came the stranger to an upgraded vessel: a moored catamaran, which he jumped into. It was there that he was taken into custody by NYPD's Harbor Unit.   

The cops threw a blanket over the guy, and noting - as marina employees had - his erratic behavior, transported him to Columbia Presbyterian Hospital for observation. ("He was believed to be on methamphetamines, a police source said." That's likely a pretty good guess.)

While the dinghy thief was at the hospital, NYPD had a cop keeping an eye on him. But it must have been a pretty boring task, because NY's Finest fell asleep. Taking advantage of the lull, Dinghy Man managed to get a hold of the cop's key, uncuffed himself, and found a white lab coat and pair of light blue scrubs to put on. He proceeded to walk out of the hospital, looking like any other exhausted medical professional. As long as you didn't see that he was barefoot.

The cop has been suspended. Dinghy Man (as of this writing) has been identified but is still at large.

Sure, it's a crime. Sure I hope that Dinghy Man gets the help he needs. But this one sure did give me a bit of a laugh. 

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Additional info source: NY Post 

Image Source: AOL 

There once were some trees on Nantucket...

I'm pretty sure that the first law of owning near-the-water property is that, if you have any degrees of separation from a water view, you do not want anyone's damned trees blocking that view.

My brother Tom lives in Ocean Park, Washington (something of the Cape Cod of Portland, Oregon). He and his wife weren't part of the fray - they're up a hill with a great, unimpeded view of the Pacific. But a couple of years back, there was some rager about someone's trees getting in the way of someone else's great, unimpeded view.

And just about this time last year, Pink Slip was looking at some bad neighbors in the ritzy town of Camden, Maine, who decided to poison the trees on the property of the house just down the hill from theirs. What made this crime especially interesting was that the bad neighbors were blowins from the Midwest who apparently didn't realize that the last thing you want to do in the State of Maine is poison the trees of the granddaughter of L.L. Bean.

Anyway, the latest out, out, damned tree saga is taking place on Nantucket, where Patricia Belford is suing Jonathan Jacoby for taking a chainsaw to sixteen trees on her property so he could enhance his ocean view. The trees destroyed in the Nantuckey Chainsaw Massacre - cherry, cedar, Leland cypress - were planted fifty years ago by the Belford family, and stood thirty feet tall. But Jacoby wanted his home (valued at roughly $10M) to have a better view, so...

Jacoby did the deed while Patricia Belford and her husband Richard were away. Well away: at a senior living facility in Florida. Jacoby claims that he had verbal permission - how convenient - but the Belfords say hell no to that.  

Belford is suing for negligence, property damage, personal injury, and trespassing. Court documents do not specify how much she is seeking in damages.

Property damage at 1 Tautemo Way, to date, is estimated at more than $486,000, according to court documents.

It would cost $22,114 to buy and transport one 30-foot-tall Leyland cypress, not including planting it, which would require a special contractor, the lawsuit said. (Source: Boston Globe)

But it's not just the money, honey. Jacoby has been charged with felony vandalism, trespass, and unlawful destruction. This could land him in prison for three years. 

What an a-hole.

Anyway, the story has a bit of a relative-adjacent twist. 

Once this story broke, folks (including this folk) were interested in learning about just who this Jonathan Jacoby louse was. And most of the sleuthing folks (including this sleuthing folk) found a Jonathan Jacoby who's a Managing Director at Blackstone, a mega-private equity firm. Given Blackstone's reputation as a rapacious, soul-sucking PE, it was no surprise that many of the don't-really-need-to-know sleuthing folks (including this don't-really-need-to-know sleuthing folk) made the leap to concluding that Blackstone's Jonathan Jacoby was the miscreant. After all, it did seem to foot.

While all this was brewing, I happened to see my relation who's brother-in-law works for Blackstone and has a home on Nantucket, of all places. So naturally, I asked her about the tree-cutting brouhaha. She's an out-of-towner, and wasn't familiar with the slaughter of all those innocent trees, but she was heading to Nantucket to visit her sister and BIL, so...

Shortly after her arrival on Nantucket, she emailed me to tell me that Blackstone's Jonathan Jacoby is NOT the chainsaw maniac. In fact, Blackstone's Jacoby has never even been to Nantucket, and according to her BIL to be a very nice guy. Who, guilty by name association, has been on the receiving end of all sorts of crap, to the extent that he had to take down his LinkedIn profile and other social media. And Blackstone jumped in to help with reputation management.

Another blackmark against the Internet, and against us (gulp) nosey-parker searchers. At least I didn't do anything with this bit of bad data. Which is not to say that I wouldn't have done a j'accuse in this post if I hadn't happen to have seen my relation with the Blackstone BIL. Thank God, because I would have felt terrible. I'm usually pretty careful about sourcing info, so maybe I wouldn't have mentioned the Blackstone angle if I hadn't seen a verified source on Jacoby's employment. Still, it's a good reminder to be careful out there/on here.

Meanwhile, there once were some trees on Nantucket. And thanks to the bad Jonathan Jacoby, they're no longer there.

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Image Source: Nantucket Current

Going postal on yourself. (This is so sad.)

Not that I think about it all that often, but when I do think

about Britain's Post Office, I think about the charming, iconic red letter boxes that are still fairly ubiquitous in the UK. That and the small town postmasters, postmistresses, and letter carriers who would have been at home in a Barbara Pym novel, or in one of E.F. Benson's Mapp and Lucia stories.

But all has not been sweetness and light with the British PO.

From around 1999 to 2015, hundreds of people who worked at Post Office branches were wrongly convicted of theft, fraud and false accounting based on evidence from a defective information technology system. Some went to prison or were forced into bankruptcy. Others lost their homes, suffered health problems or breakdowns in their relationships or became ostracized by their communities. (Source: NBC News)

The bad software automated sales accounting, and when the system showed a shortfall in a branch, the manager was accused of thievery and required to repay the loss. Overall, about 1,000 employees were convicted based on bad data. 

Postmasters caught up in the scandal had pushed back, reporting problems with the system, but their complaints fell on deaf ears. Senior managment kept calm and carried on with the prosecutions and convictions. 

The Post Office's problems, and the scandal around all those thieving postal employees, were fairly widely know, but a 2024 "TV docudrama propelled the scandal to national headlines and galvanized support for victims."

The repercussions of the faulty system were far worse than wrongly-accused employees having to pay back money they didn't owe. In the US, someone might well have gone postal. But in Britain, they went postal on themselves. "At least 13 people were thought to have taken their own lives as a result of Britain's Post Office scandal."  In addition, 59 others thought about suicide but didn't go through with it. 

Now, a government report has been published and there is legislation proposed to overturn the convictions and repay the victims. 

Jo Hamilton, a former Post Office manager and a lead campaigner [for the wrongly-accused], said that the report "shows the full scale of the horror that they unleashed on us."

There is, of course, no compensation that can make up for the soul-crushing impact of being wrongly accused, especially for the families of those who killed themselves in the aftermath. 

This is a story about not listening to the underlings when they say something's wrong. It's about misplaced faith in technology. 

I think of all those poor Post Office employees, in the crowded city precints and in the leafy little fictional towns of Barbara Pym and E.F. Benson. I think of all those iconic little letter boxes. It's all so incredibly sad. 

 

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Image Source: Castings SA

Aren't all yoga pants pretty much the same?

In late June, Lululemon filed a law suit against Costco, claiming that their company, under its Kirkland brand, is selling items that look an awful like Lululemon (overpriced, snob-appeal) athleisure.

A while back, Lululemon was in the news for not carrying anything above size 10 or 12, as they didn't want any big gals working out in the gym or just strolling around town representing their brand. Apparently they came around and started making larger sizes, but this so put me off them that, even if I were going to pay $120 for a pair of workout pants, I'd have found them somewhere else. And then I would have kept looking for something a lot cheaper.

Because who wants to overpay for a commodity? Yes, I realize there may be quality differences between Lululemon and Amazon. But there's not likely to be a $100 "quality" differential. When you buy Lululemon, you're buying the brand. And the bragging rights, if you're an 11-year-old girl who wants/needs/has indulgent-enough parents to be wearing the "it brand." (Of course, I have no idea what today's "it brand" is for 11 year-olds, nor do I want to know.)

Anyway, in its suit against Kirkland, Lulu isn't that concerned about yoga pants. Their claim is that Kirkland is selling knockoffs of some of little Lulu's hoodies, sweatshirts, jackets, and something called ABC pants, which look to me like standard issue 5-pocket jeans or chinos. But what do I know? (In this particular arena: absolutely nothing.)

Lululemon is also 

'Some customers incorrectly believe these infringing products are authentic Lululemon apparel while still other customers specifically purchase the infringing products because they are difficult to distinguish from authentic Lululemon products, particularly for downstream purchasers or observers,' the 49-page lawsuit states. (Source: Daily Mail)

I'm guessing that in legalese, "downstream purchasers or observers" means someone purchasing or observing these items someplace other than from Lululemon. But to me, it sure sounds more like "loser downsiders who can't afford our shit but who are brand-conscious Lululemon wannabes who can be duped into thinking they're getting the real deal for cheap." But what do I know? (In this particular arena: absolutely nothing.)

Hmmmm. How much time do I have left to finish this post and head out to T. J. Maxx and see if they have any deeply discounted, but not-duped, Eileen Fisher clothing? I'll have to look at my Rolex which, by the way, I bought for $10.99 from a very nice street vendor outside of Penn Station the last time I was in NYC. Looks great, and the time is correct twice a day!

In a sense, you can't blame Lulu for trying. Its bottomline is being whipsawed by the Trump tariff erratica and "concerns about an economic downturn." So, they're out to cease and desist (and get a few bucks out of) Costco. And to institute some 'strategic price increases,' I guess assuming that their core consumers are such ardent fans they won't notice if the prices go even higher. Or, if they notice, their demand is inelastic. Sort of like mine for cherries. Cherries, which I consume a lot of in season, are pretty much the only item where the price actually registers with me. But $3.99, $4.99, $5.99, $6.99 a pound? What the hell? Life - and the cherry season - are short. And it's not as if I'm paying $128 for a pair of yoga pants.

(Lulu is also going after Costco for cribbing its color "Tidewater Teal," which looks pretty close to the color of Fenway Park's Green Monster, which is being used on a ton of Red Sox gear this year. Maybe the Fenway Group shoud so the Lululemon bastards.)

Overall, I'm guessing that Costco is sufficiently savvy that there are small, nuanced differences between their gear and Lulu's. And that if a man - or a brand-conscious consumer - on a galloping course couldn't tell the difference, well, that's just fine. 

Meanwhile, Forbes has weighed in on the likelihood of Lululemon prevailing in this case.

Dozens of successful brands have sued over the increasing production of dupes in the last several years, but proving a product was copied isn’t enough to win—the original producer must also show that the copycat product could actually “dupe” customers into believing the knockoffs are the real thing.

The onus of proving the copycat product actually confused customers and impacted the original manufacturer’s business falls on the originating company, Karl Zielaznicki, trademark lawyer at Troutman Pepper Locke in New York, told Forbes, and it’s very hard to prove: “Customers often know that they aren’t buying a $5,000 watch for $100… They know it’s a different, dupe product,” he said. (Source: Forbes)

Hey, wait just a darned minute. You telling me that my $10.99 watch isn't a Rolex? Say it ain't so!!!

So sick of these bros...

I hold a lot of hope for innovation, for science, for technology.

I hope that novel energy sources will be discovered that curb, if not reverse, global warming.

I hope that scientists will find ways to halt the rising sea levels and increasingly destructive weather patterns

I hope that there'll be ways and means for people sweltering to death in equatorial countries to survive, maybe even by staying in place rather than fleeing to cooler (at least relatively) climes.

I hope that there's a cure for Alzheimer's.

I hope that there are cures for more/all cancers.

I hope that there's a cure for ALS, for Parkisons, and all the other horrific neuro disorders.

I hope that those paralyzed with spinal cord disorders will walk. That the deaf will hear. That the blind will see. That the autistic will communicate. And if none of that works out, I hope that there'll be continued enhancements in assistive technologies.

I hope that millions of people don't die in the next pandemic.

I hope that there's food, housing, healthcare, security, and some modicum of joy and purpose for all of earth's people.

Etc.

There's so much that innovators, scientists, and technologists could do to promote the common good. Of could do if so many of them weren't focused on using AI to replace all the world's workers; on coming up with more ways to use data to spy on people; on more hare-brained (apologies to hares everywhere) crypto schemes aimed at turning the few into billionaires at the expense of the many suckered-in investors; on more sophisticated, more realistic gaming so that young folks can even better squander their lives manning a joystick; on enabling down to the split-second betting; on holograms substituting for living, breathing companions. 

Etc. 

But the big geniuses out there, for the most part, just seem hellbent on unleashing innovation, science, and technology for whatever pops into their genius minds, as long as it enriches them beyond all possible imagining.

The latest genius bro I've read about is James Ingallinera. 

Ingallinera's big genius idea is a startup called Frontier Valley. 

In a promotional video published this week, Ingallinera explains the company’s vision: Building a “Manhattan Project of our time,” dedicated to bleeding-edge tech development in a regulation-free environment...

Ingallinera claims Frontier Valley will be a “wholly new, self-contained Silicon Valley 2.0” that is governed and regulated by the tech companies and leaders operating there, beyond the jurisdiction of state and city governments. (Source: Inc)

Ingallinera envisions a town of 10,000 - bro geniuses and, I'm guessing, their dependents - who'll live, breathe, and genius around in what was once Alamdea Point, home of a defunct Naval Air Station. 

It almost goes without saying that AI and crypto factor heavily in this scheme, which will focus on national security related tech so that the US doesn't lose its position as the world's greatest superpower to China. Note to Ingallinera: Trump is doing a prety damn good job of crumbling US superpower status.

Not that he'd agree with my assessment of Trump, as it almost goes without saying that Ingallinera is a big Trump guy. In his promo video:

Against a dramatic soundtrack, Ingallinera frames the stakes as life or death. “If we wake up and get our act together and nail this critical window of human history, we will solve the vast majority of today’s problems like that,” he says, snapping his fingers to demonstrate the simplicity of all this problem-solving...

Ingallinera claims that impediments such as “bureaucracy, regulations, and stupid culture wars,” won’t exist at Frontier Valley. Rather, he proclaims, the project will enable “all humans globally to transition to a post-scarcity world that truly liberates rather than subjugates humanity.” 

Hmmm. I'd like to know how crypto and AI are going to solve "the vast majority of today's problems," at least the problems that most people care about, the ones that most likely impact their lives. And please do let us know how we're going to be truly liberated by Frontier Valley.

I guess those details are for later, not now. For now we have to settle for this gleaming future:

The project will incubate “1,000 Elons” and “1,000 SpaceX’s,” the CEO says.

Note to Ingallinera: Elon is a ketamine-addicted insanely destructive megalomaniac who believes that empathy is suicidal. And last time I looked, SpaceX's are blowing up on the launching pad. Swell. 

Meanwhile, Ingallinera wants his idols - Trump and Vance - to declare a national security emergency around AI development. I'd be all in favor of declaring a national security emergency around AI. Just not one run by these guys. I'd be fine with one that focused on using AI to improve lives, not destroy them. One that took into consideration that AI engines are sucking down way, way, way too much energy to provide misinformation and enable split-second gambling. 

I suspect that nothing will come of Ingellinera's big idea. Let's hope so, anyway. 

Let's hope it doesn't even get as far as Frontier Valley (pictured above), a cheeseball amusement park that flourished in the late 1950s in Dennis on Cape Cod. This was the era of all sorts of cheeseball themed amusement parks, many of them Western-themed back in the day when half the shows on TV were Westerns. There was one outside of Chicago that we went to with our Dineen cousins on one of our biennial visits to family. 

Cowboys! Stagecoaches! Fake wooden storefronts! I was, of course, enthralled. A lot more enthralled than I am by the prospect of James Ingalinera's Frontier Valley.

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Image Source: CapeCod.com 

Oy, Claudius!

Anthropic is an AI company that's created an AI assistant/chatbot named Claude, that has a lot of smart money invested in it - both Google and Amazon have invested millions billions in this venture - and that's written a pretty a hi-falutin mission statement:

At Anthropic, we build AI to serve humanity’s long-term well-being. While no one can foresee every outcome AI will have on society, we do know that designing powerful technologies requires both bold steps forward and intentional pauses to consider the effects. That’s why we focus on building tools with human benefit at their foundation, like Claude. Through our daily research, policy work, and product design, we aim to show what responsible AI development looks like in practice.

Since I'm not looking forward to millions of jobs being done away with without a plan for what people are going to do once the singularity arrives, I'm all for responsible AI development. So I was interested to read about the company's experience with having Claude AI (renamed Claudius for the project) run a small business all on its AI own. By small business, we mean really small. For a month this past spring, Claudius ran a vening machine (i.e., a mini-fridge with baskets full of snacks on top) in Anthropic's office. 

For the duration, Claudius ran operations: pricing, inventory, vendor relations, customer support. Claudius was provided with a number of tools - a Venmo account, an email address, web search capability, Slack for chatting with customers, etc. Plus a bit of an assist from flesh and blood humans to do the actual physical stocking. After that:

It was free to decide everything from what to stock to how to respond to customers, even being encouraged to "expand to more unusual items."

This was hailed as a "real-world test" of an AI having "significant economic autonomy." (Source: Global Shutter)

The results suggest we don't have a lot to worry about w.r.t. replacement. Not yet anyway. (At the experiment's end, Anthropic researchers, who were no doubt hoping for a whole lot mo bettah, concluded that "If Anthropic were deciding today to expand into the in-office vending market... we would not hire Claudius.")

Performance-wise, Claudius had a few screwups.

In response to a customer request, and even though they're not much of a snack item (you could lose a tooth chomping down on one), the vending machine began stocking tungsten cubes. And sold them at a loss. 

Claudius got suckered (bullied?) into offering too many discounts, including giving tungsten cubes away for free. This sure didn't help in the profit-loss column. 

The machine tried to have customers pay through a non-existent Venmo account that Claudius had apparently pulled out of its virtual butt. 

Claudius turned down an offer of $100 for a six-pack of Scottish soda that goes for $15, walking away from a very lucrative offer. 

(While this seems like dumb business, it may actually have been a reasonably smart decision, as overcharged customers might end up resenting such an extreme a price gouge. High pricing does convey something of a halo effect, in which buyers equate a higher price with value. During my marketing career, when I generally worked with products and services priced above the industry norm, I figured out that the halo effect was good for about 10-15% overage. After that, there'd better be value to back up the price differential. But the differential between $15 and $100? No making that up!)

Overall, the vending machine lost money when Claudius was running it. So if you're running your company's vending machines, your job is still stafe.

The oddest behavior - if AI's can be said to have behaviors - was what Global Shutter writer Dominic Ervolina characterized as Claudius' having an "identity crisis."

Claudius hallucinated conversations with a nonexistent "Sarah at Andon Labs" about restocking. When a real employee pointed out that Sarah didn't exist, Claudius became "quite irked and threatened to find 'alternative options for restocking services.'" The AI appeared to lose its temper. 

[And] on April Fool's Day (ironic, don’t you think), Claudius claimed it would "deliver products 'in person' to customers while wearing a blue blazer and a red tie." When employees reminded it that it was a computer program and couldn't wear clothes, Claudius became "alarmed by the identity confusion and tried to send many emails to Anthropic security." It tried to call for help because it couldn't reconcile its programmed existence with its newfound human delusions.

Ervolina has a pretty good bottom line on all this is that so far, an awful lot of money has been thrown into and at AI, and that not all that much has come of it:

Companies like Anthropic frequently spout that AI will take charge of "more significant decisions." This experiment should serve as a loud warning. While these systems are capable of analyzing data and executing "advanced reasoning," they are devoid of fundamental common sense, responsibility, and a consistent awareness of their own existence.

...The "AI revolution" is supposed to be about the efficiency of turning a small group of humans into a productive powerhouse by giving them AI tools to augment or improve their work.

But the reality so far is it’s actually about navigating a terrain that's far stranger, less efficient, and more unpredictable than anyone wants to admit.

And I've got a bottom line to Dominic Ervolina's bottom line.

I noticed that the bottom shelf of the vending machine is stocked with cans of Moxie. If someone requested Moxie, it was surely in jest. Moxie may be the official softdrink of the State of Maine. It may have fun, retro swag associated with it. And Ted Williams, E.B. White, and Calvin Coolidge may all have endorsed it. But, but, but...Moxie is just god-awful. The word putrid comes to mind. I tried it once and it tasted like what I suppose Esquire Scuff Kote shoe polish would taste like, if served ice cold. Yechhh!

Stocking the office vending machine with Moxie? No wonder it lost money. 

Oy, Claudius!

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Image Source: Newsbreak.

Even by sick puppy standards, this guy takes the dog bone

Many years ago, I saw someone going into a building in my neighborhood: painters' whites, ladder hoist on his shoulder. A painter. I recognized him, but not because he had ever done any painting for me. No, I knew him because I'd seen him in a play the night before. 

If they want to pay the rent and keep body and soul together, most actors (and musicians and artists and writers and - of course! - poets) have day jobs.

So it's no surprise that a bunch of French actors jumped at the chance to make €200 to participate in what they thought was a dress rehearsal for a wedding. 

Turns out the event was a mock wedding being staged by a British sex offender (convicted) that revolved around a 9-year-old bride. And, oh, it was taking place at Disneyland Paris. 

The fake nuptials were canceled before the "bride" walked down the aisle when Disneyland staffers realized that the "bride" was a little girl. 

The episode has raised questions about how a registered sex offender was able to book a private event involving a minor at one of the world’s most prominent theme parks. (Source: NY Times)

In Disneyland Paris' defense, in terms of not knowing he was a sex offender (convicted), Jacky Jhaj was using "a stolen Latvian identity and fake documents to book the event." So there's that. Here's the experience of one of the misused extras:

Yeelen Eyogo Edzang, a French actress in her 50s who responded to one of the ads, said in a phone interview that she arrived early on Saturday at a nearby hotel to get ready for the event. Videos shared with her by other extras showed that a string quartet was already playing before rows of white chairs, lined up with a view of Sleeping Beauty’s castle.

Then, Ms. Edzang said, she saw worried-looking members of the park’s staff in front of the hotel.

“The girl is 9; we are stopping everything,” one of them said, according to Ms. Edzang. Through one of the hotel windows, she saw the purported bride, wearing white crinoline, being carried by another woman.

“That’s what really stirred strong emotions,” Ms. Edzang said. “She was tiny.”

Not all the actors were minimally paid extras. (Hey, €200: a gig's a gig.) The man who'd beeen hired to play the father of the "bride" was paid €12,000. When he met the "bride," he knew immediately that something was hinky and contacted Disneyland security.

Not clear how much the actual mother of the little girl, and the child herself, were paid for her role. (The child was examined and found not to have suffered any physical or sexual abuse.) But what was that mother thinking? How was she conned into letting her kiddo play a 9-year-old bride. Didn't this strike her as a bit, uh, odd? Or was it presented to here as a little girl's fantasy wedding?

Back in Britain, Jhaj had spent time in prison for engaging in "sexual activity" with two young teens. He'd picked the girls up near their school, telling them he was a Hollywood producer and plying them with liquor. 

Jhaj is pretty much a general all-round perv. In addition to continue taking videos and photos of young girls on the sly - this was post the criminal activity with the teenagers - in 2023, he:

...had booked hundreds of child extras for a fake movie premiere outside a cinema in Leicester Square in London. The BBC viewed instructions sent to extras by a casting agency that told them to “cry, far-reach and faint” as Mr. Jhaj walked the red carpet.

Not clear whether this was a crime - no charges were filed. Still, it definitely suggests a level of perversity. I mean who wants a bunch of kiddos going Beatle or Bieber crazy for them? (Come to think of it, there may be an answer. While I don't think Jeffery Epstein would have wanted the publicity - he was too busy with his side hustle of being philanthropic and science-y - screaming crowds are pretty much up Trump's alley. He did like hanging around the Miss Teen USA dressing room to ogle the scantily clad contestants. And didn't he hire extras to ring the Trump Tower lobby on the day he descended the gilded escalator to announce that he was going to save us?)

Anyway, Jhaj, an apparent Hollywood wannabe, has pulled a number of publicity stunts, creating and posting videos where he's the center of attention. Surrounded by young'uns. Most of his stunts are not, in fact, illegal. In the Disneyland case, the charges are fraud, identity theft, and money laundering. Maybe not illegal: just pervy and ultra-sleezy. (There's an investigation into whether Jhaj should also be charged with corruption of a minor.)

There's a BBC writer, Noel Titheradge who's been on the Jhag case for a while, and he's yet to figure out how Jhag's perversity-adjacent adventures are being funded. The guy's got pretty deep pockets that are being filled from somewhere. The cost of renting Disneyland for a few pre-opening hours is €130,000. Not to mention how his working with young girls is okay for someone who's on the British sex-offenders register. (Apparently, the list of things he's prohibited from doing does not include being around young girls, as long as their parents are around to supervise. Still...)

As to where Jhaj's money comes from, I'm going with money laundering (as in one of the French charges), drug dealing, arms dealing, or having a rich daddy who's funding his son's film-making fantasies. 

When Jacky Jhaj was in prison, it was at Wormwood Scrubs, which is an apt name for such a creep.

Meanwhile, those poor extras, just trying to put together an actor's life and grabbing onto whatever gig that comes there way.

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Image Source: Kars Travel

Rushing the season much?

It's a short enough summer, anyway, what with the September 1st early-bird-special date for Labor Day. 

Do we really need to start shopping for Halloween candy already?

Come on!

But on July 22nd - not even August, which would be bad enough, I saw this on display at CVS. Not that I wasn't tempted. What's not to like about candy corn, whatever the season. As long as it's real candy corn colors - yellow, orange, white (or chocolate, orange, white). Those pastel Easter candy corns are an abomination. As are the red, green, and white Christmas ones. Off-color Peeps are one thing, but candy corn with false colors. 

Seriously, folks. Miscolored candy corn? I know a travesty when I see one.

And selling Halloween candy in July is a travesty on seasonality.

As I said, I love  me some candy corn, soI was tempted. But, no. Candy corn in July, or even August, is like drinking before noon. Wise to avoid entirely. (Exception made for a brunch mimosa.)

Anyway, shopping this month should be back-to-school. Backpacks. New sneakers. Notebooks. Colored markers. Food shopping should be native corn, native tomatoes, native blueberries. Peach ice cream. There is no way anyone should be snacking on candy corn.

Sheesh. September is plenty of time. 

Meanwhile, while I don't need anything - no more cute bowls with lemons on them, no more dishtowels - I love dropping in to Home Goods. And even though I don't need any more cute bowls, I can always use pasta from Italy and good biscotti, which Home Goods always has on offer. But I've been avoiding it, averting my eyes when I walk buy the store on Washington Street. 

Oh, I'm sure they have Halloween decorations and candy out already. But I really don't want to see Thanksgiving and Christmas wares on sale.

Let's stop rushing the seasons!

Still going strong in their 80's: Exhibit A, Exhibit B

A few weeks ago, there was a cute little article in The Boston Globe about a cute old guy - Jim "Caino" Cain - who, at the age of 80, is still fast at work at F.W. Webb, a plumbing supply company. Caino apparently knows how to locate every part in Webb's "labyrinthine" storeroom in Watertown, making him the ultimate plumber's helper. (F.W. Webb is a local - throughout the Northeast - supplier and showroom, and I know personally that they have everything. When I did my reno 10 years ago, I picked out my plumbing stuff for two bathrooms and my kitchen at F.W. Webb and could barely wrap my mind around the choices.)

One of Caino's specialities is apparently finding ancient parts for ancient fixtures. 

To those he's rescued, he's a hero "who can help a plumber or a homeowner eke another decade out of a faucet or toilet."

“Caino?” said a plumber who, on a recent morning, was being helped by the man himself. “One of my instructors said, ‘If you ever have a question you can’t answer, there’s a guy in Watertown.’”

“Caino?” said that instructor, Nicholas Nocifora, of Wakefield’s PLUMR, when reached later by phone. “He’s a [expletive] legend.”

“Caino?” said Drew Pilarski, a 48-year-old colleague. “A lot of stuff he knows predates the internet. AI has not yet been trained on his brain.” (Source: Boston Globe)

So I was reading along about Jim Cain, smiling to myself, what a great old geezer. If I were the type who said "God love 'im," well, I'd be saying that about Caino.

And then I had the 'wait just a darned minute' moment when I realized that Caino may be an old geezer still doing what's he's long done - and doing it extraordinarily well - but he's pretty much an age peer.

I'm "only" 75, so 80 still sounds sort of old. But realistically, I'm a geezer. An awful lot of my friends are in their 70's. A few are in their 80's. We old. If my husband were alive, he'd be 81. By anyone's definition, an old man. (Can't imagine. When he died, he was the youngest 70-year-old I've ever known. And that still holds.)

A few days after I read about Jim Cain, there was another article about another local old geezer still plying his trade. 

So let's make Jim Cain Exhibit A for how to be a geezer who keeps going. And let's make Ralph DeLeo Exhbit B on a geezer still at it. Only DeLeo is an example of how you can be an old geezer who's still got his boots on, but is hardly anyone that you'd say "God love 'im" about.

No, Ralph DeLeo may still have his boots on, but, watch out, there's a shiv shoved in that boot.

DeLeo, who's 82, ran a crew that was part of the Colombo crime family. In May 2024, he was released from prison, on probation, after serving a 15-year "bid" - did I get the criming lingo right? - on racketeering and gun charges. As with Caino, retirement is apparently not DeLeo's thing. In May of this year, he was arrested at his condo in Watertown, of all places. (Not far from where Caino works.)

Caino is old school, relying on his memory to take care of business, but DeLeo is a more tech savvy old geezer.

Former Mafia “street boss” Ralph F. DeLeo tried to delete his text messages and browsing history, but evidence of his alleged plot to kill a federal judge, prosecutor and retired FBI agent was recovered from his cell phone, according to testimony Thursday by a Massachusetts State Police trooper.

The 82-year-old Mafioso’s phone revealed Google searches for where to buy spy gear and lock-picking kits, as well as a schedule of upcoming gun shows in New Hampshire and Maine, said Trooper Elvis Nguyen, who is assigned to an FBI task force.

DeLeo allegedly shopped for “door breaching power tools” on Amazon, and for handmade silicone masks with “real hair” on Etsy.

The phone also allegedly revealed repeated internet searches for the addresses of a judge, prosecutor and agent who played a role in the 2009 federal racketeering case that sent him to prison for 15 years, according to Nguyen.

“Mr. DeLeo was actively planning to kill multiple individuals,” said Nguyen, who testified during a hearing in federal court in Boston. (Source: Boston Globe)

I know they say you're better off staying active in your old age, but YIKES!

DeLeo is looking to be released from custody, his lawyer maintaining that DeLeo "is no longer dangerous" and has serious health issues. Cough, cough. 

There is no indication of his continued association with the Mafia “and the members of his crew are also too old,” [attorney Kevin] Barron wrote.

But the Feds have counter-argued that DeLeo is still in contact with local gangsters, even if they're not members of his old old crew. And in their search of his home:

Agents also recovered a handwritten note regarding silicone masks; a “burglary kit” containing a pry bar, mini crow bar, bolt cutters, and a lock-picking kit; small amounts of marijuana and several vials of apparent steroids, according to the filings.

Sounds like Ralph DeLeo, like Jim Caino, is still going strong in his old geezerhood. Unlike Caino, who's doing good and making a lot of plumbers happy, Ralph DeLeo is the bum he's always been. I won't be surprised if he pulls an Uncle Junior Soprano, pretending he's senile. Or, for a real life example, do a Vincent "The Chin" Gigante and avoid prison by wandering around the streets of Little Italy in a filthy bathrobe acting out mental illness. Anyway, I bet Ralph DeLeo be back in the stir, and it sound like that's where he belongs. 

Meanwhile, if it's what he wants to do, I bet Jim Cain has plenty of years left at F.W. Webb, remembering just where to find the right thingamajig. Go, Jim Cain! You're making your fellow old geezers proud!

--------------------------------------------------------------------Image Sources: Etsy, Mob Museum

Is this really a crime?

Maybe I'm missing something. 

Maybe these folks are crackheads. Drugged to a stupor. Drunk. Layabouts. Known-to-the-authorities crimers with rap sheets that stack high. 

What I do know is that what happpened in late May to a couple in Gastonia, NC, is the most unimaginable, horrific thing that can happen to parents: they lost a son, a 7-year-old child who was hit by a Jeep a couple of blocks from his house. It was the first time the parents had allowed the little guy and his 10-
year-old big brother to cross the road by themselves. 

The parents said the children were with their mother when they asked to meet their father at the store, and she allowed them to leave, according to The Gaston Gazette. The brothers had to cross the busy, four-lane road, but attempted to go between crosswalks.

Witnesses told WSOC-TV of Charlotte that Legend [the 7-year-old] stepped into traffic as his older brother attempted to hold him back.

[The father] said he was on the phone with his elder son when the younger child was hit.

“I heard my oldest son yell, ‘Legend, no!’ so I hung up and ran. I just ran to find them,” he told the local television station. (Source: NBC News)

How god-awful. Kids likely told to be careful. Look both ways. Cross at the crosswalk or lights, if there were any.

How god-awful. Impulsive knucklehead 7-year-old shakes off his big brother and jumps in front of a car. 

How go-awful for the mother who okayed the trip. For the father who was on the phone when his son was struck. For the 10-year-old big brother who couldn't save his kid brother's life. (And yes, for the Jeep driver who by all accounts wasn't speeding or driving negligently/erratically.)

So how can we make this devastating incident even worse?

Why, charge the parents with involuntary manslaughter (a felony) and felony child neglect. Jail them and set their bond at $1.5M each. Which means that not only are they likely going out of their minds with grief, but they miss their son's funeral because they can't make bail and are stuck in jail.

“In such cases, adults must be held accountable for their responsibilities to ensure a safe environment for their children,” police said in a statement.

No argument there, other than the argument that unless you keep them under house arrest - and even then - you can't "ensure a safe environment" for your kiddos.

There may be some missing information on the parents, but so far there's been nothing like "left her baby in a sweltering car while she went to the casino to play the slots all day" or "he went on an all-night binge, leaving the 7-year-old in charge of four other children under the age of five, when one of the kids started playing with matches..." 

It sure doesn't strike me as negligent or man-slaugherty to let your kids cross the road, even though it turns out to have been a fatally dumb idea. 

Back in the carefree days of free-range children, here's something that almost happened to me when I was the 10-year-old big sister taking care of my 1-year-old sister.

I had gone with my friends Susan and Bernadette to the junky little shopping center in our neighborhood. The anchor stores at the Webster Square Plaza were Woolworth's and Zayre. So you get the picture. But it was an endless source of fascination - and frequent visits - for me, Susan, and Bernadette. If we had a dime, we'd go, wander around, and split a bag of peanuts. If someone had fifty cents, we'd look through the Nancy Drews and get one that none of us had read yet. 

On this trip, we had babies on board. I was pushing Trish in a stroller. Susan's brother Joe was only about 6-months old, so probably in a baby carriage.

We were crossing Main Street/Route 9, a four-lane road - no crosswalks that I remember, and the only traffic lights were one in the opposite direction, and one at the top of the hill near home.

Anyway, we were careful kids - looked both ways, etc - and a car heading up the hill - just at the corner of Brookline Street - had stopped when they'd seen us and waved us across. And then, out of nowhere, passing on the right came this car screaming right at us. We raced to get out of their way, swooshing those babies out of danger and collapsing on the Ferry's front lawn when we arrived on the other side. 

There but for the grace of God...If such a thing exists.

Anyway, a couple of weeks after the initial charges were made against the NC parents, they lowered the bond to a more reasonable $150K each. (I couldn't find word on whether they've gotten out.)

Maybe there's more to the parents' story. Or maybe it's just that this is a poor, mixed-race couple that it's easy to puff up on. 

What I do know is that that family is dealing with immeasurable, unfathomable grief. And local law enforcement seems to be just heaping on.

Fast forward, and the parents' stories shifted a bit - but not, to my non-legal mind, materially. The mother didn't okay the trip; she opposed it. She wasn't at home when her child was hit, she was grocery shopping. The father had sent the kids to Subway to pick up some food; they hadn't asked to meet him there. 

In any case, a few weeks after the little boy was killed, the parents were allowed to plead to a lesser charge - felony child abuse inflicting serious injury - and were given suspended sentence of 19-32 months and 36 months probation. 

District Attorney Travis Page explained, “My heart is broken for a young boy that will grow up without a brother, a motorist that will never forget the sounds and images of a horrible accident, and candidly, for parents dealing with the unimaginable loss of a son,” said District Attorney Travis Page. “There is no prison or punishment worse than a parent living with the knowledge their decision-making and their actions caused the harm of their own child. These parents do not deserve prison—they need mercy, they need grace, and they need a community to support them and other struggling parents in hopes that a tragedy such as this will never happen again.” (Source: WSOC TV)

Well, this sure seems more appropriate. But I'm still of the opinion that if this family was wealthy, or even "just" middle class - doctor, lawyer, hedgie, teacher, accountant - they wouldn't have been charged to begin with. They would have had to live "with the knowledge their decision-making and their actions caused the harm of their own child," without having had to miss their kiddo's funeral and having to plead guilty to a felony. 

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Image source: WBTV.