I've been getting a large amount of 'male-enhancement' spam lately. Since I whitelist my email, it's not really a problem. But every couple of days I go through the spam and check to make sure the system hasn't captured legit email, then I flush it out. Some of the spam is amusing, mostly from a faulty logic standpoint. Today's winner:
Increase the size of you love muscle without tiresome exercise!
Um, isn't the 'tiresome exercise' the whole point?
Friday, January 11, 2008
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Exciting Opportunity!
Immediate Opening for 1 Clueless Jerkoff.
Responsibilities include (but are not limited to):
- Going to the 'express checkout' lane with an entire cartload of junkfood and other crap of your choice. Paying with a check, despite the sign that says 'Cash only.' - You must not have proper ID (must be able to use stupid excuses such as 'Doh! I must have forgotten my Driver's License', despite having your wallet).
- Driving slowly through the parking lot talking on your cell phone (must have own phone). When approaching someone (me) obviously waiting to cross the lane into the parking lot proper, do not stop. As you pass me, be able to ignore my look of irritation, wait for me to begin stepping into the road, then stop for no apparent reason so that I nearly walk into the side of your truck.
- Taking the maximum amount of time to exit the parking lot, so that I have time to get in my vehicle and end up behind you.
- Driving 35 in a 55 zone, holding up traffic to the maximum extent possible.
Requirements:
- Must be at least 50 years of age. Old enough to know better and old enough to make people wonder how you survived this long (mystery is an essential part of the Clueless Jerkoff job).
- Must be wearing a Cowboy Hat three times the size of your head - or larger.
- Must be able to simultaneously light a cigarette and dial your cell phone while behind the wheel, slowing to a near stop in the middle of the intersection on ice covered, slippery roads while ten people are attempting to turn behind you.
- Must have own truck. Truck rear bumper must have at least three stickers with bible slogans. Must have a Jesus Fish on the tailgate - larger is better.
- Must NOT know what a fucking turn signal is.
---------------------
Yes, I had to run to the store for one lousy item. It should have taken two minutes, tops. Instead I ran into the king of idiots, in a white, step-sided, short bedded Ford pickup. If I'd have gotten his name I'd have posted it here - because it pissed me off just that much.
Responsibilities include (but are not limited to):
- Going to the 'express checkout' lane with an entire cartload of junkfood and other crap of your choice. Paying with a check, despite the sign that says 'Cash only.' - You must not have proper ID (must be able to use stupid excuses such as 'Doh! I must have forgotten my Driver's License', despite having your wallet).
- Driving slowly through the parking lot talking on your cell phone (must have own phone). When approaching someone (me) obviously waiting to cross the lane into the parking lot proper, do not stop. As you pass me, be able to ignore my look of irritation, wait for me to begin stepping into the road, then stop for no apparent reason so that I nearly walk into the side of your truck.
- Taking the maximum amount of time to exit the parking lot, so that I have time to get in my vehicle and end up behind you.
- Driving 35 in a 55 zone, holding up traffic to the maximum extent possible.
Requirements:
- Must be at least 50 years of age. Old enough to know better and old enough to make people wonder how you survived this long (mystery is an essential part of the Clueless Jerkoff job).
- Must be wearing a Cowboy Hat three times the size of your head - or larger.
- Must be able to simultaneously light a cigarette and dial your cell phone while behind the wheel, slowing to a near stop in the middle of the intersection on ice covered, slippery roads while ten people are attempting to turn behind you.
- Must have own truck. Truck rear bumper must have at least three stickers with bible slogans. Must have a Jesus Fish on the tailgate - larger is better.
- Must NOT know what a fucking turn signal is.
---------------------
Yes, I had to run to the store for one lousy item. It should have taken two minutes, tops. Instead I ran into the king of idiots, in a white, step-sided, short bedded Ford pickup. If I'd have gotten his name I'd have posted it here - because it pissed me off just that much.
Dancing Monkey is Dancing to Another Tune This Morning
Usually I spend the morning blogging and writing (which is redundant - I think). But this morning I'm starting out in the shop. I've completed the templates for the millwork I'm doing, and this morning I need to start the prototype production run, so you're on your own for a couple of hours.
This is a good thing, for me anyway. First the millwork provides me with income, which is always welcome. Second, woodworking is my zen and it gives me time to think about writing - and I've reached a point in Iyes of the Dead where I need to be plotting very carefully, there are a lot of details coming together and they all have to mesh correctly, woodworking gives me time to get things arranged in my head. I'm thinking I'll post a selected extract of the first chapter here maybe later today or tomorrow - just so you can get an idea of my real writing style which is radically different from Deep Thunder.
On a political note, I see Richardson dropped out of the race last night, sigh. But, truly, you saw that coming, right? I'll go on record as predicting Clinton and McCain. Here's why, I'm pretty sure the GOP engaged in a little under the table chicanery with ole smiling John, in order to get his backing for s.3930. And Clinton, well, you don't think the caucus votes actually matter, do you?
This is a good thing, for me anyway. First the millwork provides me with income, which is always welcome. Second, woodworking is my zen and it gives me time to think about writing - and I've reached a point in Iyes of the Dead where I need to be plotting very carefully, there are a lot of details coming together and they all have to mesh correctly, woodworking gives me time to get things arranged in my head. I'm thinking I'll post a selected extract of the first chapter here maybe later today or tomorrow - just so you can get an idea of my real writing style which is radically different from Deep Thunder.
On a political note, I see Richardson dropped out of the race last night, sigh. But, truly, you saw that coming, right? I'll go on record as predicting Clinton and McCain. Here's why, I'm pretty sure the GOP engaged in a little under the table chicanery with ole smiling John, in order to get his backing for s.3930. And Clinton, well, you don't think the caucus votes actually matter, do you?
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Death from the sky!
Seems like a cat story day, doesn't it?
Meet Stupid.
As cats go, he's right down there on the bottom rung of the ole' feline scratchin' post. You wouldn't want to know him. He is dumb as a catnip mouse. He has a rotten disposition, it would be a charity to say his personality is a lot like a bent shitcan. He is seriously unaffectionate, yet he is pathetically needy - a living contradiction in fur. He is pointy on five ends. He smells funny, like dead fish and old gym shoes. He sheds like you would not believe. And he is patently psychotic, of the twitchy voices-in-my-head-are-telling-me-to-kill-you variety.
This is he. And yes, his eyes really are lit from within by a hellish yellow light.
Technically his name is Sitka. But since he doesn't answer to anything except that one voice in his head that sounds like Lambchop quoting Mein Kampf, we call him whatever we feel like, which is usually The White One or as I may have mentioned - Stupid.
But for quite a while we called him Pegleg, and that brings me to an amusing Alaskan story.
See, Stupid and his brother, Tubby (AKA Kenai, The Grey One, or more often The Fat One) are house cats. They've still got their claws, because we felt funny about cutting off their toes, but let's just say that when I use the pronouns 'he' or 'his' - well, it's just a courtesy. They really have no reason therefore to go out prowling the neighborhood, if you get my drift. And there's another reason we don't let them out - Alaska is a dangerous place for small silly creatures, especially small silly stupid creatures.
Unfortunately, keeping a pair of cats contained is a lot like herding, um, well cats.
So, about two years ago, Stupid and Tubby decided to go for a walk. A door got left open and having no damn sense whatsoever, they slipped out. It took a while to realize that they were missing, we figure that they'd been outside for about an hour or so when I suddenly detected a marked decrease in the levels of free floating cat hair, found the open door, and started looking for them.
Imagine it: two medium sized cats, one grey, one white, lost somewhere in Alaska - Yeah, a mountainous, heavily forested and glaciated region fully as large as the rest of the United States west of the Mississippi (Well, OK, I reasoned that I could safely rule out Kodiak, The Komandorski and Aleutian Islands because cats don't like water and therefore were unlikely to swim for Russia. Still, the reminding search area was pretty good sized, just saying).
OK, not a problem. I knew just what to do.
I went back inside and shut the door, got a beer and went back to surfing the internet. Hell, maybe they would swim for Asia. Screw it, says I to myself (gleefully), let the Rooskies deal with the little bastards, cats are basically communists anyway.
Alas, it was not to be - the kid noticed them missing. The wailing and gnashing of teeth started to get on my nerves. Sigh.
Back outside. Around the house and around the shop I searched. Through the woods (and over the bridge to Grandma's house, ho, aren't you clever). Calling. Their. Names. Yep, perhaps we're calling the wrong creature stupid here. Eventually I found them, filthy and hissing under the back porch. I opened the side door, the one that leads into the attached garage, got a broom, and attempted to (wait for it) herd the cats into the garage. Tubby went, no problem, but Stupid here refused to do anything other than hunker down in the furthest dark reaches under the porch and spit at me.
Nothing for it then. I got down on hands and knees and slowly reached under the porch with my bad arm (because I needed the good one to hold me up, do I have to explain everything?), attempting to get a hold of him. About then, there came a loud sobbing noise from behind me - my son, who had crept up behind me and was attempting to help by suddenly yelling 'What are we gonna do!" over and over and then bursting into hysterical tears. The noise startled both the cat and I. I reacted by falling forward and banging my head on the porch. The cat reacted by attempting to bite my fucking thumb off. Between hitting my head on the porch and the searing pain in my hand, I thought for a moment that I'd been bit by a wolverine. Not one of my finer moments, and I'm afraid the resulting swearing killed all of the grass in the back yard and caused a large gray squirrel to fall stunned from it's perch in a Sikta spruce tree 30 yards away.
Then, and only then, did Stupid dash out from under the porch and into the garage.
Where I left him for a good while. It was either that or put a bullet into his fuzzy ass. And if I wasn't bleeding so much I would have. Instead I spent the next half hour with the medicine chest, pouring betadine into the wounds (yeah, cat slobbler in deep puncture wounds, shudder).
Eventually I let him into the house and he went off to compare tales of exploration with his retarded sibbling.
Think the story ends there? Guess again.
My wife came home. I told her the story. She took one look at my mangled hand, sniffed - and went to check if the cat was OK. It wasn't, something was wrong with a front leg. I was all for letting Stupid suffer for a day or so (you know, as a lesson, not to be cruel [OK, maybe just a little cruel]). Don't worry, Stonekettle Station is not a democracy and I wouldn't get a vote even if it was. Off to the vet. Guess what? Broken leg, oh and not just broken, shattered. Along with various cuts, scraps, and missing claws.
Hot damn, says I to myself, I'll get my pistol.
Did you know that they can fix a shattered cat leg? Apparently all you have to do is wrap it in a dozen hundred dollar bills for about six months (just as a point of reference, a .22cal long rifle cartridge costs about 9 cents). So, the cat ended up sedated, X-rayed, pinned, casted, and collared with a huge floppy blue apron-like thing to keep it from eating the cast. White cat, huge white stiff cast, giant blue floppy collar - glue a red rubber nose on him and he would have been the spitting and hissing image of Bozo the Clown.
So what happened? Bald Eagles, that's what. Unfortunately for me, clumsy and incompetent bald eagles. Damn birds.
Small, fuzzy, stupid, and outside - in Alaska, that means you're food.
We have hardwood floors. For the next six months, Stupid would stump around the house, banging his cast on the floor, like Ahab pacing the quarterdeck of the doomed whaler Pequod - hence the appellation Pegleg.
He would often sit in the windows of the sunroom and glare at the eagles circling outside.
Eventually he got the cast off and is just fine as only a crazy, psychotic cat who cost us $1200 can be. And he has never attempted to go outside again.
But, Jim, I hear you say, you said this was an amusing Alaskan story. We're not amused (OK, we were a little amused at that part where you got mauled by a wolverine, but we were expecting more).
Well, yeah. I left something out. See, we have this friend, an old and dear friend, and he often sends us something cool and different for Christmas. This year it was a plaster Bald Eagle, nearly full sized, designed to hang on the wall.
The cat took one look as it came out of the box on Christmas morning, hissed and ran away. I manfully resisted the urge to chase him around the house, holding the eagle like a kid playing 'airplane' and making screaming raptor noises. I expect serious positive karma credits for this, because at that moment my hand began to hurt in remembered pain.
I hung it in the sunroom, it looks like this (sort of a cat's eye view, so to speak):
Our friend was not aware of the cat's history with death falling from the sky. The irony is sweet sweet justice (about $1200 worth by my estimate). Now, we're even.
See, I said it was an amusing story. Notice I didn't say who it would amuse. The cat is not pleased - and this amuses me.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go make sure we have enough betadine and bandaids.
____________________________________
Additional Cat Stories:
Death From the Sky, Part II
The Further Adventures of Stupid
Manly Blogging Thursday with ShopKat
Meet Stupid.
As cats go, he's right down there on the bottom rung of the ole' feline scratchin' post. You wouldn't want to know him. He is dumb as a catnip mouse. He has a rotten disposition, it would be a charity to say his personality is a lot like a bent shitcan. He is seriously unaffectionate, yet he is pathetically needy - a living contradiction in fur. He is pointy on five ends. He smells funny, like dead fish and old gym shoes. He sheds like you would not believe. And he is patently psychotic, of the twitchy voices-in-my-head-are-telling-me-to-kill-you variety.
This is he. And yes, his eyes really are lit from within by a hellish yellow light.
Technically his name is Sitka. But since he doesn't answer to anything except that one voice in his head that sounds like Lambchop quoting Mein Kampf, we call him whatever we feel like, which is usually The White One or as I may have mentioned - Stupid.
But for quite a while we called him Pegleg, and that brings me to an amusing Alaskan story.
See, Stupid and his brother, Tubby (AKA Kenai, The Grey One, or more often The Fat One) are house cats. They've still got their claws, because we felt funny about cutting off their toes, but let's just say that when I use the pronouns 'he' or 'his' - well, it's just a courtesy. They really have no reason therefore to go out prowling the neighborhood, if you get my drift. And there's another reason we don't let them out - Alaska is a dangerous place for small silly creatures, especially small silly stupid creatures.
Unfortunately, keeping a pair of cats contained is a lot like herding, um, well cats.
So, about two years ago, Stupid and Tubby decided to go for a walk. A door got left open and having no damn sense whatsoever, they slipped out. It took a while to realize that they were missing, we figure that they'd been outside for about an hour or so when I suddenly detected a marked decrease in the levels of free floating cat hair, found the open door, and started looking for them.
Imagine it: two medium sized cats, one grey, one white, lost somewhere in Alaska - Yeah, a mountainous, heavily forested and glaciated region fully as large as the rest of the United States west of the Mississippi (Well, OK, I reasoned that I could safely rule out Kodiak, The Komandorski and Aleutian Islands because cats don't like water and therefore were unlikely to swim for Russia. Still, the reminding search area was pretty good sized, just saying).
OK, not a problem. I knew just what to do.
I went back inside and shut the door, got a beer and went back to surfing the internet. Hell, maybe they would swim for Asia. Screw it, says I to myself (gleefully), let the Rooskies deal with the little bastards, cats are basically communists anyway.
Alas, it was not to be - the kid noticed them missing. The wailing and gnashing of teeth started to get on my nerves. Sigh.
Back outside. Around the house and around the shop I searched. Through the woods (and over the bridge to Grandma's house, ho, aren't you clever). Calling. Their. Names. Yep, perhaps we're calling the wrong creature stupid here. Eventually I found them, filthy and hissing under the back porch. I opened the side door, the one that leads into the attached garage, got a broom, and attempted to (wait for it) herd the cats into the garage. Tubby went, no problem, but Stupid here refused to do anything other than hunker down in the furthest dark reaches under the porch and spit at me.
Nothing for it then. I got down on hands and knees and slowly reached under the porch with my bad arm (because I needed the good one to hold me up, do I have to explain everything?), attempting to get a hold of him. About then, there came a loud sobbing noise from behind me - my son, who had crept up behind me and was attempting to help by suddenly yelling 'What are we gonna do!" over and over and then bursting into hysterical tears. The noise startled both the cat and I. I reacted by falling forward and banging my head on the porch. The cat reacted by attempting to bite my fucking thumb off. Between hitting my head on the porch and the searing pain in my hand, I thought for a moment that I'd been bit by a wolverine. Not one of my finer moments, and I'm afraid the resulting swearing killed all of the grass in the back yard and caused a large gray squirrel to fall stunned from it's perch in a Sikta spruce tree 30 yards away.
Then, and only then, did Stupid dash out from under the porch and into the garage.
Where I left him for a good while. It was either that or put a bullet into his fuzzy ass. And if I wasn't bleeding so much I would have. Instead I spent the next half hour with the medicine chest, pouring betadine into the wounds (yeah, cat slobbler in deep puncture wounds, shudder).
Eventually I let him into the house and he went off to compare tales of exploration with his retarded sibbling.
Think the story ends there? Guess again.
My wife came home. I told her the story. She took one look at my mangled hand, sniffed - and went to check if the cat was OK. It wasn't, something was wrong with a front leg. I was all for letting Stupid suffer for a day or so (you know, as a lesson, not to be cruel [OK, maybe just a little cruel]). Don't worry, Stonekettle Station is not a democracy and I wouldn't get a vote even if it was. Off to the vet. Guess what? Broken leg, oh and not just broken, shattered. Along with various cuts, scraps, and missing claws.
Hot damn, says I to myself, I'll get my pistol.
Did you know that they can fix a shattered cat leg? Apparently all you have to do is wrap it in a dozen hundred dollar bills for about six months (just as a point of reference, a .22cal long rifle cartridge costs about 9 cents). So, the cat ended up sedated, X-rayed, pinned, casted, and collared with a huge floppy blue apron-like thing to keep it from eating the cast. White cat, huge white stiff cast, giant blue floppy collar - glue a red rubber nose on him and he would have been the spitting and hissing image of Bozo the Clown.
So what happened? Bald Eagles, that's what. Unfortunately for me, clumsy and incompetent bald eagles. Damn birds.
Small, fuzzy, stupid, and outside - in Alaska, that means you're food.
We have hardwood floors. For the next six months, Stupid would stump around the house, banging his cast on the floor, like Ahab pacing the quarterdeck of the doomed whaler Pequod - hence the appellation Pegleg.
He would often sit in the windows of the sunroom and glare at the eagles circling outside.
Eventually he got the cast off and is just fine as only a crazy, psychotic cat who cost us $1200 can be. And he has never attempted to go outside again.
But, Jim, I hear you say, you said this was an amusing Alaskan story. We're not amused (OK, we were a little amused at that part where you got mauled by a wolverine, but we were expecting more).
Well, yeah. I left something out. See, we have this friend, an old and dear friend, and he often sends us something cool and different for Christmas. This year it was a plaster Bald Eagle, nearly full sized, designed to hang on the wall.
The cat took one look as it came out of the box on Christmas morning, hissed and ran away. I manfully resisted the urge to chase him around the house, holding the eagle like a kid playing 'airplane' and making screaming raptor noises. I expect serious positive karma credits for this, because at that moment my hand began to hurt in remembered pain.
I hung it in the sunroom, it looks like this (sort of a cat's eye view, so to speak):
Our friend was not aware of the cat's history with death falling from the sky. The irony is sweet sweet justice (about $1200 worth by my estimate). Now, we're even.
See, I said it was an amusing story. Notice I didn't say who it would amuse. The cat is not pleased - and this amuses me.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go make sure we have enough betadine and bandaids.
____________________________________
Additional Cat Stories:
Death From the Sky, Part II
The Further Adventures of Stupid
Manly Blogging Thursday with ShopKat
Out of Pocket
I have an appointment at the VA this morning and have to run into Anchorage.
No, they have not finally completed my compensation and pension process. Argh!
However, I am getting the final gold crown this morning, which should finally fix the dental problems I've been having since the Persian Gulf. I am thrilled by this. Thrilled. No really, I am. I've had a temporary crown on the bottom rear molar since right before Thanksgiving, and while it's held up pretty well, I'll be glad to have the real crown done and the problem fixed. Want some advice? Don't get hit in the side of the jaw, just saying.
Hopefully I'll be back early enough to get some writing in before the kid gets home from school. We'll see. I made good progress yesterday, managing to complete almost an entire rough-draft chapter of Iyes of the Dead. If I can get enough time to edit and revise that today, I will be happy.
More later.
No, they have not finally completed my compensation and pension process. Argh!
However, I am getting the final gold crown this morning, which should finally fix the dental problems I've been having since the Persian Gulf. I am thrilled by this. Thrilled. No really, I am. I've had a temporary crown on the bottom rear molar since right before Thanksgiving, and while it's held up pretty well, I'll be glad to have the real crown done and the problem fixed. Want some advice? Don't get hit in the side of the jaw, just saying.
Hopefully I'll be back early enough to get some writing in before the kid gets home from school. We'll see. I made good progress yesterday, managing to complete almost an entire rough-draft chapter of Iyes of the Dead. If I can get enough time to edit and revise that today, I will be happy.
More later.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Update (Updated with a cool solution to a nagging problem)
Since I have not yet been able to devote time to finding an HTML widget to show 'most recent' posts in previous comment threads, I'm forced to do it manually (and if any of you know how to add this feature to blogger, please, post it in the comments under this thread, thanks).
-----------[update]------------------------
Update: OK, for those of you using Blogspot, face Eric's house and bow. He has provided the answer. You may add a rudimentary most recent comments widget using the following procedure:
Step 1: Go to Customize.
Step 2: Add a page element
Step 3: Select 'Feed'
Step 4: enter the following: "http://.../feeds/comments/default" (replace ... with your url and leave off the quote marks)
Step 5: refrain from speaking poorly about lawyers for at least 24 hours (you can do it, unless you're a, you know, lawyer).
An example of this widget has been added to Stonekettle Station, over there ->
Yes, over there -> scroll down until you find it.
Thanks, Eric
--------------[end update]--------------
Michelle K. and I have been continuing the discussion under the Cloning post.
As Steve Buchheit pointed out, my original post contained a large bit of rather crappy science. I thought about going back and fixing it, and decided instead to let it stand as written. As I've said elsewhere, yeah, sometimes I'm a bit off-base when I get outside my area of expertise, and this was the case with the original cloning post. However, I'm learning things, which is always first and foremost the point of this blog, because really it's all about me. And I'm finding the discussion with Michelle fascinating and the rest of you might too. As I suspected when Michelle joined our little group, she's a worthy addition, especially since her view points are, to some extent, the polar opposite of my own - though I do think we have more common ground than not. Again, I find her comments interesting and thoughtful and you might too.
-----------[update]------------------------
Update: OK, for those of you using Blogspot, face Eric's house and bow. He has provided the answer. You may add a rudimentary most recent comments widget using the following procedure:
Step 1: Go to Customize.
Step 2: Add a page element
Step 3: Select 'Feed'
Step 4: enter the following: "http://.../feeds/comments/default" (replace ... with your url and leave off the quote marks)
Step 5: refrain from speaking poorly about lawyers for at least 24 hours (you can do it, unless you're a, you know, lawyer).
An example of this widget has been added to Stonekettle Station, over there ->
Yes, over there -> scroll down until you find it.
Thanks, Eric
--------------[end update]--------------
Michelle K. and I have been continuing the discussion under the Cloning post.
As Steve Buchheit pointed out, my original post contained a large bit of rather crappy science. I thought about going back and fixing it, and decided instead to let it stand as written. As I've said elsewhere, yeah, sometimes I'm a bit off-base when I get outside my area of expertise, and this was the case with the original cloning post. However, I'm learning things, which is always first and foremost the point of this blog, because really it's all about me. And I'm finding the discussion with Michelle fascinating and the rest of you might too. As I suspected when Michelle joined our little group, she's a worthy addition, especially since her view points are, to some extent, the polar opposite of my own - though I do think we have more common ground than not. Again, I find her comments interesting and thoughtful and you might too.
The Iranian Incident
I've received a couple of emails this morning asking my opinion on the Straits of Hormuz incident involving the US Navy and Iranian Revolutionary Guard patrol boats.
I wasn't there this time, so my opinion is based entirely on my past experience - and as you know, past performance is not a guarantee of future returns, especially with the crazed mob running Iran these days.
I've had the watch several times on the way through that strait, it's a tense process during the best of times. However, the Iranian Navy is fairly professional, and professional sailors from all countries tend to respect each other and tend to behave in a fairly predictable manner with respect for the rules of the sea. However, this incident appears to have involved the Iranian Revolutionary Guard Force, these are not professional sailors or navy men - they are religious zealots who passionately hate America (and pretty much everybody else). Their actions are unpredictable and are often driven by political and religious reasons that are incomprehensible to westerners.
However, rest assured, had it come down to it - the Navy would have blown those boats out of the water without scratching their own paint. And the IRG knows that. Attack us at sea in our own element, and you are going to see some serious shit. It's one thing to attack a warship tied to the pier, or to go after a tanker restricted in it's ability to maneuver - it is something else entirely to engage a fast destroyer task force that is warned, linked, and ready to fight. But I doubt that a fight was the Iranian's intention and I suspect that the basic gist of the Times article, cited above, is in large part correct. The Iranian Government needs to show their own people that they aren't afraid of US Military might and that the Revolutionary Guard is the true power in the region, and they can spin this story however they like within Iran.
On the other hand, this incident has given Wall Street the perfect opportunity to ratchet up oil prices yet again.
I wasn't there this time, so my opinion is based entirely on my past experience - and as you know, past performance is not a guarantee of future returns, especially with the crazed mob running Iran these days.
I've had the watch several times on the way through that strait, it's a tense process during the best of times. However, the Iranian Navy is fairly professional, and professional sailors from all countries tend to respect each other and tend to behave in a fairly predictable manner with respect for the rules of the sea. However, this incident appears to have involved the Iranian Revolutionary Guard Force, these are not professional sailors or navy men - they are religious zealots who passionately hate America (and pretty much everybody else). Their actions are unpredictable and are often driven by political and religious reasons that are incomprehensible to westerners.
However, rest assured, had it come down to it - the Navy would have blown those boats out of the water without scratching their own paint. And the IRG knows that. Attack us at sea in our own element, and you are going to see some serious shit. It's one thing to attack a warship tied to the pier, or to go after a tanker restricted in it's ability to maneuver - it is something else entirely to engage a fast destroyer task force that is warned, linked, and ready to fight. But I doubt that a fight was the Iranian's intention and I suspect that the basic gist of the Times article, cited above, is in large part correct. The Iranian Government needs to show their own people that they aren't afraid of US Military might and that the Revolutionary Guard is the true power in the region, and they can spin this story however they like within Iran.
On the other hand, this incident has given Wall Street the perfect opportunity to ratchet up oil prices yet again.
Back to Work!
Ahhh! Hear that? That's the sound of blessed silence.
It's quiet out in a way that only rural Alaska in the deep winter can be. The temperature has been dropping for the last week, and as a result all the remaining moisture has been condensing out of the atmosphere as hoar frost on every tree branch and surface. Since we live very close to the ocean, that's a lot of moisture. The trees are thickly coated in fuzzy white crystalline jackets and the ground makes a weird squealing noise when you walk across it. The thick coating of hoar frost acts as a sound absorber, and the world is dead silent outside, pitch black, and the sky is full of stars. Some people find it eerie, but I like it - it reminds me of the short story by Fritz Leiber, A Pail of Air.
Christmas break is over. The kid is back in school, and I've returned to my usual schedule - which is good, because insanity wasn't far away otherwise.
I've got a veritable plethora of projects going at the moment. I allow myself a hour for blogging first thing. Then an hour or so for Deep Thunder. Then several hours on The Iyes of the Dead, which is my current novel - a scifi locked room murder mystery told in the traditional mode. I've been at a standstill on that book for a while now, but I've finally figured out how to move the story along without losing momentum, and I'm excited to get back to it. Then I need a couple of hours to work on a piece I'm doing for submission to the the Anchorage Daily News, and to work on the outline for a military leadership book which will use lessons from history to illustrate true leadership in the face of adversity. Some time this month I need to find time to outline a 'how to' book on building a professional woodworking shop for cheap, using nothing but materials and equipment scrounged from scrap heaps, Craigslist, and eBay.
Writing takes up the first seven hours of my day, then I need to head out to the shop to start the millwork I've contracted for. I completed the templates and jigs for that project over the break and today I'll start the prototypes in plywood, making whatever adjustments are necessary to the jigs and templates. Tomorrow I'll convert the prototype templates from MDF into the final Plexiglass versions, and Wednesday I'll be able to start production. And somewhere in between all that I've got to find time during the week to finish up a couple of carved bowls which are due within the next two weeks, sooner if possible.
So, I'm going to be just a bit busy this week.
And people told me I'd have nothing to do after I retired from the Navy. Hah, fools! Fools!
It's quiet out in a way that only rural Alaska in the deep winter can be. The temperature has been dropping for the last week, and as a result all the remaining moisture has been condensing out of the atmosphere as hoar frost on every tree branch and surface. Since we live very close to the ocean, that's a lot of moisture. The trees are thickly coated in fuzzy white crystalline jackets and the ground makes a weird squealing noise when you walk across it. The thick coating of hoar frost acts as a sound absorber, and the world is dead silent outside, pitch black, and the sky is full of stars. Some people find it eerie, but I like it - it reminds me of the short story by Fritz Leiber, A Pail of Air.
Christmas break is over. The kid is back in school, and I've returned to my usual schedule - which is good, because insanity wasn't far away otherwise.
I've got a veritable plethora of projects going at the moment. I allow myself a hour for blogging first thing. Then an hour or so for Deep Thunder. Then several hours on The Iyes of the Dead, which is my current novel - a scifi locked room murder mystery told in the traditional mode. I've been at a standstill on that book for a while now, but I've finally figured out how to move the story along without losing momentum, and I'm excited to get back to it. Then I need a couple of hours to work on a piece I'm doing for submission to the the Anchorage Daily News, and to work on the outline for a military leadership book which will use lessons from history to illustrate true leadership in the face of adversity. Some time this month I need to find time to outline a 'how to' book on building a professional woodworking shop for cheap, using nothing but materials and equipment scrounged from scrap heaps, Craigslist, and eBay.
Writing takes up the first seven hours of my day, then I need to head out to the shop to start the millwork I've contracted for. I completed the templates and jigs for that project over the break and today I'll start the prototypes in plywood, making whatever adjustments are necessary to the jigs and templates. Tomorrow I'll convert the prototype templates from MDF into the final Plexiglass versions, and Wednesday I'll be able to start production. And somewhere in between all that I've got to find time during the week to finish up a couple of carved bowls which are due within the next two weeks, sooner if possible.
So, I'm going to be just a bit busy this week.
And people told me I'd have nothing to do after I retired from the Navy. Hah, fools! Fools!
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Personal Pet Peave
Here's a question for the movie industry:
Don't they have medical professionals on the movie set? EMT's, Nurses, maybe even the occasional doctor?
I'm guessing no.
Because in all the years I've been watching TV and Movies I have yet to see CPR (cardiopulmonary resuscitation) portrayed correctly.
Would it be so difficult, really?
You know they offer classes at the local Red Cross and I'd be willing to bet that there's some kind of union rule or OSHA regulation or something that requires at least one person on the set to be CPR and rescue breathing qualified - couldn't they offer some advice on the set?
(Digression: Frankly, I don't understand why everybody isn't basic CPR/Rescue Breathing/First Aid qualified - how come we don't teach that in elementary school, and require periodic requalification through high school graduation?).
Oh, and another thing - CPR almost never, never, restarts a heart. CPR is intended as 'life maintenance' until the paramedics arrives. Also, if first aid does manage to restart a heart (either through (sigh) CPR or an AED or hospital defibrillator) the victim isn't immediately all better. No really. They're gonna be in the hospital for a while - not up and about slaying monsters ten minutes after revival.
Really, is it too much to ask?
Don't they have medical professionals on the movie set? EMT's, Nurses, maybe even the occasional doctor?
I'm guessing no.
Because in all the years I've been watching TV and Movies I have yet to see CPR (cardiopulmonary resuscitation) portrayed correctly.
Would it be so difficult, really?
You know they offer classes at the local Red Cross and I'd be willing to bet that there's some kind of union rule or OSHA regulation or something that requires at least one person on the set to be CPR and rescue breathing qualified - couldn't they offer some advice on the set?
(Digression: Frankly, I don't understand why everybody isn't basic CPR/Rescue Breathing/First Aid qualified - how come we don't teach that in elementary school, and require periodic requalification through high school graduation?).
Oh, and another thing - CPR almost never, never, restarts a heart. CPR is intended as 'life maintenance' until the paramedics arrives. Also, if first aid does manage to restart a heart (either through (sigh) CPR or an AED or hospital defibrillator) the victim isn't immediately all better. No really. They're gonna be in the hospital for a while - not up and about slaying monsters ten minutes after revival.
Really, is it too much to ask?
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Oh Noes! Hand me my torch and pitchfork!
We're all gonna die!
And maybe go to hell, for eating the devil clone meat.
"Whole Foods Market is committed to providing consumers with clone-free products," says Margaret Wittenberg, global vice president of quality standards and public affairs for grocer Whole Foods Market Inc. "The lack of effective governmental oversight and tracking could mean consumers will lose the ability to choose clone-free products."
Head for the hills! We're going to be overrun by really bad scifi-channel movie dialog! A pox on this writer's strike! Flee! Flee for your lives!
Cloned Milk! Why you might as well just suckle from the Devil's own teat!
"What are we afraid of???? Well let me see. Eating that stuff could possibly(and i mean this in a nice way) could turn you psychotic."
Oh no, not psychotic (even in a nice way)!
Ahhh! Ahhh! Ahhh. Ah?
Ah, hell, what a bunch of mass hysteria over nothing.
Snark aside, the chief complaint appears to be that the milk and meat from cloned animals won't be labeled as such on supermarket shelves. Opponents want the word "Clone" in big red letters on each package, because it's, um, really, really important! (technically I think it should probably say Clone! Clone! Clone! on the label, see because the word 'Clone' is copied several times and... what?)
Attention, clueless retards - since you spent your entire education with your ears plugged, afraid you might get a little Darwin on you, let me fill you in, cloning is NOT genetic alteration. Cloning is no different than twins. That's right, twins. Are you suggesting that we label milk and meat that comes from genetically identical animals (again, twins for the slow, science challenged people) as such? Maybe we should ban twins outright, those damned cows and their devil babies.
Look I'm all about food safety. I'm all about controlling genetically engineered foods. Frankly I'm a hell of a lot more concerned about making damned sure we know the long term effects of the steroids and hormones that are pumped into our food supply. This isn't that, cloning produces an animal genetically identical to the progenitor animal - that's why it's called cloning. If progenitor and offspring are not identical, the offspring is not a clone. If that progenitor animal was safe to eat, so is the clone. Q.E.D.
Simple genetic tests can easily prove this.
Which is what these alarmist idiots should actually be calling for: verification of identical genetic make-up between progenitor and clone(s). Certification that no significant genetic replication errors have occurred in the cloning process (by 'significant' I mean no greater than the normal +/- percentage of genetic mean deviation in a naturally occurring offspring). This would actually increase safety in the food supply. For example: a cow resistant to Bovine Spongiform Encephalitis (BSE, commonly called Mad Cow Disease) can be cloned over and over again. In fact, this could be a pretty powerful marketing tool - "Guaranteed to come from BSE Immune Animals!"
Are you eating cloned foods right now? Yep. Corn, wheat, potatoes, and many more plant products - we've been doing it for years, centuries in fact. Except the agriculture industry has been producing cloned crops using natural techniques. It's called monculture and it's what lead directly to the Dutch and Irish Potato Famine.
Which, of course, brings us to an actual real and legitimate concern regarding cloning - reduction of genetic diversity in the food supply. Over time it is likely that widespread cloning of selected animals will lead to a form of monoculture within the meat and diary industry, just as it has in agriculture.
Then again, it can be effectively demonstrated that if used on a large scale, cloning effectively stops evolution. Yep. And I think that's the marketing key, right there. Seriously push this hard enough, and it won't be long until the Creation Museum Cafe is serving nothing but Cloned Meat Hot Dogs. Eat Cloned Meat, Stop Evolution!
Cloned Food, the Conservative Christian Kosher!
Enjoy your Saturday.
And maybe go to hell, for eating the devil clone meat.
"Whole Foods Market is committed to providing consumers with clone-free products," says Margaret Wittenberg, global vice president of quality standards and public affairs for grocer Whole Foods Market Inc. "The lack of effective governmental oversight and tracking could mean consumers will lose the ability to choose clone-free products."
Head for the hills! We're going to be overrun by really bad scifi-channel movie dialog! A pox on this writer's strike! Flee! Flee for your lives!
Cloned Milk! Why you might as well just suckle from the Devil's own teat!
"What are we afraid of???? Well let me see. Eating that stuff could possibly(and i mean this in a nice way) could turn you psychotic."
Oh no, not psychotic (even in a nice way)!
Ahhh! Ahhh! Ahhh. Ah?
Ah, hell, what a bunch of mass hysteria over nothing.
Snark aside, the chief complaint appears to be that the milk and meat from cloned animals won't be labeled as such on supermarket shelves. Opponents want the word "Clone" in big red letters on each package, because it's, um, really, really important! (technically I think it should probably say Clone! Clone! Clone! on the label, see because the word 'Clone' is copied several times and... what?)
Attention, clueless retards - since you spent your entire education with your ears plugged, afraid you might get a little Darwin on you, let me fill you in, cloning is NOT genetic alteration. Cloning is no different than twins. That's right, twins. Are you suggesting that we label milk and meat that comes from genetically identical animals (again, twins for the slow, science challenged people) as such? Maybe we should ban twins outright, those damned cows and their devil babies.
Look I'm all about food safety. I'm all about controlling genetically engineered foods. Frankly I'm a hell of a lot more concerned about making damned sure we know the long term effects of the steroids and hormones that are pumped into our food supply. This isn't that, cloning produces an animal genetically identical to the progenitor animal - that's why it's called cloning. If progenitor and offspring are not identical, the offspring is not a clone. If that progenitor animal was safe to eat, so is the clone. Q.E.D.
Simple genetic tests can easily prove this.
Which is what these alarmist idiots should actually be calling for: verification of identical genetic make-up between progenitor and clone(s). Certification that no significant genetic replication errors have occurred in the cloning process (by 'significant' I mean no greater than the normal +/- percentage of genetic mean deviation in a naturally occurring offspring). This would actually increase safety in the food supply. For example: a cow resistant to Bovine Spongiform Encephalitis (BSE, commonly called Mad Cow Disease) can be cloned over and over again. In fact, this could be a pretty powerful marketing tool - "Guaranteed to come from BSE Immune Animals!"
Are you eating cloned foods right now? Yep. Corn, wheat, potatoes, and many more plant products - we've been doing it for years, centuries in fact. Except the agriculture industry has been producing cloned crops using natural techniques. It's called monculture and it's what lead directly to the Dutch and Irish Potato Famine.
Which, of course, brings us to an actual real and legitimate concern regarding cloning - reduction of genetic diversity in the food supply. Over time it is likely that widespread cloning of selected animals will lead to a form of monoculture within the meat and diary industry, just as it has in agriculture.
Then again, it can be effectively demonstrated that if used on a large scale, cloning effectively stops evolution. Yep. And I think that's the marketing key, right there. Seriously push this hard enough, and it won't be long until the Creation Museum Cafe is serving nothing but Cloned Meat Hot Dogs. Eat Cloned Meat, Stop Evolution!
Cloned Food, the Conservative Christian Kosher!
Enjoy your Saturday.
Friday, January 4, 2008
Please Make It Stop
OK, no TV today.
I'm still in pain this morning, the shoulder is better, but it hurts to turn my head. The pain in my neck caused me to wake up with a headache - which isn't surprising, since I went to bed with one.
Then I turned on the news - and it was like somebody jammed an icepick through my eye.
Somebody do me a favor - hold Britney Spears' head under water until she stops twitching. Please. Honestly, does anybody expect this empty-headed twit to live a long and happy life? Eventually she's going to commit suicide, or overdose, or drive her BMW through a Starbucks and over a cliff. It's inevitable. So, let's just get it over with, then the rest of us can get on with our business. Cold? Heartless? Yeah, that's me. I don't know what's more revolting, her drug-addled commando nihilism or the crazed mob of camera waving human diarrhea that camp out at the end of her driveway, or the fact that people the world over are actually interested in this woman's train wreck of a life.
Oh wait, as it turns out I do know what is more revolting - Huckabee's tent-revival smugness this morning, Praise JeeeZus! See, that's the problem with democracy - we have to let the idiots vote, and there's more and more idiots every day. The same people that compulsively surf the internet for pictures of Britney's nasty girl gadget are the ones who think the Huckster will make a good President - you know, because he's a preacher. Just what we need, another squinty-eyed conservative retard in the Oval Office who thinks Jesus talks to him personally.
Way to go Iowa.
Since Britney's career is basically head first in the toilet, maybe she could be Huck's running mate. Why the hell not? Look at it this way, since we've managed to turn our government into a joke anyway - let's go big. The whole world is laughing at us already, I say let's laugh with them.
Think about it - Huck and Brit. There's some real advantages here:
1) No more evil vice president who secretly runs things from behind the scenes. Britney couldn't organize a salad fight down at the Beverly Hills Taco Bell. Hell, she doesn't even get out of bed before 2PM, honestly how much damage could she do?
2) Major energy and time savings. Consolidating the frothing mobs of reporters who follow both Britney and the VP around into one group saves us all time and money. We'd get both our political and entertainment news all in one shot. Think of the savings! And truthfully American Politics and the Entertainment Industry aren't really all that different. Think about it, both generate mindless followers, heaps of money, bullshit, and crazy religious twaddle faster than an L. Ron Hubbard brain washing. Let's lump it all together and simplify the process, that's what I'm talking about.
3) Huck's a Republican Conservative, an ordained Baptist minister, the bass player in the band Capital Offense, and he used to be the Governor of Arkansas - now, you tell me, is that a recipe for a little cigar smoking in the Oval Office or what? With Britney as the VP, well, at least he won't have to go far afield - cheap nasty sex complete with VD, booze, drugs, and scandal all in one convenient package. Just saying.
4) Truthfully, when Britney shaved her head, didn't she look a lot like Dick Cheney from the ribcage up? And at the rate Britney's pounding down the booze, jowls and the spider-veined red nose aren't far away. Put a pair of glasses on her and we wouldn't even have to change the VP pictures in every government building. More savings for the tax payer.
5) He plays bass, he's got his own band. She's a singer and a dancer and has her own groupies. Do I have to spell it out? It's the perfect match, like the Brady Bunch - if Mike and Carol snorted coke off a hooker's ass with a rolled up page ripped out of the bible.
6) Seriously, Huck and Brit, really could they do any worse than the current dipshits? Really, how bad could it be, comparatively speaking? I mean we're basically faced with no good choices, mostly it's a matter of voting for the lesser of evils anyway. In fact that would make a damned good campaign slogan: Huck and Brit 2008! No Good Choices!
7) And finally, we'd at last find something for Paris Hilton to do. With Britney in the VP's office, it's inevitable that she'd see her old friend on the cabinet - Secretary of State I'm thinking. Or maybe a nice ambassadorship somewhere - say Baghdad.
Yeah, OK, I'm done here. I'll be out in the shop if you need me.
I'm still in pain this morning, the shoulder is better, but it hurts to turn my head. The pain in my neck caused me to wake up with a headache - which isn't surprising, since I went to bed with one.
Then I turned on the news - and it was like somebody jammed an icepick through my eye.
Somebody do me a favor - hold Britney Spears' head under water until she stops twitching. Please. Honestly, does anybody expect this empty-headed twit to live a long and happy life? Eventually she's going to commit suicide, or overdose, or drive her BMW through a Starbucks and over a cliff. It's inevitable. So, let's just get it over with, then the rest of us can get on with our business. Cold? Heartless? Yeah, that's me. I don't know what's more revolting, her drug-addled commando nihilism or the crazed mob of camera waving human diarrhea that camp out at the end of her driveway, or the fact that people the world over are actually interested in this woman's train wreck of a life.
Oh wait, as it turns out I do know what is more revolting - Huckabee's tent-revival smugness this morning, Praise JeeeZus! See, that's the problem with democracy - we have to let the idiots vote, and there's more and more idiots every day. The same people that compulsively surf the internet for pictures of Britney's nasty girl gadget are the ones who think the Huckster will make a good President - you know, because he's a preacher. Just what we need, another squinty-eyed conservative retard in the Oval Office who thinks Jesus talks to him personally.
Way to go Iowa.
Since Britney's career is basically head first in the toilet, maybe she could be Huck's running mate. Why the hell not? Look at it this way, since we've managed to turn our government into a joke anyway - let's go big. The whole world is laughing at us already, I say let's laugh with them.
Think about it - Huck and Brit. There's some real advantages here:
1) No more evil vice president who secretly runs things from behind the scenes. Britney couldn't organize a salad fight down at the Beverly Hills Taco Bell. Hell, she doesn't even get out of bed before 2PM, honestly how much damage could she do?
2) Major energy and time savings. Consolidating the frothing mobs of reporters who follow both Britney and the VP around into one group saves us all time and money. We'd get both our political and entertainment news all in one shot. Think of the savings! And truthfully American Politics and the Entertainment Industry aren't really all that different. Think about it, both generate mindless followers, heaps of money, bullshit, and crazy religious twaddle faster than an L. Ron Hubbard brain washing. Let's lump it all together and simplify the process, that's what I'm talking about.
3) Huck's a Republican Conservative, an ordained Baptist minister, the bass player in the band Capital Offense, and he used to be the Governor of Arkansas - now, you tell me, is that a recipe for a little cigar smoking in the Oval Office or what? With Britney as the VP, well, at least he won't have to go far afield - cheap nasty sex complete with VD, booze, drugs, and scandal all in one convenient package. Just saying.
4) Truthfully, when Britney shaved her head, didn't she look a lot like Dick Cheney from the ribcage up? And at the rate Britney's pounding down the booze, jowls and the spider-veined red nose aren't far away. Put a pair of glasses on her and we wouldn't even have to change the VP pictures in every government building. More savings for the tax payer.
5) He plays bass, he's got his own band. She's a singer and a dancer and has her own groupies. Do I have to spell it out? It's the perfect match, like the Brady Bunch - if Mike and Carol snorted coke off a hooker's ass with a rolled up page ripped out of the bible.
6) Seriously, Huck and Brit, really could they do any worse than the current dipshits? Really, how bad could it be, comparatively speaking? I mean we're basically faced with no good choices, mostly it's a matter of voting for the lesser of evils anyway. In fact that would make a damned good campaign slogan: Huck and Brit 2008! No Good Choices!
7) And finally, we'd at last find something for Paris Hilton to do. With Britney in the VP's office, it's inevitable that she'd see her old friend on the cabinet - Secretary of State I'm thinking. Or maybe a nice ambassadorship somewhere - say Baghdad.
Yeah, OK, I'm done here. I'll be out in the shop if you need me.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
What we have here is a failure to communicate, really
So, I'm on the phone this morning with a woman from tech support and she's reading me a pass phrase as follows (not the actual password, but you get the idea here):
"Ok, sir, the password is: Arr as in Robert, Tee as in Todd, four, Eee as in Elbow..." and she goes on until she's completed the 8-digit password. Then she asked me to repeat it back.
So I repeated the password as, "Arr as in Romeo, Tee as in Tango..."
At which point she interrupted me, "No sir, that's incorrect. It's Arr as in Robert, Tee as in Todd..." and she proceeded through the whole thing again.
Me: "Uh, sorry I was in the Navy, I tend to use military phonetics."
Tech Support: "Yeah, sorry I didn't realize that. Please repeat the password again."
Me: "Arr as in Romeo..."
Tech Support: "No, sir, no. I don't know where you're getting this 'romeo' from, it's Arr as in Robert."
Me "OK, isn't the Arr in Romeo the same as the Arr in Robert?"
Tech Support: "No sir, Romeo and Robert are different."
Me "Right. Thanks I got it. Bye."
"Ok, sir, the password is: Arr as in Robert, Tee as in Todd, four, Eee as in Elbow..." and she goes on until she's completed the 8-digit password. Then she asked me to repeat it back.
So I repeated the password as, "Arr as in Romeo, Tee as in Tango..."
At which point she interrupted me, "No sir, that's incorrect. It's Arr as in Robert, Tee as in Todd..." and she proceeded through the whole thing again.
Me: "Uh, sorry I was in the Navy, I tend to use military phonetics."
Tech Support: "Yeah, sorry I didn't realize that. Please repeat the password again."
Me: "Arr as in Romeo..."
Tech Support: "No, sir, no. I don't know where you're getting this 'romeo' from, it's Arr as in Robert."
Me "OK, isn't the Arr in Romeo the same as the Arr in Robert?"
Tech Support: "No sir, Romeo and Robert are different."
Me "Right. Thanks I got it. Bye."
A Truly Excellent Idea, truly
The satirical web 'newspaper' NewsBiscuit cracks me up.
Sports Cars to display drivers' penis size - now there's an interesting idea.
Did you ever try to pass a middle-aged guy in a Camero?
Seriously.
Ever been tooling up the highway and come upon a Camaro, or a Mach 1, or a Mustang, or some other 70's muscle car doing about 50 in the fast lane? And you swing right on cruise-control into the slow lane (grumbling under your breath about idiots that can't seem to grasp the basic left lane fast/right lane slow concept), and as you sail past you realize that the other driver is not some kid, but well into prime middle-aged crisis territory? (yeah, your age). And as you lock eyes over the rap music playing so painfully loud you can hear it through your closed window, you can see the outrage and the personal effrontery on their face?
That's right, I said effrontery - arrogant, audacious behavior that someone really isn't entitled to. You can see it on their botoxed faces, right above the chin implant and below the hair plugs - it's an expression similar to indignation. An expression that screams, "Hey! You can't pass me, I'm driving a Chevy Camaro here!" Then they slam down the gas pedal and roar away in a cloud of 4-barrel carbureted fumes, leaving you humiliated and humbled by their virile manliness.
And 20 minutes later, what do you come upon? Why the same guy, doing about 50 in the fast lane - yeah, 70's muscle cars didn't come with cruise control, and Viagra does exactly dick for long-term concentration (or so I'm told).
It would be just so much easier if we just made them put their age and the length of their, uh, muscle car on the fender.
----------------
Note: Yes, today I am deliberately ignoring the Iowa Caucus (because, really, it's like going to McDonalds at 2AM and getting a stale, cold, 6-hour old fillet-O-fish and some soggy fries - you know what you're going to get, but it's the only thing open), Huckabee's pathetic guitar playing on Leno (though I'm pretty sure I've seen him on the road in a Camaro), and Britney's lawyerly abandonment (because, apparently even the lawyers attached lamprey-like to her coke-dusted, booze-farting ass have had enough of her silly stupid shit).
Sports Cars to display drivers' penis size - now there's an interesting idea.
Did you ever try to pass a middle-aged guy in a Camero?
Seriously.
Ever been tooling up the highway and come upon a Camaro, or a Mach 1, or a Mustang, or some other 70's muscle car doing about 50 in the fast lane? And you swing right on cruise-control into the slow lane (grumbling under your breath about idiots that can't seem to grasp the basic left lane fast/right lane slow concept), and as you sail past you realize that the other driver is not some kid, but well into prime middle-aged crisis territory? (yeah, your age). And as you lock eyes over the rap music playing so painfully loud you can hear it through your closed window, you can see the outrage and the personal effrontery on their face?
That's right, I said effrontery - arrogant, audacious behavior that someone really isn't entitled to. You can see it on their botoxed faces, right above the chin implant and below the hair plugs - it's an expression similar to indignation. An expression that screams, "Hey! You can't pass me, I'm driving a Chevy Camaro here!" Then they slam down the gas pedal and roar away in a cloud of 4-barrel carbureted fumes, leaving you humiliated and humbled by their virile manliness.
And 20 minutes later, what do you come upon? Why the same guy, doing about 50 in the fast lane - yeah, 70's muscle cars didn't come with cruise control, and Viagra does exactly dick for long-term concentration (or so I'm told).
It would be just so much easier if we just made them put their age and the length of their, uh, muscle car on the fender.
----------------
Note: Yes, today I am deliberately ignoring the Iowa Caucus (because, really, it's like going to McDonalds at 2AM and getting a stale, cold, 6-hour old fillet-O-fish and some soggy fries - you know what you're going to get, but it's the only thing open), Huckabee's pathetic guitar playing on Leno (though I'm pretty sure I've seen him on the road in a Camaro), and Britney's lawyerly abandonment (because, apparently even the lawyers attached lamprey-like to her coke-dusted, booze-farting ass have had enough of her silly stupid shit).
I'll take Useless Knowledge for $500, Alex
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Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Pie in the Sky Science
Here's a question for you.
Say you were a large government agency, charged with, amongst other things, public safety in a specific area of regulation - and that responsibility applies to millions of Americans on a daily basis. And say you conducted a survey of professionals in that field in order to determine if the type of survey you were conducting was a good way to gather information (No, really). And let's say that survey of survey techniques cost the taxpayers $11 million dollars. And then, say, something funny happens - you get real data from your expensive test.
And the results are universally bad - indicating a major systemic danger to the public, one that is getting worse. Every single response (from thousands of professionals - the absolute experts in the field) says the system is breaking down. The results also indicate that you really aren't living up to your responsibility. The results strongly indicate that if something isn't done pretty damned quick, there are going to be some catastrophic consequences.
So here's the question: Do you A) take immediate action to correct the situation and live up to your charter? or do you B) cover that shit up and pretend it never happened?
I'll bet you can guess the correct answer. See because the part I left out is that you have friends in the industry you're supposed to be regulating, in fact you're in bed with this industry right up to your eyeballs, and if you choose Option A), well those friends are going to take a serious hit in the wallet. And, really, what kind of friend would you be if you placed public safety over the financial bottom lines of your buddies?
NASA yesterday released partial results of a massive air-safety survey of airline pilots who repeatedly complained about fatigue, problems with air-traffic controllers, airport security, and the layouts of runways and taxiways. The results have been 'redacted' - which is a government term for 'deliberately rendered unreadable through the removal of critical references and specific information, because, really, that Freedom of Information Act just plain bites and the people who paid for this information really have no need to know anything about it."
You can find the actual survey data here. NASA was forced to release the information through the FOIA. They weren't happy about it. They sullenly followed the letter of the law, but did it in a manner that violates the very spirit of public disclosure. Good luck figuring it out, it's about 10,000 pages of raw data fields exported from the NASA database in PDF format. The data has been deliberately disassociated from the original survey questions in order to prevent analysis. All references to the original data fields have been removed - i.e. it mostly 10,000 pages of numeric tables without any description of what those numbers mean. Additionally, most of the pilot's statements have been edited in a manner that can best be described as ludicrous: for example, entire paragraphs have been removed leaving only the word 'fatigue.'
"NASA Administrator Michael Griffin told reporters ... that the agency had no plans to study the database for trends. He said NASA conducted the survey only to determine whether gathering information from pilots in such a way was worthwhile."
And apparently, if the results show that NASA is not doing its job correctly then by Griffin's definition the survey isn't worth bothering with. I love the fact that Griffin said his agency has no intention of studying the database for trends. $11 million this database cost us, solely in order to determine if it was worth doing, which according to Griffin it was not. Oh well.
Silly me, I thought NASA was an agency dedicated to science. Apparently though, they have adopted the creationism model of scientific investigation, i.e. Step 1) Determine the results you desire FIRST, 2) conduct the investigation, 3) throw out any data that does not directly support Step (1). When confronted with the conflicting data, pretend it doesn't matter because that's not what you were looking for in the first place.
Really, is it any wonder why nearly forty years after men first set foot upon Earth's moon, we're still trapped in Low Earth Orbit? Or that we've lost two manned spacecraft due to utter stupidity and a complete inability to face unpleasant truths? Or that we've decided to throw away the Hubble Space Telescope, one of the single greatest scientific instruments ever fielded in the entire history of mankind? Or...oh screw it, I could go on all day and I've got other things to do today.
Personally, I think we ought round up Micheal Griffin's family, wife, kids, grandkids, and etc. Then strap these people into some bargain airline seats and let them fly around the country until Mike retires. If he's good with their safety, I guess I'm good with it.
Say you were a large government agency, charged with, amongst other things, public safety in a specific area of regulation - and that responsibility applies to millions of Americans on a daily basis. And say you conducted a survey of professionals in that field in order to determine if the type of survey you were conducting was a good way to gather information (No, really). And let's say that survey of survey techniques cost the taxpayers $11 million dollars. And then, say, something funny happens - you get real data from your expensive test.
And the results are universally bad - indicating a major systemic danger to the public, one that is getting worse. Every single response (from thousands of professionals - the absolute experts in the field) says the system is breaking down. The results also indicate that you really aren't living up to your responsibility. The results strongly indicate that if something isn't done pretty damned quick, there are going to be some catastrophic consequences.
So here's the question: Do you A) take immediate action to correct the situation and live up to your charter? or do you B) cover that shit up and pretend it never happened?
I'll bet you can guess the correct answer. See because the part I left out is that you have friends in the industry you're supposed to be regulating, in fact you're in bed with this industry right up to your eyeballs, and if you choose Option A), well those friends are going to take a serious hit in the wallet. And, really, what kind of friend would you be if you placed public safety over the financial bottom lines of your buddies?
NASA yesterday released partial results of a massive air-safety survey of airline pilots who repeatedly complained about fatigue, problems with air-traffic controllers, airport security, and the layouts of runways and taxiways. The results have been 'redacted' - which is a government term for 'deliberately rendered unreadable through the removal of critical references and specific information, because, really, that Freedom of Information Act just plain bites and the people who paid for this information really have no need to know anything about it."
You can find the actual survey data here. NASA was forced to release the information through the FOIA. They weren't happy about it. They sullenly followed the letter of the law, but did it in a manner that violates the very spirit of public disclosure. Good luck figuring it out, it's about 10,000 pages of raw data fields exported from the NASA database in PDF format. The data has been deliberately disassociated from the original survey questions in order to prevent analysis. All references to the original data fields have been removed - i.e. it mostly 10,000 pages of numeric tables without any description of what those numbers mean. Additionally, most of the pilot's statements have been edited in a manner that can best be described as ludicrous: for example, entire paragraphs have been removed leaving only the word 'fatigue.'
"NASA Administrator Michael Griffin told reporters ... that the agency had no plans to study the database for trends. He said NASA conducted the survey only to determine whether gathering information from pilots in such a way was worthwhile."
And apparently, if the results show that NASA is not doing its job correctly then by Griffin's definition the survey isn't worth bothering with. I love the fact that Griffin said his agency has no intention of studying the database for trends. $11 million this database cost us, solely in order to determine if it was worth doing, which according to Griffin it was not. Oh well.
Silly me, I thought NASA was an agency dedicated to science. Apparently though, they have adopted the creationism model of scientific investigation, i.e. Step 1) Determine the results you desire FIRST, 2) conduct the investigation, 3) throw out any data that does not directly support Step (1). When confronted with the conflicting data, pretend it doesn't matter because that's not what you were looking for in the first place.
Really, is it any wonder why nearly forty years after men first set foot upon Earth's moon, we're still trapped in Low Earth Orbit? Or that we've lost two manned spacecraft due to utter stupidity and a complete inability to face unpleasant truths? Or that we've decided to throw away the Hubble Space Telescope, one of the single greatest scientific instruments ever fielded in the entire history of mankind? Or...oh screw it, I could go on all day and I've got other things to do today.
Personally, I think we ought round up Micheal Griffin's family, wife, kids, grandkids, and etc. Then strap these people into some bargain airline seats and let them fly around the country until Mike retires. If he's good with their safety, I guess I'm good with it.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
New Years Day
Since it was nice out today and my shoulder was feeling a wee bit better, we thought we'd head up to Hatcher's Pass, which is about fifteen minutes from our house, and give the kid and the dog some exercise.
It was a little windy, but not too bad. About 20F, which is unusually warm this time of year. Plenty of snow. Lot's of snowboarders and sledders about.
This is my son "catchin' some air" as the kids say. Right now he's eleven and this is about as much air as he can catch - we're saving up for the hospital bills when he's a teenager.
Jumper enjoyed the day, even though I forgot to bring her boots. She gets ice and snow caught between her toes unless she's booted up, but today she didn't seem to have much trouble.
At first glance it looks like the snow was really deep since Becky had her entire left left leg buried to the hip - it's an illusion, she's just really, really short.
Afterward, on the way home, we diverted to Wasilla for Mexican food.
Hope you guys enjoyed the first day of 2008. Well, all of you except Shawn Powers, who as we all know spent the entire day rebuilding his server - which is probably for the best, since the last time he went outside he fell into a river.
It was a little windy, but not too bad. About 20F, which is unusually warm this time of year. Plenty of snow. Lot's of snowboarders and sledders about.
This is my son "catchin' some air" as the kids say. Right now he's eleven and this is about as much air as he can catch - we're saving up for the hospital bills when he's a teenager.
Jumper enjoyed the day, even though I forgot to bring her boots. She gets ice and snow caught between her toes unless she's booted up, but today she didn't seem to have much trouble.
At first glance it looks like the snow was really deep since Becky had her entire left left leg buried to the hip - it's an illusion, she's just really, really short.
Afterward, on the way home, we diverted to Wasilla for Mexican food.
Hope you guys enjoyed the first day of 2008. Well, all of you except Shawn Powers, who as we all know spent the entire day rebuilding his server - which is probably for the best, since the last time he went outside he fell into a river.
A little New Year's Humor
You never know what will turn out to be important:
In ancient Greece, Socrates was widely lauded for his wisdom. One day the great philosopher came upon an acquaintance, who ran up to him excitedly and said, "Socrates, do you know what I just heard about one of your students...?"
In ancient Greece, Socrates was widely lauded for his wisdom. One day the great philosopher came upon an acquaintance, who ran up to him excitedly and said, "Socrates, do you know what I just heard about one of your students...?"
"Wait a moment," Socrates replied. "Before you tell me, I'd like you to pass a little test. It's called the Test of Three."
"Test of Three?"
"That's correct," Socrates continued. "Before you talk to me about my student let's take a moment to test what you're going to say. The first test is Truth. Are absolutely sure that what you are about to tell me is true?"
"No," the man replied, "actually I just heard about it."
"All right," said Socrates. "So you don't really know if it's true or not. Now let's try the second test, the test of Goodness. Is what you are about to tell me about my student something good?"
"No, on the contrary..."
"So," Socrates continued, "you want to tell me something bad about him even though you're not certain it's true?"
The man shrugged, a little embarrassed.
Socrates continued, "You may still pass though because there is a third test - the filter of Usefulness. Is what you want to tell me about my student going to be useful to me?"
"No, not really..."
"Well," concluded Socrates, "if what you want to tell me is neither True nor Good nor even Useful, why tell it to me at all?"
The man was defeated and ashamed and said no more. This is the reason Socrates was a great philosopher and held in such high esteem.
It also explains why Socrates never found out that Plato was banging his wife.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Fitting End to 2007
Don't expect much from me today.
I'm in some considerable pain this morning. My damaged left shoulder is not functioning correctly, I slept on it wrong or something. Neck, shoulder and upper back feel like somebody has shoved a screw driver in there and is trying to pry the joint apart. I can't turn my head to the left at all, and can barely feel my left hand. Lovely.
Took a hot shower, took a pill, got a heat patch on. Now I'm sitting on the couch poking at the laptop with my right hand.
Don't worry about it, this is a regular event for me. It'll be ok in a day or two, but until then I'm not much good for anything. So, go read Nathan's online novel, or get drunk, or get drunk and read Nathan's novel, make rudely derisive comments - you know, have fun.
------------
I just watched it turn 2008 in Hong Kong. What a great city.
I was in Hong Kong in 2002, here's proof. That's me on top of Mount Victoria with the city behind me. (Try to ignore the long hair, usually it's much shorter than that). I met Jackie Chan there (well, OK I didn't actually meet him - I shook his hand), he lives in Hong Kong and was filming a movie there. He came down to the harbor to meet us American Sailors and shake hands. A very down to earth guy, and a truly nice person.
Happy new year all.
I'm looking forward to it - this is the year that we all get our jetpacks and flying cars.
I'm in some considerable pain this morning. My damaged left shoulder is not functioning correctly, I slept on it wrong or something. Neck, shoulder and upper back feel like somebody has shoved a screw driver in there and is trying to pry the joint apart. I can't turn my head to the left at all, and can barely feel my left hand. Lovely.
Took a hot shower, took a pill, got a heat patch on. Now I'm sitting on the couch poking at the laptop with my right hand.
Don't worry about it, this is a regular event for me. It'll be ok in a day or two, but until then I'm not much good for anything. So, go read Nathan's online novel, or get drunk, or get drunk and read Nathan's novel, make rudely derisive comments - you know, have fun.
------------
I just watched it turn 2008 in Hong Kong. What a great city.
I was in Hong Kong in 2002, here's proof. That's me on top of Mount Victoria with the city behind me. (Try to ignore the long hair, usually it's much shorter than that). I met Jackie Chan there (well, OK I didn't actually meet him - I shook his hand), he lives in Hong Kong and was filming a movie there. He came down to the harbor to meet us American Sailors and shake hands. A very down to earth guy, and a truly nice person.
Happy new year all.
I'm looking forward to it - this is the year that we all get our jetpacks and flying cars.
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Smoke, Mirrors, and Sour Grapes
$400,000,000.
That's a lot of money, right?
Chances are, if you've got $400 million in the bank, you're not reading this blog.
Here's another number: $800 Million. Somebody once said, a million here, a million there, and pretty soon you're talking about real money. Bah, that's crap - you want to talk real money? How about $36,000,000,000? That's right 36 billion dollars, now we're talking real money.
What do all these number have in common? Well, we'll get to that in a moment.
First let's talk about a much smaller number, $4.50.
Four and a half dollars. That's what analysts are saying the price of gas per gallon of gasoline is going to be come summer. The war, the mess in Pakistan, Chavez is acting like an asshole, refineries are still off-line, pipes are broken, blah, blah, blah, and etcetera. There's always some excuse, some excuse for the oil companies to keep the prices jacked up just as high as they will go.
What? What's that you say? "Jim, don't be an idiot, the oil companies don't determine the price of gas at the pump. The oil companies don't determine the price per barrel of oil. Don't you understand how a free market works? It's Wall Street, Man."
Yeah, I've heard this. And you know what? It's complete bullshit. Nothing but smoke and mirrors. Here's why:
It's the law of supply and demand. He who controls the supply, controls the price, no matter how convoluted the process.
Every time there is unrest in the Middle East the price of gas jumps, because investors are scared - even if we don't actually get our oil from the country in question, even if the country in question doesn't even have oil, like, oh, Pakistan for example. Every time there's a hurricane, or a refinery fire, or a pipeline break - the price of oil jumps, even if the actual supply is completely unaffected. And each time, when it settles back, the lowest price per barrel is just a little higher than it was before. So sorry, we'd like to pump more oil out of Alaska, say the big oil companies, but there just isn't any. The Pipeline is running at half capacity, true, but that's because the Prudhoe Bay fields are nearly depleted, we can't drill in ANWAR because the tree-huggers and bunny-thumpers won't let us - and so we've got to get our oil from the Middle East, and Africa, and Hugo Chavez, and it just costs more. That's basic economics in a free market. That's capitalism. Don't blame us. It's the investor's fault, say the oil companies, hell we're barely breaking even. It's the federal government's fault, if it wasn't for all these restrictions and regulations and red tape we'd have money for development. It's the Alaskan state government's fault, if they'd just dismiss that damned fine for the Exxon Valdez spill, and stop taxing us, we'd have money to fix the pipes and upgrade the refineries and sink more wells. It's just so complicated. Unless you're Alan Greenspan, you just can't understand the sheer complexity of the market. That's how it is.
Smoke and mirrors. It's a complete load of crap. I know bullshit when I step in it. I also recognize an Information Warfare campaign when I see one, and in this case it's called Market Manipulation, and it's just about as ethical as insider trading, and it's no different than what Enron was doing or Big Tobacco (Cigarettes don't cause cancer, oh no, trust us). Big Oil has no, repeat no, incentive at all to keep those pipelines and refineries in good repair. And they've got no incentive whatsoever to develop new domestic reserves. In point of fact, it is in their best interest to keep the domestic flow of oil restricted, and to throw as many scare-tactics as they can at the international market. It is in their best interest to drag their feet on domestic oil field production and development; less oil in the Alyeska Pipeline means bigger profits - they do not want an assured domestic supply. They want the oil to come from overseas, because it's a hell of a lot easier to manipulate the market if you can throw Middle East conflicts, and Nigerian unrest, and South American dictators at the investors.
Don't believe me? Let's go back to those numbers above.
$800 million. That's what the Big Three (Exxon, BP, and ConocoPhillips) have spent to develop the Point Thompson oil field, on Alaska's North Slope, about 50 miles from Prudhoe Bay. $800 million - over the last 30 years. That's about $26.8 million per year. With the costs being born by three companies, that comes out to roughly $9 million apiece, per year. $9 million. Hardly pocket change for people like you and me. But if you happen to be, oh say, Lee Raymond, $9 million is what you keep in the kitchen cookie jar, and the only thing better than $4.50 for a gallon of gas would be $5.00 per gallon. Who the hell is Lee Raymond you ask? Well, Lee just happens to be the former Exxon CEO who retired last year with a record $400 million bonus package. That's right, four fucking hundred million dollars - this on top of his extensive stock options, million dollar consulting gig, and unlimited use of Exxon's corporate jets.
Oh and what profit did Exxon show it's share holders in 2006? Yeah, that would be the other number above, $36 billion. And now, as the man said, we're talking real money.
You know what? Exxon, BP, and ConocoPhillips can just plain kiss my ass.
Alaska's oil and gas industry is threatening to reduce investment in the state after Governor Sarah Palin recently signed a "fair share" tax increase that will boost state revenues from the industry by $1.5-billion (U.S.) next year.
And then, Alaska Superior Court Judge Sharon Gleason tightened the screws and ruled last week that the state was allowed in 2006 to revoke its agreement with the oil companies and take back the Point Thompson leases. As I mentioned above, the oil companies have held the leases on this oil since the 1970's, and have done precisely jack shit to develop them. $800 million in development is Jack Shit? Over thirty years split between three companies, it sure is. When Exxon can pay $400+ million to it's CEO in an exit bonus. When no oil at all flows from those fields, despite climbing prices at the pumps and huge economic losses because energy prices are putting other companies out of business. When Exxon alone clears an annual profit of $36 billion. Yeah, $800 million is exactly Jack Shit.
So, now big oil is threatening to pull out of Alaska.
Oh, look, more scare tactics.
The oil industry is going to reduce investment in Alaska? Yeah, I'm going to go out a limb here and drop the bullshit flag. Bullshit. Bullshit. and Bullshit.
As an Alaskan, I say to Governor Sarah Palin, go on, call their bluff. Up yours Exxon. Kiss my fuzzy behind, British Petroleum. Don't let the door hit you in the ass, ConocoPhillips. Oh, and Exxon? You're not going anywhere until you pay the the money you owe us, you spilled oil all over Prince William Sound, because your Captain was an unqualified drunken incompetent jackass who shouldn't have had a union card let alone a Master's License, you've spent more on attorney fees trying to get out of the fine than you would have if you just paid the judgment in the first place. So, cough it up and and get out. Go on, I double dog dare you.
Because you know what? We've got oil. Lot's of it. We've got a shitload of natural gas too. And if big oil won't do anything with it, I guarantee you we can find somebody who will. In fact we won't even have to go looking; small oil companies are lined up ten deep right now, screaming for a chance to get at those leases. So, you know what, Exxon, BP, and Conoco? Tough shit. Maybe you could ask your old buddy Lee for a loan.
These corporate assholes have got no problem sticking it to us at the pump on a daily basis, let's see how they like it for a change.
That's a lot of money, right?
Chances are, if you've got $400 million in the bank, you're not reading this blog.
Here's another number: $800 Million. Somebody once said, a million here, a million there, and pretty soon you're talking about real money. Bah, that's crap - you want to talk real money? How about $36,000,000,000? That's right 36 billion dollars, now we're talking real money.
What do all these number have in common? Well, we'll get to that in a moment.
First let's talk about a much smaller number, $4.50.
Four and a half dollars. That's what analysts are saying the price of gas per gallon of gasoline is going to be come summer. The war, the mess in Pakistan, Chavez is acting like an asshole, refineries are still off-line, pipes are broken, blah, blah, blah, and etcetera. There's always some excuse, some excuse for the oil companies to keep the prices jacked up just as high as they will go.
What? What's that you say? "Jim, don't be an idiot, the oil companies don't determine the price of gas at the pump. The oil companies don't determine the price per barrel of oil. Don't you understand how a free market works? It's Wall Street, Man."
Yeah, I've heard this. And you know what? It's complete bullshit. Nothing but smoke and mirrors. Here's why:
It's the law of supply and demand. He who controls the supply, controls the price, no matter how convoluted the process.
Every time there is unrest in the Middle East the price of gas jumps, because investors are scared - even if we don't actually get our oil from the country in question, even if the country in question doesn't even have oil, like, oh, Pakistan for example. Every time there's a hurricane, or a refinery fire, or a pipeline break - the price of oil jumps, even if the actual supply is completely unaffected. And each time, when it settles back, the lowest price per barrel is just a little higher than it was before. So sorry, we'd like to pump more oil out of Alaska, say the big oil companies, but there just isn't any. The Pipeline is running at half capacity, true, but that's because the Prudhoe Bay fields are nearly depleted, we can't drill in ANWAR because the tree-huggers and bunny-thumpers won't let us - and so we've got to get our oil from the Middle East, and Africa, and Hugo Chavez, and it just costs more. That's basic economics in a free market. That's capitalism. Don't blame us. It's the investor's fault, say the oil companies, hell we're barely breaking even. It's the federal government's fault, if it wasn't for all these restrictions and regulations and red tape we'd have money for development. It's the Alaskan state government's fault, if they'd just dismiss that damned fine for the Exxon Valdez spill, and stop taxing us, we'd have money to fix the pipes and upgrade the refineries and sink more wells. It's just so complicated. Unless you're Alan Greenspan, you just can't understand the sheer complexity of the market. That's how it is.
Smoke and mirrors. It's a complete load of crap. I know bullshit when I step in it. I also recognize an Information Warfare campaign when I see one, and in this case it's called Market Manipulation, and it's just about as ethical as insider trading, and it's no different than what Enron was doing or Big Tobacco (Cigarettes don't cause cancer, oh no, trust us). Big Oil has no, repeat no, incentive at all to keep those pipelines and refineries in good repair. And they've got no incentive whatsoever to develop new domestic reserves. In point of fact, it is in their best interest to keep the domestic flow of oil restricted, and to throw as many scare-tactics as they can at the international market. It is in their best interest to drag their feet on domestic oil field production and development; less oil in the Alyeska Pipeline means bigger profits - they do not want an assured domestic supply. They want the oil to come from overseas, because it's a hell of a lot easier to manipulate the market if you can throw Middle East conflicts, and Nigerian unrest, and South American dictators at the investors.
Don't believe me? Let's go back to those numbers above.
$800 million. That's what the Big Three (Exxon, BP, and ConocoPhillips) have spent to develop the Point Thompson oil field, on Alaska's North Slope, about 50 miles from Prudhoe Bay. $800 million - over the last 30 years. That's about $26.8 million per year. With the costs being born by three companies, that comes out to roughly $9 million apiece, per year. $9 million. Hardly pocket change for people like you and me. But if you happen to be, oh say, Lee Raymond, $9 million is what you keep in the kitchen cookie jar, and the only thing better than $4.50 for a gallon of gas would be $5.00 per gallon. Who the hell is Lee Raymond you ask? Well, Lee just happens to be the former Exxon CEO who retired last year with a record $400 million bonus package. That's right, four fucking hundred million dollars - this on top of his extensive stock options, million dollar consulting gig, and unlimited use of Exxon's corporate jets.
Oh and what profit did Exxon show it's share holders in 2006? Yeah, that would be the other number above, $36 billion. And now, as the man said, we're talking real money.
You know what? Exxon, BP, and ConocoPhillips can just plain kiss my ass.
Alaska's oil and gas industry is threatening to reduce investment in the state after Governor Sarah Palin recently signed a "fair share" tax increase that will boost state revenues from the industry by $1.5-billion (U.S.) next year.
And then, Alaska Superior Court Judge Sharon Gleason tightened the screws and ruled last week that the state was allowed in 2006 to revoke its agreement with the oil companies and take back the Point Thompson leases. As I mentioned above, the oil companies have held the leases on this oil since the 1970's, and have done precisely jack shit to develop them. $800 million in development is Jack Shit? Over thirty years split between three companies, it sure is. When Exxon can pay $400+ million to it's CEO in an exit bonus. When no oil at all flows from those fields, despite climbing prices at the pumps and huge economic losses because energy prices are putting other companies out of business. When Exxon alone clears an annual profit of $36 billion. Yeah, $800 million is exactly Jack Shit.
So, now big oil is threatening to pull out of Alaska.
Oh, look, more scare tactics.
The oil industry is going to reduce investment in Alaska? Yeah, I'm going to go out a limb here and drop the bullshit flag. Bullshit. Bullshit. and Bullshit.
As an Alaskan, I say to Governor Sarah Palin, go on, call their bluff. Up yours Exxon. Kiss my fuzzy behind, British Petroleum. Don't let the door hit you in the ass, ConocoPhillips. Oh, and Exxon? You're not going anywhere until you pay the the money you owe us, you spilled oil all over Prince William Sound, because your Captain was an unqualified drunken incompetent jackass who shouldn't have had a union card let alone a Master's License, you've spent more on attorney fees trying to get out of the fine than you would have if you just paid the judgment in the first place. So, cough it up and and get out. Go on, I double dog dare you.
Because you know what? We've got oil. Lot's of it. We've got a shitload of natural gas too. And if big oil won't do anything with it, I guarantee you we can find somebody who will. In fact we won't even have to go looking; small oil companies are lined up ten deep right now, screaming for a chance to get at those leases. So, you know what, Exxon, BP, and Conoco? Tough shit. Maybe you could ask your old buddy Lee for a loan.
These corporate assholes have got no problem sticking it to us at the pump on a daily basis, let's see how they like it for a change.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Please Stand By
Major spotty internet this morning.
Both the cable internet connection and the cable TV signal were out this morning for several hours, and are fading in and out at the moment.
So, if you don't hear from me for a while - that's probably it. Either that, I've gone completely around the bend from the effects of Christmas Break and I've thrown myself off the patio balcony and have been consumed by wolves.
More later if the connection stabilizes.
Both the cable internet connection and the cable TV signal were out this morning for several hours, and are fading in and out at the moment.
So, if you don't hear from me for a while - that's probably it. Either that, I've gone completely around the bend from the effects of Christmas Break and I've thrown myself off the patio balcony and have been consumed by wolves.
More later if the connection stabilizes.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Bad, bad idea.
OK, who dreamed up Christmas break? No seriously, I'll bet it wasn't parents.
Damn teachers.
I pay them to watch my kid all winter - and yeah, if he gets an education that's fine too, but that's not the reason for school. School is about my sanity. I say if the teachers need a break, well, let's put an open bar in the teacher's lounge. I don't care if they're liquored up, just as long as the bus comes to get my kid at 6:30 and doesn't bring him back for at least 7 hours (8 or 9 would be better, in fact I wouldn't mind if a couple days a week they kept the kids overnight).
Think I'm kidding? The last 4 hours have consisted of "Dad, dad, dad, dad. Look! Look! Dad, dad, dad I got the high score myplaystation starwarslegogame. ThestormtroopersarestuuupidcanIhave asnackandcanyoucallmrsmurblefurleandaskiflittlejohnnycancomeover soicanshowhimmyhighscore andcanihaveanothersnackhowaboutasodadadadadadaa! In the background the dog is barking, the phone is ringing, the legos are knee deep, and the wolves have begun to howl. We're out of milk. My wife left for work this morning, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
Obviously, I will not be writing much this week.
Sigh.
Damn teachers.
I pay them to watch my kid all winter - and yeah, if he gets an education that's fine too, but that's not the reason for school. School is about my sanity. I say if the teachers need a break, well, let's put an open bar in the teacher's lounge. I don't care if they're liquored up, just as long as the bus comes to get my kid at 6:30 and doesn't bring him back for at least 7 hours (8 or 9 would be better, in fact I wouldn't mind if a couple days a week they kept the kids overnight).
Think I'm kidding? The last 4 hours have consisted of "Dad, dad, dad, dad. Look! Look! Dad, dad, dad I got the high score myplaystation starwarslegogame. ThestormtroopersarestuuupidcanIhave asnackandcanyoucallmrsmurblefurleandaskiflittlejohnnycancomeover soicanshowhimmyhighscore andcanihaveanothersnackhowaboutasodadadadadadaa! In the background the dog is barking, the phone is ringing, the legos are knee deep, and the wolves have begun to howl. We're out of milk. My wife left for work this morning, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
Obviously, I will not be writing much this week.
Sigh.
Insanity, it's spreading
Goddamnit!
I go back to bed for an hour this morning, and wake up to find out that Benazir Bhutto has been assassinated.
Suicide bombers, what is wrong with these people? No, seriously, it's got to be a mental illness.
Don't be surprised if martial law, followed by revolution, followed by chaos descends on Pakistan.
Oh, and they have nuclear weapons.
I go back to bed for an hour this morning, and wake up to find out that Benazir Bhutto has been assassinated.
Suicide bombers, what is wrong with these people? No, seriously, it's got to be a mental illness.
Don't be surprised if martial law, followed by revolution, followed by chaos descends on Pakistan.
Oh, and they have nuclear weapons.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Abortion - we're asking the wrong question
I followed with some interest the abortion thread over on Whateveresque.
I didn't comment over there because I didn't feel like I had anything to add that hadn't already been said by someone else. I waited until now to post my own comments, because I wanted the conversation over there to run its course, and now it looks like it has. I find it interesting that both general positions, for and against, were represented by folks who are regular commenters here, i.e. Shawn Powers and MWT. I was impressed by the, mostly, civil conversation on both sides of the issue, and by both Shawn and MWT's own positions and their respect for each other.
But - it is exactly that civil, adult, reasonable stand by both sides that confirms, for me, something that I've suspected for a long, long time - to wit: we are never going to agree on this issue, period.
I'd like to propose a change of rudder.
But first, I suppose it is only fair to state my own position on the subject of abortion, which is this: I mostly just don't care. Really. If I'm forced to take a stand on this subject, I will come down slightly off-center on the side of choice. Safe, legal, and very, very rare, that's me.
Now people get all bent out of shape when I say I mostly don't care. Abortion is one of those subjects that you're supposed to have strong feelings about, you're supposed to take a stand solidly on one side of the line or the other. You're either Pro-Choice or Pro-Life. You're either with us or against us (us being whomever is pounding the table at the moment). Even if you're a bit ambivalent about what you believe, you're still supposed to take sides. Abortion is just one of those polarizing issues, and just like optical polarization, there are only two choices (optical polarization is either horizontal or vertical). In fact, the only thing that will unite both sides, albeit only momentarily, is somebody who isn't part of either camp (Kind've like Fundamentalist Christians and Radical Muslims agreeing to hate the Jews.)
Well, I'm not much for being stuffed into a pigeon hole, especially on this issue.
Here's why:
1) I don't like the names: Pro-Choice and Pro-Life. I don't want either label applied to me. Pro-Life I find insulting and arrogant. The name, pro-life, implies that anybody who isn't a pro-lifer is anti-life (the ultimate 'you're either with us, or you're against us'). Pro-choice, on the other hand, often implies that there is only one choice - have an abortion or become a parent. Wait! Don't start screaming. I realize that most pro-choice folks don't mean their position to be so binary, but that's the message I often get - they're so used to fighting (and maybe justifiably so) that they often will not consider a larger range of options, many of which are proposed by the pro-life side, maybe because that range of options is proposed by the opposition. Acceptance into the organized pro-choice camp is often contingent, at least in my experience, on making only the approved choice, i.e. you're pro-choice just as long as you don't choose pro-life. (Organized, I said, into the organized pro-choice movement. Most people who define themselves as pro-choice don't belong to an organized pro-choice group, they're more of the 'leave me the hell alone' mindset). I am always suspicious of any issue that gives people only two options - I think people are more complex than that.
2) It is nearly impossible for the Pro-life side to separate their position from their religion. Again, I realize that many religious people have no desire to separate their position from their faith. Many don't believe this is even possible, and some believe that to live their life apart from their religion is evil. I understand this, and accept it. America is about freedom of belief, however it is also about freedom from belief. I have no problem when a person limits their own options because of their religious beliefs, I have a major problem when they expect everybody else to live within those limitations. If your course of action is dictated primarily by your religion, well fine for you, but you have absolutely NO right whatsoever to inflict that position on me or mine, and if you try - well I'm liable to take serious exception to it, violent exception if you keep at it.
3) The argument 'life begins at conception' does not hold water with me. 'What's that?' I hear you say. Bear with me here for a minute. First, I do agree that life does indeed begin at conception. Prior to conception, neither the sperm nor the ovum are truly alive, not as we define life (it's life, Jim, but not as we know it! - sorry, had to be said). Neither egg or sperm are able to consume resources from the environment, excrete waste, or are able to reproduce on their own - both are nothing more than building blocks. But after conception, well, it's a different story. The embryo consumes resources, excretes wastes, grows and reproduces (not sexual reproduction but rather cellular reproduction which qualifies as a defining criteria for life). So, it can be demonstrated scientifically that life does indeed begin at conception.
So what?
Seriously, so what? Is it human life? Is that lump of cells a human being? Science would say, no, probably not. Rather it is a potential human being, and many things can go wrong on the way to the final product. Religious folks say that's bullshit, it's human. Period. Most parents at this point would agree, I know I did - when that stick test came back positive, it was a baby. Who's right here? Science or emotion (and if you don't think emotion has a role in this, well, I'd advise you not to have kids, just saying). Again, who's right? Answer, both, neither. Why? Well because at this point we are well into the questions neither science nor religion can easily answer, i.e. what is it to be human?
And that takes us to the real crux of the matter, doesn't it? The question of when does human life begin, and the argument that human life is special.
The pro-life folks say yes, human life is sacred and must be protected. Strangely, many of these people support the death penalty, many support the war. I'm generalizing of course, not all pro-lifers are Neocon Republicans, not all are Christians (a significant number are devout Jews and Muslims, hell there are a number of atheists opposed to abortion) but a large majority are staunch religious Christian conservatives, at least here in the US. For these people, it's not a matter of science, it's a matter of faith. Human life begins at conception, it is defenseless and must be protected - if that embryo makes bad choices later in life, well, then it must be held accountable. But that unborn life has a right to exist and grow up to make those bad choices. The pro-choice group sees this as the ultimate hypocrisy. It's not, ultimately faith is about choice, you chose to follow your faith, or you don't. Now I will say I think there is some hypocrisy to be had here, because if you truly believe that human life is sacred, and that it does indeed begin at the moment of conception - well what happens when that fertilized egg doesn't implant in the uterine wall because the mother is eating a lousy diet? or has a medial condition she could have gotten corrected and didn't? What happens if the mother miscarries? Not because it's 'God's Will' but because she smokes, or because she's careless and slipped on the ice and fell down the steps? How is this different than failing to put an infant in a car seat? If life is truly sacred, shouldn't these people be tried for manslaughter? Or criminal negligence? (No, I don't think this. Yes, I know there are those who do). My problem here is where do you draw the line? What criteria do you use? Who decides?
Pro-choice folks on the other hand, often resort to science at this point in the argument. The most common pro-choice argument is, 'it may be life, but it just isn't viable outside of the womb,' therefor it's not human. Hmmm, I suppose there is some logic to this, but I have to argue that there are many creatures, creatures that we all can agree are life, that can exist only in specialized environments. Extremophiles, for example, that exist only in boiling black-smoker vents beneath the sea. Or parasites that are specific to only one species of plant or animal. Because these creatures can only exist in one very limited environment should we say that they really aren't alive? But those creatures aren't human, Jim, I hear some of you say, non-extra-uterine-viable embryos are different. OK, what if that human embryo has an immune system deficiency? And following it's birth must live forever within a sterile environment? Does this mean that it's not human? Of course not. All creatures exist within a specific environmental range, which may change over the course of the creature's life. In order for the question of embryonic viability to be a valid argument, we would have to define exactly what environmental parameters define a human being at each stage of development - and if you allow for technological modification of those parameters, well, all I can say is, "good luck with that." And I think the same logic applies to the question of embryonic viability. Again, where do you draw the line? What criteria do you use? Who decides?
Me? I tend more towards what I can see, touch, and test. And frankly I've got to say about the religious viewpoint that life is sacred: On the face of things, if there is a God (of whatever faith), he/she doesn't seem to regard human life as all that sacred - especially children. Without human intervention, hundreds of thousands of children (including unborn children) die every year in horrible ways. And frankly, for a bunch of people who say that human life is a gift from God, well, history shows repeatedly that most religions have no problem putting a bullet through the forehead of their fellow gifts from God. Actions speak louder than words, sorry but there it is.
From the scientific view point, again, I just don't see human life as all that special (don't get me wrong here, I see my life as plenty special, and same with those I love and know, but the rest? Well...), truthfully, the human race is hardly endangered. In fact, from a scientific viewpoint, the biggest threat to humans is, uh well, more humans. Most wars are ultimately fought over resources. Less births are better.
And so, however you get to this point, my answer to the whole 'when does human life begin' question is always going to be, 'I don't care.' I. Don't. Care. I don't know when it begins. I damned sure know when it ends though. I've seen plenty of dead people, people who have died in horrible ways. People who ended their lives as soggy corpses, bloating in the broiling sun - is life sacred? On the face of things, I've got to say I don't think the Universe gives a shit. I'm marginally more pro-choice than pro-life because I think that what a woman does with her uterus is her business (unless she decides to run a meth lab in there, or harbor terrorists - then I think we've got the right to poke around, in the interest of National Security, of course).
I would say to you, all of you no matter if you're pro-choice or pro-life, we just aren't going to agree on these questions. Hell, even folks within the same movement, within the same church, within the same woman's health clinic, within the same family, can't agree on these questions: What is it to be human? When does human life begin? Is it sacred? Is it special? Which is more important, the mother or the embryo? Does the lump of cells in a woman's uterus have rights independent from the mother?
And this is why I rarely get involved with the abortion issue, because, frankly I think the entire argument is off-track. While many of the question above are vitally important to many people, not one of them can be answered to the satisfaction of all. Not one. And that means there is no way in hell, that we are ever going to come to an agreement that everybody can live with. And because the two sides are both powerful, and nearly evenly matched, and because nearly everybody in the country feels strongly about it, we will always be divided on this. If abortion is legal - half the country will fight to have it made illegal. If it's made illegal, the other half of the country will fight to make it legal. The country will continue to pour vast amounts of energy and assets and passion and hatred into this bottomless hole. And it will never end.
So what do we do about it?
Well, there's an old Indian (India, not Native American) proverb. It doesn't translate well, but it goes something like this:
Question: How do you climb down off of an elephant? Answer: you don't, you climb down off of a duck.
Yeah I know, I told you it didn't translate well. What it means is this: Sometimes you need to look at the question from a different angle.
And that takes me here, to something that should be obvious, but I never see mentioned in the argument by either side, to wit: Abortion is a symptom, not the disease.
That's right, we're expending all this energy on the wrong question!
Abortion is a symptom, not the disease - in other words: No woman has ever gotten an abortion who wasn't - stick with me here - pregnant. No shit, uh?
And that is, of course, the real question - the question that, unlike abortion, has many solutions, solutions that we can all live with and allow others to live with different answers - How do we prevent unwanted pregnancy?
And the answer is not just birth control, though that is a big part of it. The best thing about birth control is that one size doesn't fit all (heh). The options range from abstinence to various forms of technology. Some solutions are right for certain people, and some different solutions are right for others. One of the things I'd like to see is a concerted effort, supported by the pro-life and pro-choice camps, to develop a safe and effective and cheap male oral contraceptive. If both sides put half as much effort into supporting the development of such a drug as they do into screaming at each other, we'd have it done already.
Yes, I understand that some religions don't allow their members (heh) to use birth control. And some folks just don't want to, religion aside. Fine, you've got two choices here, abstinence or eventual pregnancy. And for some people these are acceptable choices.
The key term is unwanted pregnancy. And the solution is to either prevent it, or make it wanted. And this is something both sides of the abortion issue can agree on, and find their own answers for - without having to impose those answers on the other side. If everybody in this country got together and pushed to end unwanted pregnancy - by whatever means - then we'd make the issues of abortion moot. Abortion would become rare. Which is what it should be.
I didn't comment over there because I didn't feel like I had anything to add that hadn't already been said by someone else. I waited until now to post my own comments, because I wanted the conversation over there to run its course, and now it looks like it has. I find it interesting that both general positions, for and against, were represented by folks who are regular commenters here, i.e. Shawn Powers and MWT. I was impressed by the, mostly, civil conversation on both sides of the issue, and by both Shawn and MWT's own positions and their respect for each other.
But - it is exactly that civil, adult, reasonable stand by both sides that confirms, for me, something that I've suspected for a long, long time - to wit: we are never going to agree on this issue, period.
I'd like to propose a change of rudder.
But first, I suppose it is only fair to state my own position on the subject of abortion, which is this: I mostly just don't care. Really. If I'm forced to take a stand on this subject, I will come down slightly off-center on the side of choice. Safe, legal, and very, very rare, that's me.
Now people get all bent out of shape when I say I mostly don't care. Abortion is one of those subjects that you're supposed to have strong feelings about, you're supposed to take a stand solidly on one side of the line or the other. You're either Pro-Choice or Pro-Life. You're either with us or against us (us being whomever is pounding the table at the moment). Even if you're a bit ambivalent about what you believe, you're still supposed to take sides. Abortion is just one of those polarizing issues, and just like optical polarization, there are only two choices (optical polarization is either horizontal or vertical). In fact, the only thing that will unite both sides, albeit only momentarily, is somebody who isn't part of either camp (Kind've like Fundamentalist Christians and Radical Muslims agreeing to hate the Jews.)
Well, I'm not much for being stuffed into a pigeon hole, especially on this issue.
Here's why:
1) I don't like the names: Pro-Choice and Pro-Life. I don't want either label applied to me. Pro-Life I find insulting and arrogant. The name, pro-life, implies that anybody who isn't a pro-lifer is anti-life (the ultimate 'you're either with us, or you're against us'). Pro-choice, on the other hand, often implies that there is only one choice - have an abortion or become a parent. Wait! Don't start screaming. I realize that most pro-choice folks don't mean their position to be so binary, but that's the message I often get - they're so used to fighting (and maybe justifiably so) that they often will not consider a larger range of options, many of which are proposed by the pro-life side, maybe because that range of options is proposed by the opposition. Acceptance into the organized pro-choice camp is often contingent, at least in my experience, on making only the approved choice, i.e. you're pro-choice just as long as you don't choose pro-life. (Organized, I said, into the organized pro-choice movement. Most people who define themselves as pro-choice don't belong to an organized pro-choice group, they're more of the 'leave me the hell alone' mindset). I am always suspicious of any issue that gives people only two options - I think people are more complex than that.
2) It is nearly impossible for the Pro-life side to separate their position from their religion. Again, I realize that many religious people have no desire to separate their position from their faith. Many don't believe this is even possible, and some believe that to live their life apart from their religion is evil. I understand this, and accept it. America is about freedom of belief, however it is also about freedom from belief. I have no problem when a person limits their own options because of their religious beliefs, I have a major problem when they expect everybody else to live within those limitations. If your course of action is dictated primarily by your religion, well fine for you, but you have absolutely NO right whatsoever to inflict that position on me or mine, and if you try - well I'm liable to take serious exception to it, violent exception if you keep at it.
3) The argument 'life begins at conception' does not hold water with me. 'What's that?' I hear you say. Bear with me here for a minute. First, I do agree that life does indeed begin at conception. Prior to conception, neither the sperm nor the ovum are truly alive, not as we define life (it's life, Jim, but not as we know it! - sorry, had to be said). Neither egg or sperm are able to consume resources from the environment, excrete waste, or are able to reproduce on their own - both are nothing more than building blocks. But after conception, well, it's a different story. The embryo consumes resources, excretes wastes, grows and reproduces (not sexual reproduction but rather cellular reproduction which qualifies as a defining criteria for life). So, it can be demonstrated scientifically that life does indeed begin at conception.
So what?
Seriously, so what? Is it human life? Is that lump of cells a human being? Science would say, no, probably not. Rather it is a potential human being, and many things can go wrong on the way to the final product. Religious folks say that's bullshit, it's human. Period. Most parents at this point would agree, I know I did - when that stick test came back positive, it was a baby. Who's right here? Science or emotion (and if you don't think emotion has a role in this, well, I'd advise you not to have kids, just saying). Again, who's right? Answer, both, neither. Why? Well because at this point we are well into the questions neither science nor religion can easily answer, i.e. what is it to be human?
And that takes us to the real crux of the matter, doesn't it? The question of when does human life begin, and the argument that human life is special.
The pro-life folks say yes, human life is sacred and must be protected. Strangely, many of these people support the death penalty, many support the war. I'm generalizing of course, not all pro-lifers are Neocon Republicans, not all are Christians (a significant number are devout Jews and Muslims, hell there are a number of atheists opposed to abortion) but a large majority are staunch religious Christian conservatives, at least here in the US. For these people, it's not a matter of science, it's a matter of faith. Human life begins at conception, it is defenseless and must be protected - if that embryo makes bad choices later in life, well, then it must be held accountable. But that unborn life has a right to exist and grow up to make those bad choices. The pro-choice group sees this as the ultimate hypocrisy. It's not, ultimately faith is about choice, you chose to follow your faith, or you don't. Now I will say I think there is some hypocrisy to be had here, because if you truly believe that human life is sacred, and that it does indeed begin at the moment of conception - well what happens when that fertilized egg doesn't implant in the uterine wall because the mother is eating a lousy diet? or has a medial condition she could have gotten corrected and didn't? What happens if the mother miscarries? Not because it's 'God's Will' but because she smokes, or because she's careless and slipped on the ice and fell down the steps? How is this different than failing to put an infant in a car seat? If life is truly sacred, shouldn't these people be tried for manslaughter? Or criminal negligence? (No, I don't think this. Yes, I know there are those who do). My problem here is where do you draw the line? What criteria do you use? Who decides?
Pro-choice folks on the other hand, often resort to science at this point in the argument. The most common pro-choice argument is, 'it may be life, but it just isn't viable outside of the womb,' therefor it's not human. Hmmm, I suppose there is some logic to this, but I have to argue that there are many creatures, creatures that we all can agree are life, that can exist only in specialized environments. Extremophiles, for example, that exist only in boiling black-smoker vents beneath the sea. Or parasites that are specific to only one species of plant or animal. Because these creatures can only exist in one very limited environment should we say that they really aren't alive? But those creatures aren't human, Jim, I hear some of you say, non-extra-uterine-viable embryos are different. OK, what if that human embryo has an immune system deficiency? And following it's birth must live forever within a sterile environment? Does this mean that it's not human? Of course not. All creatures exist within a specific environmental range, which may change over the course of the creature's life. In order for the question of embryonic viability to be a valid argument, we would have to define exactly what environmental parameters define a human being at each stage of development - and if you allow for technological modification of those parameters, well, all I can say is, "good luck with that." And I think the same logic applies to the question of embryonic viability. Again, where do you draw the line? What criteria do you use? Who decides?
Me? I tend more towards what I can see, touch, and test. And frankly I've got to say about the religious viewpoint that life is sacred: On the face of things, if there is a God (of whatever faith), he/she doesn't seem to regard human life as all that sacred - especially children. Without human intervention, hundreds of thousands of children (including unborn children) die every year in horrible ways. And frankly, for a bunch of people who say that human life is a gift from God, well, history shows repeatedly that most religions have no problem putting a bullet through the forehead of their fellow gifts from God. Actions speak louder than words, sorry but there it is.
From the scientific view point, again, I just don't see human life as all that special (don't get me wrong here, I see my life as plenty special, and same with those I love and know, but the rest? Well...), truthfully, the human race is hardly endangered. In fact, from a scientific viewpoint, the biggest threat to humans is, uh well, more humans. Most wars are ultimately fought over resources. Less births are better.
And so, however you get to this point, my answer to the whole 'when does human life begin' question is always going to be, 'I don't care.' I. Don't. Care. I don't know when it begins. I damned sure know when it ends though. I've seen plenty of dead people, people who have died in horrible ways. People who ended their lives as soggy corpses, bloating in the broiling sun - is life sacred? On the face of things, I've got to say I don't think the Universe gives a shit. I'm marginally more pro-choice than pro-life because I think that what a woman does with her uterus is her business (unless she decides to run a meth lab in there, or harbor terrorists - then I think we've got the right to poke around, in the interest of National Security, of course).
I would say to you, all of you no matter if you're pro-choice or pro-life, we just aren't going to agree on these questions. Hell, even folks within the same movement, within the same church, within the same woman's health clinic, within the same family, can't agree on these questions: What is it to be human? When does human life begin? Is it sacred? Is it special? Which is more important, the mother or the embryo? Does the lump of cells in a woman's uterus have rights independent from the mother?
And this is why I rarely get involved with the abortion issue, because, frankly I think the entire argument is off-track. While many of the question above are vitally important to many people, not one of them can be answered to the satisfaction of all. Not one. And that means there is no way in hell, that we are ever going to come to an agreement that everybody can live with. And because the two sides are both powerful, and nearly evenly matched, and because nearly everybody in the country feels strongly about it, we will always be divided on this. If abortion is legal - half the country will fight to have it made illegal. If it's made illegal, the other half of the country will fight to make it legal. The country will continue to pour vast amounts of energy and assets and passion and hatred into this bottomless hole. And it will never end.
So what do we do about it?
Well, there's an old Indian (India, not Native American) proverb. It doesn't translate well, but it goes something like this:
Question: How do you climb down off of an elephant? Answer: you don't, you climb down off of a duck.
Yeah I know, I told you it didn't translate well. What it means is this: Sometimes you need to look at the question from a different angle.
And that takes me here, to something that should be obvious, but I never see mentioned in the argument by either side, to wit: Abortion is a symptom, not the disease.
That's right, we're expending all this energy on the wrong question!
Abortion is a symptom, not the disease - in other words: No woman has ever gotten an abortion who wasn't - stick with me here - pregnant. No shit, uh?
And that is, of course, the real question - the question that, unlike abortion, has many solutions, solutions that we can all live with and allow others to live with different answers - How do we prevent unwanted pregnancy?
And the answer is not just birth control, though that is a big part of it. The best thing about birth control is that one size doesn't fit all (heh). The options range from abstinence to various forms of technology. Some solutions are right for certain people, and some different solutions are right for others. One of the things I'd like to see is a concerted effort, supported by the pro-life and pro-choice camps, to develop a safe and effective and cheap male oral contraceptive. If both sides put half as much effort into supporting the development of such a drug as they do into screaming at each other, we'd have it done already.
Yes, I understand that some religions don't allow their members (heh) to use birth control. And some folks just don't want to, religion aside. Fine, you've got two choices here, abstinence or eventual pregnancy. And for some people these are acceptable choices.
The key term is unwanted pregnancy. And the solution is to either prevent it, or make it wanted. And this is something both sides of the abortion issue can agree on, and find their own answers for - without having to impose those answers on the other side. If everybody in this country got together and pushed to end unwanted pregnancy - by whatever means - then we'd make the issues of abortion moot. Abortion would become rare. Which is what it should be.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Merry Christmas
Well, the Christmas Morning Frenzy (tm) has ended here at Stonekettle Station.
The carnage was terrible.
It's getting harder and harder to pull off getting the presents out of hiding and downstairs into the sunroom without the kid catching us. We have had to resort to treachery and dirty tricks - which is, of course, the part of Christmas that my wife and I enjoy most.
Last night we added something new - technology. We've got this device, the Ssscat Cat Repeller, it's a spray can of compressed air, with a motion sensor on top, which is designed to sound an alarm and release a blast of compressed air when triggered - you put it on the counters and it's very effective at keeping feline members of the family off the food preparation surfaces. As it turns out, if you put it in the upstairs hallway outside the kid's bedroom door - well it works pretty good for letting you know when your child is attempting an unauthorized recon of the Christmas tree.
We put put the Repeller in the hall about 10Pm, around 10:30Pm we heard it go off. I put the episode of Firefly we were watching on hold; my wife went up to check, and came back downstairs giggling hysterically and waving a small square of paper. A note from my son, which she found next to the repeller. The note was literally dripping with scorn and disdain and read:
Ha! Neither are we, Sarcasm Boy.
Instead of a war of attrition, we executed a flanking maneuver, i.e. we went to bed without placing the presents. Set the alarm for 5AM. We got up with the alarm, I helped my wife carry the presents downstairs, and while she arranged them under the tree I made coffee. Then we went back to bed for a couple of hours - all undetected.
Like the lady said, age and experience wins out over youth and enthusiasm, every time.
For the record, I got the cordless dremel tool, the wife loved her new necklace, and we're all up to our collective jingle bells in Lego's. Also, I got the Final Cut HD version of Bladerunner. I'm currently listening to Bing Crosby and eating my grits and finishing my coffee. Later I'll put on the Ham and potatoes.
All is well here. Hope you all have a great day and a Merry Christmas or Hanukkah or Festivus or Whatever. If you can spare a moment out of your day, give a thought to those in uniform overseas today - don't feel guilty about it, that's why they do what they do. The best way to honor them is to enjoy your day, laugh, hug those who are important to you, and raise a toast to those who keep us all safe.
Have a great day all.
The carnage was terrible.
It's getting harder and harder to pull off getting the presents out of hiding and downstairs into the sunroom without the kid catching us. We have had to resort to treachery and dirty tricks - which is, of course, the part of Christmas that my wife and I enjoy most.
Last night we added something new - technology. We've got this device, the Ssscat Cat Repeller, it's a spray can of compressed air, with a motion sensor on top, which is designed to sound an alarm and release a blast of compressed air when triggered - you put it on the counters and it's very effective at keeping feline members of the family off the food preparation surfaces. As it turns out, if you put it in the upstairs hallway outside the kid's bedroom door - well it works pretty good for letting you know when your child is attempting an unauthorized recon of the Christmas tree.
We put put the Repeller in the hall about 10Pm, around 10:30Pm we heard it go off. I put the episode of Firefly we were watching on hold; my wife went up to check, and came back downstairs giggling hysterically and waving a small square of paper. A note from my son, which she found next to the repeller. The note was literally dripping with scorn and disdain and read:
Nice try with the spray can. I'm not that stupid!
Ha! Neither are we, Sarcasm Boy.
Instead of a war of attrition, we executed a flanking maneuver, i.e. we went to bed without placing the presents. Set the alarm for 5AM. We got up with the alarm, I helped my wife carry the presents downstairs, and while she arranged them under the tree I made coffee. Then we went back to bed for a couple of hours - all undetected.
Like the lady said, age and experience wins out over youth and enthusiasm, every time.
For the record, I got the cordless dremel tool, the wife loved her new necklace, and we're all up to our collective jingle bells in Lego's. Also, I got the Final Cut HD version of Bladerunner. I'm currently listening to Bing Crosby and eating my grits and finishing my coffee. Later I'll put on the Ham and potatoes.
All is well here. Hope you all have a great day and a Merry Christmas or Hanukkah or Festivus or Whatever. If you can spare a moment out of your day, give a thought to those in uniform overseas today - don't feel guilty about it, that's why they do what they do. The best way to honor them is to enjoy your day, laugh, hug those who are important to you, and raise a toast to those who keep us all safe.
Have a great day all.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Do NOT Want!
Embedded adds are obnoxious. How could you possibly make them even worse? Well, that would depend on the subject matter now wouldn't it?
Update (because I just couldn't let it go):
That's right, she's giving it away for free. Free. Now, besides Rush Limbaugh, how many people would actually sign up for this?
Actually, come to think of it - if they can track down perverts who buy kiddie porn online with their credit cards, they ought to be able to find anybody who signs up for this abomination. Then we could deal with them...
Update (because I just couldn't let it go):
That's right, she's giving it away for free. Free. Now, besides Rush Limbaugh, how many people would actually sign up for this?
Actually, come to think of it - if they can track down perverts who buy kiddie porn online with their credit cards, they ought to be able to find anybody who signs up for this abomination. Then we could deal with them...
Merry Christmas or Xmas or whatever you call it
Well, it's Christmas Eve, and that means another year has gone by.
It was a big year for us.
My son started Middle School, my wife started a new job, and I retired from the Navy.
I started this blog, spent considerable time in my wood shop, and learned how to make Kreplach soup. All in all, a pretty good year for me. So there's not much I want for Christmas tomorrow - well not much I'm likely to get anyway. I wouldn't mind finding a Work Sharp WS3000 under the tree tomorrow - with the optional leather honing wheel, or maybe a cordless Dremel tool, nothing fancy, I already own a number of rotary tools - but I want one I can dedicate to the chainsaw sharpener. Other than that, I really can't think of anything material wise.
Non-material wise, well, yeah I can think of a number of things - none of which I'm likely to get. I'd like every one of my brothers in arms to come home safe and alive. I'd like this idiotic war to end. I'd like the those responsible for this mess to be held accountable, both those who started this with 911, and those who used that atrocity to further their own agendas. I'd like my nation to renounce torture as a national policy, and while we're at it, I'd like the Director of Central Intelligence to spend the next month strapped to a waterboard, right next to Donald Rumsfeld, but instead of water, I'd like to see Coke Classic poured up their noses. I'd like the current crop of Republicans to shut up about their religions - in fact, since I'm making a wish here, that goes for pretty much every proletizing religious wanker in the US, shut the fuck up and leave me alone. I'd like the current crop of Democrats to grow a collective spine and a pair of balls and start doing what they were elected to do. And I'd really like the presidential candidates of both stripes to be collectively abducted by space aliens, subjected to anal probes (big silver vibrating anal probes, especially the Republicans), shaved, chipped, dyed green, trained to do tricks, and placed in a zoo on the the Alien's home world, where small gray children with big heads and bulging eyes on 6th grade field trips taunt them and throw alien peanuts through the bars (I have this mental image of them all sitting on Monkey Island, flinging shit at each other. Obama claiming the situation is Clinton's fault. Clinton screeching that it's Obama's fault. McCain gibbering about his time in Vietnam and how this is just like that. Huckabee screaming and shaking his little monkey fist and periodically chasing Romney furiously about the enclosure. Fred Thompson as the grumpy old Silverback. Ron Paul sitting all alone in a tree at one end of the island, playing with himself and periodically flinging turds at the gray skinned children and the other monkeys. And Kucinich standing on the highest rock, thumping his bony little chest and bellowing 'I told you so, I did...')
Ahhh, hell, I guess I'll just be happy if I get the Dremel tool.
Merry Christmas all.
It was a big year for us.
My son started Middle School, my wife started a new job, and I retired from the Navy.
I started this blog, spent considerable time in my wood shop, and learned how to make Kreplach soup. All in all, a pretty good year for me. So there's not much I want for Christmas tomorrow - well not much I'm likely to get anyway. I wouldn't mind finding a Work Sharp WS3000 under the tree tomorrow - with the optional leather honing wheel, or maybe a cordless Dremel tool, nothing fancy, I already own a number of rotary tools - but I want one I can dedicate to the chainsaw sharpener. Other than that, I really can't think of anything material wise.
Non-material wise, well, yeah I can think of a number of things - none of which I'm likely to get. I'd like every one of my brothers in arms to come home safe and alive. I'd like this idiotic war to end. I'd like the those responsible for this mess to be held accountable, both those who started this with 911, and those who used that atrocity to further their own agendas. I'd like my nation to renounce torture as a national policy, and while we're at it, I'd like the Director of Central Intelligence to spend the next month strapped to a waterboard, right next to Donald Rumsfeld, but instead of water, I'd like to see Coke Classic poured up their noses. I'd like the current crop of Republicans to shut up about their religions - in fact, since I'm making a wish here, that goes for pretty much every proletizing religious wanker in the US, shut the fuck up and leave me alone. I'd like the current crop of Democrats to grow a collective spine and a pair of balls and start doing what they were elected to do. And I'd really like the presidential candidates of both stripes to be collectively abducted by space aliens, subjected to anal probes (big silver vibrating anal probes, especially the Republicans), shaved, chipped, dyed green, trained to do tricks, and placed in a zoo on the the Alien's home world, where small gray children with big heads and bulging eyes on 6th grade field trips taunt them and throw alien peanuts through the bars (I have this mental image of them all sitting on Monkey Island, flinging shit at each other. Obama claiming the situation is Clinton's fault. Clinton screeching that it's Obama's fault. McCain gibbering about his time in Vietnam and how this is just like that. Huckabee screaming and shaking his little monkey fist and periodically chasing Romney furiously about the enclosure. Fred Thompson as the grumpy old Silverback. Ron Paul sitting all alone in a tree at one end of the island, playing with himself and periodically flinging turds at the gray skinned children and the other monkeys. And Kucinich standing on the highest rock, thumping his bony little chest and bellowing 'I told you so, I did...')
Ahhh, hell, I guess I'll just be happy if I get the Dremel tool.
Merry Christmas all.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
No longer missing
A long time ago, more than thirty years as near as I can tell, I read a book.
It was in Junior High, what people hereabouts call Middle School. It was an old hardcover Scifi book from the school library. I remember that it had a stylized rocket ship in a circle on the spine and the cover had a picture of a big skeletal spacecraft sitting on the surface of one of Saturn's moons (years later I would see paintings by the great Chesley Bonestell, and recognize that cover art as a rip-off off Bonestell's renderings of Werner Von Brown's original moon lander designs). The story was about the second mission to Saturn, the previous mission having been lost many years before. I remember that eventually the protagonists discover the first mission ship in orbit in deep, deep space and that the ship's name was the Anomaly. I remember, because it was the first time I'd ever heard the word. I remember that the explorers find an abandoned base on one of Saturn's moons, left by the first expedition. And that eventually they meet Saturians and find some survivors from the first expedition.
And that's about all I remember.
I knew it had to be a golden age book. And it was old when I read it, because vintage scifi was about all a conservative Junior High library would have in western Michigan in the early 70's (probably don't have any nowadays), and I knew the science was dated even way back then.
And it's bugged me for thirty years - because I could never recall the title or the author.
-----------
Ain't the Internet wonderful? Armed with just that bit of information and a little persistence I finally found it. I happened to remember the symbol, the rocket ship and circle - that eventually led me to the Winston Science Fiction set, a list of 35 juvenile science fiction novels by famous (in the 50's and 60's) authors. And there it was, Missing Men of Saturn.
I will be damned.
It was in Junior High, what people hereabouts call Middle School. It was an old hardcover Scifi book from the school library. I remember that it had a stylized rocket ship in a circle on the spine and the cover had a picture of a big skeletal spacecraft sitting on the surface of one of Saturn's moons (years later I would see paintings by the great Chesley Bonestell, and recognize that cover art as a rip-off off Bonestell's renderings of Werner Von Brown's original moon lander designs). The story was about the second mission to Saturn, the previous mission having been lost many years before. I remember that eventually the protagonists discover the first mission ship in orbit in deep, deep space and that the ship's name was the Anomaly. I remember, because it was the first time I'd ever heard the word. I remember that the explorers find an abandoned base on one of Saturn's moons, left by the first expedition. And that eventually they meet Saturians and find some survivors from the first expedition.
And that's about all I remember.
I knew it had to be a golden age book. And it was old when I read it, because vintage scifi was about all a conservative Junior High library would have in western Michigan in the early 70's (probably don't have any nowadays), and I knew the science was dated even way back then.
And it's bugged me for thirty years - because I could never recall the title or the author.
-----------
Ain't the Internet wonderful? Armed with just that bit of information and a little persistence I finally found it. I happened to remember the symbol, the rocket ship and circle - that eventually led me to the Winston Science Fiction set, a list of 35 juvenile science fiction novels by famous (in the 50's and 60's) authors. And there it was, Missing Men of Saturn.
I will be damned.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
You Know You're In Alaska When...
. . .you know which leaves make good toilet paper.
. . .the mayor greets you on the street by your first name.
. . .there is only one store in town, and you can buy both fine wine and dog boots there.
. . .the town buys a Zamboni before a bus.
. . .the major town fundraiser isn't bingo - its sausage making.
. . .you find -40F a might chilly.
. . .the trunk of your car doubles as a deep freeze.
. . .you attended a formal event in your best clothes, your finest jewels and your Sorrels.
. . .you can play road hockey on ice skates.
. . .shoveling the driveway constitutes a great upper body workout.
. . .you know the 4 seasons: Winter, Still Winter, Almost Winter, and Construction.
. . .when it warms up to -35F and you go out in your shirt sleeves to wash you car.
. . .when you drive for a mile on square tires on a -65F morning before they eventually become normal.
. . .when you have to put your sun visor down at 3:00 a.m.
. . .all of your relatives refer to you as that crazy person that lives up there.
. . .your kids think that you have to get on a airplane to go on vacation.
. . .you only own four spices: salt, pepper, ketchup, and Tabasco.
. . .you design your Halloween costumes to fit over a snowsuit and you've taken your kids trick-or-treating in a blizzard.
. . .the mosquitoes have landing lights.
. . .you have more miles on you snowblower than your car.
. . .you have 10 favorite recipes for moose meat.
. . .driving is better in the winter because the potholes get filled with snow.
. . .you think sexy lingerie is fleece socks and a flannel nightie with only 8 buttons.
. . .you owe more money on your snowmobile than your car.
. . .at least twice a year, the kitchen doubles as a meat processing plant.
. . .the most effective mosquito repellent is a shotgun.
. . .your snowblower gets stuck on the roof.
. . .you think the start of moose season is a national holiday.
. . .you frequently clean grease off your barbecue so the bears won't prowl on your deck.
. . .you take off your shirt and your arms are as pale as your legs all the way to your wrists.
. . .you know that the term "Break Up" has more to do with the weather than personal relationships.
. . .your monthly phone bill is larger than your house payment.
. . .there is a bottle of Avon's Skin-So-Soft in your tackle box.
. . .you don't know anyone who doesn't own a 4-wheeler.
. . .you have ever taken a trip "outside" and tried to cash a traveler's check, drawn on an Alaskan bank, and the cashier asked you the current exchange rate in Alaska.
. . .you have ever washed your car while there was still snow on the ground.
. . .you have ever power washed your car by parking driver's side into the rain in the morning, and passenger side into the rain in the afternoon. (a Dutch Harbor thing)
. . .you have tennis elbow but have never played tennis, just snagged a lot of salmon.
. . .you know a honey bucket is really a bucket, but it's not really full of honey. (If you don't know, don't ask)
. . .you know that the Rat Net is not a rodent catching device.
. . .you know the Naknek twitch is an illegal fishing technique, not a spasmodic muscle in your neck.
. . .you travel for two days to get outside but none of your family members will travel more than two minutes to visit you.
. . .you learned to swim indoors.
. . .you leave your Christmas lights up, year round, because as soon as it gets warm enough to take them down it starts getting dark enough to put them up again.
. . .your bedroom windows are covered in aluminum foil.
. . .you had waffle soles put on your cowboy boots.
. . .your monthly veterinarian bill is more than your own medical bill.
. . .you know a "white out" has to do with winter conditions not correcting fluid for typos.
------------------
I swear every one of these things are true.
. . .the mayor greets you on the street by your first name.
. . .there is only one store in town, and you can buy both fine wine and dog boots there.
. . .the town buys a Zamboni before a bus.
. . .the major town fundraiser isn't bingo - its sausage making.
. . .you find -40F a might chilly.
. . .the trunk of your car doubles as a deep freeze.
. . .you attended a formal event in your best clothes, your finest jewels and your Sorrels.
. . .you can play road hockey on ice skates.
. . .shoveling the driveway constitutes a great upper body workout.
. . .you know the 4 seasons: Winter, Still Winter, Almost Winter, and Construction.
. . .when it warms up to -35F and you go out in your shirt sleeves to wash you car.
. . .when you drive for a mile on square tires on a -65F morning before they eventually become normal.
. . .when you have to put your sun visor down at 3:00 a.m.
. . .all of your relatives refer to you as that crazy person that lives up there.
. . .your kids think that you have to get on a airplane to go on vacation.
. . .you only own four spices: salt, pepper, ketchup, and Tabasco.
. . .you design your Halloween costumes to fit over a snowsuit and you've taken your kids trick-or-treating in a blizzard.
. . .the mosquitoes have landing lights.
. . .you have more miles on you snowblower than your car.
. . .you have 10 favorite recipes for moose meat.
. . .driving is better in the winter because the potholes get filled with snow.
. . .you think sexy lingerie is fleece socks and a flannel nightie with only 8 buttons.
. . .you owe more money on your snowmobile than your car.
. . .at least twice a year, the kitchen doubles as a meat processing plant.
. . .the most effective mosquito repellent is a shotgun.
. . .your snowblower gets stuck on the roof.
. . .you think the start of moose season is a national holiday.
. . .you frequently clean grease off your barbecue so the bears won't prowl on your deck.
. . .you take off your shirt and your arms are as pale as your legs all the way to your wrists.
. . .you know that the term "Break Up" has more to do with the weather than personal relationships.
. . .your monthly phone bill is larger than your house payment.
. . .there is a bottle of Avon's Skin-So-Soft in your tackle box.
. . .you don't know anyone who doesn't own a 4-wheeler.
. . .you have ever taken a trip "outside" and tried to cash a traveler's check, drawn on an Alaskan bank, and the cashier asked you the current exchange rate in Alaska.
. . .you have ever washed your car while there was still snow on the ground.
. . .you have ever power washed your car by parking driver's side into the rain in the morning, and passenger side into the rain in the afternoon. (a Dutch Harbor thing)
. . .you have tennis elbow but have never played tennis, just snagged a lot of salmon.
. . .you know a honey bucket is really a bucket, but it's not really full of honey. (If you don't know, don't ask)
. . .you know that the Rat Net is not a rodent catching device.
. . .you know the Naknek twitch is an illegal fishing technique, not a spasmodic muscle in your neck.
. . .you travel for two days to get outside but none of your family members will travel more than two minutes to visit you.
. . .you learned to swim indoors.
. . .you leave your Christmas lights up, year round, because as soon as it gets warm enough to take them down it starts getting dark enough to put them up again.
. . .your bedroom windows are covered in aluminum foil.
. . .you had waffle soles put on your cowboy boots.
. . .your monthly veterinarian bill is more than your own medical bill.
. . .you know a "white out" has to do with winter conditions not correcting fluid for typos.
------------------
I swear every one of these things are true.
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