If depicted accurately in the documentary Murder in West Cork, the evidence:
is enough to convict Ian Bailey of the murder of Sophie du Plantier in an American court.
sophieduplantier #ianbailey #westcork #sophieduplantier
While often a matter of juvenile humor, it has become increasingly obvious to the peer-reviewed scientific community that explosive flatulency (commonly known as “power farting”) is a serious, substantial vector of Covid-19. At first, it was thought that Covid-19 remained upon surfaces where it could be transmitted to a non-infected individual. This led to an orgy of wiping down surfaces. As the science progressed, it became accepted wisdom that surfaces were not to blame, but viral particles passed in CO2 through respiration. Further research showed that toilet plumes, where water mixed with air, were another potential source of infection. This led to a promising area of research, since after all, flatulence consists of a dangerous, flammable mixture of nitrogen, oxygen, hydrogen and methane gas. It is clear that the wearing of an N-95 mask by the infected will do little good if the patient is suffering explosive flatulence.
Gloria Escalante, a condo board member unit owner in the collapsed Champlain Towers South building, urged unit owners in 2019 to approve the hiring of Frank Morabito, the structural engineer who examined the building in 2018 and so could “hit the ground running.” The squabbling continued at Champlain, the unit owners balked at a special assessment of anywhere from $80,000 to $300,000 per unit and no work was even started.
Escalante solved the problem by selling her condo in 2020. With the condo sold, she avoided the squabbling, the special assessment, taking out a loan to pay for it, the loss of the unit due to collapse or demolition and possible death. In retrospect, it was a smart move.
Don’t you think that other condo owners in Miami Beach are looking for the exits? Just as in the children’s game of musical chairs, there won’t always be a buyer ready to take a seat.
South Florida realtors are putting a happy face spin on things, pointing out that Miami is the new tech center and people are getting out of New York (so they can get the listing) and once the unit owner is signed up, hoping for the best. They can’t hide 40 year inspections and longer and on-their-way regulations will soon turn 40 year inspections into 30 year reviews.
Miami Beach just became a very unattractive and uneconomical place to live.
Potential buyers (erroneously referred to by real estate agents as “clients”1) are now asking for deep discounts and information about the building’s 40-year recertification process, leading one agent to complain that “no one asked about this before.”
Prior to the Champlain Towers South collapse, it was the rare agent who even mentioned this potential and enormous liability to a potential buyer. Now they will have to bone up on the building’s structural status and drop prices. Only a reckless buyer would acquire a unit in a building with less than a decade to go before recertification. There is no limit on the upside cost. I predict that some owners, unable to get loans, insurance for or afford the onerous reconstruction assessments on their units, will simply walk away. The value of South Florida real estate will crash.
To those who wish to sell: good luck finding a buyer.
A Bolivian admiral was arrested for his role in the military coup that overthrew Evo Morales.
Bolivia is landlocked. Bolivia lost its outlet to the sea in the 19th century War of the Pacific to Chile and since then has been trying to recover access to the ocean. A few years ago Bolivia lost yet another case in the World Court. It shares Lake Titicaca with Peru, but the lake, shared with Peru, is landlocked as well.
Other than patrol boats on Lake Titicaca, Bolivia has no ships. Nonetheless, Bolivia has a navy, led by admirals who have nothing better to do than interfere in the country’s democracy.
“In a small moment of hope, a cat was seen wandering a lower floor of the remaining flank of the 12-story condominium complex. Crews hoped to place a trap on the balcony so the cat could be rescued. It could not be immediately determined whether the animal belonged to any resident.”
That a stray tabby showed up looking for food is hardly “a small moment of hope.” The world press is surrounding the collapse site and their editors are paying beaucoup to keep them there while demanding they file something, anything—any kind of story at all.
So we get stories like these on the wire. They don’t even know if the cat just wandered in from across the street. “Look! A cat! A glimmer of hope!” Let’s wait for the mandatory interview with a county commissioner who claims he knows the cat.
The number of cases in Bahrain during the last month has dropped from a high of 28,798 active cases to a low of 2882 on the last day of the lockdown, July 2. The lockdown is only suspended; if the number of cases starts to rise again, it will be re-imposed.
I was sitting around with my roommates a few years ago and the subject of retirement came up, as did the subject of finding low rent accommodation. I recounted an experience I had trying to find low-cost housing in Los Angeles in the summer. College dorms and fraternity houses were desperate to rent to those who would only stay for the summer, but you needed an .edu email address. This is not impossible, but neither is it trivial. Inspired by thoughts of Rodney Dangerfield’s Back to School, I tried to get in touch with frat houses at UCLA and USC. Despite my best efforts, I was unable to reach any of them (a Vonage line would have helped).
Before the days of the Internet, I used to have a “how to” manual with listings of universities that rented out college dorms in the summer. I used the book to secure housing while studying for and taking the Louisiana Bar Exam. I no longer remember the name of the book. Pity. It was a good idea.
Somehow the two ideas merged: back to school and free or near-free rent. The dark clouds parted and rays from the heavens illuminated my surroundings. I heard the choir of angels sing.
For years my aunt lived in Champaign, Illinois, the home of the University of Illinois, a mere three hours by car south of Chicago. State money flows into the crown jewel of the Illinois educational system. The University has world class, well-funded medical and recreational facilities. The former are underused by the student body. If you take hangovers and sexually transmitted diseases out of the equation, young people are generally healthy. At the medical school, those seeking to specialize in gerontology would be happy to have me as there are slim pickings in the potential patient pool amongst the undergraduate student body.
There’s a world class library and regular speakers and classes on every conceivable subject. There’s a music school and regular concerts. Why not enroll and get access to all those delightful benefits and student housing too? OK, so they’d put you in graduate student housing—so what? Staying at a fraternity is probably out of the question, though you never know. They might rush a sixty-year old just for the novelty of it. Free of worries about grades, my main concern would be the menus at the student cafeteria and the location of the next wine and cheese event.
There’s no reason to be lonely at a university: due to your age your fellow students will initially see you as an oddity before the crafty ones figure out that having an older friend may sometimes open doors that would otherwise be shut, especially in a country where age is a requirement to purchase alcohol. Every new class means new friends and contacts.
Don’t be afraid of showing up at any university event; by law and policy, they are open to all. There are three classes of older people commonly found on a university campus: professors, parents and boosters. People will automatically assume that you fall into one of these categories; no one will risk offense by turning you away.
Taken by the idea, my friend Roberto found that there are countries in Western Europe where tuition is free, housing is cheap, medical care is free and class instruction is given in English. Maybe Slovakia is not at the top of your education list, but it should be. “But I already have a degree,” you whine. Don’t you get it? Who cares? You can spend the next two decades sampling the educational wares of Western Europe and you won’t live long enough to finish.
But having been away from the United States for so long, the idea of my home country—not the reality of it, the idea of it—was becoming attractive so I looked close to what for many years had been home.
I semi-seriously looked at real estate in Champaign; if I could find a two story building I could set up a law office on the first floor while living on the second, a nearly rent-free, or at least subsidized rental environment (it is not easy for me to hide my obsessions). I could give new meaning to the phrase “student lawyer.” For this to be successful, I would need a federal courthouse and preferably, a state appellate courthouse nearby. With an ABA-approved law library and free Lexis available to students, a genteel appellate practice writing briefs with the occasional court appearance would be one possible pastime.
With a gut growing from all-too-frequent attendance at wine and cheese gatherings, I would discreetly encourage my classmates to take advantage of all educational opportunities open to them—especially those that offered free food. In exchange, all I would want is a heads-up on any event with a free buffet. Why be one of those seniors lining up for the early bird special, stuffing sachets of Sweet ’n Low into your purse when you can feed in style in the halls of academe—and with little or no cash outlay? Once the faculty realized that I posed no threat and was merely along for the ride of free booze and victuals they would leave me alone and treat me as just an eccentric old crank, which is fine with me.
If forced to declare a major, I would choose an impossibly difficult dead language, one that would take me years to master. I might not live so long. Nevertheless, each year I would dutifully sign up for Akkadian 101 and not let my repeated failures get me down. I would stay away from those classes where a professor might try to pass me to get rid of me. The university administration might try to discourage me by scheduling Akkadian at the ungodly hour of 8:30 in the morning, not realizing that I had no intention of attending at any hour. Class is not a realistic option so early in the morning. At 8:30 I’m dressed in a bathrobe—if expecting guests—and working on my morning coffee, sweetened with a tablespoon or two of Kentucky bourbon.
“Failure” would be my mantra, my shield against old age. If after repeated failures, I would simply switch to another impossibly-difficult language. My prior failures would constitute eloquent proof that a change of major was needed. If, God forbid, I were to come close to meeting the requirements for graduation and thus expulsion from this Garden of Eden, I’d quickly find a new course of study where none of my classes would qualify. Fine with me. Though realistically, studying and sitting for examinations is not on my agenda so I do not see how this could possibly happen.
Once a quarter I’d take my Social Security check and throw a boozy “homecoming” party for older students, inviting everyone to the law office backyard where I’d set up a bbq smoker and enlist the interns who worked for me as waiters and waitresses—no empty plates allowed. I would make it known that anyone could attend, older student or not. The first few events would be sparsely attended until word got out about the free beer and bbq.
I’d hire an undergraduate band to play at the event—they’d be happy for the gig. I’d schedule around major sporting events lest parents attend, see what a cushy life I’d got going and decide to enroll themselves.
All of this sounds a lot better than a retirement home, Century City or Boynton Beach. Almost all American States have a university town and many charge little tuition to non-degree-seeking seniors. Some States have more than one. Besides Champaign, there’s Tallahassee, Florida (Go Seminoles!); Austin, Texas; Oxford, Mississippi and Baton Rouge, Louisiana. All have been on my radar. Slovakia remains an option.
Boulder, Colorado and the home of Southern Illinois University at Carbondale are also of interest. Carbondale has the reputation of being a “party” school. For some this would be a negative but not me. The town has the added benefit of being the seat of the federal district court for the Southern District of Illinois. It’s so far south that winters are rarely harsh, almost tropical compared to Chicago.
I’ll have to investigate it more thoroughly.
Biden has nothing to do with the Champlain Towers South building collapse.
Nothing.
The feds have no involvement at all.
Hell, the City of Miami Beach, just yards away, doesn’t even have responsibility: they pass the buck to Surfside, a separate municipality.
Miami-Dade county has jurisdiction and is auditing buildings but there is more to be done.
Thanks FEMA, but this catastrophe is limited and scope and has affected less than 300 people: not a federal disaster.
Your involvement makes our goal more difficult.
We’re trying to protect our property values, thank you very much.