WV1K: Outages: A Shelter Macaroni writes a letter to the Hartford Courant Editor

Thursday, November 03, 2011

Outages: A Shelter Macaroni writes a letter to the Hartford Courant Editor

Inspired by a letter to the Editor of the Hartford Courant. You'll find it here.

We were in the dark here because of the storm. I tripped a dozen times, scuffing my loafers in the process, before we resigned our small tribe to shelter life.

Summer camp at Rangeley it is not.

This is so hard for me, because I can't run my Cuisinart regularly to self lubricate, my networked home theater doesn't work and may have been disabled by a surge, thus I'm going through jazz withdrawl.

My wife's hair is now frizzy beyond compare and I fear there may be damage to her already delicate ends.

I had to throw away our very best Brie as well as our delicate meats. Indeed, I'm most concerned that if I'm not at the outlet at the moment of power restoration, our newest stainless Sub Zero will be damaged.

I did ask the CL&P CEO's office to text me advance warning, however. There is some hope of civility in these matters.

My oldest Château Lafite Rothschild is no doubt sweating in its unsupervised state and without access to my remote weather station in the humidor as well, I fear my five boxes of Black Dragons have seen better days.

Upon arrival we were met by an "amateur radio operator" towing several handheld radios and wearing a bile colored reflective vest who directed us to park next to a 1995 Ford something or other. I stated my preference to find another parking buddy, but he insisted and I so hated to upset this man's holiday season so early.

For the past few days in the stead of Lavender hand cremes from Crabtree and Evelyn, I've been forced to use that reddish goop in the high school shelter lavatory.

There aren't even real hand towels, as they provide only a hand dryer powered by a smaller version of an engine I simulated at UTC while pursuing my dual MBA / MS degrees. It blows air so vigorously that it flattens out our thin skin while cracking and ultimately bruising it as it dries out.

And, oh my God. I've actually had to wear the same unwashed shirt from Brooks Brothers twice in the last week simply to keep up some semblance of gentility as I begin to rotate through the collection.

I told the chef at the shelter that while I enjoyed the lobster he diligently prepared, that henceforth I require freshly ground pepper for my red meats and pastas to which he sternly replied "go back to prep school." How assuming.

Children at the shelter have discovered that there is a large tree stump to kick in by the rear entrance.

Our youngest boy was struck in the shin by flying pieces of sharp bark.

After that near horror, we attempted to book an emergency cruise to the Med. Failing that, we instead resigned to the cottage on the Cape. There, we ordered a new natural gas generator to be installed in the main home in the Connecticut hills as soon as it can be built and delivered.

It can't come soon enough.

Shelter life is so gauche.

SPQR

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O puer, qui omnia nomini debes

This blog is written in the unvarnished truth by an Ottaviano. That's Octavianus, Octavian, Octavius, Octavia, Octavii... some intel nit wit keeps editing the commonly used Wikipedia as Google and Youtube delinks Ottaviano and Octavianus, etc, out of their abject fear of real history. Now they've shoved Cardinal Ottaviani who worked with the OSS and Martin S. Quigley to the back of the searches too. Their goal is to throw off any casual looker seeking to confirm this. It's not the politically correct nonsense of a Globalist publishing house with a post-WWII agenda of anti-Roman, anti-Italian, and anti-Goyim lies.

I graduated Phi Beta Kappa with Honors in History from Trinity College and needed only a second thesis or exam to get the B.A. in Political Science or International Relations. I was oddly told that they were "redundant" even though many now get both. I then refused to become a sock puppet like others are, and was maimed on purpose to a near heart transplant, nerve damage, and internal bleeding by a bunch of Globalist government paranoids acting through Merck. Their Germanic and Jewish ancestors rioted against my family in Rome with this purpose, assassinated lawful Emperors and defiled the Mausoleum of Augustus in Rome. Stop believing what you were conditioned to think out of post WWII guilt. Nero didn't burn Rome; the fiddle they now say he played wasn't invented until the 16th century, and Nero was assassinated by their ancestors ending our rule. An unlawful coup took hold in 476 and continues unchallenged.

After all of that, on 31 May 2008, my 62 year old father dropped dead in front of me as two fighters hundreds of miles from their base flew over. Connecticut politicians Richard Blumenthal, Joe Courtney and my father's student Susan Bysiewicz held up both the ambulance and AED which should have been 1000 feet away for their own paranoid protection. That left my mother with $62 a month and no pension. You bet it was retaliation by the people who maimed me that I now attack, but hadn't uttered a word about until after that.

I'm also a ham radio operator, but most of the new hams are incompetent un-opinionated fake emergency responder mush mouths since they dropped the IQ test.

Benjamin Disraeli

"There is in Italy a power which we seldom mention in this House ... I mean the secret societies.... It is useless to deny, because it is impossible to conceal, that a great part of Europe--the whole of Italy and France and a great portion of Germany, to say nothing of other countries--is covered with a network of these secret societies, just as the superficies of the earth is now being covered with railroads. And what are their objects? They do not attempt to conceal them. They do not want constitutional government; they do not want ameliorated institutions ... they want to change the tenure of land, to drive out the present owners of the soil and to put an end to ecclesiastical establishments. Some of them may go further...."

in the House of Commons, July 14, 1856

Nicolo Machiavelli

"Upon this a question arises: whether it be better to be loved than feared or feared than loved? It may be answered that one should wish to be both, but, because it is difficult to unite them in one person, is much safer to be feared than loved, when, of the two, either must be dispensed with. Because this is to be asserted in general of men, that they are ungrateful, fickle, false, cowardly, covetous, and as long as you succeed they are yours entirely; they will offer you their blood, property, life and children, as is said above, when the need is far distant; but when it approaches they turn against you."

John Locke

"but where no such appeal is, as in the state of nature, for want of positive laws, and judges with authority to appeal to, the state of war once begun, continues, with a right to the innocent party to destroy the other whenever he can, until the aggressor offers peace, and desires reconciliation on such terms as may repair any wrongs he has already done, and secure the innocent for the future; nay, where an appeal to the law, and constituted judges, lies open, but the remedy is denied by a manifest perverting of justice, and a barefaced wresting of the laws to protect or indemnify the violence or injuries of some men, or party of men, there it is hard to imagine any thing but a state of war: for wherever violence is used, and injury done, though by hands appointed to administer justice, it is still violence and injury, however coloured with the name, pretences, or forms of law, the end whereof being to protect and redress the innocent, by an unbiassed application of it, to all who are under it; wherever that is not bona fide done, war is made upon the sufferers, who having no appeal on earth to right them, they are left to the only remedy in such cases, an appeal to heaven."

The "innovative" electric car

MR. MAXIM," asked New Haven Carriage-Maker William Hooker Atwood in 1896, "do you want this carriage to look like a Western buggy-maker's job or do you want it to be a gentleman's carriage?" Answered Hiram Percy Maxim, builder of the Mark I Electric Phaeton: "Like a gentleman's carriage, Mr. Atwood." For almost half a century, the U.S. automobile was indeed a "gentleman's carriage," built for men and bought on the basis of its mechanical excellence, not its sculptured lines or pleasing colors.