Steven Harper's Blog

Okay, amateur pundits, you need to stop with this one.

Whenever the government closes down, the amateur pundits trot out, "Congress should have their pay suspended. That'll make them pass a budget!", as if this idea were innovative or clever.

Please stop.

First, it's never, ever going to happen. Congress would have to pass a law requiring it, and they simply won't. End of story. So there's no point in pushing the idea.

Second, amateur pundits have been trotting this idea out for decades. It's neither innovative nor clever. In fact, we're tired of hearing about it.

Third, the vast majority of Congress wouldn't miss a couple-three paychecks anyway. The threat of withholding funds from them isn't a threat.

So please stop with this one. It's a waste.

 

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 Hey, folks! Lately there's been a blizzard of supposedly true inspirational stories on FB. You've seen them. A school librarian started a fund for kids who couldn't afford lunch and one of the kids was so boosted, she went on to become a children's oncologist, who credits the librarian for every life she saves, or a woman talks to a homeless man, finds out he had almost finished his degree in engineering but had to drop out because his kitten died, so the woman helps the man finish college, and now the homeless guy has a solid job and a wife and three kids and another kitten.

THESE ARE FAKE. FAKE FAKE FAKE. They're written by AI, and they're as fake as Republican thoughts and prayers.

You can tell if you look closely. There's always a lack of specific detail. The people have only a first name, or no name at all. No town, no city, no state is mentioned. And if you input the few details the story has into a search engine, you come up with nothing, even though these stories are something any news agency would leap on if they were real.

These stories are nasty-minded virtue-signaling. They create implausible, even impossible, scenarios and present them as true to send a holier-than-thou message. They remind me of those fake folded $50 bills some people leave as tips, where you open the bill and discover it's just a religious tract with some snotty "the real tip is in Christ" message or something.

They also cheapen REAL inspirational events. The flood of fake stories stampedes over the real ones, and we miss true inspirational stories as a result.

If you still aren't sure a story is real, go here: https://app.gptzero.me/

It's an AI detector. Paste a bunch of text into it, and it'll tell you how likely the text was AI generated, or even if it was human generated but edited by AI. You can also try https://quillbot.com/ai-content-detector and https://writehuman.ai/ai-detector . I used these when I was teaching to prove an AI wrote student work.

Please don't post these stories. Or at least check for AI before posting them. We're begging you.


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 There's a growing ... movement in the LGBTQ community to separate from the TQ+ part and focus solely on the LGB part. Since there's no central LGBTQ headquarters or president or anything, this would be mostly a social thing, though I suppose activist organizations would have to decide if they'd go with the LGB people or the TQ people.

I have opinions. On the one hand, being trans is indeed unrelated to sexual orientation. You can be assigned male at birth but know you're female and also be attracted to women. In other words, there are gay men who also are trans, and lesbian women who are also trans. And there are trans men who are attracted to women, and trans women who are attracted to men. So why, the reasoning goes, should men who are attracted to women be part of the gay community? They aren't gay. Women who are attracted to men aren't gay, either.

More reasoning goes that lumping trans folk in with LGB folk confuses straight folk. A shockingly large number of straight people believe that 1) gay men want to be women; 2) lesbian women want to be men; and 3) a transgender person is gay or lesbian. Separating the groups would help with this problem.

However, the real reason, I think, is fear. Not fear of trans people. Fear of right wing nutjobs. The current administration has put a target on the back of every trans person in the country. It not-so-subtly encourages violence against trans people, who already experience one of the highest rates of violence in the world. Several states have also passed anti-trans laws. LGB folk may be afraid that they're next. By distancing themselves from the TQ community, the LGB community can avoid collateral damage.

Also, more people are becoming accepting of LGB folk than they are of TQ folk. The thinking goes that the TQ folk are holding back more acceptance of LGB folk. ("I can handle that you're a lesbian. At least you aren't one of those transgenders!")

I find this thinking invalid.

In my experience, anyone the right wing perceives as as not-straight by is in danger, and it doesn't matter to the RWs if a person is L, G, B, or T. What matters is that they're different, and fine shades of meaning are unimportant. When the RWs are aiming real or metaphorical bricks, they don't ask if their targets are gay, trans, or lesbian first. They just throw the brick. But this is just my experience (after spending more than 50 years as a G).

Also, trans folk are a tiny, tiny sub-group. The trans population in the USA is about .08%. A group that tiny doesn't have many resources to fight bullies and oppressors, even if you add in their families, friends, and allies. The LGB community is a larger group of about 2.38%, and that's a conservative estimate. It's probably closer to 5%. Although this group is still small, it has way more resources and allies than just the TQs. It would be a lack of compassion to deny TQ folk those resources now after being part of the group for so long.

And even when trans folk aren't gay, they go through most of the life experiences LGB folk do. These include having feelings as a child that you don't understand or know what to do with; going through life without role models; having a secret that could get you kicked out of your home, family, or job; and living in a society that actively discourages you from being who you are. These shared experiences bind us together. All of us.

I looked at a Facebook group that's dedicated to splitting LGBTQ into the two groups. I wanted to see what they were saying and what their arguments were. But when I got to the questions they ask before you join, I saw that the group is actually anti-trans. I opted not to join.

So, no, I don't support splitting up the group. We're LGBTQ+, and we're proud of every one of us.

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 The indictment of James Comey is reprehensible and a clear violation of a whole pile of laws and regulations. The baboon telling a prosecutor to find something, anything, to charge a person with is exactly what he accuses Democrats of doing when he whines that they're "weaponizing" the DoJ. The charges won't go anywhere, but Comey has to go through a lot of expense and stress to defend himself.

That said, James Comey is one of the biggest reasons that he is (and we are) where we are. So my sympathy for him is limited.

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 When did "perfect" replace "great"? I noticed a couple-three years ago that more and more often, people respond with "perfect" when they get the answer to a question, as in:SERVER: And what would like to drink?CUSTOMER: Coffee, please.SERVER: Perfect.orEMPLOYEE: Did you read the report I turned in?BOSS: It's next on my to-do list.EMPLOYEE: Perfect.People used to say "great" or "okay" or "that's fine." Now it's "perfect."I'm not saying it's a bad thing. It's just that this new facet of American English snuck in without a lot of fanfare. Unlike most slang or idioms, it looks like this one's planning to stick around for a while, and I'm curious about how it started.

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My bike is heavy. It's a solid mountain bike made to pound down rocky trails and chew up grizzly bears for breakfast. It's also big. The frame is several inches larger than standard. I ordered it special because I'm tall and I don't like hunching over my handlebars. The weight makes it difficult to transport my bike. I have one of those bike racks that consists of two rods that stick out parallel to the ground. You lift the bike, slide the frame over/through the rods and strap the bike down. It's tricky because you also have to hold the bike so it doesn't touch the rods until it's gone all the way to the back of the rack. Holding my heavy bike clear of the rods takes some work.

I'm also lifting weights again. I originally started back before my shoulder surgery in an attempt to strengthen my joints and avoid said surgery. It didn't work, though I did get some decent muscle. After the surgery, I couldn't lift anything and I lost the muscle mass I'd gained. Once it was "safe" for me to start up again, more kidney stones hit the fan and I was dealing with all the crap from the clinics. As a result, I fell into a difficult depression. I left the weights alone, though I did keep up with my running. After a while, not lifting became a habit. I had a long commute to work that ate up a lot of my day, you see, and I'd have to drive to the gym, and lifting is not fun, and ... and ... and ...

When I made the decision to retire, I also decided that I would start lifting again. No excuses--I'd certainly have the time. The school year ended, along with my career, and I went back to the gym. I was starting to get some results when the retirement cruise started up, and I worried that I'd lose what I'd gained. Turned out the ship's fitness center had pretty much the same machines as my gym, so I kept it up. Every other day, I work on biceps, triceps, deltoids, shoulders, and chest. Biking and running have made my legs pretty powerful, so I don't need to lift for them. 

Which brings us to today. 

I wanted to bring my bike up to Lake Orion. This was the first time I'd transported my bike since last fall. I put the rack on the car, braced myself for the strain, and hoisted my bike up.

The bike nearly went over my head! I overshot the rods and had to readjust, then try again. It took almost no effort to slide my big, heavy bike onto the rack. My hulk-out moment! 

The whole incident surprised me, even though it shouldn't have. I've been lifting for a few months now, and my arms and shoulders are visibly bigger than they were when I started lifting back in June. Every couple-three weeks, I've had to add a few pounds to each muscle group to keep up the pressure. But for some reason, it didn't occur to me that I'd have more strength OUTSIDE the gym. I was too heavily focused on size, I suppose. 

It was a nice surprise. 



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I know I've been harping on this, but bear with me. I keep finding different aspects that make me scratch my head.

Today is when I see my retirement as really beginning. Yes, my job ended the day I left the school building back in June, but right after that came summer break. I never teach in the summer, so this past summer felt like any other summer break. I even had that nagging feeling that break wasn't long enough, that I'd have to go back to work all too soon, that in August I'd have to make arrangements to make up my religious holiday absences. That nagging feeling didn't fade in the slightest.

And before the first week of school, Darwin and I went out of the country on vacation for three weeks. As a result, I wasn't home, in my natural environment, when the schools re-opened for fall. While I was in Europe, it felt like ... well, a vacation. And when I got back, I would have to go work, of course. I couldn't shake the feeling, even though I've never in my life taken three weeks off work for vacation. 

Darwin and I got back on a Thursday night, and the next day neither of us was at work. Then it was Saturday and Sunday. Again, the little hamster that runs the endless wheel in my mind said that there's no way I would have gone back to work last Friday--too jet-lagged to function well. And over the weekend, there's no work, either. But Monday is a different story. Work awaits!

Then Sunday evening came.

Darwin went up to our apartment close to his job and I stayed down here in the house. It was a beautiful evening. The weather was still warm, but the leaves were starting to turn and the corn is fading from green into brown. I went out on a bike ride, partly because I love riding my bike, partly for the exercise, and partly because all too soon it'll be too miserable outside for riding.

On the ride, I checked my watch. 8:30. I didn't want to stay out too late, since I'd have to be in bed by 10, and I still wanted to--

Nope! I wasn't going to work tomorrow. Nope nope nope.

Back home, I stayed up until 10, then 11, then midnight. (When I don't have to work the next day, I usually go to bed between midnight and one.) And then I went to bed.

In the morning, I woke up at 5 out of reflex. (How long will that go on?) I got a drink of water and went back to sleep. I finally got up at 7, truly realizing that I had the entire day. I had breakfast. I started some laundry. I ran some errands. I went to the gym. I rode my bike. I was NOT at work. The cooling weather told me I should be at work. The changing leaves told me I should be at work. The day of the week told me I should be at work. And I wasn't. Nor would I be. I wasn't on vacation. I wasn't taking a sick day.

It really hit me then. It's over. My teaching career is over, and I have a pension instead of a paycheck. I'm free from work. 

Today, that really begins.





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When Darwin and I attended one of the shows on the cruise, I noticed seated in the same row as us was a guy with dark hair and Clark Kent glasses. He was sitting alone. He also set off my gaydar. It was nothing in particular, just that form of gay telepathy that said, "He's gay, too!"

Just as the show was beginning, another man, taller and lean, sat down next to him. Gaydar confirmed! (In my experience, straight men don't travel on cruises with their straight male friends. I don't know why this is. Women go on cruises with their galpals, but straight guys generally don't. They do camping trips instead. If you see two men traveling together on a cruise, it's a decent shot they're gay.) 

After the show ended, I tried to snag them to say hello, but couldn't pull it off without sprinting after them and thereby looking creepy. Ah well. 

A bit later, though, Darwin and I were taking a walk around the promenade when we ran into the two guys going in the opposite direction. Hmmm. I usually have a hard time starting conversations with total strangers, but I didn't want to let this chance pass by. So I stopped them with a, "Hey, there! Are you two together?"

A little startled and mystified, they halted and acknowledge that they were.

I gestured at Darwin. "So are we."

Conversation unlocked!

The four of us started talking and we learned their names were George (the guy with glasses) and Lorne. It was one of those really cool moments when you meet someone and become fast friends. It turned out that George:

--retired from teaching two years ago
--writes (children's) books 
--has been with Lorne for about twelve years

The more we talked, the more George and I turned out to be the same. Lorne, meanwhile, shared a lot of similarities with Darwin. It was surreal.

But it got better.

George and Lorne seemed a little familiar to me, but I couldn't place why. And then we figured it out. George and Lorne were on the first cruise Darwin and I went on! I met them at an LGBT meet-up on the ship. We talked a few times but didn't really hang out. Now we were on the same ship again. This was feeling more and more like fate.

Anyway, the four of us became cruise friends. We hung out on board, watching shows and having dinner and walking the promenade. We talked about history and linguistics and LGBT issues and government and politics and writing and retirement and being in a same-sex marriage. It was really nice to make this kind of connection. As you know, Bob, the older you get, the harder it is to make new friends, so this was a wonderful surprise.

The sucky thing is that George and Lorne live in Canada in a town that's many, many hours of driving away from us, so visiting our wonderful new friends is impractical. However, they love to do cruises, and we've already shared two trips, so maybe we can do another. At least we can stay in contact through social media.

Here's to cruise friends!




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sTuesday night we packed everything we could, and Wednesday morning the ship arrived in Barcelona. We finished packing, had breakfast one last time while looking out over the ocean, and disembarked with our bags in tow. A summoned taxi took us to the flat we'd rented, but it was too early to check in. Fortunately, there was a luggage storage place less than a block away. We stuffed our bags into a couple lockers, dusted off our hands, and headed out.

As is our usual thing, we didn't make plans to visit any site in particular. Instead, we wandered around looking at different buildings and other bits of interest. We poked our heads into a couple of cathedrals (sooooo many in Barcelona), admired some memorial arches in parks, and discovered that wild parrots in Barcelona compete with pigeons for ecological supremacy. We had a nice lunch and finally moseyed back to pick up our luggage and check into our flat.

The neighborhood we stayed in was clearly a happenin' party hotspot. As afternoon turned into evening, the streets filled up with cars and bikes and scooters and people. Darwin and I people-watched and bought food from the local bakeries and enjoyed a laid-back evening.

In the morning, we summoned another cab, which took us to the airport with no trouble. After that, it was 14 hours of winding our way through airports, waiting in airports, eating in airports, and going through customs in airports. And of sitting on planes. We had a layover at Charles de Gaul, our least favorite airport in the whole wide world, but we managed it without incident this time. At long, long, LONG last, we landed in Detroit. It was 8 AM local time, but 2 AM for us.

I have to say I was uneasy about going through customs. I was on a watch list for years because adult men who travel with exchange students, I learned, are automatically added to watch lists, and I was always pulled for extra searches when I traveled overseas. Finally, I got TSA Pre-Check, and the problem stopped. Now, however, the current administration has it in for a whole bunch of people, including people like me, and I was wondering if I'd get hassled or worse.

We snagged our luggage and got through passport control without incident, but as we were heading for the exit, a guard pulled Darwin and me aside and told us we needed "extra screening." Ohhhhhkay. Here we go.

The guard took us to a giant x-ray conveyor belt thing staffed by two other guards and had us feed our luggage through it. I treated it as an annoyance and refused to show nervousness, since that would only give the guards an excuse. On the other side of the machine, one of the guards grabbed my backpack. "I have to look in here," she said sweetly.

I shrugged. "Yeah, whatever."

"Where are you coming from?" asked another guard, though I kept my eyes on the backpack.

"Spain." My voice was neutral but short.

"What was the purpose of your visit?"

"Vacation."

"Did you buy anything worth more than $800?"

"No."

"Do you have any 'ha-mon'?"

I blinked. "What?"

" 'Ha-mon.' Ham?"

"Ham?" I was genuinely puzzled. "No. Why would I have ham?"

(Later I looked it up and discovered Spanish ham is illegal in the US but people still try to bring it in.)

The guard didn't respond. Meanwhile, the other guard pawed through my backpack and held up two objects. One was a half-empty can of chips, the other my trackball mouse, both of which had apparently set off someone's suspicions.

"Are those a problem?" I asked archly. I wanted to say something like, "Is it fun putting your filthy hands on my mouse ball?" but I didn't.

Then the guard pulled out the zipper pouch I kept my cash in and started to open it. 

"Wait, please," I said, and stepped closer. "You don't want to open that without me watching."

"Why?" she asked.

"That's my money, and I'm sure you'll agree that it's a bad idea for you to go through it without a witness. It's for your protection."

She declined to open the pouch. I took my backpack back and we left. Sheesh. Another cab picked us up, and an hour later we were HOME!

Both of us were wiped out. Funny how sitting on an airplane for seven hours can tire you out. But we didn't want to go to bed "early," so we unpacked.

Yes, we unpacked the moment we got home. We are THOSE people.

By 11, we were both unpacked and drop-dead exhausted, so we fell into bed.

Now for the irony. When I was working, I had to be up by 5 or 5:30, and one of the bigger revelations to me is that during retirement, I'd never have to see 5 AM again. Naturally, that meant I woke up at 5 AM, which my body said was noon. I managed to make myself doze off again, but only for half an hour, so I was up at ... 5:30 AM. Sigh.

It was a lovely, lovely trip, and my retirement has been well celebrated!





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 So a bunch of teachers across the country have been suspended over social media remarks they made about the death of Charlie Kirk. The news stories never say what the remarks were, except in one case where the teacher apparently said something like, "One Nazi down."

I was one of the first teachers in Michigan to create and maintain my own social media, and since I taught in a conservative area and my views are liberal, parents loved to complain about it and try to get me fired.

They always lost in this. I never, ever said I represented the school district in my views. I think I mentioned the name of the district (Walled Lake Consolidated School District) directly all of twice in thirty years, both times to report some good news. I also told the parents, "If you don't like my social media, why do you let your child read it?" That shut them up nicely.

People like to say, "Freedom of speech doesn't give you freedom from consequences," and this is true--unless the consequences could come from a government agency. A school is a government agency, and it's therefore difficult for a school to justify disciplining an employee who exercises their First Amendment rights to free speech. It can be done, but the school has to prove that the speech somehow interferes with the teacher's ability to teach. That's a very high bar.

However, teachers do get suspended from teaching while the district investigates. This is stressful for the teacher (who sits at home all day, wondering what's going to happen). It's also hard on the students (who suddenly have a sub who may or may not know how to teach the subject in question), and it's hard on the school district (who has to pay lawyer fees and maintain a substitute). The teacher isn't required to send in lesson plans during a suspension, either, and a smart teacher doesn't do it.

I bring this up because in the vast majority of cases, the district finds no wrongdoing and teacher returns to the classroom, but the media never reports on that. When was the last time you read "Suspended teacher exonerated, returns to classroom" in the news? As a result, it sounds to the public that a suspended teacher is a fired teacher, and that just isn't true. Remember that.

Me? I don't have to worry about parents disliking my social media anymore, and I'm free to say literally anything. So I'm speaking for all the teachers who feel the same way I do but don't want to get embroiled in a fight at work:

I'm glad Charlie Kirk is dead. His hatred has been silenced, and this is a net good. He won't be able to say that gay men like me should be murdered or exiled or jailed. He won't be able to whip people into a violent frenzy anymore. He won't be able to push for hate-filled laws. He won't be handed a microphone and put in a spotlight for his malignant, cancerous views. After a week or so, he'll disappear from the media entirely, and then from human memory completely. Good.

Now--suspend me.





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