Had I been asked a few weeks ago how I feel about books, I'd have said I love them. I buy them constantly, and I'm seldom not in the process of reading a book. I have four book-cases jammed to capacity with books, many of the shelves are two-deep in books, and there are enough stacks of books around to upset my wife. It seemed to me that my love of books is well established.
Then we bought a Kindle.
If you're not familiar with the Kindle, it's Amazon's e-book reader. I never thought I'd embrace this technology. Every e-book reader I'd seen (and I admit I hadn't looked at one in a few years) was lacking, the text was poor, the screen was small, and I found the display led to eye fatigue (and this from someone who makes his living sitting in front of a computer screen all day). Plus, I reasoned, the Kindle was expensive. Upon speaking to a number of people (including cyber-buddy MorningGlory) I found that most of my objections, except the price, were unfounded. A lady I saw reading one on the train let me see the display, and I found that the text to be very readable. When Oprah announced a discount my wife and I decided to buy one.
Having now used it for a couple of months I can say I love it. I can change the font size to suit lighting or other conditions (larger fonts are more convenient on a bumpy train ride for instance, or at night when my eyes are tired). The battery needs to be recharged about once a week.
I also learned I didn't so much love books as love reading, and the Kindle is the perfect device for people who love to read. For instance, I bought a two-CD set of classic books from the Western Canon for $30, those two CDs contain almost eight hundred books. Available books range from free for public domain downloads to about ten dollars for current best-sellers. (And yes, I could have downloaded the 800 books on those two CDs for free, but my time is worth something too.)
So the man who resisted getting a cell phone until pay phones became rare, the man who refuses to buy a PDA because a paper calendar and note pad does the same thing cheaper and with no battery worries, the man who predicted twenty years ago that CDs were a passing fad, has embraced a new technology. Which brings me to another point about me. I'm not opposed to new technologies, but they have to actually be better than the low-tech devices they replace. Digital cameras, for instance, are better for most applications than film cameras. Battery-powered watches are better than wind-up (I still prefer a watch with hands as opposed to digital, but that's just my preference). The Kindle is the size and weight of a thin paperback but will hold hundreds of books and display them in in a font size that doesn't make my eyes water.
So, accompanied by much grinding of gears, I embrace a new device.
* For the non-gear-heads out there, "power shifting" is a method of shifting a manual transmission without lifting your foot from the accelerator. It's a good way to get extra acceleration, it's also a good way to break your transmission. If you try it, don't blame me for damage done.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Monday, November 10, 2008
Vote Mark D in 2012
OK, I've decided to annouce my candidacy for the office of President of the United States for the 2012 election. I offer my platform for your consideration.
I believe that America is the greatest nation in the world not because of our government, but because of our people. I believe that the government exists to serve the people (and not, I may add, in the same manner as a bull serves a cow). I believe that the function of government is to protect the rights of the citizens, those rights including life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. I believe that our Constitution creates a government that can do just that, but that the government has trangressed that Constitution and needs to be corrected.
Therefore, if elected, my first order of business will be to reform the executive branch, of which I will be the head. Each department head in the executive branch will provide me with the following: 1) a brief description of the duties and responsibilities of that department, and 2) a copy of the pertinent sections of the Constitution authorizing that department to perform those tasks. Mass resignations will be accepted in place of either of these items, failure to provide both to my satisfaction shall result in mass firings and (if I can manage it) public floggings. Any department heads who reference the "commerce clause" had BETTER be dealing with interstate highways or something similar. Don't test me on that.
Next, we will work on reforming the Legislative branch. I can't do this directly, but I can do so using two tools, the veto and public opinion. My first order of business will be elimination of expenditures added to bills which have nothing to do with the bill, we know this as pork barrel spending or simply as pork. I will veto any bill containing pork, regardless of the merit of the bill. This will be totally non-partisan. For example if the original bill is for tax reform that I would otherwise sign, but there's pork included, I'll veto it whether the pork provides for a wind farm to be built in Wisconsin (which I would disapprove of) or if it provides for a wall across our southern border to keep out illegal aliens (which I would approve of). Give me the expenditures as seperate bills which I can judge on their own merits. Finally, should Congress override my veto of a pork containing bill I'll call a press conference the very next day and explain to the American people that their Congress approved these expenses, apparently believing that their pet projects are more important than letting the taxpayers keep the money they work for. I will then name each and every member of Congress who voted to override the veto. I suspect a great many promising legislative careers will come to an abrupt end at the next election cycle.
I want America to take a page from her own Marine Corps, I want her to be no better friend and no worse enemy. First, America will no longer be part of the United Nations, an organization which serves only to undermine American sovereignty and give comfort to our enemies. If the UN wishes to maintain its offices in New York City they may do so, by paying fair market value for the property in question. Otherwise, they may leave, the choice is theirs. Next, I will re-evaluate our international alliances. These will be modified as appropriate, our allies should enhance American interests, not detract from them. Our remaining allies will find America a worthwhile friend, quick to assist them militarily, economically, or with humanitarian aid. Everyone else can pound sand. Oh, an earthquake just flattened your capital city and you need food, medical supplies and facilities, power and water? Well, we'll be happy to send a carrier group there to provide all those things, the fee will be one billion dollars per day, plus expenses.
Lastly, I want hostile nations or groups to think twice before they mess with us. I mean that. Much of the trouble we have today with terrorism is because we lacked the intestinal fortitude to flatten Tehran when they took Americans hostage under the Carter administration. You take Americans hostage? You have 48 hours to set them free unharmed or there will be a large hole where your capital used to be. This is non-negotiable, there will be no extensions, this will be your only warning.
So vote for me, we'll make America what it's intended to be.
I'm Mark D and I approve this message.
I believe that America is the greatest nation in the world not because of our government, but because of our people. I believe that the government exists to serve the people (and not, I may add, in the same manner as a bull serves a cow). I believe that the function of government is to protect the rights of the citizens, those rights including life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. I believe that our Constitution creates a government that can do just that, but that the government has trangressed that Constitution and needs to be corrected.
Therefore, if elected, my first order of business will be to reform the executive branch, of which I will be the head. Each department head in the executive branch will provide me with the following: 1) a brief description of the duties and responsibilities of that department, and 2) a copy of the pertinent sections of the Constitution authorizing that department to perform those tasks. Mass resignations will be accepted in place of either of these items, failure to provide both to my satisfaction shall result in mass firings and (if I can manage it) public floggings. Any department heads who reference the "commerce clause" had BETTER be dealing with interstate highways or something similar. Don't test me on that.
Next, we will work on reforming the Legislative branch. I can't do this directly, but I can do so using two tools, the veto and public opinion. My first order of business will be elimination of expenditures added to bills which have nothing to do with the bill, we know this as pork barrel spending or simply as pork. I will veto any bill containing pork, regardless of the merit of the bill. This will be totally non-partisan. For example if the original bill is for tax reform that I would otherwise sign, but there's pork included, I'll veto it whether the pork provides for a wind farm to be built in Wisconsin (which I would disapprove of) or if it provides for a wall across our southern border to keep out illegal aliens (which I would approve of). Give me the expenditures as seperate bills which I can judge on their own merits. Finally, should Congress override my veto of a pork containing bill I'll call a press conference the very next day and explain to the American people that their Congress approved these expenses, apparently believing that their pet projects are more important than letting the taxpayers keep the money they work for. I will then name each and every member of Congress who voted to override the veto. I suspect a great many promising legislative careers will come to an abrupt end at the next election cycle.
I want America to take a page from her own Marine Corps, I want her to be no better friend and no worse enemy. First, America will no longer be part of the United Nations, an organization which serves only to undermine American sovereignty and give comfort to our enemies. If the UN wishes to maintain its offices in New York City they may do so, by paying fair market value for the property in question. Otherwise, they may leave, the choice is theirs. Next, I will re-evaluate our international alliances. These will be modified as appropriate, our allies should enhance American interests, not detract from them. Our remaining allies will find America a worthwhile friend, quick to assist them militarily, economically, or with humanitarian aid. Everyone else can pound sand. Oh, an earthquake just flattened your capital city and you need food, medical supplies and facilities, power and water? Well, we'll be happy to send a carrier group there to provide all those things, the fee will be one billion dollars per day, plus expenses.
Lastly, I want hostile nations or groups to think twice before they mess with us. I mean that. Much of the trouble we have today with terrorism is because we lacked the intestinal fortitude to flatten Tehran when they took Americans hostage under the Carter administration. You take Americans hostage? You have 48 hours to set them free unharmed or there will be a large hole where your capital used to be. This is non-negotiable, there will be no extensions, this will be your only warning.
So vote for me, we'll make America what it's intended to be.
I'm Mark D and I approve this message.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Profits and Taxes
During last night's Presidential debate Senator Obama made mention of record profits by Exxon Mobil, profits that he wishes to tax. The implication is that those profits go to people who are already obscenely rich, so they can afford to lose a bit. Let's take a closer look at that.
Exxon Mobil (I'll abbreviate it as EM from now on) is a publicly traded company, meaning that anyone who can afford to buy stock in it can do so. Stockholders get dividends on their stock, corporate profits translate into a certain amount of money for each share of stock owned, so those profits are divided up among all the stockholders.
Yes, lots of wealthy people own EM stock. Who else does? Well, for one thing I probably do. I have IRAs, 401Ks and Mutual Funds, and of those funds don't have some shares of a company that posted record profits last year I want to speak to the fund manager and find out why.
Most companies, and I assume EM is no exception, have employee stock purchase programs where employees of the company can purchase stock, often with some matching funds provided by the company. This stock can form the basis of a retirement plan or personal investment package. Yes, the CEO will hold stock, but so will a chemist in the research department, an administrative assistant in Human Resources, or a mid-level manager in Accounts Payable. Let's take that last person as our example, let's say her name is Susan. She's been working for the company now for ten years and has been buying stock every paycheck since then. Her quarterly dividends checks have been growing larger as her stock portfolio has increased. She is, in point of fact, solidly middle class, with a job, a mortgage and a car payment. For the last seven years, since she gave birth to her son, she's been putting those dividend checks into a college savings account. Those are the profits Senator Obama wants to take away.
Unlike the government EM can't just print more money or force people under authority of law to pay higher taxes. EM won't just accept smaller profits and pay lower dividents, they'll also attempt to increase income and decrease expenses. Since EM is already selling all the petroleum products it can produce, increasing income is problematic, so they'll probably end up reducing expenses.
If I can simplify EM's business model, they make money by finding petroleum in the ground, removing it from the ground, refining it into usable products, and selling it to consumers. If profits are reduced perhaps EM will scale back the expense of exploring for new sources of petroleum, which may well cause a shortage years down the road (perhaps around the time Susan's son is preparing to go to college). Perhaps EM will scale back some drilling operations, especially in areas where it's more expensive (and thereby less profitable) to drill, which could cause shortages much sooner and may make Susan long for the gas prices of the summer of 2008. Maybe they'll move their operations overseas, to a nation that doesn't have such an onerous tax structure. Finally, maybe they'll just cut staff, and Susan will become one of many unemployed people who lost their jobs because companies were trying to stay profitable under a heavier tax burden.
So by taxing oil company profits we're reducing middle-class Susan's income by reducing her stock dividends, we're making her find other methods of financing her son's college education, we're potentially forcing her to pay more for gasoline, and we may even be forcing her out of her job. All because a politician sees a sum of money earned by a company for selling a product as a source of government income.
Still want to tax those juicy oil company profits?
Exxon Mobil (I'll abbreviate it as EM from now on) is a publicly traded company, meaning that anyone who can afford to buy stock in it can do so. Stockholders get dividends on their stock, corporate profits translate into a certain amount of money for each share of stock owned, so those profits are divided up among all the stockholders.
Yes, lots of wealthy people own EM stock. Who else does? Well, for one thing I probably do. I have IRAs, 401Ks and Mutual Funds, and of those funds don't have some shares of a company that posted record profits last year I want to speak to the fund manager and find out why.
Most companies, and I assume EM is no exception, have employee stock purchase programs where employees of the company can purchase stock, often with some matching funds provided by the company. This stock can form the basis of a retirement plan or personal investment package. Yes, the CEO will hold stock, but so will a chemist in the research department, an administrative assistant in Human Resources, or a mid-level manager in Accounts Payable. Let's take that last person as our example, let's say her name is Susan. She's been working for the company now for ten years and has been buying stock every paycheck since then. Her quarterly dividends checks have been growing larger as her stock portfolio has increased. She is, in point of fact, solidly middle class, with a job, a mortgage and a car payment. For the last seven years, since she gave birth to her son, she's been putting those dividend checks into a college savings account. Those are the profits Senator Obama wants to take away.
Unlike the government EM can't just print more money or force people under authority of law to pay higher taxes. EM won't just accept smaller profits and pay lower dividents, they'll also attempt to increase income and decrease expenses. Since EM is already selling all the petroleum products it can produce, increasing income is problematic, so they'll probably end up reducing expenses.
If I can simplify EM's business model, they make money by finding petroleum in the ground, removing it from the ground, refining it into usable products, and selling it to consumers. If profits are reduced perhaps EM will scale back the expense of exploring for new sources of petroleum, which may well cause a shortage years down the road (perhaps around the time Susan's son is preparing to go to college). Perhaps EM will scale back some drilling operations, especially in areas where it's more expensive (and thereby less profitable) to drill, which could cause shortages much sooner and may make Susan long for the gas prices of the summer of 2008. Maybe they'll move their operations overseas, to a nation that doesn't have such an onerous tax structure. Finally, maybe they'll just cut staff, and Susan will become one of many unemployed people who lost their jobs because companies were trying to stay profitable under a heavier tax burden.
So by taxing oil company profits we're reducing middle-class Susan's income by reducing her stock dividends, we're making her find other methods of financing her son's college education, we're potentially forcing her to pay more for gasoline, and we may even be forcing her out of her job. All because a politician sees a sum of money earned by a company for selling a product as a source of government income.
Still want to tax those juicy oil company profits?
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Government and Business
For the last couple of days the morning radio news has abounded with stories of the Federal government "taking over" banks. I seem to be one of the few people who's not enthused over this idea, and I believe I have history to back me up.
When the United States entered World War I on April 6, 1917 the government realized, correctly, that there was one industry that would have a major stategic role to play in success in that conflict. It was an industry comprised of a large number of competing companies, often providing comparable products to the same markets and run by some of the most cut-throat businessmen ever to head a corporation. Some of these companies were crippled by labor disputes, the corporate infrastructure was aging and in many cases in need of replacement, and lack of standardization meant that most equipment was custom made.
That industry was the railroad system, which would be needed to move troops and equipment from all parts of the nation to the Eastern ports for shipment to Europe. Many doubted that the railroads were up to the task, so in 1918 the government nationalized most of the railroads under the United States Railroad Administration. This administration was responsible for allocating and upgrading equipment, dealing with labor, and controlling how railroads operated. While many good things came out of the USRA, such as standardized locomotive and freight-car designs, the costs to the government (and thus to the taxpayers) were staggering. After the conflict the railroads were returned to the prior ownership and operation.
It is, I think, significant that twenty-three years later, when the United States became embroiled in a larger conflict where even more troops and equipment needed to be transported to both coasts for shipment overseas, the government decided to let the railroads operate with minimal interference from the government. It would seem that the elected officials realized that corporations run for profit by men whose job it was to operate railroads could provide rail transport more efficiently than government bureaucrats could.
Answer this: who do you trust more with your money, the manager of your local bank or an appointee from a group of local politicians? Who do you think knows more about investing your money for a favorable rate of return, a person whose job is to manage money or a person whose job is to get re-elected? Who is more likely to make sure you get your money back when you want it, someone who has to compete with others providing similar services or someone who can take your money under power of law whenever he or she sees fit?
When the United States entered World War I on April 6, 1917 the government realized, correctly, that there was one industry that would have a major stategic role to play in success in that conflict. It was an industry comprised of a large number of competing companies, often providing comparable products to the same markets and run by some of the most cut-throat businessmen ever to head a corporation. Some of these companies were crippled by labor disputes, the corporate infrastructure was aging and in many cases in need of replacement, and lack of standardization meant that most equipment was custom made.
That industry was the railroad system, which would be needed to move troops and equipment from all parts of the nation to the Eastern ports for shipment to Europe. Many doubted that the railroads were up to the task, so in 1918 the government nationalized most of the railroads under the United States Railroad Administration. This administration was responsible for allocating and upgrading equipment, dealing with labor, and controlling how railroads operated. While many good things came out of the USRA, such as standardized locomotive and freight-car designs, the costs to the government (and thus to the taxpayers) were staggering. After the conflict the railroads were returned to the prior ownership and operation.
It is, I think, significant that twenty-three years later, when the United States became embroiled in a larger conflict where even more troops and equipment needed to be transported to both coasts for shipment overseas, the government decided to let the railroads operate with minimal interference from the government. It would seem that the elected officials realized that corporations run for profit by men whose job it was to operate railroads could provide rail transport more efficiently than government bureaucrats could.
Answer this: who do you trust more with your money, the manager of your local bank or an appointee from a group of local politicians? Who do you think knows more about investing your money for a favorable rate of return, a person whose job is to manage money or a person whose job is to get re-elected? Who is more likely to make sure you get your money back when you want it, someone who has to compete with others providing similar services or someone who can take your money under power of law whenever he or she sees fit?
Saturday, July 19, 2008
What a Difference Competition Makes
Last week my wife and I had two visits, on two consecutive days, by two technicians for purposes of making upgrades or repairs to items in our home. The difference in results of those two visits were enlightening, to say the least.
On day 1 we had a representative from the cable TV company in two do two things: install a cable box (which we needed because we kept losing channels we like because we didn't have one) and install a cable phone line. We decided to go with cable phone because it's cheaper, since we already have cable TV and cable internet service, so we get a package price.
Now, deciding upon who to call for cable system upgrades is easy, the only company to call is the cable company. They are a monopoly. So we call them, and we are promised that the techician will arrive between 8:00 am and 11:00 am. At 10:30 the cable company calls to give me a phone number and reference number, so I can contact them if the technician doesn't arrive by 11:00. At 11:05 (as I was about the make the call) the cable company calls again, tells me the techician is running late, but he'll be here within 45 minutes. About 35 minutes later he arrives. He sets up our cable box, no problem, then installs the new internet/phone modem and shows us where on the form our new phone number is located.
Shortly all the hardware is installed and he now has to set up our internet connection for the new modem. He calls the cable company to do so, and his put on hold. I can hear the music playing thru his speakerphone, with periodic pauses to tell him his call is very important and he'll be assisted by the next available person. He was on hold for about 20 minutes, until at long last we're two-thirds set up. When we called the cable company we were informed that (a) this would in fact take ten minutes, (b) no, it could not be done on a Saturday and (c) we WOULD have to pay a fee for a service call. Amazingly, this fee was waived, perhaps threatening to switch to satellite TV had something to do with it. So I have a vacation day today to await the technician who will, of course, be there between eight and eleven again, so he'll probably leave too late for me to have time to go to the range anyway.
For service call number 2, our clothes dryer wasn't working properly. If you open the phone book under "appliance repair" you'll find a full page of listings for people who will come to your home and repair your dryer. Having purchased this dryer at Sears, we called Sears to repair it. This service call was scheduled for between eight am and twelve noon, and we were told that they'd call at 8:00 with an approximate time we could expect the repair technician. As it turns out, we were the first call of the day, so he just showed up at 8:15. I escorted him to the basement, explained the problem, told him the steps I'd taken such as cleaning the vent. He spent ten or fifteen minutes down there, went to his van for parts, and spent another fifteen minutes installing them (including replacing a part that wasn't the cause of our problem, but was squeaking). He was gone by 9:00, and I was on my way to the range by 10:00. If anything at all goes wrong with the dryer for the next year it will be repair for free, even if it has nothing to do with what was repaired this time.
So here we see a difference, one company that's the only game in town (unless you're willing to mount a big, ugly dish on your roof), one that knows it has to provide good service or we'll take our business elsewhere. One company that's one of many providing competing services, one that has no competition.
Tell me again how wonderful "single payer health care" will be.
On day 1 we had a representative from the cable TV company in two do two things: install a cable box (which we needed because we kept losing channels we like because we didn't have one) and install a cable phone line. We decided to go with cable phone because it's cheaper, since we already have cable TV and cable internet service, so we get a package price.
Now, deciding upon who to call for cable system upgrades is easy, the only company to call is the cable company. They are a monopoly. So we call them, and we are promised that the techician will arrive between 8:00 am and 11:00 am. At 10:30 the cable company calls to give me a phone number and reference number, so I can contact them if the technician doesn't arrive by 11:00. At 11:05 (as I was about the make the call) the cable company calls again, tells me the techician is running late, but he'll be here within 45 minutes. About 35 minutes later he arrives. He sets up our cable box, no problem, then installs the new internet/phone modem and shows us where on the form our new phone number is located.
Say what?
New phone number? No one told us we'd be getting a new phone number. After some discussion (and him calling the cable company) it's decided that he'll do everything but run the phone line, we'll need another service call (which he promised us could be done on a Saturday, for which we will not need to pay a fee, and which will take ten minutes).
Shortly all the hardware is installed and he now has to set up our internet connection for the new modem. He calls the cable company to do so, and his put on hold. I can hear the music playing thru his speakerphone, with periodic pauses to tell him his call is very important and he'll be assisted by the next available person. He was on hold for about 20 minutes, until at long last we're two-thirds set up. When we called the cable company we were informed that (a) this would in fact take ten minutes, (b) no, it could not be done on a Saturday and (c) we WOULD have to pay a fee for a service call. Amazingly, this fee was waived, perhaps threatening to switch to satellite TV had something to do with it. So I have a vacation day today to await the technician who will, of course, be there between eight and eleven again, so he'll probably leave too late for me to have time to go to the range anyway.
For service call number 2, our clothes dryer wasn't working properly. If you open the phone book under "appliance repair" you'll find a full page of listings for people who will come to your home and repair your dryer. Having purchased this dryer at Sears, we called Sears to repair it. This service call was scheduled for between eight am and twelve noon, and we were told that they'd call at 8:00 with an approximate time we could expect the repair technician. As it turns out, we were the first call of the day, so he just showed up at 8:15. I escorted him to the basement, explained the problem, told him the steps I'd taken such as cleaning the vent. He spent ten or fifteen minutes down there, went to his van for parts, and spent another fifteen minutes installing them (including replacing a part that wasn't the cause of our problem, but was squeaking). He was gone by 9:00, and I was on my way to the range by 10:00. If anything at all goes wrong with the dryer for the next year it will be repair for free, even if it has nothing to do with what was repaired this time.
So here we see a difference, one company that's the only game in town (unless you're willing to mount a big, ugly dish on your roof), one that knows it has to provide good service or we'll take our business elsewhere. One company that's one of many providing competing services, one that has no competition.
Tell me again how wonderful "single payer health care" will be.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Apocryphal Text From Genesis
Found in a cave near Qumran in Israel, sealed in a metal can with a plastic lid:
God saith unto Adam “Thou shalt harvest the fruit of the coffee plant, and thou shalt dry that fruit, and thou shalt roast that fruit until it is a deep brown color. And thou shalt grind the roasted fruit into a fine power. Thou shalt place the grindings in water over a fire and boil them until the brew is dark and strong. This brew shall be called “coffee”, and behold it is very good. Behold, thou shalt be careful not to drink in the grindings at the bottom of the cup, lest ye choke. Thou mayest add to the coffee the milk of the cow, or the product of the sugar cane, according to thy taste. And behold, using the intellect which I hath given thee, thou shalt devise new and better methods for preparing coffee, causing hot water to drip or perk through the grindings, that thou mayest consume better coffee without the dregs at the bottom of the cup. Beware though, lest ye be led astray from the pure coffee I intend that thou consumest, and addest to thy coffee vile substances such as sugar substitutes or creamers not made of the milk of the cow.” And thus Adam drank coffee, and behold it was good. And Adam devised new methods for brewing coffee, the percolator, the drip maker, and the French press. And God smelled the aroma of brewing coffee in Heaven, a sweet scent beloved by the Lord, and God saw that it was good. In the fullness of time Adam devised a method for forcing steam, rather than hot water, through the grindings, causing a stronger and richer coffee to be made, Adam called this brew Espresso. And God looked upon Adam drinking his coffee, and behold it was very good.
Then the demon Nescafe didst whisper in Adam’s ear, saying “Behold, brewing coffee takes much time! Let us brew coffee in large quantities, and let us then dry the water from the coffee, leaving us with grindings that need only have hot water added. This we shall call “instant coffee”.” So Adam was led astray, and made instant coffee. Adam saw that the instant coffee lacked the flavor and richness of the fresh-brewed coffee, but Adam deemed this a small sacrifice to the convenience offered by Nescafe. And Adam was led astray, and fresh coffee was reserved for special occasions, and not partaken of daily as the Lord had commanded.
In the fullness of time Adam was visited by the demon Starbucks. And the demon saith unto Adam “Behold, a place where thou canst purchase burnt-tasting coffee for an excessive price, and behold, the cup is emblazoned with the name of the place, so that all whom thou meetest shall know that thou hast purchased expensive coffee, and thy esteem shall be great. And behold, for an additional price, thou mayest add small quantities of additional flavors to thy coffee. Thou mayest add flavorings like vanilla or mocha, thou mayest add espresso to thy coffee, thou mayest have thy coffee topped with foam or steamed milk.” And Adam was beguiled by Starbucks, and didst consume of the fruit of the coffee plant in a manner not intended by the Lord. And instead of saying “Large coffee, regular, no sugar”, a term pleasing to the Lord, Adam didst say “Vente Cappuccino, double-shot, mocha, foam, cinnamon”, a phrase vile to the Lord’s ears.
Then the demon Heathnut didst speak in Adam’s ear and sayeth “Behold, caffeine is not good for thee!” Beguiled by the demon Adam didst devise a way to extract the caffeine from the fruit of the coffee plant, along with most of the flavor. And Adam didst combine this knowledge with that of Nescafe and didst make Sanka, an abomination in the eyes of the Lord. And Adam didst order decaffeinated espresso from Starbucks.
Adam’s face was darkened, for behold, he lacked energy, and was unproductive in the morning, and was unproductive after lunch, and wouldst sleep when he ought to labor. Adam also was stricken with poverty because of the excessive prices of coffee provided by Starbucks. And Adam saith unto himself “Where hath my energy gone? Why am I unproductive? Why do I lack my former vigor? Why have I no money with which to take Eve to dinner?” And the Lord sent His Angel to Adam in a dream, and showed him how he used to drink brewed coffee in the morning, and in the afternoon. And the Angel reminded Adam of the flavor and smell of the brewed coffee. And Adam repented and ceased drinking of the beverages that are vile to the Lord. And Adam found his old percolator in the back of the cupboard, and didst wash the dust from it, and Adam didst harvest the fruit of the coffee plant, and roast it, and grind it, and brew it with fresh water and drink it. And Adam was happy, and the Lord smiled upon him.
Then the Lord saith unto Adam “Behold, thou hast learned thy lesson, now bear that lesson in mind while I teach thee to make beer, dark and full of flavor.”
God saith unto Adam “Thou shalt harvest the fruit of the coffee plant, and thou shalt dry that fruit, and thou shalt roast that fruit until it is a deep brown color. And thou shalt grind the roasted fruit into a fine power. Thou shalt place the grindings in water over a fire and boil them until the brew is dark and strong. This brew shall be called “coffee”, and behold it is very good. Behold, thou shalt be careful not to drink in the grindings at the bottom of the cup, lest ye choke. Thou mayest add to the coffee the milk of the cow, or the product of the sugar cane, according to thy taste. And behold, using the intellect which I hath given thee, thou shalt devise new and better methods for preparing coffee, causing hot water to drip or perk through the grindings, that thou mayest consume better coffee without the dregs at the bottom of the cup. Beware though, lest ye be led astray from the pure coffee I intend that thou consumest, and addest to thy coffee vile substances such as sugar substitutes or creamers not made of the milk of the cow.” And thus Adam drank coffee, and behold it was good. And Adam devised new methods for brewing coffee, the percolator, the drip maker, and the French press. And God smelled the aroma of brewing coffee in Heaven, a sweet scent beloved by the Lord, and God saw that it was good. In the fullness of time Adam devised a method for forcing steam, rather than hot water, through the grindings, causing a stronger and richer coffee to be made, Adam called this brew Espresso. And God looked upon Adam drinking his coffee, and behold it was very good.
Then the demon Nescafe didst whisper in Adam’s ear, saying “Behold, brewing coffee takes much time! Let us brew coffee in large quantities, and let us then dry the water from the coffee, leaving us with grindings that need only have hot water added. This we shall call “instant coffee”.” So Adam was led astray, and made instant coffee. Adam saw that the instant coffee lacked the flavor and richness of the fresh-brewed coffee, but Adam deemed this a small sacrifice to the convenience offered by Nescafe. And Adam was led astray, and fresh coffee was reserved for special occasions, and not partaken of daily as the Lord had commanded.
In the fullness of time Adam was visited by the demon Starbucks. And the demon saith unto Adam “Behold, a place where thou canst purchase burnt-tasting coffee for an excessive price, and behold, the cup is emblazoned with the name of the place, so that all whom thou meetest shall know that thou hast purchased expensive coffee, and thy esteem shall be great. And behold, for an additional price, thou mayest add small quantities of additional flavors to thy coffee. Thou mayest add flavorings like vanilla or mocha, thou mayest add espresso to thy coffee, thou mayest have thy coffee topped with foam or steamed milk.” And Adam was beguiled by Starbucks, and didst consume of the fruit of the coffee plant in a manner not intended by the Lord. And instead of saying “Large coffee, regular, no sugar”, a term pleasing to the Lord, Adam didst say “Vente Cappuccino, double-shot, mocha, foam, cinnamon”, a phrase vile to the Lord’s ears.
Then the demon Heathnut didst speak in Adam’s ear and sayeth “Behold, caffeine is not good for thee!” Beguiled by the demon Adam didst devise a way to extract the caffeine from the fruit of the coffee plant, along with most of the flavor. And Adam didst combine this knowledge with that of Nescafe and didst make Sanka, an abomination in the eyes of the Lord. And Adam didst order decaffeinated espresso from Starbucks.
Adam’s face was darkened, for behold, he lacked energy, and was unproductive in the morning, and was unproductive after lunch, and wouldst sleep when he ought to labor. Adam also was stricken with poverty because of the excessive prices of coffee provided by Starbucks. And Adam saith unto himself “Where hath my energy gone? Why am I unproductive? Why do I lack my former vigor? Why have I no money with which to take Eve to dinner?” And the Lord sent His Angel to Adam in a dream, and showed him how he used to drink brewed coffee in the morning, and in the afternoon. And the Angel reminded Adam of the flavor and smell of the brewed coffee. And Adam repented and ceased drinking of the beverages that are vile to the Lord. And Adam found his old percolator in the back of the cupboard, and didst wash the dust from it, and Adam didst harvest the fruit of the coffee plant, and roast it, and grind it, and brew it with fresh water and drink it. And Adam was happy, and the Lord smiled upon him.
Then the Lord saith unto Adam “Behold, thou hast learned thy lesson, now bear that lesson in mind while I teach thee to make beer, dark and full of flavor.”
Thursday, March 06, 2008
The Gulag Archipelago
My posts lately have taken a lighter tone, but this one is most certainly not of that mold. This is a topic that should disturb you.
I just finished reading The Gulag Archipelago by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn lately. The Gulags were a series of prisons in the former Soviet Union which were used for “enemies of the state”. Solzhenitsyn (pronounced, I’m told, Sol-JA-hen-eet-sin) likens these camps to an archipelago, a series of islands in the ocean. People were routinely arrested for the slightest reason, or for no reason at all, only to fill a quota of arrests. They were then tortured into confessing, or murdered, or were sent to work camps where they worked until they died.
This is the most disturbing book I’ve ever read. I don’t say that lightly either. I’ve read Iris Chang’s book about the atrocities committed by Japanese Soldiers in Nanking, China that shocked Nazi government officials who were there (The Rape of Nanking). I’ve read of the Nazis and their concentration camps and their Ultimate Solution. This story of millions of people imprisoned, tortured and murdered by their own government, of people pulled from their homes in the middle of the night never to be seen by their loved ones again, of people living in constant fear that they may be next is the worst story I’ve ever encountered.
While many of the people imprisoned in the gulags were criminals, most were “political” criminals. Their crimes? There were stories of World War II pilots who were shot down and spent the remainder of the war in other nations, where they were exposed to foreign culture. These people were considered dangerous and needed to be re-educated. People (including the author) were arrested for being friends with someone who was arrested (who may, in fact, have also been arrested for that reason). Since the work camps needed people to perform the manual labor there were quotas to be met. No one cared if the person in the camp was actually guilty of anything or merely got in the way of an arresting officer with a quota.
We’ll probably never know just how many people died in the Gulags, estimates run in the tens of millions. Some were murdered outright, some were worked to death.
I’ll offer a glimpse of the Gulags. Prisoners were set to work to build a canal, using picks, shovels and wheelbarrows, no heavy machinery. In winter. People would freeze to death during the work day, sledges had to be sent around at night to pick up the corpses. Two hundred and fifty thousand prisoners died during this construction project. You read that correctly, a quarter of a million people. The result of this project can be seen in the authors own words: “In 1966 I spent eight hours by the canal. During this time there was one self-propelled barge which passed from Povenets to Soroka, and one, identical in type, from Soroka to Povenets. Their numbers were different, and it was only by their numbers that I could tell them apart and be sure it was not the same one as before on its way back. Because they were loaded altogether identically; with the very same pine logs which had been lying exposed for a long time and were useless for anything except firewood. And canceling one load against another we get zero. And a quarter of a million corpses to be remembered.” This was just for one construction project, by one work-camp, for one canal that apparently didn’t see much use.
This book has, if anything, increased my already deep hatred of Communism and my pledge to oppose anyone who would try to make America over in the Communist mold. Solzhenitsyn wrote this book not only to preserve the past, but to serve as a warning for the future. On the last page of the book he writes “All you freedom-loving “left wing” thinkers in the West! You left-laborites! You progressive American, German, and French students! As far as you are concerned, this whole book of mine is a waste of effort. You may suddenly understand it all someday – but only when you yourselves hear ‘hands behind your backs there!’ and step ashore on our Archipelago.”
Don’t say you weren’t warned.
I just finished reading The Gulag Archipelago by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn lately. The Gulags were a series of prisons in the former Soviet Union which were used for “enemies of the state”. Solzhenitsyn (pronounced, I’m told, Sol-JA-hen-eet-sin) likens these camps to an archipelago, a series of islands in the ocean. People were routinely arrested for the slightest reason, or for no reason at all, only to fill a quota of arrests. They were then tortured into confessing, or murdered, or were sent to work camps where they worked until they died.
This is the most disturbing book I’ve ever read. I don’t say that lightly either. I’ve read Iris Chang’s book about the atrocities committed by Japanese Soldiers in Nanking, China that shocked Nazi government officials who were there (The Rape of Nanking). I’ve read of the Nazis and their concentration camps and their Ultimate Solution. This story of millions of people imprisoned, tortured and murdered by their own government, of people pulled from their homes in the middle of the night never to be seen by their loved ones again, of people living in constant fear that they may be next is the worst story I’ve ever encountered.
While many of the people imprisoned in the gulags were criminals, most were “political” criminals. Their crimes? There were stories of World War II pilots who were shot down and spent the remainder of the war in other nations, where they were exposed to foreign culture. These people were considered dangerous and needed to be re-educated. People (including the author) were arrested for being friends with someone who was arrested (who may, in fact, have also been arrested for that reason). Since the work camps needed people to perform the manual labor there were quotas to be met. No one cared if the person in the camp was actually guilty of anything or merely got in the way of an arresting officer with a quota.
We’ll probably never know just how many people died in the Gulags, estimates run in the tens of millions. Some were murdered outright, some were worked to death.
I’ll offer a glimpse of the Gulags. Prisoners were set to work to build a canal, using picks, shovels and wheelbarrows, no heavy machinery. In winter. People would freeze to death during the work day, sledges had to be sent around at night to pick up the corpses. Two hundred and fifty thousand prisoners died during this construction project. You read that correctly, a quarter of a million people. The result of this project can be seen in the authors own words: “In 1966 I spent eight hours by the canal. During this time there was one self-propelled barge which passed from Povenets to Soroka, and one, identical in type, from Soroka to Povenets. Their numbers were different, and it was only by their numbers that I could tell them apart and be sure it was not the same one as before on its way back. Because they were loaded altogether identically; with the very same pine logs which had been lying exposed for a long time and were useless for anything except firewood. And canceling one load against another we get zero. And a quarter of a million corpses to be remembered.” This was just for one construction project, by one work-camp, for one canal that apparently didn’t see much use.
This book has, if anything, increased my already deep hatred of Communism and my pledge to oppose anyone who would try to make America over in the Communist mold. Solzhenitsyn wrote this book not only to preserve the past, but to serve as a warning for the future. On the last page of the book he writes “All you freedom-loving “left wing” thinkers in the West! You left-laborites! You progressive American, German, and French students! As far as you are concerned, this whole book of mine is a waste of effort. You may suddenly understand it all someday – but only when you yourselves hear ‘hands behind your backs there!’ and step ashore on our Archipelago.”
Don’t say you weren’t warned.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Strange People I've Worked With
Over the last 22 years I’ve worked in a number of offices and in direct contact with literally hundreds of people. The law of averages states that a number of those people will be, well, for charities sake let’s call them eccentric. Here is a sampling of the strange people I’ve worked with; names have been changed though, just in case.
David was about my age, we were both only a couple years out of college when we first worked together. He was an employee of the company, I was a consultant. David was, to put it politely, an apple polisher (we used to say he bought chap-stick by the case). David knew the birthday of every manager above him, from his immediate supervisor to the CEO of the company. You’re thinking he sent them a card, aren’t you? You’re thinking too small. He baked them a cake or cookies, with his own two little hands.
Emma was a truly unique person; I will probably never meet another person who reminds me of her. She’d arrive at work with her black wool winter coat covered (and I do mean covered) with cat fur because her cats liked sleeping on it. My cat would like to sleep on my coat too, but I don’t let her. One day she had a bowl of cereal for breakfast and didn’t finish it, the remaining cereal sat, in the bowl, for weeks and weeks, she called it her science project. Her most noticeable quality though was an apparent lack of control over her bodily functions combined with a diet heavy in peppers and onions (she once told me that she’d eat an onion like other people eat an apple, just bite into it). This combination made her both flatulent and fragrant, and she made no attempt to hold them in. On more than one occasion I or a co-worker were driven from our office by her emanations, and she’d frequently be seen, heard and smelled walking down the hall emitting a noxious cloud as she went.
One instance where you learn a person’s eccentricities is when you share a bathroom with them, so there are a couple of men on my list here. Alan had an odd habit in the men’s room. On this particular floor we had a man in a wheelchair, so the men’s room was handicapped accessible There was a plate next to the door you could push and the door would open automatically. Alan would go into the bathroom and, before doing anything else, would wash his hands thoroughly with soap and water. He would then go about the business he came into the bathroom for, after which he would splash a little more water onto his hands, without soap, dry them on a paper towel, use the towel to push the plate to open the door, run back to the trash can to discard the towel, then run back out thru the door before it closed.
Frank was probably the least mechanically-inclined person I’ve ever known. He set up his inflatable pool on a part of his yard that wasn’t level and couldn’t understand why the water was lower at one end than the other. His high-water (pardon the pun) mark was met when he bought a snow-blower. He first wanted to know why a snow-blower with an electric starter needed a pull-cord, which I explained by saying that if it stalled at the end of your property it was probably easier to re-start a hot engine by pulling the cord than by walking all the way back to the electrical outlet. The best one was when he asked me which way he should point the discharge chute from the snow-blower, I told him you should point it left or right, depending on where you want the snow to go. He asked “Can’t I point it straight back?” to which I replied “Frank, you’ll be standing there”.
Marv liked to argue. He considered himself a provocateur (which is apparently French for chop-buster). Given that he was a self-described bleeding heart Liberal I was a frequent target of his discussions, since I was just about guaranteed to be on the opposite side of any topic he could pick. I also don’t like to argue, so I never understood where Marv was coming from until he told me one day that, when among friends of similar political leanings, he’d say things he didn't agree with just to start a “discussion”. There’s a word for people like that, but I’ll keep this blog PG-rated.
Jack was another guy with odd bathroom habits. He must’ve been a high-order germophobe. If he needed to, shall we say, sit down he’d clean the seat. Now most guys will wipe the seat just to avoid anything really nasty, but he would wash the seat with soap, rinse it with water, then dry it, then put TP on it. He’d let you know if you walked in while he was performing this process and you went into “his” stall while he was getting more paper towels or whatever.
Inez was, briefly, my immediate manager. She was, shall we say, hygienically challenged. We suspected she showered once a month or so, whether she needed it or not. During long meetings she’d slip her shoes off under the conference room table, and you could ALWAYS tell when she’d done so.
Claude was also on of my managers. He was actually a really nice guy, but he was a micro-manager. Co-workers told me about an occasion before I went to work for him where there was some emergency that everyone was involved in correcting. Claude insisted upon a thirty-second status meeting every five minutes until the problem was resolved. I was glad I wasn’t working for him at the time, I’d have kicked him out and told him I’d update him when I had enough time to accomplish something.
Martha was another of my immediate supervisors. She was dopey in a harmless sort of way. Her major idiosyncrasy was a nearly pathological fear of squirrels. This wasn’t mere phobia though, she was actually convinced they could hurt you or, if they were near your car, could damage your tires. I know, you’re thinking that she was concerned about their admittedly sharp teeth or claws, but her concern was for their tails. Yes, she believed that a squirrel’s tail was covered, not in soft fur, but in little spikes that would cut into you if they touched you.
There have been other odd people in my career, and if I think of any I’ll be sure to write a part 2 of this entry.
David was about my age, we were both only a couple years out of college when we first worked together. He was an employee of the company, I was a consultant. David was, to put it politely, an apple polisher (we used to say he bought chap-stick by the case). David knew the birthday of every manager above him, from his immediate supervisor to the CEO of the company. You’re thinking he sent them a card, aren’t you? You’re thinking too small. He baked them a cake or cookies, with his own two little hands.
Emma was a truly unique person; I will probably never meet another person who reminds me of her. She’d arrive at work with her black wool winter coat covered (and I do mean covered) with cat fur because her cats liked sleeping on it. My cat would like to sleep on my coat too, but I don’t let her. One day she had a bowl of cereal for breakfast and didn’t finish it, the remaining cereal sat, in the bowl, for weeks and weeks, she called it her science project. Her most noticeable quality though was an apparent lack of control over her bodily functions combined with a diet heavy in peppers and onions (she once told me that she’d eat an onion like other people eat an apple, just bite into it). This combination made her both flatulent and fragrant, and she made no attempt to hold them in. On more than one occasion I or a co-worker were driven from our office by her emanations, and she’d frequently be seen, heard and smelled walking down the hall emitting a noxious cloud as she went.
One instance where you learn a person’s eccentricities is when you share a bathroom with them, so there are a couple of men on my list here. Alan had an odd habit in the men’s room. On this particular floor we had a man in a wheelchair, so the men’s room was handicapped accessible There was a plate next to the door you could push and the door would open automatically. Alan would go into the bathroom and, before doing anything else, would wash his hands thoroughly with soap and water. He would then go about the business he came into the bathroom for, after which he would splash a little more water onto his hands, without soap, dry them on a paper towel, use the towel to push the plate to open the door, run back to the trash can to discard the towel, then run back out thru the door before it closed.
Frank was probably the least mechanically-inclined person I’ve ever known. He set up his inflatable pool on a part of his yard that wasn’t level and couldn’t understand why the water was lower at one end than the other. His high-water (pardon the pun) mark was met when he bought a snow-blower. He first wanted to know why a snow-blower with an electric starter needed a pull-cord, which I explained by saying that if it stalled at the end of your property it was probably easier to re-start a hot engine by pulling the cord than by walking all the way back to the electrical outlet. The best one was when he asked me which way he should point the discharge chute from the snow-blower, I told him you should point it left or right, depending on where you want the snow to go. He asked “Can’t I point it straight back?” to which I replied “Frank, you’ll be standing there”.
Marv liked to argue. He considered himself a provocateur (which is apparently French for chop-buster). Given that he was a self-described bleeding heart Liberal I was a frequent target of his discussions, since I was just about guaranteed to be on the opposite side of any topic he could pick. I also don’t like to argue, so I never understood where Marv was coming from until he told me one day that, when among friends of similar political leanings, he’d say things he didn't agree with just to start a “discussion”. There’s a word for people like that, but I’ll keep this blog PG-rated.
Jack was another guy with odd bathroom habits. He must’ve been a high-order germophobe. If he needed to, shall we say, sit down he’d clean the seat. Now most guys will wipe the seat just to avoid anything really nasty, but he would wash the seat with soap, rinse it with water, then dry it, then put TP on it. He’d let you know if you walked in while he was performing this process and you went into “his” stall while he was getting more paper towels or whatever.
Inez was, briefly, my immediate manager. She was, shall we say, hygienically challenged. We suspected she showered once a month or so, whether she needed it or not. During long meetings she’d slip her shoes off under the conference room table, and you could ALWAYS tell when she’d done so.
Claude was also on of my managers. He was actually a really nice guy, but he was a micro-manager. Co-workers told me about an occasion before I went to work for him where there was some emergency that everyone was involved in correcting. Claude insisted upon a thirty-second status meeting every five minutes until the problem was resolved. I was glad I wasn’t working for him at the time, I’d have kicked him out and told him I’d update him when I had enough time to accomplish something.
Martha was another of my immediate supervisors. She was dopey in a harmless sort of way. Her major idiosyncrasy was a nearly pathological fear of squirrels. This wasn’t mere phobia though, she was actually convinced they could hurt you or, if they were near your car, could damage your tires. I know, you’re thinking that she was concerned about their admittedly sharp teeth or claws, but her concern was for their tails. Yes, she believed that a squirrel’s tail was covered, not in soft fur, but in little spikes that would cut into you if they touched you.
There have been other odd people in my career, and if I think of any I’ll be sure to write a part 2 of this entry.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
No, I'm Not In Jail!
Nor amI tied to a chair listening to Barry Manilow.
I called back on Wednesday as previously directed and I was told that the ticket was "changed", meaning I am not responsible for it. Whether this means that the correct person is responsible for it, or that the whole matter is being tossed out, I don't know neither do I care. There will be no SWAT team breaking down my door at 2 am because of a $48 parking ticket.
I need to thank my wife for the offer of a cake with a file in it, and for MG for her concern that'd I'd been incarcerated.
I called back on Wednesday as previously directed and I was told that the ticket was "changed", meaning I am not responsible for it. Whether this means that the correct person is responsible for it, or that the whole matter is being tossed out, I don't know neither do I care. There will be no SWAT team breaking down my door at 2 am because of a $48 parking ticket.
I need to thank my wife for the offer of a cake with a file in it, and for MG for her concern that'd I'd been incarcerated.
Monday, December 31, 2007
To Err Is Human.....
To really screw things up requires a government agency.
On Saturday I received an official-looking letter in the mail. It was one of those envelopes with the carbon paper inside so the letter can be typed right thru the envelope, the things that businesses stopped using thirty or so years ago. At first I thought I'd been called for jury duty. It turned out to be a Failure-To-Appear notice on a parking ticket for a Fairly Small Town (FST for short) in New Jersey I don't think I've ever been to.
At this point I must offer a little aside. I work for a consulting company that processes parking tickets for a Very Big Municipality (VBM). I've worked there for nine years. VBM processes more parking tickets in one day than most NJ towns will see in a year. I can quote to you, from memory, the various ways a ticket can move thru our system, from issuance to payment, or judgment, or collection proceedings, or towing your car and auctioning it off, or hearings, or automatic dismissal, etc etc. I've forgotten more about parking tickets than most people will ever know.
So anyway, FST promises me dire consequences should I fail to pay the amount shown, those consequences including suspension of driving privileges, inability to register my vehicle, additional penalties added to the ticket, arrest, and being tied to a chair and forced to listen to Barry Manilow. They provide me with a web site where I can look at details of the ticket, and a phone number I can call on Mondays thru Fridays between the hours of 9 am and 4 pm. Being the technically savvy person I am, I fired up my home computer and checked out the web site. Hmmm, confusion, the ticket in question was left on the windshield of a Chevy. A quick look in the driveway confirms that the vehicle out there is a Jeep Liberty. It was such when purchased in 2006, it is now, one assumes it's always been a Jeep Liberty. Therefore, whoever wrote the ticket got the license plate wrong and, co-incidentally, wrote down my plate by mistake.
I need to make another little aside here, explaining via my vast store-house of information on how parking tickets are processed. The police officer, traffic-control officer, or whoever, who leaves a ticket on your windshield doesn't know who you are. He or she sees your car parked illegally and writes the ticket, keeping a copy for the official record. If you don't pay the ticket the town will contact the state Department of Motor Vehicles to find out (via your license plate) who owns the offending car, they then mail you a nasty letter telling you to pay your fine or Suffer The Consequences.
So, this is obviously not my car, I am not responsible for this ticket, and I can in good conscience plead not-guilty. First thing this morning (Monday) I call the supplied number, push a couple of buttons, and, surprise surprise, get a real live person on the phone. I tell her my plight and she tells me she needs to contact DMV for information on my car and to call back Wednesday (tomorrow being January 1, thus a holiday).
*blink blink*
I can go two possible ways at this point. I can call upon my extensive knowledge of the processing of parking tickets, point out that DMV has already been contacted (that's how they knew who to send the letter to), that if their system was at all sensible they'd have gotten my vehicle information at the same time as my personal information (more efficient since DMV charges for these contacts, so why contact them twice instead of once?), and that the ticket could and should be dismissed right now.
I'll call back on Wednesday.
On Saturday I received an official-looking letter in the mail. It was one of those envelopes with the carbon paper inside so the letter can be typed right thru the envelope, the things that businesses stopped using thirty or so years ago. At first I thought I'd been called for jury duty. It turned out to be a Failure-To-Appear notice on a parking ticket for a Fairly Small Town (FST for short) in New Jersey I don't think I've ever been to.
At this point I must offer a little aside. I work for a consulting company that processes parking tickets for a Very Big Municipality (VBM). I've worked there for nine years. VBM processes more parking tickets in one day than most NJ towns will see in a year. I can quote to you, from memory, the various ways a ticket can move thru our system, from issuance to payment, or judgment, or collection proceedings, or towing your car and auctioning it off, or hearings, or automatic dismissal, etc etc. I've forgotten more about parking tickets than most people will ever know.
So anyway, FST promises me dire consequences should I fail to pay the amount shown, those consequences including suspension of driving privileges, inability to register my vehicle, additional penalties added to the ticket, arrest, and being tied to a chair and forced to listen to Barry Manilow. They provide me with a web site where I can look at details of the ticket, and a phone number I can call on Mondays thru Fridays between the hours of 9 am and 4 pm. Being the technically savvy person I am, I fired up my home computer and checked out the web site. Hmmm, confusion, the ticket in question was left on the windshield of a Chevy. A quick look in the driveway confirms that the vehicle out there is a Jeep Liberty. It was such when purchased in 2006, it is now, one assumes it's always been a Jeep Liberty. Therefore, whoever wrote the ticket got the license plate wrong and, co-incidentally, wrote down my plate by mistake.
I need to make another little aside here, explaining via my vast store-house of information on how parking tickets are processed. The police officer, traffic-control officer, or whoever, who leaves a ticket on your windshield doesn't know who you are. He or she sees your car parked illegally and writes the ticket, keeping a copy for the official record. If you don't pay the ticket the town will contact the state Department of Motor Vehicles to find out (via your license plate) who owns the offending car, they then mail you a nasty letter telling you to pay your fine or Suffer The Consequences.
So, this is obviously not my car, I am not responsible for this ticket, and I can in good conscience plead not-guilty. First thing this morning (Monday) I call the supplied number, push a couple of buttons, and, surprise surprise, get a real live person on the phone. I tell her my plight and she tells me she needs to contact DMV for information on my car and to call back Wednesday (tomorrow being January 1, thus a holiday).
*blink blink*
I can go two possible ways at this point. I can call upon my extensive knowledge of the processing of parking tickets, point out that DMV has already been contacted (that's how they knew who to send the letter to), that if their system was at all sensible they'd have gotten my vehicle information at the same time as my personal information (more efficient since DMV charges for these contacts, so why contact them twice instead of once?), and that the ticket could and should be dismissed right now.
I'll call back on Wednesday.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Christmas Meme
MorningGlory at http://morningglory2.wordpress.com/blogroll-bios/ tagged me with the Christmas meme, so here goes:
1. Wrapping or gift bags? Usually wrapping paper, unless what I'm wrapping is really oddly shaped.
2. Real or artificial tree? Growing up we had artificial trees, since I've been married my wife and I get real trees.
3. When do you put up the tree? Growing up the tree went up the day after Thanksgiving. My wife and I go with friends the day (or weekend) after Thanksgiving to cut down our trees and we usually get them up (if not completely decorated) that weekend.
4. When do you take the tree down? Again, family tradition was that the tree stayed up until after my parents anniversary on January 7, my wife and I continue this tradition too. We get it down on whatever weekend we can, generally after 1/7.
5. Do you like eggnog? I LOVE the stuff! Strangly (given my mis-spent youth), I've never had egg nog with alcohol in it.
6. Favorite gift received as a child? Toy trains (the beginning of a hobby that I still love).
7. Do you have a Nativity scene? Yes, I started out by buying the Fontanini Jesus/Mary/Joseph set, my wife added the manger, angels, animals, wise men, etc when we were dating.
8. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? I can't recall ever getting a BAD Christmas gift, there were years I didn't get ANY at all though (after my parents died, when I was single and unattached).
9. Mail or email Christmas cards? Mail (thanks to my wife, if it were up to me they'd probably never get sent)
10. Favorite Christmas movie? I've seen surprisingly few of the classic Christmas movies (It's a Wonderful Life, Christmas Story, Miracle on 34th Street, etc, I don't think I've seen any of those all the way thru). Have to remedy that someday. I always loved the Peanuts Christmas Special, and I also like A Christmas Carol (I especially like George C. Scott as Scrooge).
11. When do you start shopping for Christmas? Usually sometime after Thanksgiving, but seldom on Black Friday. I only buy for my wife so....
12. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Chocolate Chip Cookies. On a related note, there's one cookie my Mom made that I really miss, she called them "Ice Box Cookies", they were slightly almond flavored. They were WONDERFUL when they were warm from the oven and excellent when fresh. After a few days they turned hard enough to use for hockey pucks (I'd say skeet targets, but I doubt they'd have broken) but still tasted good dunked in milk (me) or coffee (my parents). I also like Yule Kake (Norwegian for Christmas Cake), I pretty much managed to duplicate my Mom's recipe for this (she made it much less sweet than the traditional recipe). It's basically a sweet soda-bread with raisins.
13. Clear lights or colored on the tree? Either one, but colored lights should be kept inside the tree to make a colored glow and neither type should blink, flash, chase or otherwise give the impression of a carnival barker shouting "Hurry hurry hurry! Step right up and see the Baby Jesus! Thrill to the Virgin Birth!"
14. Favorite Christmas song? There are so many! Just a few of my favorites: "Carol of the Bells" (preferably played on handbells), "Do You Hear What I Hear?", "I Saw Three Ships", "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing". If I can be permitted another aside (and since this is my blog I can!), that last one appealed to me as a child. My father's name was Harold, and I thought that my Dad had the same name as an angel. Anyone who knew my Dad would be rolling on the floor laughing at THAT.
Now I'm supposed to tag someone else. One of these days I have get a meme BEFORE MorningGlory so I can tag her! Maybe I can get my wife to answer in comments.
1. Wrapping or gift bags? Usually wrapping paper, unless what I'm wrapping is really oddly shaped.
2. Real or artificial tree? Growing up we had artificial trees, since I've been married my wife and I get real trees.
3. When do you put up the tree? Growing up the tree went up the day after Thanksgiving. My wife and I go with friends the day (or weekend) after Thanksgiving to cut down our trees and we usually get them up (if not completely decorated) that weekend.
4. When do you take the tree down? Again, family tradition was that the tree stayed up until after my parents anniversary on January 7, my wife and I continue this tradition too. We get it down on whatever weekend we can, generally after 1/7.
5. Do you like eggnog? I LOVE the stuff! Strangly (given my mis-spent youth), I've never had egg nog with alcohol in it.
6. Favorite gift received as a child? Toy trains (the beginning of a hobby that I still love).
7. Do you have a Nativity scene? Yes, I started out by buying the Fontanini Jesus/Mary/Joseph set, my wife added the manger, angels, animals, wise men, etc when we were dating.
8. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? I can't recall ever getting a BAD Christmas gift, there were years I didn't get ANY at all though (after my parents died, when I was single and unattached).
9. Mail or email Christmas cards? Mail (thanks to my wife, if it were up to me they'd probably never get sent)
10. Favorite Christmas movie? I've seen surprisingly few of the classic Christmas movies (It's a Wonderful Life, Christmas Story, Miracle on 34th Street, etc, I don't think I've seen any of those all the way thru). Have to remedy that someday. I always loved the Peanuts Christmas Special, and I also like A Christmas Carol (I especially like George C. Scott as Scrooge).
11. When do you start shopping for Christmas? Usually sometime after Thanksgiving, but seldom on Black Friday. I only buy for my wife so....
12. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Chocolate Chip Cookies. On a related note, there's one cookie my Mom made that I really miss, she called them "Ice Box Cookies", they were slightly almond flavored. They were WONDERFUL when they were warm from the oven and excellent when fresh. After a few days they turned hard enough to use for hockey pucks (I'd say skeet targets, but I doubt they'd have broken) but still tasted good dunked in milk (me) or coffee (my parents). I also like Yule Kake (Norwegian for Christmas Cake), I pretty much managed to duplicate my Mom's recipe for this (she made it much less sweet than the traditional recipe). It's basically a sweet soda-bread with raisins.
13. Clear lights or colored on the tree? Either one, but colored lights should be kept inside the tree to make a colored glow and neither type should blink, flash, chase or otherwise give the impression of a carnival barker shouting "Hurry hurry hurry! Step right up and see the Baby Jesus! Thrill to the Virgin Birth!"
14. Favorite Christmas song? There are so many! Just a few of my favorites: "Carol of the Bells" (preferably played on handbells), "Do You Hear What I Hear?", "I Saw Three Ships", "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing". If I can be permitted another aside (and since this is my blog I can!), that last one appealed to me as a child. My father's name was Harold, and I thought that my Dad had the same name as an angel. Anyone who knew my Dad would be rolling on the floor laughing at THAT.
Now I'm supposed to tag someone else. One of these days I have get a meme BEFORE MorningGlory so I can tag her! Maybe I can get my wife to answer in comments.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Thankfulness
At the end of the last chapter of To Ride, Shoot Straight, and Speak the Truth Jeff Cooper offers the reader a list of the blessings he’s received (good health, loving wife, fine children, etc). He ends with “…such blessings cannot be deserved, but they are deeply and humbly appreciated.”
At this time of year we celebrate a uniquely American holiday, Thanksgiving. We celebrate not the founding of our nation, our founders, or our great men and women. We take this time to give thanks for the blessings we have received. Despite the efforts of some to make this into a time of mourning for what was done to the American Indians (and I suspect their descendents are grateful that they’re no longer living like their ancestors), it is a time for counting blessings.
I’m grateful first of all that I serve a God who loves me, who loves all of His creatures. I’m grateful that God doesn’t require that I defend Him but that He comes to my aid to protect me, even from myself.
I’m grateful that I live in the most free, most prosperous nation in the world. A nation that offers me the chance, and only the chance, to succeed. A nation where my abilities are the only possible deterrent to my own success.
I’m grateful for a wife who, inexplicably, loves me. A woman I’d die for and who I live for. A woman who understands me better than I understand myself and who strives to make me happy (and succeeds resoundingly).
I’m thankful that I had parents who taught me right from wrong, who didn’t explain away my misdeeds but neither did they dwell on them after the lesson was learned.
I’m grateful that I married into a wonderful family that treats me as one of their own. After my wife and I married it was just so natural to call my new mother-in-law “Mom”, a name I didn’t think I’d ever utter again after my mother died in 1990.
I’m grateful for good health, a comfortable home, and a good job. I’m glad that I can take my job seriously enough to be good at it but not be so obsessed with it that I live to work rather than work to live.
No, I do not deserve these blessings, but I appreciate them.
At this time of year we celebrate a uniquely American holiday, Thanksgiving. We celebrate not the founding of our nation, our founders, or our great men and women. We take this time to give thanks for the blessings we have received. Despite the efforts of some to make this into a time of mourning for what was done to the American Indians (and I suspect their descendents are grateful that they’re no longer living like their ancestors), it is a time for counting blessings.
I’m grateful first of all that I serve a God who loves me, who loves all of His creatures. I’m grateful that God doesn’t require that I defend Him but that He comes to my aid to protect me, even from myself.
I’m grateful that I live in the most free, most prosperous nation in the world. A nation that offers me the chance, and only the chance, to succeed. A nation where my abilities are the only possible deterrent to my own success.
I’m grateful for a wife who, inexplicably, loves me. A woman I’d die for and who I live for. A woman who understands me better than I understand myself and who strives to make me happy (and succeeds resoundingly).
I’m thankful that I had parents who taught me right from wrong, who didn’t explain away my misdeeds but neither did they dwell on them after the lesson was learned.
I’m grateful that I married into a wonderful family that treats me as one of their own. After my wife and I married it was just so natural to call my new mother-in-law “Mom”, a name I didn’t think I’d ever utter again after my mother died in 1990.
I’m grateful for good health, a comfortable home, and a good job. I’m glad that I can take my job seriously enough to be good at it but not be so obsessed with it that I live to work rather than work to live.
No, I do not deserve these blessings, but I appreciate them.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Happy (Belated) Birthday, USMC
I’ve been remiss in mentioning that November 10, 2007 was the 232nd birthday of the United States Marine Corps. The Marines were formed by act of the second Continental Congress which specified that two battalions of Marines be raised to function as landing forces for the fleet. It’s been my honor and privilege to have known a number of Marines (including my father). They’ve all had a few things in common, they were all plain-spoken (if a bit vulgar at times), fiercely proud, loyal to a fault, and a little bit crazy.
For over two centuries, whenever America has felt the need to kick butt the Marines have been the steel toe on the boot. The late Jeff Cooper (himself a Marine) said that if you wanted to see the world you joined the Navy, if you wanted to fly you joined the Air Force, if you wanted to learn a trade you joined the Army, but if you wanted to fight you joined the Marines. Ronald Reagan said that some people go thru life wondering if they made a difference, the Marines never had that problem. Admiral Nimitz, commander of the invasion of Iwo Jima, said of the Marines in that action that uncommon valor was a common virtue. Rumor has it that Chesty Puller (most decorated Marine in history), on seeing a new model flamethrower wondered where the bayonet was attached. Perhaps the Marine Corps motto says all that needs to be said: “No better friend, no worse enemy”.
While I have the greatest respect and admiration for all of our fighting forces, there will always be a soft spot in my heart for the USMC. Now if you’ll excuse me, because of my lateness in mentioning the Marine’s birthday I have to give Gunny 232 push-ups.
For over two centuries, whenever America has felt the need to kick butt the Marines have been the steel toe on the boot. The late Jeff Cooper (himself a Marine) said that if you wanted to see the world you joined the Navy, if you wanted to fly you joined the Air Force, if you wanted to learn a trade you joined the Army, but if you wanted to fight you joined the Marines. Ronald Reagan said that some people go thru life wondering if they made a difference, the Marines never had that problem. Admiral Nimitz, commander of the invasion of Iwo Jima, said of the Marines in that action that uncommon valor was a common virtue. Rumor has it that Chesty Puller (most decorated Marine in history), on seeing a new model flamethrower wondered where the bayonet was attached. Perhaps the Marine Corps motto says all that needs to be said: “No better friend, no worse enemy”.
While I have the greatest respect and admiration for all of our fighting forces, there will always be a soft spot in my heart for the USMC. Now if you’ll excuse me, because of my lateness in mentioning the Marine’s birthday I have to give Gunny 232 push-ups.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
St Crispin's Day
On this date, St Crispin’s Day, in 1415 the badly outnumbered English and Welsh army, commanded by King Henry V, served up a good old-fashioned butt-kicking to Charles VI’s much larger French army at Agincourt. The French defeat was particularly notable due to the number of noblemen killed (according to Wikipedia three dukes, five counts and ninety barons).
This battle would be notable only to scholars and English school children were it not immortalized by one William Shakespeare. The following is from his play King Henry V and is, in my humble opinion, among the great examples of heroic oration. It takes place the night before the battle.
WESTMORELAND
O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work to-day!
KING HENRY V
What's he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin:
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country loss;
and if to live,The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
But if it be a sin to covet honour,I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England:
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more, methinks, would share from me
For the best hope I have.
O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is called the feast of Crispian:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
ill stand a tip-toe when the day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day.'
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day: then shall our names.
Familiar in his mouth as household words
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
If olde English isn’t your cup of tea, here follows my translation:
WESTMORELAND (Henry’s cousin)
If only ten thousand men in England who have the day off (because St Crispin’s day is a holiday) were here with us!
King Henry V:
Who said that? My cousin Westmoreland? I disagree.
If we are going to die, there’s enough of us to be missed.
If we’re going to live, the fewer of us there are the more honor each of us will receive.
By God! Don’t wish there were one more of us.
I don’t fight for money, and I don’t care if anyone in my army does.
I don’t care if men wear my uniform.
I don’t care about things like that.
But if it’s a sin to want honor and glory I’m the worst sinner alive.
No, my cousin, don’t wish there were one man more from England.
My God! I wouldn’t share the honor I’ll receive with one more man if it were my last hope.
Instead, tell everyone in my army that if he doesn’t have the courage to fight he can leave. We’ll give him money to use to get home. We don’t want to die in the company of a man who’s afraid to die with us.
Whoever survives today and goes home will stand tall when St Crispin’s Day is named. When he grows old he’ll have a party for his friends the day before and remind them that tomorrow is St Crispin’s day. Then he’ll roll up his sleeves and show his scars and say “I got these scars on Crispin’s Day". He’ll forget some things in his old age, but he’ll never forget what he did today. He’ll remember all our names as if it were yesterday, and he’ll drink a toast to us. Good men will teach our story to their sons and St Crispin’s day will never pass from now on without our deeds being remembered.
We are a small group of brothers, for whoever fights with me today will be a brother to me. Even if he’s low-class, he’ll be a gentleman.
And gentlemen who are in bed in England right now will think they’re cursed that they weren’t here. They’ll feel like lesser men in the presence of anyone who fought with us upon St Crispin’s Day.
This battle would be notable only to scholars and English school children were it not immortalized by one William Shakespeare. The following is from his play King Henry V and is, in my humble opinion, among the great examples of heroic oration. It takes place the night before the battle.
WESTMORELAND
O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work to-day!
KING HENRY V
What's he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin:
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country loss;
and if to live,The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
But if it be a sin to covet honour,I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England:
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more, methinks, would share from me
For the best hope I have.
O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is called the feast of Crispian:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
ill stand a tip-toe when the day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day.'
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day: then shall our names.
Familiar in his mouth as household words
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
If olde English isn’t your cup of tea, here follows my translation:
WESTMORELAND (Henry’s cousin)
If only ten thousand men in England who have the day off (because St Crispin’s day is a holiday) were here with us!
King Henry V:
Who said that? My cousin Westmoreland? I disagree.
If we are going to die, there’s enough of us to be missed.
If we’re going to live, the fewer of us there are the more honor each of us will receive.
By God! Don’t wish there were one more of us.
I don’t fight for money, and I don’t care if anyone in my army does.
I don’t care if men wear my uniform.
I don’t care about things like that.
But if it’s a sin to want honor and glory I’m the worst sinner alive.
No, my cousin, don’t wish there were one man more from England.
My God! I wouldn’t share the honor I’ll receive with one more man if it were my last hope.
Instead, tell everyone in my army that if he doesn’t have the courage to fight he can leave. We’ll give him money to use to get home. We don’t want to die in the company of a man who’s afraid to die with us.
Whoever survives today and goes home will stand tall when St Crispin’s Day is named. When he grows old he’ll have a party for his friends the day before and remind them that tomorrow is St Crispin’s day. Then he’ll roll up his sleeves and show his scars and say “I got these scars on Crispin’s Day". He’ll forget some things in his old age, but he’ll never forget what he did today. He’ll remember all our names as if it were yesterday, and he’ll drink a toast to us. Good men will teach our story to their sons and St Crispin’s day will never pass from now on without our deeds being remembered.
We are a small group of brothers, for whoever fights with me today will be a brother to me. Even if he’s low-class, he’ll be a gentleman.
And gentlemen who are in bed in England right now will think they’re cursed that they weren’t here. They’ll feel like lesser men in the presence of anyone who fought with us upon St Crispin’s Day.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Today's Oddity
This morning I made my usual walk from the World Trade Center station to the subway station where I embark on the last leg of my morning commute. As I walked down Fulton Street I noticed something odd. It was definitely morning. I was definitely walking East. I mentally confirmed both of these multiple times, I know my limitations before I've had my first cup of coffee. Why, then, was my shadow in front of me. (Think about it, if you're facing East, and the sun is rising, as it normally does, in the East, the sun should be in front of you and your shadow behind you.) The light also had a strange, almost artificial, quality similar to a halogen lamp rather than true sunlight. I looked back over my shoulder and found that there was a tall glass building behind me, the sun's rays were reflecting off of that building and shining right down Fulton Street.
Odd, but oddly cool.
Odd, but oddly cool.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Rhythms
No, this is not a discussion of natural methods of birth control, bear with me.
Last week my wife and I were in Bethany Beach, Delaware for family vacation (us, her parents, and her three brothers with their wives and children, sixteen people all together). We go on such a vacation almost every year, and I’ve learned that if I want to do something by myself the best time is in the morning, since very little happens until after lunch. Last week was a treat for me; I had an opportunity to do some surf fishing. For the uninitiated, surf fishing involves fishing from the beach, casting your bait into the water beyond the surf. I hadn’t gone surf fishing in over twenty years (since I was in college), but when I was in Junior High and High School my father and I would go surf fishing every other Saturday (when the tides were favorable) all summer.
I’d forgotten how much I love the seashore, in particular spending time on the seashore actually doing something that involved the ocean (as opposed to sitting in a chair reading a book). The seashore is a place of rhythms. There’s the obvious (to a fisherman) twice-daily ebb and flow of the tides, high to low and back to high with the transitions between. Within that is the rhythm of the waves, watching the rod tip as the waves hit the line and bend the rod down, to the unaccustomed it looks like a fish bit (the difference is subtle and nearly indescribable, but obvious once you’ve gotten into the rhythm). Superimposed over the rhythm of the waves, every few waves two will combine to send the water higher up the beach than the others (a good reason to fish barefoot in warm weather or in boots in cool weather). Then every hour or so a wave will wash up even higher, probably hitting your belongings and, if you’re smart or lucky enough to have put them on the downhill side away from the water, washing them further up the beach. Of course if you were neither smart nor lucky, your stuff might well wash out to sea.
There’s something primal about standing there on the seashore, dealing with the ocean on her own terms. If you try to drag your fish to the beach against the under-tow you may snap your line, you have to hold it in place until the flow reduces. Likewise, you have to reel like crazy when the incoming wave hits your fish or the line may slacken enough for the fish to get off the hook (and my personal rule is that if I didn’t hold the fish in my hands I didn’t catch it). You can’t control the ocean; sharks have fed well on those who tried. You can’t even reach an agreement with her, the best you can do is react to her changing moods.
On our last day (when I didn’t get a chance to fish) we were near the beach and I noticed that the surf was rough and the water quite choppy compared to previous days. I noticed that the weather was very much like it had been earlier in the week. There must’ve been a storm somewhere over the horizon that caused the rough water. Had I gone fishing that day I’d have needed a heavier sinker to keep my bait from being washed in. As always, the ocean set the rules, and I could’ve done nothing but react to them.
Last week my wife and I were in Bethany Beach, Delaware for family vacation (us, her parents, and her three brothers with their wives and children, sixteen people all together). We go on such a vacation almost every year, and I’ve learned that if I want to do something by myself the best time is in the morning, since very little happens until after lunch. Last week was a treat for me; I had an opportunity to do some surf fishing. For the uninitiated, surf fishing involves fishing from the beach, casting your bait into the water beyond the surf. I hadn’t gone surf fishing in over twenty years (since I was in college), but when I was in Junior High and High School my father and I would go surf fishing every other Saturday (when the tides were favorable) all summer.
I’d forgotten how much I love the seashore, in particular spending time on the seashore actually doing something that involved the ocean (as opposed to sitting in a chair reading a book). The seashore is a place of rhythms. There’s the obvious (to a fisherman) twice-daily ebb and flow of the tides, high to low and back to high with the transitions between. Within that is the rhythm of the waves, watching the rod tip as the waves hit the line and bend the rod down, to the unaccustomed it looks like a fish bit (the difference is subtle and nearly indescribable, but obvious once you’ve gotten into the rhythm). Superimposed over the rhythm of the waves, every few waves two will combine to send the water higher up the beach than the others (a good reason to fish barefoot in warm weather or in boots in cool weather). Then every hour or so a wave will wash up even higher, probably hitting your belongings and, if you’re smart or lucky enough to have put them on the downhill side away from the water, washing them further up the beach. Of course if you were neither smart nor lucky, your stuff might well wash out to sea.
There’s something primal about standing there on the seashore, dealing with the ocean on her own terms. If you try to drag your fish to the beach against the under-tow you may snap your line, you have to hold it in place until the flow reduces. Likewise, you have to reel like crazy when the incoming wave hits your fish or the line may slacken enough for the fish to get off the hook (and my personal rule is that if I didn’t hold the fish in my hands I didn’t catch it). You can’t control the ocean; sharks have fed well on those who tried. You can’t even reach an agreement with her, the best you can do is react to her changing moods.
On our last day (when I didn’t get a chance to fish) we were near the beach and I noticed that the surf was rough and the water quite choppy compared to previous days. I noticed that the weather was very much like it had been earlier in the week. There must’ve been a storm somewhere over the horizon that caused the rough water. Had I gone fishing that day I’d have needed a heavier sinker to keep my bait from being washed in. As always, the ocean set the rules, and I could’ve done nothing but react to them.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Something I Thought I'd Share
Like most Americans, I'm comfortable with measuring temperatures in Fahrenheit and must less so in Celsius (or Centigrade if you prefer). If someone tells me it's 22 F I can translate that into "cold", 85 F as "warm" and 110 F as "crap it's hot". If I encounter a Celsuis temperature I'm much less certain, what's 28 C? Now my cell phone is equipped with a unit converter, but I'm not going to whip that out every time I need to do a conversion (I'm nerdy, but not THAT nerdy). I know the formula, multiply the Celsius temperature by nine-fifths and add 32, but multiplying by nine-fifths in your head is hard.
Well, here I offer to my readers (both of them) an easy method to convert Celsius to Farenheit in your head. I don't pretend it's original, the math works so I can hardly be the discoverer of it, but I've never seen it anyplace else before. You can use it with precise numbers to get a precise conversion, or you can use close-enough numbers to get an idea of what kind of temperature we're talking about.
Here goes: Take your Celsius temperture, double it, subtract ten percent, and add 32. Each of these steps is easy to do in your head especially if you're doing a close-enough conversion.
Let's do an example, 28 C. Doubling 28 gives us 56. Ten percent of 56 is 5.6, subtract that from 56 and you get 50.4, add 32 and you get 82.4. That's a precise conversion, exactly what you'd get using the usual formula (in fact you ARE using the usual formula, just doing so in a way that's easy to do in your head). Suppose you don't need an exact number, your British friend just told you it's 28 C today. Call it 30 C (close enough), double it to 60, subtract 6 (ten percent of 60) to get 54, add 32 and you get 86 and bear in mind that you're a little high (because you rounded your original number up). So you know it was pretty warm, but not extremely hot.
I told you I'm a nerd.
Well, here I offer to my readers (both of them) an easy method to convert Celsius to Farenheit in your head. I don't pretend it's original, the math works so I can hardly be the discoverer of it, but I've never seen it anyplace else before. You can use it with precise numbers to get a precise conversion, or you can use close-enough numbers to get an idea of what kind of temperature we're talking about.
Here goes: Take your Celsius temperture, double it, subtract ten percent, and add 32. Each of these steps is easy to do in your head especially if you're doing a close-enough conversion.
Let's do an example, 28 C. Doubling 28 gives us 56. Ten percent of 56 is 5.6, subtract that from 56 and you get 50.4, add 32 and you get 82.4. That's a precise conversion, exactly what you'd get using the usual formula (in fact you ARE using the usual formula, just doing so in a way that's easy to do in your head). Suppose you don't need an exact number, your British friend just told you it's 28 C today. Call it 30 C (close enough), double it to 60, subtract 6 (ten percent of 60) to get 54, add 32 and you get 86 and bear in mind that you're a little high (because you rounded your original number up). So you know it was pretty warm, but not extremely hot.
I told you I'm a nerd.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Junk Science
Each morning I pick up a free newspaper on the way to work, it gives me something to do on the subway. Yesterday’s newspaper contained an article stating that the number of tropical storms and hurricanes has been increasing, and that this increase is due to “human induced climate warming”, also known as “global warming”. It should come as no surprise that I consider the “science” of global warming to be sloppy at best and intentionally dishonest at worst, but let’s take a closer look.
The study in question gave a chart showing average yearly number of tropical storms and hurricanes for three time periods. First, from 1905 thru 1930 there were an average of 6 tropical cyclones and 4 hurricanes per year. From 1931 thru 1994 there were an average of 10 and 5, and from 1995 thru 2005 there were an average of 15 and 8 respectively. On the face of it one might be tempted to say something really is happening, that the number of storms has been increasing for the last hundred years.
Do you see anything wrong with those numbers? Before 1930 (the earliest timeframe reported) the most common method of identifying a storm was for a ship in the ocean to see it or get caught in it. Ship owners don’t like their vessels to get caught in hurricanes because they don’t make any money from cargo that’s at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. Shipping lanes, therefore, tend to avoid those areas where large-scale storms are more likely to form. For the first twenty-five years of the study (and the entire first data-point) the primary method for identifying storms intentionally avoiding being in a position to report the storm. Up until the 1960’s (half-way thru the second time period reported) storm identification still relied on ships and airplanes were also added to the mix. Airplanes also try to avoid large storms for the same reasons ships do, so while more storms could be identified and reported the means of identification still avoided the areas where they were most likely to have something to report. Only in the 1960’s did we begin to put weather satellites into orbit, and newer satellites have gotten more sophisticated and provide greater coverage. From 1995 thru 2005 (comprising only ten percent of the total time period reported on) we can now see a hurricane form anywhere in the world, for the first time we can be sure of a full and accurate count of the number of storms that form.
The scientific principle known as “Occam’s Razor” states that given two possible explanations the simpler one is likely to be the correct one. Apply that principle and ask yourself which is more likely given the information I provide above: are there really more hurricanes and tropical cyclones each year, or have there always been about the same number of storms but we’re now in a position to identify them all?
The study in question gave a chart showing average yearly number of tropical storms and hurricanes for three time periods. First, from 1905 thru 1930 there were an average of 6 tropical cyclones and 4 hurricanes per year. From 1931 thru 1994 there were an average of 10 and 5, and from 1995 thru 2005 there were an average of 15 and 8 respectively. On the face of it one might be tempted to say something really is happening, that the number of storms has been increasing for the last hundred years.
Do you see anything wrong with those numbers? Before 1930 (the earliest timeframe reported) the most common method of identifying a storm was for a ship in the ocean to see it or get caught in it. Ship owners don’t like their vessels to get caught in hurricanes because they don’t make any money from cargo that’s at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. Shipping lanes, therefore, tend to avoid those areas where large-scale storms are more likely to form. For the first twenty-five years of the study (and the entire first data-point) the primary method for identifying storms intentionally avoiding being in a position to report the storm. Up until the 1960’s (half-way thru the second time period reported) storm identification still relied on ships and airplanes were also added to the mix. Airplanes also try to avoid large storms for the same reasons ships do, so while more storms could be identified and reported the means of identification still avoided the areas where they were most likely to have something to report. Only in the 1960’s did we begin to put weather satellites into orbit, and newer satellites have gotten more sophisticated and provide greater coverage. From 1995 thru 2005 (comprising only ten percent of the total time period reported on) we can now see a hurricane form anywhere in the world, for the first time we can be sure of a full and accurate count of the number of storms that form.
The scientific principle known as “Occam’s Razor” states that given two possible explanations the simpler one is likely to be the correct one. Apply that principle and ask yourself which is more likely given the information I provide above: are there really more hurricanes and tropical cyclones each year, or have there always been about the same number of storms but we’re now in a position to identify them all?
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Mom
I wanted to post this on Tuesday, but my web access was problematic, and yesterday I was too busy, so here it is, better late than never.
July 24, 2007, would have been my mother’s eighty-eighth birthday had she not died in 1990. Mom lived in a very different world than we do, she was a throwback to an earlier era. She actually wasn’t even modern for her own era. Let me give you some examples.
She never learned to drive.
She was born in Staten Island, NY (part of NYC) and lived there her entire life. She died within a few miles of where she was born. The furthest she ever traveled from Staten Island was into New Jersey near the Pennsylvania border. Think about that for a moment, she never once, in her entire life, had to reset her watch because she’d entered a new time zone.
She dropped out of high school. Actually, her parents TOOK her out because she was the second oldest of ten children (and the oldest girl) so she needed to be home to help care for her younger siblings. This was considered no big deal because the experience she’d get with child rearing and household management was more useful than the stuff she’d learn in school.
Despite her lack of education, she was an incredibly intelligent woman. She could handle household finances better than anyone I ever knew.
She talked about roller skating with her friends over the Bayonne Bridge (connecting Staten Island to Bayonne NJ) the day it opened in 1931. She was 13.
She talked about riding in the “rumble seat” of a car.
The only time I knew her to sleep in a bed outside of her home was when she was hospitalized with the illness that eventually killed her (brain cancer). She did so when she was younger and her parents had a house in Flanders, NJ (imagine people going to Flanders NJ on vacation?). I don’t think she EVER stayed in a hotel.
In 1949, at age 30, her first husband died suddenly, leaving her with two sets of twins and a baby on the way. She went on Welfare. Welfare then wasn’t like it is now, she wasn’t permitted to buy “real” milk for her children, she had to buy powdered milk. No cookies, candy or other treats. The Welfare office would send people to her home to check.
Some time later she took a job as a housekeeper in Edgar Lutheran Home, part of which was an “old people’s” home. Basically it provided a room for an elderly person, with meals in a dining room, but no nursing care. The other part was a nursing home. One of the people in the “old people’s” home was a woman by the name of Gertrude, she was a widow of a Lutheran minister. Her son Harold would travel from Hoboken, NJ to Staten Island to visit his mother. He joked that the first time he saw my mother she was on her knees cleaning under his mother’s bed, that’s when he decided he had to marry her.
They married on January 7, 1960. I came along three and a half years later.
July 24, 2007, would have been my mother’s eighty-eighth birthday had she not died in 1990. Mom lived in a very different world than we do, she was a throwback to an earlier era. She actually wasn’t even modern for her own era. Let me give you some examples.
She never learned to drive.
She was born in Staten Island, NY (part of NYC) and lived there her entire life. She died within a few miles of where she was born. The furthest she ever traveled from Staten Island was into New Jersey near the Pennsylvania border. Think about that for a moment, she never once, in her entire life, had to reset her watch because she’d entered a new time zone.
She dropped out of high school. Actually, her parents TOOK her out because she was the second oldest of ten children (and the oldest girl) so she needed to be home to help care for her younger siblings. This was considered no big deal because the experience she’d get with child rearing and household management was more useful than the stuff she’d learn in school.
Despite her lack of education, she was an incredibly intelligent woman. She could handle household finances better than anyone I ever knew.
She talked about roller skating with her friends over the Bayonne Bridge (connecting Staten Island to Bayonne NJ) the day it opened in 1931. She was 13.
She talked about riding in the “rumble seat” of a car.
The only time I knew her to sleep in a bed outside of her home was when she was hospitalized with the illness that eventually killed her (brain cancer). She did so when she was younger and her parents had a house in Flanders, NJ (imagine people going to Flanders NJ on vacation?). I don’t think she EVER stayed in a hotel.
In 1949, at age 30, her first husband died suddenly, leaving her with two sets of twins and a baby on the way. She went on Welfare. Welfare then wasn’t like it is now, she wasn’t permitted to buy “real” milk for her children, she had to buy powdered milk. No cookies, candy or other treats. The Welfare office would send people to her home to check.
Some time later she took a job as a housekeeper in Edgar Lutheran Home, part of which was an “old people’s” home. Basically it provided a room for an elderly person, with meals in a dining room, but no nursing care. The other part was a nursing home. One of the people in the “old people’s” home was a woman by the name of Gertrude, she was a widow of a Lutheran minister. Her son Harold would travel from Hoboken, NJ to Staten Island to visit his mother. He joked that the first time he saw my mother she was on her knees cleaning under his mother’s bed, that’s when he decided he had to marry her.
They married on January 7, 1960. I came along three and a half years later.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Latest Meme
Sorry for the lack of posting, things have been a little nuts lately.
I found this on MorningGlory's site, so I decided to play.
WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? No, but my middle name is my father’s first name. He didn’t want both of us answering when my mother called one of us.
WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? Probably last January when my cat Bompy died.
DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? I don’t dislike it enough to try to change it.
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? Roast beef.
DO YOU HAVE KIDS? No, unless the cats count.
IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? Honestly, probably yes, since I try to exhibit those qualities I admire in others.
DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? Me? Sarcasm? NEVER! What could POSSIBLY make you think that?
DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS? Yes
WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? Not for all the tea in China.
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? Right now, Honey Bunches of Oats.
DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? Yes
DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG? Yes
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? It’s a toss-up, Ralph’s Butter Almond (Ralph’s is an ice cream place on Staten Island, NYC) or Hagen Daz Chocolate Swiss Almond (much easier to find).
WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? Facial expression.
RED OR PINK? Red
WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? My lazy eye, I tend to be self-conscious about it, but getting is corrected would cause vision problems.
WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? My parents
WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? Blue chinos and black shoes.
WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE? Honey Bunches of Oats with soy milk.
WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? The air conditioner.
IF YOU WHERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? Sky-blue-pink.
FAVORITE SMELLS? Bread baking, and my wife’s hair.
WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? My wife.
FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH? Football
HAIR COLOR[S]? Brown with some grey
EYE COLOR? Green
DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? Nope, never will either, I hate the thought of touching my eyes.
FAVORITE FOOD? My wife’s meatloaf.
SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? Happy endings because I don’t care for what passes for scary movies these days.
LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? In the Theater, Ocean's Thirteen. On DVD, Letters From Iwo Jima. On TV, probably Men in Black last weekend.
WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING? Blue.
SUMMER OR WINTER? Summer, I hate snow.
HUGS OR KISSES? Hugs for everyone but my wife, hugs and kisses for her.
FAVORITE DESSERT? Anything chocolate
MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND? No one
LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND? Everyone
WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW? The Bourne Identity. I read it years ago (I think I was in High School), so I decided it was time for a re-read.
WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? Nothing, it’s a plain grey pad with a wrist pad.
WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON T.V. LAST NIGHT? I saw part of the Mets game, I really don’t recall what else.
FAVORITE SOUND[S]? Cats purring.
ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES? Stones, mostly because I dislike them less than the Beatles.
WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME? Either Aruba or Phoenix, AZ.
DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? I have very good instincts for when something isn’t right, like when someone is trying to BS me.
WHERE WERE YOU BORN? Staten Island, NY
WHOSE ANSWERS ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO GETTING BACK? I’m not going to ask anyone, so….
I found this on MorningGlory's site, so I decided to play.
WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? No, but my middle name is my father’s first name. He didn’t want both of us answering when my mother called one of us.
WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? Probably last January when my cat Bompy died.
DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? I don’t dislike it enough to try to change it.
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? Roast beef.
DO YOU HAVE KIDS? No, unless the cats count.
IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? Honestly, probably yes, since I try to exhibit those qualities I admire in others.
DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? Me? Sarcasm? NEVER! What could POSSIBLY make you think that?
DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS? Yes
WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? Not for all the tea in China.
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? Right now, Honey Bunches of Oats.
DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? Yes
DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG? Yes
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? It’s a toss-up, Ralph’s Butter Almond (Ralph’s is an ice cream place on Staten Island, NYC) or Hagen Daz Chocolate Swiss Almond (much easier to find).
WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? Facial expression.
RED OR PINK? Red
WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? My lazy eye, I tend to be self-conscious about it, but getting is corrected would cause vision problems.
WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? My parents
WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? Blue chinos and black shoes.
WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE? Honey Bunches of Oats with soy milk.
WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? The air conditioner.
IF YOU WHERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? Sky-blue-pink.
FAVORITE SMELLS? Bread baking, and my wife’s hair.
WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? My wife.
FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH? Football
HAIR COLOR[S]? Brown with some grey
EYE COLOR? Green
DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? Nope, never will either, I hate the thought of touching my eyes.
FAVORITE FOOD? My wife’s meatloaf.
SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? Happy endings because I don’t care for what passes for scary movies these days.
LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? In the Theater, Ocean's Thirteen. On DVD, Letters From Iwo Jima. On TV, probably Men in Black last weekend.
WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING? Blue.
SUMMER OR WINTER? Summer, I hate snow.
HUGS OR KISSES? Hugs for everyone but my wife, hugs and kisses for her.
FAVORITE DESSERT? Anything chocolate
MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND? No one
LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND? Everyone
WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW? The Bourne Identity. I read it years ago (I think I was in High School), so I decided it was time for a re-read.
WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? Nothing, it’s a plain grey pad with a wrist pad.
WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON T.V. LAST NIGHT? I saw part of the Mets game, I really don’t recall what else.
FAVORITE SOUND[S]? Cats purring.
ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES? Stones, mostly because I dislike them less than the Beatles.
WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME? Either Aruba or Phoenix, AZ.
DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? I have very good instincts for when something isn’t right, like when someone is trying to BS me.
WHERE WERE YOU BORN? Staten Island, NY
WHOSE ANSWERS ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO GETTING BACK? I’m not going to ask anyone, so….
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