"Your one-stop source for improper ideology and freedom seeds."
I don’t claim to know anything about the museum business, but I go to other air museums every chance I get, and have yet to visit one that doesn’t rely on large numbers of unpaid volunteers to interact with guests.
“Leroy bet me I couldn’t find a pot of gold at the end, and I told him that was a stupid bet because the rainbow was enough.” —Rita Mae Brown, Rubyfruit Jungle The Fated Sky (Lady Astronaut #2) by Mary Robinette Kowal When I finished the first Lady Astronaut novel, “The Calculating Stars,” I decided […]
I grew up as an Air Force brat in the 1950s and 60s, and one trend or theme you may have noticed with my Air-Minded posts is that I keep coming back to the jets of my childhood, plastic models of which hung from the ceiling of my bedroom.
Bill Panton, aka Tumbling Bill, passed earlier this week.
I have an older but sharper memory of Grandfather Estes dragging me and my sister Sue outside one night to see something that had never seen before. It was October 1957, and the Russians had just launched Sputnik.
I’ve been reading about the content moderators who review objectionable content posted to social media, and the psychological toll constant exposure to “the Internet’s panoply of jerks, racists, creeps, criminals, and bullies” takes on them.
“All this virtue, and no witnesses.”
I joined a closed Facebook community called “A Group Where We Pretend to be Boomers.” As you’d expect, members are baby boomers who make fun of themselves by posting as if they don’t understand the first thing about computers, email, the internet, and social media. To me, that’s more of a “greatest generation” thing, but I do know boomers my age who fit the stereotype well. But hey, isn’t Facebook mostly a boomer thing anyway? Aren’t all the youngsters on Snapfilter or whatever?