Showing posts with label a horse in a hospital. Show all posts
Showing posts with label a horse in a hospital. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 30, 2020

Orange is the new orange

Still no Internet. Sigh.

News blues…

Reading the news on my cell phone is better than not reading the (US) news at all. None of it is good for POTUS Trump, or the Trumpettes (Ivanka could go to jail? OMG! ), Lindsay Graham, Moscow Mitch, etc., all staring into the abyss that is The Donald.
One good thing: Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez – “AOC” – slapped back at those who had a field day squawking about her $250 hairdo. Turns out Trump spent $70,000 (ZAR 1.23 million) in one year for his hairdos.  I wonder how much it’ll cost The Donald to find a hair color that matches the orange jail jumpsuit he’ll be wearing after he’s sentenced for tax fraud? 
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Comedian John Mulaney , not usually a political funnyman, elegantly delving into politics with a light hand. A horse in a hospital.
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News viewers who have the luxury of seeing news inside and outside the United States know that that mainstream US news presented to mainstream US audiences is palpably different to the same news presented in, say, the UK, or Europe. That is, the fact are similar, but the manner in which it’s presented in different countries is markedly different. Moreover, the same news outlets frequently presents the news differently. Take CNN, for example. CNN in the US is far gentler – less pointed, more flattering - than CNN in UK. More importantly, CNN UK delves deeper and offers more nuance that the US outlet.
CNN UK also covers a far wider range of news. CNN US covers US news… unless the US is waging war on another country, then that other country is mentioned as a foe.
Fair and balanced?
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The Lincoln Project Whispers II  (0:54 mins)

Meanwhile, back at the ranch…

Before meeting a friend at a local café today, I accessed the café’s Internet, responding to business emails and glancing at the news.
Having only brief internet connection for someone with my level of regular use is frustrating. At a café, it is more so as access is limited to the goodwill of the café’s manager.
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After loading years-worth of rubbish into my elderly mother’s elderly China-manufactured Chana pick up, the gardener accompanied me to the local municipal refuse dump. Unlike in California, dumping rubbish in designated spots in KZN is free. KZN’s designated fills frequently were once pretty valleys easily filled with garbage of all sorts.
People work hard at dumps, and few are actually hired and paid to work there. Most workers are freelancers known as rag pickers, people who pick up rags and other waste material from the streets, refuse heaps, etc., for a livelihood. 
Rag picking is a hard way to earn a living anywhere. It is particularly hard at a dump site. It’s easier and there is less competition rag picking in neighborhoods before the municipal refuse trucks arrive to haul away trash. Working solo or with a companion or two, a neighborhood rag picker sorts through bagged household trash and takes anything worth saleable. (Naturally, no one ever takes plastic bags or torn or broken plastic items. Those things eventually end up in the ocean.) Rag pickers at dump sites compete mercilessly to grab discards as they arrive, frequently pulling discards before the delivery vehicle stops. 

I threaded the lightweight Chana uphill through inches-deep mud, following the site manager’s hand signals, dreading the moment the Chana bogged down in mud and avoiding driving into rag pickers already digging through our load.
Unloading wsa fast and efficient as rag pickers examined each item. Who knows what recyclable treasures await? Something could mean the difference between eating and not eating at the end of the day.