David Walbert: Unhewn Stones

Thu, 05 Mar 2026 09:03:48 -0500

The ability to dig up a quotation from 10, 100, or 1000 years ago containing a criticism or prediction that parallels some contemporary argument, and observe that “history” proved that prior criticism false, is not an argument about what action to take in the present. The moral of “The Boy Who Cried Wolf” is not that because the boy was untrustworthy, the wolf never came.

Wed, 04 Mar 2026 15:06:30 -0500

Birds-eye speedwell and henbit deadnettle. They’re not ostentatious but they’re everywhere around here. And they have ludicrous names.

Wed, 04 Mar 2026 10:17:58 -0500

The Trugreen truck with its motto “Live Life Outside” never seems to be parked in front of a house where people actually do live life outside. In fact it’s more or less the opposite.

Sun, 01 Mar 2026 08:32:38 -0500

The original Game of Life, in 1860, included squares such as Ruin, Disgrace, and Suicide. I like it! Can we bring that back?

Sat, 28 Feb 2026 09:14:07 -0500

Is there a temperature at which “cold and raw” becomes “kinda muggy” or is it more like the border of a Mandelbrot set?

Follow-up: is it really a gust is it’s only 4 mph?

Fri, 27 Feb 2026 19:15:11 -0500

Callers to Washington state hotline press 2 for Spanish and get accented AI English instead

Fri, 27 Feb 2026 12:08:04 -0500

Instead of responding to the Aeon essay that’s going around (or to its responses) I pulled some notes out of storage and wrote this instead: Technology, Tao, and Taboo.

and that's all I have to say about AI

Fri, 20 Feb 2026 12:31:23 -0500

A few years ago I ran across this painting, _The Young Sabot Maker_ by Henry Owassa Turner, in an exhibition at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts. I spent a good half an hour studying it, weaving in and out of other people’s way, not just because I love Turner’s work (I do) but trying to suss out the tools and techniques of historical wooden shoe-making. Why? Well, because I am a nerd. But also because, as long as people are determined to build robots, you never know when you might need some wooden shoes. And I’d like to be ready.

You can't have everything, part 4,365

Fri, 20 Feb 2026 07:44:43 -0500

Cory Doctorow on self-sorting online communities:

If this subject was political rather than practical, we’d call this process “radicalization,” and we’d call the outcome – you sorting yourself into a narrow niche interest, to the exclusion of others – “polarization.”

But if we confine our examples to things like literature, TV shows, flowers, or glassware, this phenomenon is viewed as benign. No one accuses an algorithm of brainwashing you into being obsessed with hashibame tongue-and-groove corners. We treat your algorithm-aided traversal of carpentry techniques as one of discovery, not persuasion. You’ve discovered something about the world – and about yourself.

I used to use Instagram to connect with other woodworkers. Some of this was person-to-person linkage and reading comments, but the app helped by letting me follow #handtoolwoodworking and #chairmaking, and then offering to show me even more stuff that looked like what I actually looked at — mostly handmade chairs. It was, as Doctorow says, a useful and benign kind of radicalization.

But those nasty hashtags might be abused (hence nice places like Micro.Blog don’t allow them) and I might be digging into fascist politics or anorexia instead of chairmaking, so — all that’s gone, in the name of safety, and now I just get a bunch of slop. The app, no longer useful, no longer exists on my phone.

In addition to the “trilemma” Doctorow describes (people want a community of like-minded people, useful information, and the largest possible audience, and can’t have more than two of three) there is a hard trade-off between safety and discoverability (NB “civility” is a subset of “safety”). The Web was great when it felt like a sprawling bazaar; now more and more it feels like the children’s wing of the library backed by a warren of dangerous alleys.

Thu, 19 Feb 2026 13:10:46 -0500

Every day, more
Soprano notes, golden petals.
Snowmelt spring escapes
As blackbirds from a shaken tree.

Wed, 18 Feb 2026 07:50:40 -0500

Last night I had two separate dreams involving pie. The pie was incidental to both—just a prop, which could have been anything; the dreams otherwise had nothing in common, literally or metaphorically. Do I need to bake a pie? Should I write a cookbook titled MacGuffin of My Dreams?

Sat, 14 Feb 2026 15:16:00 -0500

Would anyone who is not a subscriber to Front Porch Republic’s Local Culture like to read the current issue, on work? They persist in sending me two copies, so one of them is yours if you want it.

Fri, 13 Feb 2026 10:01:53 -0500

One more carving from the big batch just finished — another that would be impossible without high-speed photography to give me a model. (8x16 inches, if you want the specs.) I titled it “Hello, I Must Be Going!” …because, well, how could I not?

Wed, 11 Feb 2026 12:51:24 -0500

I need a word that means “an article that consists of a valuable germ of an idea wrapped in a bad argument laden with falsehoods and/or exaggerations.” Not a con job, but a sloppy piece whose sloppiness will make it less likely that anyone pays attention to the valuable germ. Suggestions?

Tue, 10 Feb 2026 11:26:35 -0500

Portrait format and peripheral vision. (Yes, kids, that’s two long-form blog posts in one week! It’s like 2005 or something.)

Mon, 09 Feb 2026 17:00:31 -0500

As the last of the snow melts, I’ll re-post this poem from a few years ago, which may be somewhat more charming than its title indicates: “Cheap Sonnet No. 28F. In Which the Poet Observes a Child Behaving Disgustingly.”

Mon, 09 Feb 2026 10:51:40 -0500

“Note of Longing,” a carving based on a 1754 illuminated hymnal.

Sat, 07 Feb 2026 13:03:02 -0500

Die Blummegans (pl. Blummegense, though no two have ever been seen at once) brings spring to the earth.

Thu, 05 Feb 2026 12:28:20 -0500

If I search the web for any Kafka story, all I get is information about “Metamorphosis.” That in itself feels like a Kafka story.

Because everybody's a capitalist

Wed, 04 Feb 2026 09:18:25 -0500

Freddie deBoer:

There remains a slice of the liberal populace that simply cannot accept the idea that any given human relationship might be healthy, mutually beneficial, and consensual among all parties…. And the question is… why? For whose benefit? Why does this 21st-century progressive impulse to seek out victims where none can be found persist?

I don’t pay for deBoer’s Substack, can’t read the rest of the post, and won’t buy his book: there are so many books I’d like to read, and this will never make the cut. I already know the answer: it’s because they have adopted unconsciously the philosophy of capitalism, which is that to be of value a thing must be of use. Hence what used to be called a “relationship” between two people is comprehensible only as a two-way use case in which justice demands that inputs and outputs be made to balance. When the Bible says that love of money is the root of all evil, that is what it means.

If that’s what deBoer means to go on to say, good for him, but the bigger question is, what are you going to do about it? Because this is not a disease that will be cured by attacking the symptoms.

Be ye not deluded by false groundhogs!

Mon, 02 Feb 2026 10:55:14 -0500

In keeping with the earthbound-spiritual roots of “Groundhog Day,” while we don’t have any large hibernating mammals around here, I do observe that though it was about as cold here this morning as it ever gets, and while we still have pretty consistent snow cover, the birds are active but show no particular urgency in finding food. It seems a hopeful sign.

If, however, you prefer theme-park heritage and formulaic self-parody, then let me warn you to beware of false prophets: the One True Groundhog, Octorara Orphie, did not see his shadow this morning, and we will indeed have an early spring. Those of you who follow that famous fur-brained impostor may enjoy shivering in your self-imposed wintry prisons.

But of course like any sensible person I’m going to wait for St. Gertrude’s Day to plant my garden, regardless of what the animals think.

Wed, 28 Jan 2026 11:39:06 -0500

The hedgehog knows one big thing, but damned if he can articulate it to you. You’re just going to have to figure it out on your own.

Sun, 25 Jan 2026 10:05:10 -0500

High-pitched shrieking in the distance suggests that the small amount of ice-glazed snow on the ground at least makes good sledding. Otherwise, silence: the high-pitched sleet-static, that candy-wrapper-crinkling-in-the-movie-theater sound, has stopped for the moment.

Mon, 19 Jan 2026 15:13:56 -0500