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Weasels in the mist

It was sunny and fine today, so after work we grabbed some sammiches and headed to the beach. Sea fret!

Uncle B took this shot (“weasel contemplates tiddler”) before the fog enveloped me completely. The tide was way, way out. By the time I reached the waves, all I could see was a soft, weak disc of sun and the waves around my ankles. It was so totally cool.

So, the Scots voted No. In some ways, the fun starts now. Cameron promised them a bunch of stuff if they stayed. He may not be able to keep those promises.

But more interesting still, the English are starting to clamor for more self-rule. See, there is no separate parliament for England. So the English don’t have a vote on, say, education in Scotland, but the Scots have a vote on education in England. Mess with the English sense of fair play at your peril.

BTW, I’m all for devolution. I’m for concentrating power as far as practicable toward the bottom of the hierarchy, where local knowledge and accountability reside. The silliness of the Scots position is that they wanted to break away from the UK and join the EU.

Have a good weekend, y’all. Oh, and it’s Talk Like a Pirate Day, if you’re so inclined.

sock it to me

Comments


Comment from thefritz
Time: September 19, 2014, 9:16 pm

“Oh, and it’s Talk Like a Pirate Day, if you’re so inclined.”

Yes, I know. http://wp.me/pl6K8-Om

 


Comment from Rich Rostrom
Time: September 19, 2014, 9:31 pm

The problem with federalism in the UK is that England is bigger (economically and demographically) than all the other pieces combined. That makes a “federal” system impossibly unbalanced, and really doesn’t get the localization benefit in the megastate.

Germany had that problem between 1871 and 1934, with Prussia having over 60% of the population and land area. (One of the few sensible things the Nazis did was to replace the existing Lander with Gaue.) Then in 1946, the Allies reestablished some of the Lander, but basically drew a new map for most of the country.

The complaint about Scotland’s dual authority should also apply to Wales and Northern Ireland, BTW.

There is an interesting suggestion for resolving it; all the MPs from England could form a Grand Committee which would decide all purely English matters. The resolutions of the Committee would then be enacted by Parliament through a vote supported by all members of the Committee. (It would even be sufficient for just the Committe majority to vote on enactment, as long as the minority abstained.)

The devilish detail, of course, would be deciding what matters are “purely English”; there would be hard cases. But it would avoid having to create a whole new layer of legislators with their snouts in the trough.

 


Comment from Deborah
Time: September 19, 2014, 9:35 pm

Arrgh. The photo probably looks the same in color!
Had to look up tiddler—do you use them for bait for surf casting?

 


Comment from Steamboat McGoo
Time: September 19, 2014, 9:39 pm

Stoaty! You shoulda brought a lawn chair (and a thermos of drinkable stuff), and quietly sat out there in your very own private Fog-World! With the ensuing sensory deprivation phenomenon, you might have seen/heard interesting things in the fog.

 


Comment from S. Weasel
Time: September 19, 2014, 10:04 pm

McGoo, you have no idea how much I wished I had a chair once I reached the waves. I could’ve sat there for hours.

Rich, the complaint does apply to Wales and Northern Ireland. It’s been brewing for a while. Farage’s solution is to ask Members of Parliament from those places to step out of the chamber when purely local English matters are being discussed and voted on. Seems easy enough, but Labour is about to pop a blood vessel over it — because England is a lot more conservative than the rest, so those issues would all move a babystep to the right.

“Tiddler” is a newish word to me too, Deborah. Other than little feeshes in tide pools, I don’t really know how it’s used.

 


Comment from Stark Dickflüssig
Time: September 19, 2014, 10:45 pm

I could’ve sat there for hours.

Two or three at most, if the tide was still going out when you started.

It’s also supposedly “Sit On My Face Day”. I wouldn’t dare to burden y’all with the details.

 


Comment from S. Weasel
Time: September 19, 2014, 11:32 pm

It’s very, very shallow on that beach. The tide is, like, a 13 hour cycle. It was going out when we got there, but it was pretty far out already. So I think I could’ve gotten in a couple of hours at least before it came in too far for my lawnchair. If I had one.

 


Comment from QuasiModo
Time: September 20, 2014, 12:15 am

Government is always happy to grow…if they’re not careful, they’re going to wind up with a whole new layer of blood suckers.

Neat pic!

 


Comment from Bob Mulroy
Time: September 20, 2014, 12:47 am

My wife says we’re going to the beach this weekend. (It’s weired how she always knows this stuff.)
With the typhoons, there should be lots of kelp to gather. I wouldn’t mind if we caught a few Dungeness either.

 


Comment from Stephen Falken
Time: September 20, 2014, 1:35 am

I have no opinion on Scotland but Mark Steyn noted the other day that states in the USA are not allowed to vote themselves out the union because of a 1869 Supreme Court ruling. And that kind of depressed me to learn because I can see a day when that might sound like a good idea.

 


Comment from S. Weasel
Time: September 20, 2014, 1:35 am

It’s a woman thing, Bob. It’s menstrual or summat.

 


Comment from mojo
Time: September 20, 2014, 2:23 am

Just so long as it isn’t one of those Mt. San Michel deals, where the tide comes in faster than a person can run.

 


Comment from SCOTTtheBADGER
Time: September 20, 2014, 6:18 am

ALL HAIL Queen Weasel-Canute!

 


Comment from Tiddler on the Surf
Time: September 20, 2014, 2:56 pm

So after the wimmenfolk are done menstrooatin’, do they still retain the powers?
Strange, strange critters. Little is known about wimmens for sure, other than chemical dependence on chocolate, and that they live longer than men mostly probly because they unlike men do not cohabitate with women.

Also, men and women agree on one thing: they mistrust women.

S. Weasel begins to publish imagery of herself. A few years ago this was unthinkable (aside from some teenage artifact). Then… a thumb casually exposed on a banjo. Then… some ass elevations. Now… only a layer of NASA grade fog thinly shields our hostess.

What does it mean? the conclusions frighten. It may be a transmogrification of sorts.

 


Comment from Deborah
Time: September 20, 2014, 4:25 pm

Stoaty—go now and put some lawn chairs in the car!

 


Comment from beasn
Time: September 21, 2014, 2:12 am

Little is known about wimmens for sure, other than chemical dependence on chocolate, and that they live longer than men mostly probly because they unlike men do not cohabitate with women.

HA. True story.

 


Comment from Sakhara
Time: September 22, 2014, 12:13 am

I love taking pitchers in fog! The colors are so subdued, at least in the fogs I like, and a soft weak sun are my faves, pitcher wise. Just before sun-rise is my favorite time, because it seems that, that time won’t exist anymore. I want to catch it, but I never can.

I guess I just have get up before noon.

 


Comment from gulliblepratt
Time: September 22, 2014, 12:23 am

For those who know nothing of how to satisfy wimmens: The G spot is located at the end of the word shopping.

 


Comment from Sakhara
Time: September 22, 2014, 1:09 am

“I guess I just have get up before noon.”

Sorry, that was sort of an “IN” joke, and you, or none of your readers are “In”. I work from 10PM to 7AM, and miss, I think, some of the most amazing hours of the day, being at work and all. Noon is my bedtime. Those amazing hours being sunset and sunrise. Animals move then. I’ve seen it a couple of times, and I think I could spend my life watching them. Twice my life if it was in fog.

 


Comment from Frit
Time: September 22, 2014, 4:55 am

Stoaty, I found another pic of you!

https://i.chzbgr.com/maxW500/8321054208/hD44A1B85/

 


Comment from S. Weasel
Time: September 22, 2014, 1:31 pm

D’awwww…that’s a keeper, Frit.

Uncle B saw a cousin cross the road near here. Best guess, from the size and shape, it was a mink — but it was gray.

 

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