Nobody Knows The Rubble I've Seen

Okay, we'll admit it - we're just using the story of Kim Jung Un's latest threat to "end the USA" as a segue into our talking about the renovations on the Jarlsberg mansion which are beginning today with the disconcertingly named "demolition phase."

The overall plan for our home renovation will involve destroying and rebuilding pretty much everything except the master bedroom (giving us a place to live for the next couple of months). So today, workmen are destroying the master bathroom so that it can be rebuilt first - thereby giving the Jarlsberg family a place to pee, poop, and shower (hopefully not all at the same moment) while the rest of the house is getting the wrecking ball.

We've already been inundated by a million little choices - each one of which strikes us as offering infinite room for error. Faucets, shower hardware, senior grab bars, tiles, granite slabs, light fixtures and toilets to name just a few things. And by the way, even picking out toilets is harder than we would have thought: it seems that besides all of the other features toilets now boast (pee vs. poop power flush options, heated bidet jets, self-closing "no slam" seats, LED lights, bluetooth speakers and wi-fi) they come in two basic shapes: an extended oval bowl, or a tinier circular bowl.

This is not an inconsequential difference for those of us who appreciate the extra space afforded by the larger bowl (we have metaphorically referred to this as wanting all of our fishing tackle to fit in the boat) yet we have been informed in no uncertain terms that of the three toilets being replaced, only one can be man-sized. Although any of the three would still work for Obama.

But enough about that - we mainly just wanted to make the official announcement that over the coming weeks Stilton's Place is likely to contain a significant amount of personal venting about the questionable joys of remodeling along with our usual sporadic commentary on whatever is passing for news.

We hope you'll enjoy the ride!

By the way, they HATE it when you do this in the toilet showrooms.

Statue of Limitations

In a truly delicious exchange in the White House briefing room, CNN "reporter" Jim Acosta proved himself to be a complete and utter ass when attempting to challenge Trump senior policy advisor Stephen Miller on proposed changes to our immigration laws.

Miller basically mopped up the floor with the self-righteous and thoroughly ignorant Acosta, and if you haven't seen it you really need to click that link.

The revised immigration policy would give preference to applicants who can speak English (ie, assimilate) and who have actual job skills beyond the ability to breed. In an earlier time, this would have been called "common sense."

But the thoroughly offended Acosta angrily maintained that poetry trumps policy (no pun intended), citing the Emma Lazarus poem "The New Colossus" which is found at the base of the Statue of Liberty and, as we vaguely recall, proclaims that the really best immigrants are tired, poor, wretched, tempest-tost (sic), disease ridden (sick), drug mules, potential terrorists, rapists and pedophiles. All of which leads us to guess that Lazarus was no stranger to the bottle.

Acosta did not, however, seem to have a problem with the fact that the poem can only be read by those who speak English - whom we'll continue to invite through that golden door.

BONUS: TGIF

You're welcome. And yes, that's really her.

Chip Happens

Preparations for home renovation (6 days until demolition starts...) and frankly incomprehensible news stories dictated that we go the Earwigs route again today. As we've warned, the content on this site may be pretty eccentric for awhile - not that it wasn't before.

To clear the way for the upcoming work on the floors, walls, kitchen, and bathrooms we've been divesting ourselves of furniture which has served us well for many years (soon to be bargain priced at a Salvation Army store near you!), leaving us with large amounts of unfilled space. And nothing to sit on in much of the house. And no tables for dining, sorting mail, or playing Boggle. It's all pretty disorienting (even when cold sober, which occasionally happens) and soon to get much, much worse.

As we've said before, we're reasonably happy to be energizing the economy by paying through the nose for this renovation, but we can't admit to being too keen on the recent discovery that investment income pulled from our personal account to pay for all of this is likely to incur an additional 3.8% Obamacare tax surcharge (above and beyond capital gains taxes and increased annual Medicare payments) to punish us for our frugality, personal responsibility and, in all likelihood, our shameful white privilege.

Good work on not even repealing that, GOP.

There's a reason we call our toilet "John."

BONUS: Now That Smarts

We jokingly (or not) mentioned "white privilege" above, little knowing that we're apparently guilty of something even worse: "cognitive privilege." 

According to an article in the University of Iowa's student newspaper, "the accident of having been born smart enough to be able to be successful is a great benefit that you did absolutely nothing to earn. Consequently, you have nothing to be proud of for being smart."

In other words, anything you've "earned" by virtue of being smart is simply a matter of "winning life's lottery" as Obama used to say, and you're not really entitled to keep those earnings when there are so many stupid people who would enjoy spending your money after they've blown through their own.

We wish the concept of cognitive privilege was simply a brilliant satire being foisted off on the Left, but sadly satire itself appears to be a dying construct in the age of the cognitively disadvantaged.

They WANT to protest, but putting words on signs is hard.