Well crap.

Well crap.

I’m supposed to be in the middle of the Sierra Nevada right now. Specifically, at the Niagara OHV Campground in the Stanislaus National Forest.

One problem: The campground is overrun with yellow jackets that are foraging for food — and that seem to think human beings are food. I got stung once shortly after I arrived there, which was disconcerting, but my antihistamines handled any allergic reaction. A couple of hours later, after heating up my chili, I got swarmed by yellow jackets who were absolutely enamored of my chili (thus why I know they weren’t bees, bees don’t care for meat), and one of them stung me on the thumb and made me drop the titanium pot that I had the chili in. They then swarmed the chili on the ground (and the pot).

But more disconcerting, my thumb started swelling up much like the sight of money makes Donald Trump’s wee-wee start swelling up. (And they’re about the same size too, if that statue was correctly proportioned). Clearly my antihistamines weren’t doing the job well enough. Also clearly, if I hung around the campground, I *would* get stung again, and possibly have a life-threatening allergic reaction rather than one that immobilized a thumb.

Thus I made the decision to abort the trip and head home. I will be sucking down some Benadryl shortly to handle the allergic reaction, it is far more effective against allergic reactions from stings than the no-drowsiness antihistamines. And of course you can’t drive with Benadryl in you, since it zonks you out…

G’nite, folks.

— Badtux the Bummed Penguin

Mountain air

See you Monday.

— Badtux the Relaxing Penguin

It’s easy: Just buy a legacy generic drug developed with federal money from an older established drug company, use your lobbyist cronies on Capitol Hill to get your Canadian competitor kicked out of the market and prevent a generic competitor from entering the market, and raise the price to $300 per dose. And you must buy two doses at a time, meaning you’re out $600.

I am, of course, talking about the Epi-pen. This is actually an auto-injector that injects $1 worth of generic epinephrine in an easy to use fashion via a device that costs around $5 to make. I’ve given myself shots before. It’s a major pain in the butt, you have to be very careful to put the needle in the right place and it’s kind of hard to see the meat of your left arm while you’re trying to give yourself a shot there with your right hand. This autoinjector takes all the guesswork out of giving yourself a shot of epinephrine in case you are, e.g., deathly allergic to bees and are stung by a bee.

And this auto-injector’s creation was 100% funded by the Department of Defense in order to provide soldiers with nerve gas antidotes.

Now, granted, re-purposing it from injecting nerve gas antidotes to injecting epinephrine did involve some minor R&D. They probably had to conduct drug trials, which cost around $56 million dollars in today’s money. But the actual R&D to create the auto-injector mechanism was 100% paid for by our tax dollars. While there have been changes to the design since then, mostly in order to be able to re-patent the revised mechanism to prevent exact clones from being made, I count that as a marketing expense, not an R&D expense, because they were for the convenience of the marketing department, not in order to improve functionality.

So let’s recap: Mylan, the maker of the Epi-Pen, is extremely connected on Capitol Hill. And is making $1 billion per year off this device thanks to their price hikes and thanks to getting laws passed requiring schools and government buildings to have the devices on hand. And has managed with the help of their cronies on Capitol Hill to get their competitors that worked in a manner similar to the Epi-Pen evicted from the market — the only remaining competitor’s device (the Adrenaclick) does not work exactly like the EpiPen, and people who have been trained on the EpiPen need re-training to use Adrenaclick.

So… profit!

Too bad about the people who can’t afford the drug but who need it. But hey, that’s the free market, right? If the free market was a Central Park mugger saying, “your money, or your life” that is….

– Badtux the Healthcare Penguin

Drug Company Mugger

And the difference from a Central Park mugging is?

Reformed Whores, “Girls Poop Too”.

In case you didn’t know it.

From their 2012 album Ladies Don’t Spit. I wouldn’t trust these two ladies to comply with that directive, however.

– Badtux the Snarky Music Penguin

So: Indiana is an Open Carry state (if you have a permit, which is Must Issue, i.e., the sheriff can’t turn you down as long as you meet the basic requirements). A black man’s wife got carjacked at gunpoint immediately outside her home. She ran into the house, and her husband called the cops, then he heard someone messing around outside so, with a gun on his hip, he opened the garage door to see if the carjacker had come back. At which point, he was immediately shot by the responding police offiers.

Because a black man coming *out* of a house in a typical suburban neighborhood is a threat. And must be put down.

Compare/contrast with the treatment of the white kid who killed two people and was eating the face off of one of them when the cops arrived. They didn’t shoot him. They pulled him off and hauled him off to the loony bin.

But being a law abiding citizen justifies being shot if you’re black, and being a murderer doesn’t justify being shot if you’re white.
And we don’t have a need to educate cops that black lives matter, too? For realz?

– Badtux the “I guess black lives *don’t* matter” Penguin

To be sorrow’s desire

Wovenhand, “Dirty Blue”, off their 2006 album Mosaic.

– Badtux the Apocalyptic Music Penguin

or play a children’s game involving a ball very well, the rules don’t apply to you. We found that out with Stanford rapist Brock Turner. And college rapist Austin Wilkerson who, while not throwing a ball, was a cheerleader. And now the latest poster child for entitled affluent white athletes: David Becker, who raped two passed-out girls in a bedroom at a party, but the judge has let him off with probation because “The goal of this sentence was not to impede this individual from graduating high school and to go onto the next step of his life, which is a college experience.”

A college experience.

Because “We all made mistakes when we were 17, 18, 19 years old, and we shouldn’t be branded for life with a felony offense and branded a sex offender.”

So rape is a “mistake”.

A mistake.

You know, I was 17, 18, 19 years old, and I made some mistakes back then. There were things I did that I shouldn’t have done, things I should have done that I didn’t do. But rape? Uhm, no. See, I already knew, even back then, that there was a simple way to avoid ruining my life with a rape conviction: Don’t rape.

Don’t rape.

I mean, this isn’t brain surgery. If you don’t want to ruin your life with a felony rape conviction, don’t rape people!

Rape isn’t “a mistake”. Rape is a crime, a violation of another human being’s person without their consent. Simple common decency says you don’t penetrate another person’s body unless you have their explicit permission to do so. It’s like being a guest at someone’s house, you don’t go spelunking through the contents of their closet unless they say you can. Anything else is just plain rude.

This doesn’t require maturity to know this. This just require the minimal amount of conscience and intellect possessed by the average 8 year old child.

Don’t rape.

It’s just two words. Yet it appears to be two words that some self-entitled white male athletes can’t understand, for some reason. And the judges let them off. Inexplicable. But, alas, true.

David Becker is a rapist. Judge Thomas Estes seems to agree, but seems to believe that rape is just boys being boys and shouldn’t be a crime. At least, that’s all I can figure. But you know, I was a boy once too, and I didn’t get arrested for rape. You know why? Because I didn’t rape.

Don’t rape.

So simple, yet seems so difficult for so many self-entitled white athletes — and judges — to understand. SIGH.

– Badtux the Exasperated Penguin


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