Thursday, May 24, 2018


I could never have afforded to do so much for so few, if so few had not done nothing for me.

I just gave a butt-tonne of money to someone I don't even know, and will probably never meet. And it feels good.

I left Gothic in a panic state more profound, and painful than I can ever adequately express. I was a drowning person in the land of the deaf and blind. I don't fear bears, or monsters in the dark. I fear puritans. Puritans will burn you at the stake in broad daylight, and no one will come to your aid lest they also be marked. My exit from Gothic was a devastating, permanently scaring, horrible experience. I left Gothic because I could no longer endure the constant, brutal antagonism and harassment of Ira Jackson, who acted against me under the complete protection of Executive Director Ian Billick. 

Ian, actually, could have fired me at any time for any reason, or no reason. That is his right. That's what 'at will' employment means. 

What he could not do was to sick his pit bull on me until I ran for my life. That is illegal. Being harassed until one is compelled to leave one's job is illegal, no matter any offense. At the very least it is unjust, unfair, wrong, immoral, awful and unbefitting the dignity of the lab.

Someday Ian Billick and Ira Jackson will be little more than ancillary footnotes printed at the bottom of the page in the life of the lab. And so will I. 

I am pointedly not giving money to anyone in my past. I give it to an as yet unknown person in the future. 

But the past is still doing the choosing. 

Fine. Pick a good one.

Monday, January 1, 2018


I thought the winter people might like to try out a new kind of axe. I hope it works well.