From the mail bag
HELP
Since September 11, 2001, Americans have come together as never before in our generation. We have banded together to overcome tremendous adversity. We have weathered direct attacks on our own soil, wars
overseas, corporate scandal, layoffs, unemployment, stock price plunges, droughts, fires, and a myriad of economic and physical disasters both great and small. But now, we must come together once again to overcome
our greatest challenge yet.
Hundreds of Major League Baseball players in our very own nation are living at, just below, or in most cases far above the seven-figure salary level. And as if that weren't bad enough they could be deprived of their life giving pay for several months, possibly longer, as a result of the upcoming strike situation.
But you can help! For only $20,835 a month, about $694.50 a day (that's less than the cost of a large screen projection TV) you can help a MLB player remain economically viable during his time of need. This
contribution by no means solves the problem as it barely covers the annual minimum salary, but it's a start, and every little bit will help! Although $700 may not seem like a lot of money to you, to a baseball player it could mean the difference between spending the strike golfing in Florida or on a Mediterranean cruise. For you, $700 is nothing more than a month's rent, half a mortgage payment, or a month of medical insurance, but to a baseball player, $700 will partially replace his daily salary. Your commitment of less than $700 a day will enable a player to buy that home entertainment center, trade in the year-old Lexus for a new Ferrari, or enjoy a weekend in Rio.
HOW WILL I KNOW I'M HELPING?
Each month, you will receive a complete financial report on the player you sponsor. Detailed information about his stocks, bonds, 401(k), real estate, and other investment holdings will be mailed to your home. Plus, upon signing up for this program, you will receive an unsigned photo of
the player lounging during the strike on a beach somewhere in the Caribbean (for a signed photo, please include an additional $150). Put the photo on your refrigerator to remind you of other peoples' suffering.
HOW WILL HE KNOW I'M HELPING?
Your MLB player will be told that he has a SPECIAL FRIEND who just wants to help in a time of need. Although the player won't know your name, he will be able to make collect calls to your home via a special operator in case additional funds are needed for unforeseen expenses.
YES, I WANT TO HELP!
I would like to sponsor a striking MLB player. My preference is checked below:
[ ] Infielder
[ ] Outfielder
[ ] Starting Pitcher
[ ] Ace Pitcher
[ ] Middle Reliever
[ ] Entire team (Please call our 900 number to ask for the cost of a specific team - $10 per minute)
[ ] Alex Rodriguez (Higher cost: $60,000 per day)
[ ]Please charge the account listed below $694.50 per day for the player for the duration of the strike.
[ ] Please send me a picture of the player I have sponsored, along with an Alex Rodriguez 2001 Income Statement and my very own Donald Fehr MLB
Bobblehead.
Your Name: _______________________
Telephone Number:___________________
Account Number: ___________________
Exp.Date:_______
[ ] MasterCard
[ ] Visa
[ ] American Express
Alternate card (when the primary card exceeds its credit limit):
Account Number: ___________________ Exp.Date:_______
[ ] MasterCard
[ ] Visa
[ ] American Express
[ ] Discover
Signature: _________________________________________________________
Notary Public: _____________________________________________________
Mail completed form to MLB Players Union or call 1-900-F%*&-THE-FANS now to enroll by phone ($10 per minute).
Disclaimer: Sponsors are not permitted to contact the player they have sponsored, either in person or by other means including, but not limited to, telephone calls, letters, e-mail, or third parties. (Contributions are not tax-deductible)
Another new blog to watch! Welcome to The Sabertooth Journal, a free marketeer and libertarian (with a small l) from LA (must be as lonely as the Maytag repairman).
Fair enough
DON'T ARGUE WITH CHILDREN
A little girl was talking to her teacher about whales.
The teacher said it was physically impossible for a whale to swallow a human
because even though it was a very large mammal its throat was very small.
The little girl stated that Jonah was swallowed by a whale.
Irritated, the teacher reiterated that a whale could not swallow a human; it
was physically impossible.
The little girl said, "When I get to heaven I will ask Jonah".
The teacher asked, "What if Jonah went to hell?"
The little girl replied, "Then you ask him".
Perspective There was a terrible car accident on the freeway, and a young man lay pinned in the wreckage. Blood was pouring from dozens of deep cuts, one eye was swollen shut, and his breathing was labored as he fought to stay alive. As the rescue squad was working to free his broken body from the wreckage, the paramedics kept talking to him, trying to keep him alert.
"Don't worry, son, we'll have you out of there in no time," the paramedic said.
The young man moaned softly, but didn't respond.
Trying desperately to get the young man's atention, the paramedic began asking him questions, where did he live, where did he work, what football team did he like, but the young man didn't answer, just moaned quietly. Finally, the paramedic asked him "Are you married? We can notify your wife."
At this the young man looked at the paramedic with his good eye and said "Nope, I'm not married. This is the worst fix I've ever been in."
Hard times with the hard drive
I went to the computer store today to pick up the two computers I just got for my two college boys. The owner of the place helped me out of a tremendous jam, so I gicve him all of my business.
It started 3 years ago. I had ordered a rent to own computer from another shop to give to the kids as a Christmas present. I had paid for several upgrades to the standard model, and the owner told me that he would have it ready on Dec 22. That day rolled around and I went to pick up the computer and bring it home. When I got to the store, the fellow asked me if I had brought all the upgrades back. I was more than a little confused, and asked him what he was talking about. He said he had gotten the system back, but not the upgrades, and he wanted those back as well.
Even more confused, I told him that I wasn't bringing anything back, that I was picking up a system I had ordered three weeks before. We talked back and forth for several minutes, while he wrapped his mind around the fact that I hadn't returned a computer, that he had never delivered the computer, and that I was there to pick up a computer. Unfortunately, the computer I was there to pick up did not exist. He had somehow lost track of the order, and never built the system. He apologized, and told me it would take several days, because he was closing for the holidays, but he could have the system ready shortly before New Years. I told him what he could do with his system and walked out the door.
So there I was, the day before Christmas eve, and my big present did not exist. I was not in a good mood as I drove up the street. I knew of another computer dealer nearby, and I went there, just on the off chance he could help me out. I wlaked into the shop and a man came up to me and asked what I needed. I explained my situation to him, and he took charge instantly. He told me he usually only rented out used systems, and he didn't have any available, but if I wanted, he would put a new system on a rental contract for me. He told me he would have it ready first thing in the morning, but to get there before noon, since he was closing early for the holidays.
He was as good as his word, and I picked up a system that was better than the one I had ordered the first time, and for a bit less money. Renting to own is a little more expensive than financing, but that extra expense is offset by the fact that the computer is under warranty as long as it is under contract.
Anyway, I was very pleased with the product and the service, and over the last couple of years, I've bought two more computers from him. Each time, he's made me a very good deal, and provided great equipment and good service. So, when I decided to buy computers for the boys, naturally I went back to him. I ordered two basic units, 950 MHz, 40G hard drives, 256M RAM, and 15 inch monitors. He gave me an excellent price, so I upgraded to DVD-ROM and a CD RW on each. I also had him install a graphics card in one, since one of my sons had bought his own and installed it in the family machine.
I went to pick up the computers this afternoon, and faced a few, minor difficulties.
First, the graphics card that had arrived was faulty, and he had to order a new one. This wasn't a big deal, since I wasn't going to ship that particular computer out until this weekend. But then, as I looked over the machines, I found that one only had 128M of RAM instead of 256M. I pointed it out to the bright young man helping me out, and he apologized and installed the correct amount of RAM. He re-booted, and I started checking out different screens, and I noticed something very peculiar. When I opened any screen that had a significant amount of white on it, the monitor looked like it had a gaping hole running vertically through the middle of the screen. It was almost as if the creen itself were being ripped in two. I had visions of Steven Jobs pulling himself through the tear and out of the monitor screen, a la Videodrome and wreaking havok on all Windows machines and those who use them.
I pointed out this rather minor flaw to the bright young man, and he wiggled a few cables, made a few magic passes over the monitor with his hands, but the problem remained. The tech guy came over and told him to swap out the monitor, which cleared up the problem. I checked out the system for a couple minutes, when I noticed a new minor technical problem.
White smoke was pouring out of the back of the monitor.
Assuming that this was a bad thing, I alerted the bright young man, who by now was feeling less than bright, and probably not quite so young. He shut off the monitor, disconnected it, and swapped it out for a third one, which at this time appears to be working fine. The second system performed flawlessly, and is now in son number one's dorm room. I will pick up the other system tomorrow, and ship it off to son number two.
Even with all the troubles with this particular purchase, I'm still comfortable using this dealer. First, I saved about $600 off of full retail. Second, they cheerfully made everything right before I walked out of the store, and third, I know that if I have any future problems, they back up their equipment with a full warranty for one year. Anybody can have a run of bad luck; what distinguishes a good business from the rest is how they handle it when things do not go well.
First things first
I've got some fun and games planned for this evening's posts, but first I have to get something a little more serious out of the way.
Why is it that the same folks who castigated the CIA/FBI/government in general for failing to anticipate and prevent 9/11 are the same folks saying we shouldn't take pre-emptive action against Saddam Hussein?
I know they say diplomacy is subtle and complicated, but it seems to me that if a guy kicks me in the butt once, then tells me he fully intends to do it again as soon as he thinks he can get away with it, my approach to him is not going to be complicated, or at all subtle. But that's just me.
Hussein has said time and again that he wants to bring down America. He has worked openly and secretively against our interests, and the interests of our allies. It is eminently clear that as soon as he can acquire NBC weapons, he will use them. He has already used chemical weapons against his own people; do we really think he will feel any compunctions against using them on us or our allies?
It's quiet around here. Too quiet.
Well, the back-to-school festivities are over. Both boys are settling in, and ready for their first day of classes tomorrow. The rest of the kids have their first week behind them, and are beginning to settle in to the routine.
With any luck, this means that for the next couple of weekends, I won't have to go anywhere, and I can catch up on my household chores.
Yippee....
Bright college days
Again.
Today, I get to help my oldest son move into his dorm room. Fortunately, this trip is a lot shorter than the last one, since he is staying in state. You know, every time I take one of my kids to college, I get the urge to finish my own degree. I finished up my sophomore year in just 13 years, and I'm hoping to knock off my junior year in 7.
Wish me luck...
Life is a beach
At long last, I'm ready to resume, and with luck conclude, the tale of our vacation in Florida.
How We Contributed to the Cuban Relief Project, or Wilson Gets a Friend
Monday morning came early (disappointing Sunday, who had hoped they were past the whole "hair trigger charlie' thing) and I went to get my hair cut. Not to worry, friends and neighbors, I didn't do anything radical. The flowing mane you see still exists; it's just been pruned back a bit in the interests of personal hygiene and public safety.
Anyway, while I was gone, my mom went out beach shopping and came back with about a half dozen kites, and several beach balls of various sizes. The kids decided to inflate the largest one and take it out onto the beach to play. They took turns blowing into the little nozzle thing on the end, and after about 15 minutes the ball stopped looking like a limp multicolored baggie and began to assume a roughly spherical shape. They were getting a little tired of huffing and puffing, and if I had been there, I would have reminded them that I brought a portable air compressor along just for blowing up rafts, footballs, volleyballs, beach balls, inner tubes, artificial feminine companions, and whatnot, but since I wasn't there, they had to do it the old fashioned way, with lung power and copious quantities of drool.
Why is it that a child cannot blow into a nozzle without drooling all over it? Is it a genetic thing or a developmental one? All I know is every time I get handed one of these things to seal the valve, I have to wipe a half pint of spit off of it first.
Once the ball was inflated they took it to the beach to play. My brother went along to keep an eye on the kids and keep them out of trouble. Well, the kids started kicking the beach ball around, tossing it back and forth, and playing like kids will do, while my brother stretched out and took it easy for awhile. There was a medium strong breeze coming from inland blowing out to sea, andit wasn't too long before the inevitable occurred. One kick was a bit too high, and the wind caught the beach ball and sent it sailing out into the ocean. The kids started to chase it, but the ball was light and the wind was strong, and there wasn't anything they could do. They called my brother, who saw at once that the ball was beyond retreival, and he called them back in to the beach. They sat quietly and watched as the ball moved out to sea, bobbing gently over the waves. We were certain tha our ball was lost forever, never to be seen again.
We were wrong.
Later that week, watching the local news, we saw our beach ball again. It had been commandeered by Cuban exiles who had used it, along with 3 cardboard boxes, 2 long pieces of twine, and several rolls of duct tape into a raft capable of carrying 14 people, 7 iguanas, 2 dogs, and 12 boxes of cigars.
Just doing our bit for democracy, ladies and gentlemen.
Evolution in action
That night, as we were returning from a family dinner, I saw a strange critter crawling on the side of the road. The best way I can describe it is it looked like a possum wearing a suit of armor or a king sized roly-poly. For y'all that aren't familiar with the roly-poly, it's a little bug that lives under rocks and logs and stuff that rolls up into a tight little ball when you touch it. It stays that way for several minutes, then, when it thinks the coast is clear, it unrolls and proceeds about it's roly-poly business. Of course, that's when you touch it again, causing the cycle to start all over again. This torture of a helpless insect provides countless hours of amusement for redneck kids all throug the south.
Only this critter couldn't be a roly poly because it was way too big, and there weren't any nuclear plants within miles. We decided it must have been an armadillo, because we'd heard that they were becoming very common in Florida and other southern states, including west Tennessee. As near as I can tell, the armadillo is proof that evolution ain't all that bright.
Here we have a critter based on a possum. The way I figure it, the possum has to be the worst road-crossing animal that there is. Cats, dogs, squirrels, rabbits, skunks, groundhogs, and other animals manage to cross the road all the time. Sure, every now and then one of the weaker ones fails to make it all the way across, but you don't see nearly as many dead rabbits as you do possums. We even made a joke about it:
Why did the chicken cross the road?To show the possum it could be done!
So, nature has a problem. The possum is just too slow to make it across a highway, and keeps getting suished beneath the tires of an SUV loaded with kids coming back from a soccer game. Now a smart person would decide that maybe the possum needs to be a little smarter, or a lot faster in order to avoid oncoming traffic. But no, evolution decides to go in a differetn direction altogether. Nature gave the possum a suit of armor, so that it could stand against the oncoming vehicle and do valient battle with it. Nature even equipped the improved possum with an agressive nature, causing it to leap up at the approach of a car, to better engage the enemy. Once she made these modifications, nature decided the new, improved possum needed a new name, one which befit it's new weaponry. She called it "armadillo", from the latin for " little warrior" and sent it out to do battle.
Sadly, nature didn't take physics into account, and the 10 pound armadillo continued to get creamed by the two ton cars it challenged. In time, the meaning of "armadillo" changed to "Critter most likely to be found squashed by the roadside."
Kite? Nope! Advanced Performance Aeronautic Aerobatic Device
By Wednesday, the wind was really picking up. There were two tropical depressions, one on either side of florida, and the result was a constant 20-25 mph wind
Playing volleyball was out of the question as the team with the wind at their backs would win every match, so we looked for other pursuits. Remember when I said my mom had bought several kites? Well, the kids pulled out those bad boys and had a blast. The kites were the standard Gayla delta kites we all flew when we were kids. With the wind we had launching them was a piece of cake. Let out a little string and away the kite went.
Now I don't know about you, but to me, kite flying is exciting for about 30 seconds. You launch it, pay out your string, and there you are. The kite floats in the air and you watch it. It's like watching paint dry without the suspense.
So, I went out and bought a stunt kite. The one I bought was a low rent model, not much sturdier than the delta kites. I should have known better. The control harness was woefully inadequate for the winds we had, and would suddenly and irreversably snap to one side or the other, sending my kite into a death spiral that continued until it plowed into the sand. This happened several times, and I was beginning to get frustrated, but I'm nothing if not stubborn and I continud to try and fly it until the harness finally gave way completely. My longest flight was 2 minutes. At least I was never bored.
A lesser man might have conceded defeat at this point, giving in to the elements, and retreating to battle on another day. Not me, brother. I went back to the store and explained my problem to the clerk, who was most helpful.
"What you need," he said in a conspiratorial whisper," is the XJ-27 model APAAD. That's the ticket for this weather."
"Tell me more," I said, intrigued.
"Well," he said, "I can't show this model to just anybody, you understand. The technology is too advanced, and if it fell into the wrong hands, well, you know."
"Come on,"I said. "It's just a kite."
"Just a kite?" he said. "Just a kite? Maybe I shouldn't have said anything. Go to a toy store if you're looking for 'just a kite!' The XJ-27 is an Advanced Performance Aeronautic Aerobatic Device. Here, let me show you."
He reached behind the counter, and unlocked a small case, and brought out a plastic tube. He opened the tube, and went to work, assembling the XJ-27 APAAD. When he finished, he had a miniature hang glider about 4 feet across. The material was a colorful nylon, held in place by miniature bungee straps, and the control lines were braided cords similar to those used on parachutes.
"This," he said, "is the XJ-27. It'll fly in 5 to 30 mph winds; do loops, stalls, figure eights, dives, and will hover sideways. The control lines are 250 lb test; the struts are
a reinforced carbon composite material. They're held in place by soft rubber sleeves which are designed to breakaway on impact to protect the structural integrity of the unit in the event you crash it. This model can be launched solo, or with a partner. Just a kite? I don't think so."
My eyes had glazed over, looking at this wonderful APAAD. Even in the shop, it looked like it was flying, ready to soar on the winds, to take on whatever challenges the weather and I could throw at it. I had to have it.
We negotiated the financing, and when my credit check came back denied, he directed me to a nearby plasma bank, where I quickly and painlessly acquired the funds I needed. I had my kite.
I took it back to the beach and assembled it. Even on the ground, I could feel it quiver as the wind filled the nylon. It wanted to fly; it was a creature of the air. I laid the kite on it's face and paid out the line. Gripping both handles tightly, I gave them a sharp tug to initate a solo launch. BAsed on my experience with a delta kite, the nose should have lifted, caught the wind, and sailed into the air.
Nothing. The XJ-27 skidded a few inches through the sand and stopped. I tried again.
Nothing.
The sun was beating down on the back of my neck as I stopped to consider why the XJ-27 was land bound. My kids were staring, looking around the beach to make sure nobody else could se their dad, unable to launch a kite. I tried again.
Nothing.
My youngest son offered to hand launch the kite for me. I snarled something unintelligible, and he backed cautiously away. After fighting the other kite for several hours, I was not about to be defeated by this one. I would make it fly. I tried again.
Still nothing.
It's said that a good definition of insanity is to try the same thing but expect different results. By that definition, I spent the next twenty five minutes certifiable. Eventually it dawned on me that i simply was not going to work like I tought, and that I was going to have to change something. I decided for variaty to lay the kite on it's back instead of it's front. I tried again.
The XJ-27 leapt into the air like the Space Shuttle at liftoff, streaking into the sky until it was almost straight overhead. I knew then why the control lines were so stout; the tug of the kite pulled me two steps down the beach before I got my balance. I stabilized the kite, then decided to try a loop. I pulled back gently on one of the handles, and the kite began to lean in that direction. I puled a little more, and the XJ-27 performed a slow,graceful roll to the right. The wind made a roaring noise through the airfoils , a noise that got louder as the kite cut into the wind. I rolled in the opposite direction to unwind the strings. Then I tried a snap roll. I pulled back on the right handle sharply; the XJ-27 responded immediately, plunging into a series of right hand loops, reeling off three of them before I could respond. I quickly let out the right line and stabilized the kite, only to snap into a tight left roll, again to unwrap the lines.
One loop, two loops, three lo....oops.
I ran out of sky. The XJ-27 did a full speed nose dive into a sand dune. I just knew I had destroyed it, and as I walked over to the wreckage, I began wishing I had bought the insurance policy the salesman had offered. I got over to where the XJ-27 lay, and surveyed the damage.
I looked again.
Nothing.
Cool!
To make a long story short (way too late for that) this kite performed like a champ. I was diving, looping, hovering, spinning, and figure-eighting like a pro in no time. I let the kids take turns flying it, and we all had a blast. No matter how many times we face planted it, all we had to do was slip the composite struts back into the rubber sleeves, and back into the sky it went. The winds held for the rest of our vacation, so we got plenty of use out of the kite. It's stored safely in my closet now, dreaming of the open sky, and just waiting for a gentle breeze to fly again.
Kite? Nope! Bread bag!
My mom had a little bit different approach. She watched us all flying our kites, and decided she would make her own kite. She took the bag from a loaf of bread, tied a string to the open end, a tail to the other end, and launched it. Like the F-4, her kite proved that given enough thrust, anything will fly. The bread bag opened up, filled with air, and shot into the sky. Of course, she couldn't do fancy tricks like mine, but then again, she didn't have to sell her plasma to afford it either.
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Life imitates Art You've seen those Visa check card commercials where the celebrity can't cash a check without an ID? Well here is a true story which is even funnier than the "6 degrees of Kevin Bacon" one, courtesy of Katie Allison Granju
On the other hand Remembr how all your teachers used to tell you that cussing was a sign of a weak vocabulary? Courtesy of Troy Kinnaird comes this gem from Ralph Waldo Emerson:
October 24, 1840What a pity we cannot curse and swear in good society! Cannot the stinging dialect of the sailors be domesticated? It is the best rhetoric, and for a hundred occasions those forbidden words are the only good ones...
So true..
New sites linked Grouchy Old Cripple in Atlanta and Campc.com have joined the list of links to your left.
Understatement of the year contender A woman was accidentally set on fire while delivering her baby. Caroline Mackersey, general manager of communications for the Waitemata District Health Board had this to say:
It must have been extremely distressing. It's been extremely distressing for staff.
A real blue light special Attention K-Mart shoppers! You are all under arrest!
"We went to use the restroom at Kmart and to buy a Scrunchi (hair band), and when we came back to our car, cops were coming in (the parking lot) and they tied our hands," said Brandi Ratliff, 18, who said she was a straight-A student at Waller High School and never had any problems with the law.Ratliff said that even though she and two friends told police they had just come out of the Kmart, all three were arrested and spent the night in jail.
"It was traumatic," said a tearful Ratliff on Sunday morning after her parents drove from Stafford to pay her $300 bail at the downtown city jail. "It was sick where they were holding us. A prostitute was fighting with another woman. The food they served was food you would serve to a dog, not a human."
Ratliff and her two friends, Kris Karsteter, 21, and Kyesa Scott, 18, all had pink marks on their wrists from where they said police had tied plastic handcuffs too tightly.
Crime doesn't pay! Especially when you try to rip off a judo club:
LOS ANGELES (AP) - Florida judo club members beat and doused an alleged carjacker with gasoline then handed over the grimacing, moaning 20-year-old to police officers.Tyrone Jermaine Hogan, of Los Angeles, held his ribs Sunday and winced in pain as TV news crews recorded his arrest.
"The boys are punching him in the face and I wanted to go around for a choke, to choke him out, but I didn't want to risk getting punched in the head, so I started pounding him from the back," said Christina Baldacci, a Florida International University judo club member.
Of course, Tyrone will likely sue the judo club for his injuries. And win.
Sigh.
Another light week on tap I'm afraid. I do apologize, but the real world is very demanding right now. I hadn't even finished telling you about my last road trip when I took another one this weekend to Massachusetts to take my son to college. He is starting 2 years early, after his sophomore year in high school, so we've had a hectic few weeks getting everything together, but we finally made it, and delivered him safe and sound. We just got back about an hour ago, after covering 2000 miles in three days.
Next, we get to take another of my oldest son to college this Thursday. Luckily, he is going to stay in state, so the driving will not be as involved. Then, I can relax and catch up with you folks until the end of September, when I will be going to Chicago for a training seminar. I won;t leave you high and dry, though. I will post when possible, starting with this little gem I found in my mail tonight:
They walked in tandem, each of the ninety-three students filing into the already crowded auditorium. With rich maroon gowns flowing and the traditional caps, they looked almost as grown up as they felt.Dads swallowed hard behind broad smiles, and moms freely brushed away tears.
This class would not pray during the commencements
Posted by Rich at 11:29 PM
And now for something completely different This is an e-mail from a regular reader:
On September 11 I called the Navy’s mobilization office and asked if I could return to active duty. Sadly the answer was no, they didn’t have a pressing need for 46 year old guys with my eclectic skill set (combat logistics, search and rescue, and information systems management). Had I read and spoken Arabic, or known Osama bin Laden’s ATM code, it would have been a different story. I had no illusions of me parachuting into Kabul with a knife clenched in my teeth and photos of Osama and Mullah Omar in my pocket, but I had hoped to do something, even if it only freed up somebody Stateside to go overseas.After much thought and anguish, I considered the US Navy’s Military Sealift Command. They were hiring at their entry level - Ordinary Seaman. It was a huge pay cut (over 50%) but it meant that I would actually go overseas aboard Navy support ships, such as Oilers or Ammo Ships or Combat Stores Ships. I won’t be on the tip of the spear, but I’ll be the gun bearer for those that are. So next week I am reporting to Virginia Beach for my physical and in processing. Shortly after that I will be assigned to a ship, preferably one in the Western Pacific, Indian Ocean, or Persian Gulf. This is, looked at logically, the stupidest decision of my life, yet I have no regrets at making it. As Dirty Harry says, a man’s got to know his limitations. As John Wayne says, a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do. At any rate, I still feel bound by the oath of enlistment first taken in 1975 despite having been a civilian for five years.
I will no longer be reading you daily, and making my inane or inflammatory comments on your sites, or pestering you with e-mail. Whenever I can find an internet café, whether it be in Singapore, Australia, or the UAE, I’ll try to catch up on what you’re writing, debating, and just plain arguing about.
So thanks again. If for no other reason, for helping me keep my frustration manageable for the past eleven months.
How I Spent My Summer Vacation, Pt 2
I guess I ought to take the time to describe our layout at the beach. We had 19 people spread between a duplex, a cottage and a lighthouse. The cottage and lighthouse were right on the beach, and the duplex was just across the road from the beach. There was a small boardwalk about 60 yards long reaching from the cottage over the dunes down to the beach proper. The dunes were covered in scrub brush and sea oats, anchoring that portion of the coastline against wind and rain erosion. The beach itself was about 10 yards wide at high tide, and about 35 yards wide at low tide, depending on the wind and how the sand piled up. When we first got there, there were two ridges built up by storms and the tides, first a soft slope about 10 yards from the edge of the beach, and the other about 20 yards from the first. This second ridge was about a foot and a half high, making for some interesting games of volleyball and Frisbee. Later in the week, this second ridge disappeared, which allowed the high tides to come much higher up the beach.
Truth in Advertising
Now, y’all know that I usually work the night shift, and since I’m usually asleep during the daytime, I was expecting to sleep in the next morning.
Didn’t happen.
7:30 AM I was wide awake and ready to go. I wandered through the house checking on the bodies scattered everywhere, but nobody else even showed signs of waking up. Nobody was stirring I the other houses either, so I showered, ate breakfast, wandered the beach, and generally enjoyed the quiet morning. I got all the grocery shopping done by noon, and went to get a haircut. After checking 4 or 5 barbershops, all closed, I remembered that it was Sunday, and all the shops would be closed. That still confuses me sometimes. The bars are open, but not the barbers? I guess God doesn’t mind if you drink on Sunday, but you’d better not get your hair cut….
Anyway, before we left Tennessee, I bought a volleyball set from WalMart, figuring we would all like to play. The set was advertised as “EZ assembly—Goes together in minutes!”
Right.
They neglected to specify how many minutes. I was out there trying to string together the net and poles for an hour and a half. There were color coded hooks, and tripod guide wires, and non-sliding slider, and anchor stakes and pole stakes, not to mention the pole caps. Add in a 20 mph breeze, blazing sun, and 10 impatient kids waiting to play and you have the perfect recipe for what the Chinese call “interesting times.”
Now, I had only meant to be out for about 45 minutes, so I hadn’t bothered with sunscreen. Bad mistake. By the time I finished the “EZ” assembly, I could already feel the skin beginning to tighten on my back and shoulders. I was headed back to the house for sunscreen when I heard a loud “Oh no!” from behind me, followed by laughter. The kids and some of the adults had started playing, and I was only about 10 steps away when my sister tried to spike the ball through the net, rather than over it. To ensure success, she preceded the spike with a left-handed tug on the net itself, reducing the height from the regulation 8 feet to a more manageable 3.5 feet. Of course, the net collapsed, pulling two of the three stakes on one side out of the sand. I kept on walking and let them fix it.
Oh, the Pain!
I’ve been burned before; the worst was while snorkeling in Hanauma Bay, Hawaii. I was wearing a shirt then, so figured I was protected against sunburn. Unfortunately, I had chosen a white shirt, reasoning that the lighter color would reflect more of the light. What I hadn’t counted on was something every girl knows from the time she first enters puberty. White shirts become fairly transparent when they get wet. It was the worst sunburn of my life, reaching from my shoulders to my ankles. I knew I was in trouble when I started hurting the instant I stepped out of the water. One of my buddies had a big jar of pure aloe gel, and he spread it thickly on my back. As soon as it was absorbed, he put on more. He kept this up until the skin on my back couldn’t absorb anymore, then gave me what was left of the bottle, and told me to keep it moist. I got back to the ship, and stood directly underneath an AC duct for 45 minutes. The aloe really worked. As long as I kept my back coated, the pain was bearable. If I let it dry out, the pain was immense. But after only two days, the burn was faded, and the pain was gone. The skin peeled, but not as deeply as it would have, leaving some tan behind, protecting me from future stupidity.
So, I knew what to do to take care of my burn. I slathered aloe all over it until it stopped absorbing into the skin, then put on SPF45 sunblock for the next two days. By then, my sunburn was gone, and I had a nice base tan. The kids saw how well the aloe worked for me, and they used it when they got their sunburns. I can’t recommend it strongly enough.
Well, by the time I got back from putting on my aloe and sunscreen, they had repaired the net and a spirited game was underway. We modified the rules so the young ones could enjoy the game (unlimited hits, carries were allowed, three serve attempts from as close to the net as you wanted, etc.) and a good time was had by all. The score was tied at eleventeen apiece when my dad came out to warn us about a weather bulletin he had seen on TV.
There was a large thunderstorm headed our way, with lots of lightening and high winds. We looked to the west, and we could see the storm building just to our south. My brother decided that the storm was going to pass to the south of us, so we should continue our game. I lived in Florida while going through Nuclear Power School, so I knew better. While the storm was centered to our south, as it projected out over the ocean, the bulk kept pressing closer and closer to us. Then, once the storm hit the off shore winds, it swirled, made a u-turn and came right back at us. Fortunately, I had been watching for just that, so we dropped the net and hit the houses before the storm really cut loose. It was about dinner time now anyway, so we all went to our houses to make dinner.
Yes! We Have No Crab Claws!
Shortly after we finished fixing food for the kids, my mom called to invite us out to her favorite restaurant for crab claws; no kids allowed. Naturally, we all accepted and went to The Surf. What we didn’t know was that on Sundays, the Surf had a special on lobsters: $5.00 each. The place was packed, and since half of their tables were outside, and there was a storm going on, they were short on seating as well. We located a table with a group of similar size, and they told us they would give us their table when they left. Secure in the knowledge that we had a table, we wandered around the bar, enjoying the sea breeze, and the music, since the storm had finally passed.
When the people at the table were ready to go, some friends of theirs showed up and asked them for the table. The people at the table were in an awkward position, and it looked like we were going to be aced out of our spot, but the new folks were very friendly, and when some high top tables opened up, they took them instead, allowing us to sit at the dinner tables. We all ordered crab claws, only to find out that the restaurant no longer carried crab claws. Bummer.
So, we all ordered lobster and seafood and shrimp and pasta, except for my brother in law, who ordered a burnt hamburger and fries. Some people, you just can’t reach. Anyway, the food was good, the hour was late, and it was time for bed again. The restaurant was only a block and a half from our houses, so I walked back, enjoying the night, while the rest of the family piled into the van.
Once back at the house, I pulled out my camcorder, to get it ready for the beach the next day. I had brought along some of our old home movies as well, and we finished up the night watching the kids when they were little. Looking at those tapes, it was hard to believe that two of them would be headed for college in just two weeks. That’s why we were there, to savor this last summer together, before the kids begin to scatter to lead their own lives.
How I Spent My Summer Vacation Yes, I’m back from the beach, and it was a blast! 8 days and seven nights of sun, sand, waves, Frisbee, volleyball, and football. And of course I’m going to share it all with you, my faithful readers.
We Start Our Journey
I started running errands as soon as I got off work Friday morning, so we would be ready to go bright and early Saturday morning. I paid bills, bought groceries and supplies, got the oil changed on my car, and so on, and finally got home around 1:00PM. I crashed for a few hours, then got up to take care of the rest of the preparations. The kids and I had already packed, so all we needed to do was load up the van as soon as Betty (my ex) got home. She got there around 8:00 and we loaded up, then collapsed, only to have my brother call. He wanted us to come over and help him move my parent’s dock out.
My parents live on Douglas Lake, which has the distinction of having one of the largest seasonal changes in depth of any lake in the South. The difference between summer and winter pool depth is somewhere between 30 and 40 feet, and TVA begins lowering the lake shortly after July 4th. In order to keep using the dock we have to move it out about every 2 days, otherwise it gets grounded.
Well, my brother had neglected to move it for several days, and the dock was on the edge of being completely stuck, so we gathered together all our friends and relations, and headed out to move it through the Tennessee red clay back into the water.
At 10:00PM.
In the dark.
The fishermen weren’t impressed.
After we moved the dock, and had it tied down, I went back up to the house, and fixed the AC belt on the van, then went to sleep. We were planning on leaving around 6:00AM, and I wanted at least some sleep before the drive. My brother planned on sleeping just a couple of hours, and leaving around 4:00AM. He wanted to be the first one on the beach, and was willing to pay any price to do it. My son was eager to get there, so he road with his uncle, along with two of his cousins.
We got up the next morning at 0 dark 30 and were on the road by 6:00AM. We took two cars so we would have room for ourselves and our stuff, and headed off through the pre dawn twilight through the Smoky Mountains on our way to Sunny Florida. Driving through the mountains was a little irritating because I had some idiot tailgating me the entire way.
I stopped at the first rest area and told Betty to cut it out.
Richard Hailey, Stock Car Superstar!
I hung in tight on the bumper in front of me. I was in the lead draft and had to protect my position. If I got hung out on the outside, I would get shuffled all the way to the back of the pack and have a ton of ground to make up. Another driver pulled up on my right, and tried to cut in, but I closed the gap denying him the position. He got trapped in slower traffic and fell back out of contention.
Rookies!
I carefully watched the inside line, waiting to make my move. When I saw the conditions were right, I ducked out of the draft and hit the gas and shot past three cars making a bid for the lead. Unfortunately, I was coming up fast on some lapped traffic, and had to cut sharply back into line, short of the lead, but I had improved my position by several cars.
What a rush! My hands gripped the steering wheel with a newfound intensity as I guided my car through the turns and straight-aways. The drivers around me were all strangers; we didn’t know anything about each other, except that fate had thrown us together for a few hours. Yet, we weren’t complete strangers. We had been forged together by speed, gas fumes, and the smell of burning rubber. We held each other’s lives in our hands, each of us forced to trust the others not to make a stupid mistake that could cost us our lives. When you’re in a situation like that, you get to know a lot about a person, even if you never speak directly. A nod can say more than a 10-minute Shakespearean soliloquy. We were brothers, even if only for a short while.
A NASCAR driving school? Heck no! It was I-95 South through Georgia, but by the time I got through to Florida, I was ready to take on Talladega Super Speedway!
The Arrival
Finally, we arrived at our exit off I 95 to Amelia Island. At least, some of us did. We had two different maps, one form mapquest and one from Rand McNally. The maps gave different routes from I-95 to the island. I hadn’t noticed that, so when Betty peeled off an exit early, I was caught by surprise. Of course, she figured I had missed the exit, and I figured that she would get back on the interstate, or continue following her map. I pulled over for a few minutes, and when she didn’t show up, I went on following my map, trusting that we would meet up at the registration desk.
No such luck.
I went on to the house, and met up with my parents, and my sister and her family, but still no van. I waited for about 15 minutes, then went looking for her, retracing what her steps would have been if she followed her map. I went back to the registration house, but no Betty. I drove across the island, but no Betty. I was about to leave the island and head back to the interstate, when I heard a horn behind me. It was Betty. She hadn’t wanted to go into the registration office without me, so she had pulled into a parking lot, and waited for me to drive by, knowing that I would come looking eventually.
So we were all in Florida, safe and sound. Well, not exactly. My younger brother (Remember him? He was the one that was leaving really early so he could be the first one on the beach.) He still wasn’t there. Turns out that he slept in and didn’t leave until a little after 9:00AM. So much for being the first on the beach! While we were waiting on him, we all went out onto the beach, and splashed in the waves. It was high tide and there was a wicked undertow from an offshore storm that nearly knocked me off my feet when the water was only knee deep. The kids loved it. My brother finally showed up around 6:00, and we decided to get some dinner.
We were tired from the drive, and instead of shopping for groceries and cooking a meal, we went out for a traditional Florida dinner of pulled pork barbeque, ribs, slaw, and hushpuppies. OK, so it wasn’t traditional. But it was good. We lazed around for an hour or so, and then it was time for bed. We had a busy day planned for tomorrow.
To be continued….
I'm Back! And boy, was that a good vacation! Of course, I'll spill all the details in a bit, but first I'll have to collect my thoughts. For now, I'll just have to say it was a great time, and couldn't have been any better.
Well, if I had been joined by Jennifer Connelly or Janine Turner, that would have made it better. But it was still pretty good. I won't have to make anything up, that's for sure.
Ladies and gentlemen, Elvis has left the building! And so have I. I'm leaving for a well deserved vacation tomorrow and if all goes well, I'll be having too much fun to even think about blogging. ON the other hand, if you find long drawn out posts here about the minutia of everyday life, you'll know that my vacation pretty much sucks. SO here's hoping for a quiet week on blogger. Y'all take care, and I'll tell you all about it when I get back.
Even if I have to make up some stuff to make it interesting.
And they call us pirates? According to this FoxNews story, record labels haven't been paying in to the AFTRA pension fund:
At the same hearing, music industry lawyer Don Engel, called the record companies' accounting practices "intentionally fraudulent" and compared them to WorldCom and Enron. Only, the record companies have been doing this since Elvis Presley wore tight pants. They've just never been questioned about it.Jordan, by the way, testified that even though "This Is How We Do It" sold 2 million copies, his record company says he's never broken even with them or turned a profit.
I've never advocated theft in my life. But I think I'll start downloading more music and mailing a few bucks to the artists, including the writers. Let the publishers eat cake.
Cloning, abortion, and legal identity Steve asked some interesting questions in the comments on the Raelian cloning story, and I'm replying here to get a little more room. First, my challenge:
The Raelians successfully create a clone and keep it alive throughout a normal gestation. Then, prior to birth, they pith the clone, removing all higher brain functions. Since this is done prior to birth, under current law there would be no murder, as a person is not a person until his head passes through the birth canal.They then allow the clone to be born, keep it alive for ten to fifteen years, then transplant the original person's brain into the cloned body.Since the clone never had it's own identity, and it's DNA is identical to the donor, we have a situation which is analogous to an autologous blood transfusion.
Is this a problem?
If so, at what point does the system break down?
His response:
Rich, what's the cloning analog to passing through the birth canal (here we have the cloned embryo in a fetus, but suppose we use some kind of, oh, "mock womb" which would seem likely for large scale production of clones)? And where does that leave those born by c-section? Further, in your scenario the cloned body has, in effect been aborted - what justification is there for reversing its staus once you cram another personality into it?
First, I was using current technology, since we apparently have a clone growing right now, if the Raelians are to be believed. In this case, standard precedents apply, and identity occurs upon live birth, specifically, with the passage of the head from the mother's body. This is derived from the practice of dilation and extraction, where the fetus is turned in the womb, extracted feet first until the shouldres are free. Then the skull is punctured and the brain destroyed. At this point, the destroyed fetus is completely extracted. In the case of a c-section, it follows that when the fetus's head is removed from the incision, identity is assigned.
Using a mock womb introduces a new aspect to the problem, but by extension, we can argue that when the skull is decanted the clone, or any in-vitro fetus, would be assigned an identity.
As for the final question, while the fetus was aborted, the tissues remain viable. We already harvest fetal tissues for transplantation; it is merely a question of degree. If it is OK to take some cells, isn't it OK to take an organ? If we can take an organ, why not several organs? What is the difference between taking cells and culturing them to increase their usefulness and taking the cloned fetus and allowing it to grow, to increase it's usefulness? The question of identity is easily handled. Identity is centered in the brain, and therefore transfers with the brain. There is no reversal of status; the cloned body never had any status to reverse. The original maintains his identity. It would be more accurate to say that the original had a whole body transplant, instead of a brain transplant.
I'm not a lawyer, or a biologist, but it certainly seems to me that the above scenario is simply a logical extension of current laws and precedents. In fact, I would go as far as to say that any other scenario would require a break with established precedents.