“Sometimes, people want to change things just to put their own personality on things. At Cracker Barrel, their goal is to just delete the personality altogether. Hence, the elimination of the ‘old-timer’ from the signage. Heritage is what got Cracker Barrel this far, and now the CEO wants to just scrape it all away.
“At Steak n Shake, we take pride in our history, our families, and American values. All are welcome. We will never market ourselves away from our past in a cheap effort to gain the approval of trend seekers.”
Steak n Shake, via X
In hindsight, I believe I owe y’all an apology.
As a matter of principle, I consider a committed relationship to be a “no daylight” proposition. “I” is subordinate to “we.” Readers saw that reflected here on Ubi Libertas Blog for over four years, and close friends can testify that I did the same in real life for much longer than that.
Whether it was the motorhome odyssey or creating an American life on The Mountain, I said “we did” even when “I did.” When talking about values, I said “we believe.” I led with the relationship — strong, inseparable.
No daylight.
My use of first-person plural was intentional, but it wasn’t always factual. And sometimes, I knew that and misled you. I’m sorry.
Still, if I had it to do all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing. That’s what commitment demands.
I offer you my apology but I have no regrets.
The Brits came up with the “two-bin” system for managing inventory in the 1940s, to make sure they didn’t run out of parts to build Spitfires. After the war, a Toyota engineer studied two-bin and came up with “just-in-time” (JIT) manufacturing. Both schemes have been adopted worldwide.
Why do I care? And why should you?
Because you should go two-bin in your life and home.
The basis for the system is that the supply of something, whether it’s airplane parts or ketchup, exists in two places — where it’s used (assembly line or kitchen), and where a reserve is stored (warehouse, pantry). When the in-use supply is exhausted, the reserve supply is brought forward to the line.
The reserve is then ordered (or made) and replenished.
At the heart of the system is “the empty bin.” It’s the signal to act — an empty line bin means it’s time to resupply from reserve, and an empty reserve bin means it’s time to reorder. It’s ridiculously simple and rhythmic, given the proper attention and discipline.
In everyday life, not every item in the kitchen, bath or workshop lends itself to two-bin. Produce and other perishables come to mind. And you won’t need a reserve supply of everything. Most staples, however, work well with the system.
What fits and what doesn’t also depends on things like budget and storage space. But simply by being aware of things like rate-of-consumption and inventory levels leads to smarter purchasing decisions.
You’ll save money by not buying what you don’t need. And you’ll never run out of essentials.
(I’ve been a bit under the weather and resting the last couple of days. When that happens, this is the sort of thing I write about.)
Tucker Carlson and Aaron Lewis are on my (very) short list of favorite people. And when I found out that Aaron sat down for an interview with Tucker recently, I cleared my schedule and sat down to watch.
You’ll need to invest an hour and 45 minutes, but I think you might find it interesting.
I stumbled onto the YouTube channel Desert Drifter a few weeks ago and, for some reason I don’t recall now, I watched a video — and then another and another. I was hooked.
The premise is this: an athletic, adventurous young man by the name of Andrew documents his treks (usually solo) into remote canyons throughout the desert Southwest in search of evidence left behind by “The Ancients.” He seeks out and explores rock art and cliff dwellings of Freemont, Puebloan, Basketmaker, Anasazi and Navajo, even pioneers and outlaws.
I don’t identify with Andrew the way I do with, say, Dave Whipple (Bushradical). Scaling a sheer rock face to see a thousand-year-old granary is a path I never considered following myself, but his courage, persistence and curiosity appeal to me. His content is high-quality and surprisingly relatable.
At the end of a video I watched earlier this week was a thumbnail promoting another done by his wife, Evelyn. I clicked. Within a couple of sentences I heard her say something about “Andrew’s memorial service.”
She offered no details. I scrambled to learn more. Honestly, I suspected that he’d fallen while free-climbing to reach some impossibly lofty ruins.
No — on January 31st, while stopped at a traffic light in Utah, his car was rear-ended at high speed by a drunk driver. He suffered a traumatic brain injury and spent the next 33 days in a coma. On March 4th, his family made the difficult decision to remove life support.
He was 36 years old.
Amid the sadness and excruciating unfairness of it all, I want to say that Andrew Cross was very good at what he’d chosen to do. He was learning quickly and, despite having been on YouTube little more than a year, he was getting better just as fast.
He produced 60 videos before his life was cut short. A quick check of his channel now shows 560,000 subscribers and over 87 million views.
I’m telling you this story for several reasons. First, I believe that Desert Drifter is worth your time. You should subscribe to the channel.
Second, Evelyn. When you subscribe and watch and like and share her late husband’s content, she benefits. I’m sure she could use the money.
But more than anything else, when you watch Andrew, it’ll be obvious that this was a man who lived a life of joy and gratitude. You’ll feel optimistic, perhaps inspired.
I know I do.
Godspeed, Andrew.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable