And now you know

Ever wonder where the strange names for groups of animals came from? Wonder no more, through the commentariat at Althouse:

From a book I enjoyed as a kid and still browse sometimes called Why Things Are by Joel Achenbach:

Why Are There So Many Bizarre Names For A Collection Of Animals…?

Our favorite is a parliament of owls, because you can imagine them in powdered wigs. According to James Lipton, author of An Exaltation of Larks, the English nobility had nothing better to do in the fifteenth century than sit around and think up funny names for groups of animals. This was called the venereal game, after the word venery, an archaic term for hunting. Terms became widely circulated by word of mouth, then established though the publication of books of courtesy, which instructed a gentleman how to behave in proper society and among other things use the right name for a bunch of foxes (“skulk”).

Many of the terms are conspicuously cute like a cowardice of curs or a murder of crows. Others sound cuter than they are meant to be; a school of fish is a corruption of shoal of fish, which is an appropriate image. Some others: A hover of trout, a husk of hares, a labor of moles, an unkindness of ravens, a murmuration of starlings, a knot of toads, a gang of elk, a fall of woodcocks, a rafter of turkeys, a kindle of kittens, a pitying of woodcocks, a crash of rhinos, a congregation of plovers, and a bevy of roebucks.

Thar’ ye go….

A blunt truth, which few will like

Those one or two who read the words I write here may have noted that, since the election (excepting, of course, my sad preoccupation with the travesty of Benghazi) I have done relatively little opinionatin’ about things political.

This is deliberate. This comes from a sad realization that, closely as I hold them, my guiding principles are far out of tune with those of the majority of my fellow-travelers. There very group I worry so much about- our children- have voted, and gotten what they wanted. Look at the demographics of the vote and you’ll see what I mean. The Nanny State is what we want and we’re going to get it good and hard.

Allow me to quote from someone much more well-spoken than I am- he writes a blog called Unqualified Reservations and can be quite brutal in his analysis:

Dear conservatives, I have a question for you.  Suppose God appeared to you in your sleep, and gave you a choice.  You could lose your country, but keep your institutions and constitutions.  Or, you could lose your institutions and constitutions, but keep your country.  Which would you choose?

But I don’t have to choose, you say!  Au contraire, mon frere!  I will save my country, by saving her institutions and constitutions!  Which are the best in history ever!  Look at all this corn and bacon!  Dear conservatives, this is just your way of cursing God.  Do you think he doesn’t have enough fools and drunks to look after?

Do you know what terrifies me?  What terrifies me is that not only do I not think America deserves Mitt Romney, I don’t even think America deserves Barack Obama.  After all, a couple of centuries of diligent looking-after has run us up quite a tab with God.  A tab that will be paid or punished.  What terrifies me is that while I see no collective interest in paying the tab, it doesn’t seem to me that the punishment has even begun to begin.  Barack Obama isn’t exactly Robespierre, you know.  “Capable” might be going too far, but “basically decent” isn’t that much of a stretch.

What terrified me about Mitt Romney is that four years, eight years, of Romney would have been pure borrowed time.  There was not even the slightest intention to pay the tab.  Your intention, dear conservatives, was to sleep and be merry.  Your debt is already terrifying.  Fall on your knees, dear conservatives, and thank God from the bottom of your heart that you didn’t put another decade on it.

I want to believe he’s wrong- surely we aren’t that far down the road- but to read the news with open eyes is to be convinced otherwise. Study some history with your preconceptions thrown aside- look at the rise and fall of nations- and see if some sobering parallels with other once-great nations don’t become apparent.

When the boot comes down over the next two or three decades, remember you grew up in the Golden Age. That memory will be all that is left.

The parable of the Boiled Frog will be something to keep in mind.

Me? I’ll be going to ground as far as I can. I’ll be gone soon and won’t have to see it through to the end. Thank goodness.

Christmas snow

Sometimes I see pictures like this and think, “Man, how cool would it be to live there to see that? “

(click=embiggen)

Then I go lay down until the feeling passes, and remember this is where I live…

Snowing in Minnesota, 70 degrees here. Decisions, decisions…

Winter pic via Lileks