New Year’s Day yawns, 2024

It’s O700 hours on 1 Jan 2024 here in the armpit of California (and also, coincidentally, the ‘groin’ of the State). The pup is harnessed-up and eager to begin the first of several long daily walks that make her blandly, domestic Husky routines at least somewhat more tolerable when there’s no snow to mush in. Outside the house it’s a foggy, misty morning with an ambient temp of about 38 degrees F. but wrapped up in my LL Bean Waterfowl GORE Sweater and my Varusteleka (Finnish) Sarma Parka More on these later), with a turtleneck shirt on under it all, I am about as comfortable as an Artic explorer taking a brief holiday in Death Valley.

Out in the street, the normally busy, manic pace of the city is nowhere to be seen and the street setting has all the flavor of a dull, gray, sepulchral tomb. The fog tends to soften and blur any sounds that a sole passing car might inflict upon this preternaturally silent atmosphere and as we start out, it’s hard to be other than elated about the fact that almost everyone (except us) is at home either still in bed or nursing a raging (if well deserved) headache from late night ritual celebrations…of what? Joy? Nope. Happiness? Nope. High hopes for a better new year? Probably not.

On several lawns those execrable inflated plastic blow-up dolls of Santa, Frosty and Rudolph all mostly lie limp as we pass, lurking like puddles of colored, viscous plastic plasma in the grass. On one lawn the inflatable Frosty has lost a lot of its air and is bending over a plastic reindeer, as if a gay Santa is committing an unnatural act with it (truly a ‘woke’ tableaux!). A few die-hards still have their gawdy (Chinese-made) strings of roof-edge LED holiday lights lit, blinking uncertainly in the fog bank. Discarded Christmas fir trees are already sprawling forlornly where they were unceremoniously dumped in the street gutter, awaiting pickup by the sanitation truck crews, divested of their tinsel, lights and decorations and quite naked…now just more evidence of seasonal ritualistic biological destruction the planet doesn’t really need (religious holiday or not) and a stigma of the rapacious customs of us Humming Beans.

The pup, for her part, who is not prone to moody, ruminative, philosophical thoughts like I am, is deliriously unaware of all these mournful burdens of reflection on the depredations of the human parasites that populate this poor planet, and strains at her harness, eager to run down the street and sniff or squirt on just about everything she encounters. She really does have the right idea: PISS on it all!

Warming up to cold weather

For my part, I have long favored cold climates almost as much as the pup, despite her Siberian ancestry and my balmy Coastal California origins. For reasons I simply am unable to explain, and despite my many enjoyable years living and working in arid high desert regions of the globe with the Arabs, I remain firmly a fan of wintry, snow-swept and heavily fir-tree’d locales. Some of the notable high points in my life, speaking of that, occurred in the midst of frigid, Arctic-like North Dakota winters back in the 60s, when I shared life with nuclear-weapon-laden alert bombers at a SAC base. Waiting for some medal-encrusted general to push the Big Red Button.

When the thermometer hit minus 10 degrees up there in NoDak, I was mildly ecstatic (even though my smile was often frozen on my face). Even my faithful VW bug convertible didn’t shrug a fender when this glacial-grade chill settled over everything, since it, like some of my ancestors, was born in the chill forested regions of Austro-Germany. Winter Solstice was, of course, something to relish and celebrate in Germanic Europe as a rebirth of life, although those native NoDakkers of Germanic heritage I associated with weren’t quite as thrilled about such ancient customs and likely couldn’t for the life of them understand how a fair-haired California, ex-surfer boy like me could possibly find their frozen land such an aesthetic paradise at such moments! There were days up there when the milk in farmers’ cow udders was frozen into lumps of ice.

Fortunately at that time, us Air Force types in these super-frigid zones were routinely issued Arctic-duty, extreme cold weather gear that included the N3B parka with its furred hood, matching F1B pants, HGU-9 insulated Nylon helmet and mittens to match, so I was perfectly comfortable on my frequent nightly, long winter walks on the Frozen Minot ‘Souris River’ (’Mouse River’ in French, of course). To me, it was positively delightful to wander around in the worst weather North Dakota could throw at us and be perfectly content, almost cozy while the temp dropped to minus 10 degrees F. The heavenly scent of creosote and pine trees lingered heavily on the air currents and spoken words had to wait until spring to thaw out enough to become understandable. Naturally, no one spoke much at such moments, but just admired the crystalline pin-pricks of light that played on the cobalt heavens, and the occasional displays of the Aurora Borealis!

Those experiences blended in seamlessly with my previous high-altitude mountaineering experiences in the California Sierra Nevada Mountains that included winter-mountaineering and ski-mountaineering trips into the higher back areas. All those experiences were about as close to a truly Alpine one as one could get in the UC Berkeley ‘Cal Hiking Club’, since Sierra snow (often referred to as ‘Sierra cement’ due to its high moisture content) was totally unlike most of the snow found in the Alps (and in Colorado/Idaho where some of the best powder could be found outside of Canada). While I was never much of a good skier (mediocre at best, like my surfing abilities), I was at least enthusiastic and the exposure to the raw cold of nature in Winter was cathartic to say the least. Strangely, I seem to have taken to it like someone birthed in Jon Snow’s winter world.

Ala puhu paska, ja Miska? Perkele!

On this particular morning (today, the 1st of January), I wore my Finnish Varusteleka Sarma parka, with that earlier mentioned LL Bean sweater under it. The Sarma Parka is a product of Finnish cold weather expertise, made as it is of a 60/40% mix of polyester and cotton. With high resistance to water but still extremely breathable, the 60/40 cloth was first developed and used by California mountaineers in California’s Berkeley area (notably by the early Sierra Designs Company). Superior even to traditional English Arctic-grade Ventile Cotton for wintery cold-weather protection against wind and moisture, 60/40 cloth has since remained a staple of most higher-mountaineering clothing kit designed from the mid-60s onwards.

While the legendary Sierra Designs 60/40 Parka set the standard of the new age of outdoor mountain sports, the cloth it was made of remains a favorite and in the Finnish Verusteleka Sarma Parka, hits a new high in this type of design, in my opinion.

The Sarma may be thought of as a reconfigured, slightly redesigned and vastly improved SD 60/40 parka, if that helps. Of two-layer construction, it has an attached hood (not zipped-on, like so many are), two huge external upper chest pockets and two equally large lower chest pockets, two handy lateral zippered cargo pockets between the chest pockets (all except these are closed with large buttons, which makes closure so much simpler in seriously cold weather). On the sleeves are (both sides) small, flapped utility pockets and inside the parka are found the usual adjustable waist and skirt draw-strings. To finish things off, there are handy ‘hand-warmer’ pockets hidden behind the lower chest pockets (a must to stick gloved hands into in truly seriously cold weather). The hood is also adjustable with another draw-cord and a cinch-strap. In short, it’s just about the best thing you can find as an all-purpose, multi-environment garment for almost any four-season use, when worn with insulating inner garments (such as my LL Bean ‘Waterfowl’ sweater or a down layer).

The best thing is that they are extremely moderate in terms of cost and like all things Finnish, extremely practical for their intended purpose (protection against the elements). Sized large (they are generously sized to allow for under layers), on someone like myself, (who is slender, 6 feet tall and 160 pounds), they run about US$ 100 each in several colors (OD, Black for men and Yellow for women). I have two of them and they’re worth every penny.

No sweat sweater

But, reference my LL Bean wool ‘Waterfowl’ GORE sweater, this is a relatively new development by LL Bean and perhaps the best sweater I’ve ever had. I’ve long been a keen sweater aficionado, but only of real wool or mostly wool blends. Cotton sweaters may look good but are not at all suitable for providing warmth, as most people hopefully know by now (despite the popularity of such cotton weave garments with consumers). I strongly suspect that because wool products are more expensive than cotton ones, the manufacturers hope that the consuming public don’t know the difference and that they think that cotton sweaters are just as good. They are NOT, of course, unless you’re posing for catalogue shots in a Rail Riders sailing apparel catalogue.

Interestingly, too many cotton sweaters have recently begun featuring rather steep price-tags; again, likely because the manufacturers hope that people really don’t have any truly accurate concept of what materials have to do with providing true warmth and think they can charge similarly high prices for the cotton products in the ensuing confusion. More consumer flim-flam!

But getting back to the LL Bean ‘Waterfowl’ GORE sweater, there are two variants of this excellent garment. The first features a clever, stretchable GORE-Tex inner lining (under the external wool layer) that is both wind-proof and water-resistant. It costs a bit more, naturally. The other variant is also described as an LL Bean ‘Waterfowl’ sweater but lacks the important GORE-Tex inner layer. As you would expect, it is slightly less expensive, even though externally it looks exactly the same as the GORE model. Outdoor sporting type (such as duck hunters) love the idea of the wool GORE sweater.

With a 10-inch-long collar zip that further helps seal-in the heat, this product is the one of choice for anyone who faces wind, cold and light moisture outdoors. As an underlayer to complement the Varusteleka Sarma parkas, it simply cannot be beaten!

This combination of an outer, zipped, breathable parka with a warmer (also windproof) layer that still breathes, is excellent and in the former case, clear evidence that the Finns know something about what cold is all about. I’ve seen sturdy Finns wearing this combination in the midst of an absolutely freezing winter and you have to figure, any nation of people who successfully resisted the Russians during WW2 and often beat them back to their borders MUST be ferociously knowledgeable about protecting themselves against the worst Northern lattitudes winter weather imaginable.

Not only are all of the foregoing details salient but both items are extremely good looking, work beautifully together and may be worn separately, purely for style or fashion, in just about any setting.

New Year, same old crap, repackaged

So, here we are, the pup and I, on our first outing of both the new year and New Year’s Day. She has her thick and luxurious double-layer fur, of course, and I am also suitably prepared for whatever chill the day has to offer. No ice in this pair’s blood!

It was a wonderful walk, I might add, since everyone else was conspicuously either absent or out of sight. I silently thanked my sagacity in eschewing any celebrating involving ETOH the night before and getting to bed at a reasonable hour. We had the whole hour’s walk through a local park to ourselves. In fact, truth be told, I much later that evening turned in at about 2100, fitted my special earplugs to both ears and slept so soundly that I woke up at 0130 AM, wondering when midnight was going to occur! Surprise, surprise…we were already an hour and a half into it!

All the usual idiots were out late, last night…

Usually, there’s a great New Year’s racket out there on the city’s streets, as people drag out all the remaining illegal fireworks and ex-military ordinance grade explosives they managed to save from the equally noisy July 4th celebrations and set them off. Some of those larger M80 type explosives are so loud it sounds like a stick of Dynamite being set off. All this cacophony doubtless greatly pleases all the mindless idiots (oxymoron), yahoos, three-braincell-cretins and just basically ‘stupid’ people, who equate excessive noise with fun. Amidst all the explosions and (illegal) skyrockets being set off, you also have gunfire, both pistol and machine-gun type. After a few years of this, one becomes quite adept at differentiating between fireworks and gunfire, of course, and one always wonders about the lead slugs these cretins fire off into the sky, Mexican fiesta style, since what goes up can come down with one hell of a lot of inertia, perhaps right on someone’s head. Truly, even hours before midnight, it sounds like you’re right smack in the midst of another Mexican Revolution! Ay carumba!

Since I’m a very light sleeper, I usually resort to my trusty earplugs to blot ut this sonic chaos, but the pup has sadly, at age 17, lost her entire hearing frequency spectrum…making her stone-deaf for all practical purposes. Yeah, a deaf Husky! That’s actually an asset at such moments as 4 July and 1 Jan, when most other dogs with their super-acute hearing abilities are often scared silly by all the gratuitous noise. The pup, for her part, has learned a limited number of hand signals that communicate the basics to her (such as “No”, “that’s all!”, “Left”, “right”, “stop” and a few others).

Huskies are, as you may know, usually incredibly smart dogs, even if they preferentially practice what any experienced Husky owner usually describes as ‘selective intelligence.’ That is, they are smart when it suits them; other times they simply feign to be just happy-go-lucky goofballs who delight in ignoring you. It’s a rather endearing Husky trait, if sometimes a frustrating one! Willful is the operative word here!

So, both the pup and I slept right through the noisiest hour of the night, thanks to our respective hearing statuses, LoL, and emerged bright and early, fresh, rested and ready to sniff and squirt on everything within leg-lifting range with keen gusto (her, I mean, not me!).

Today therefore started off with on a pawsitive (sic) note and I can only hope the rest of the year follows the same pattern (although I’m NOT holding my breath).

Porky Pig as the Grand Dragon panjandrum

On that note, the upcoming Chinese (Lunar) New Year that begins on Saturday, 10 February, is a DRAGON year, by the way, and that can be either a good or bad thing, according to Chinese astrologers! In either event, widespread and diffuse regional chaos is certain to be a primary feature of whatever develops, as 2024 gets underway. Several eminently respected international foreign relations analysts, in seeming concert with some ‘Old China Hands’, are in apparent agreement that it will not be at all an agreeable time for anyone, least of all for the Republic of China (Taiwan) or the United States of America.

China, as I hope all of you are by now well-aware, is openly poised to take Taiwan back into the CCP fold…with military force if required…even though China has never-before ‘owned’ or physically possessed that island in any way, shape or form. And with Putin in amicable cahoots with Xi Jinping under the terms of their ‘unlimited agreement of cooperation’, American pentagon analysts are walking around like agitated Elektra clones over a too-hot oracle pit, warning of the serious and very real possibility of nuclear war breaking out in 2024.

Since Russia, China and North Korea now possess strategic nuclear weapons (and launch vehicles for them), a threat like this has never been experienced since the ostensible ‘end’ of the earlier Cold War Era of the 50s and 60s! Furthermore intelligence sources indicate that there have been secret discussions between the Chinese and the Russians of the possible success of a ‘first strike’ nuclear attack. In other words, the nuclear ‘doom’ that was predicted occur back in the mid-60s can and may very well take place this year if the ‘Dragon’ decides to stir things up a bit!

And with China’s recently expanded and greatly modernized air, military forces and naval capabilities now an unignorable fact, anyone who doesn’t take all this gloom and doom at least somewhat seriously is sorely ill-informed on what the months ahead may actually have in store for the western world.

I don’t have to remind you that should even a ’limited’ nuclear war break-out, civilization as we have come to know it will face a threat such as it has never known before in the entire history of humanity, and there’s very real possibility that our civilization will be set back a hundred or more years (if not eliminated altogether). You must also remember that human history is also only a few thousand years old, too, and all of this has developed in what is cosmologically the briefest nanosecond of time imaginable!

I know that’s a big prospect to swallow and comprehend, folks, but things couldn’t be more serious than they may soon well be, as the months of 2024 unfold in the murky, linked crystal balls of Vladimir Putin, Kim Il Un and Xi Jinping.

Meanwhile, the radical progressives that infest America's colleges and universities  will continue to ignore all of this and advance their Marxist/Marcusian campaign to establish ‘woke’ authoritarian political correctness as the new law of the land, focusing on ‘more important’ matters such as what pronouns to use behind their names, and/or how to redesign the LGBTQ+ flag to ‘more adequately’ represent all the sexual maladapts who identify as sheep (or trees, or electric cars, or…dot-dot-dot). Yep, this is real Looney Tunes stuff, folks!

And speaking of Looney Tunes, the bottom line is, I think, that you’d better all hope that at some point in the coming months ahead they don’t suddenly interrupt regular media mainstream news broadcasting programs some evening to announce that Porky Pig has just appeared on a White House TV address with the following message (breaking news!):

“Budda…budda…budda…that’s ALL Folks!”

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SOME HELPFUL SOURCE NOTES on the above comments:

1) The Verusteleka Sarma Parka: Available at the Finnish Varusteleka Company, suppliers of outdoor and military products, which has an internet website found at: Varusteleka.com

2) The LL Bean Waterfowl (GORE) sweater: Sold by the American LL Bean Outdoor Products Company, with a website presence at: LL Bean Co.

3) “Ala puhu paska!”: Finnish for “Don’t talk shit!”

4) “Perkele!”: Finnish word with a wide range of meanings, depending upon the situation and the circumstances, many of them scatological, but literally, “The devil!”

5) “Panjandrum”: Some of us are already familiar with this word, but few know that it comes to us from a weapon that the British devised in the Second World War to breach defensive German seawall defenses that was named The Panjandrum. Consisting of a giant steel wheel, propelled by simple skyrocket motors, it is today regarded as one of the most ridiculous and useless (if highly creative) weapons ever devised for warfare. But beyond that, the actual word itself stems from a nonsensical bit of poetic doggerel written by English actor and dramatist Sanuel Foote in 1754 (as below) to test the memory of an Irish actor. It has come down to us today as a term of satirical reference to a person who fancies himself to be a person of supreme importance!

6) SAMUEL FOOTE’S POEM:

The Great Panjandrum by Samuel Foote, 1754

So she went into the garden

to cut a cabbage-leaf

to make an apple-pie;

and at the same time

a great she-bear, coming down the street,

pops its head into the shop.

What! no soap?

So he died,

and she very imprudently married the Barber.

And there were present the Picninnies,

and the Jobillies,

and the Garyulies,

and the great Panjandrum himself,

with the little round button at top;

and they all fell to playing the game

of catch-as-catch-can,

till the gunpowder ran out at the heels of their boots.