Guy

Mouth Sustains Some Chipping in the Area

gypsyc

This 27" lanky limbed,boudoir bed gypsy doll was originally a smoker, I believe. Someone has replaced the original cigarette with a new one made of a toothpick. His mouth sustains some chipping in the area of the cigarette. Interestingly, he comes with a music box and a guitar. The guitar was made in Czecko-Slovakia and is dirty and damaged. Strings and keys(?) are missing from the wooden neck and the tin belly portion is soiled. The music box which rests inside the body of the Gypsy does not work, though occassionally when he reclines on his back, the music will play. Gypsy himself is also quite damaged. His head is falling off his body as his cloth body has become worn and is in the process of tearing. Please note the tears to the back of Gypsy's neck and to his torso. I have "bandaged" him in gauze to prevent further straw from falling out. Gypsy's darkly painted buckram face is also dented and sustains soil. It appears that portions of his face may also have been repainted in pinky tones. His left cheek and chin are dented. Gypsy does retain his original "Belgian Red" mohair wig though! It remains fairly full. His mitten shaped hands are also in worn condition, particularly his thumbs. I believe that his Bohemian clothing is original, though that too may require laundering. Gypsy is missing his original leatherette shoes. Gypsy is quite an intriguing and romantic figure as he strums his guitar. However, he will require major restoration. Please study the photos carefully and email with all questions.

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Boredom

Bliss -- a-second-by-second joy and gratitude at the gift of being alive, conscious -- lies on the other side of crushing, crushing boredom. Pay close attention to the most tedious thing you can find (Tax Returns, Televised Golf) and, in waves, a boredom like you’ve never known will wash over you and just about kill you. Ride these out, and it’s like stepping from black and white into color. Like water after days in the desert. Instant bliss in every atom.

-- David Foster Wallace

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Federalism and Regulation

Matt Yglesias on American federalism and regulatory excess:

I wouldn’t disagree with the observation that there are some elements of our economy that are badly over-regulated. It’s much more difficult to start or expand a business than it should be and this is one of the reasons why our economy has gotten so dominated by cookie-cutter chains that have enough scale to amass expertise and legal clout needed to navigate this thicket. There’s more occupational licensing than their needs to be. There’s too much regulation saying that buildings have to be short, or can only occupy so big a percentage of the lot, or have to have so many parking spaces. At the same time that I think the country’s overall policy dynamic is too tilted toward the automobile, the actual vehicle registration process is weirdly cumbersome, and the rules governing auto dealers are positively insane.

But all this malfeasance is done by state and local governments.

Rather than the small scale of the units leading to better policy via competition, what seems to me to happen is that the lack of public attention paid to policymaking at the state, county, and municipal level leads to much more pure interest-group capture than you see on the federal level. Not that interest groups don’t have a lot of clout in federal politics. But the relatively competitive nature of elections and the relatively bright spotlight shown on national politics puts a check on these things. At the state level, bad policy really runs amok. So I wind up being skeptical that you could really improve much of anything even in those areas when I think the libertarian perspective is broadly correct by devolving more authority downward.

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The Three-Speed

raleightourist_500

When I penetrated back to the day-room I encountered two gentlemen called Sergeant Pluck and Mr Gilhaney and they were holding a meeting about the question of bicycles.

"I do not believe in the three-speed gear at all," the Sergeant was saying, "it is a new-fangled instrument, it crucifies the legs, the half of the accidents are due to it."

"It is a power for the hills," said Gilhaney, "as good as a second pair of pins or a diminutive petrol motor."

"It is a hard thing to tune," said the Sergeant, "you can screw the iron lace that hangs out of it till you get no catch at all on the pedals. It never stops the way you want it, it would remind you of bad jaw-plates."

"That is all lies," said Gilhaney.

"Or like the pegs of a fairy-day fiddle," said the Sergeant, "or a skinny wife in the craw of a cold bed in springtime."

"Not that," said Gilhaney.

"Or porter in a sick stomach," said the Sergeant.

"So help me not," said Gilhaney.

-- Flann O'Brien, The Third Policeman (New York: Plume, 1976), 76.

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