Going Back For Seconds

I couldn't resist the graphic even though this post isn't exactly about the price of gas.

Does anyone know the real story behind why some gas pumps will cut you off at $50 or $75 when you swipe a card? This little phenomena was only an occasional irritant a few years ago when filling my truck with a 35 gallon tank. At $2 per gallon or so with a nearly empty tank, it was easy to hit either of those limits.

I had asked at a few of the gas stations as well as contacting my credit card companies -- both pointed the finger of doom at the other. I find it hard to believe that I can order $10,000.00 of computers on my Corporate Amex, but they cut me off at $50 of gasoline.

Currently if I want to fill my tank at $4 a gallon, I have to do the whole dance twice because I'm getting cut off nearly every time -- and my gas tank in the new vehicle is only about half the size of the old truck's.

Add to this the doomsayers' (read - experts') predictions of $5 to $6 per gallon if we have a hurricane this season that knocks out some of our refining capacity (like Katrina) and there will be a lot of people spending even more time at the pumps swiping their cards twice just to fill up their tanks.

I'm sure that at one time....long ago....somebody, somewhere thought that it was a good idea to put a limit on gas credit purchases. For example: If someone stole my credit card and attempted to fuel up an entire convoy of trucks to the tune of several thousand gallons, I would be singing the praises of the genius whose software feature thwarted their dastardly plans.

But as that is unlikely to happen, I think it's not too much to ask that the pumps get an upgrade. When swiping the credit card to fill up is like opening a vein, must we really be forced to do it twice?

This Just In

The following was forwarded to me as a joke. I didn't laugh out loud, but as with a lot of humor, there's just enough truth in it to make it both funny and a little bit depressing.

Important Info About Your Tax Stimulus Money

The Federal Government is sending each and every one of us a $600 rebate. If we spend it at Walmart, the money will go to China. If we spend it on gasoline, the money will go to the Arabs. If we purchase a computer it will go to India. If we purchase fruit and vegetables it will go to Mexico, Honduras, and Guatemala. If we purchase a good car, it will go to Japan. If we purchase useless crap it will go to Taiwan and none of it will help the American economy.

The only way to keep the money here at home is to spend it on prostitutes, weed, beer, and tattoos since these are the only products still produced in the USA.

Thank you for your help and please support the USA.

The Tribe Has Spoken

A couple news stories had me wondering if maybe we're not screening teachers closely enough. This story from South Florida tells of a 5 year old autistic boy who was "voted out of his kindergarten" after the teacher, Wendy Portillo, first asked the children to discuss what they didn't like about him, then had them vote on whether he should be kicked out of the class.

And this story from Mississippi is about a twelve year old honor student who was voted by her class as the most likely to be pregnant by age 19. Another was voted most likely to contract HIV and another most likely to get murdered.

These "assignments" came from teachers; adults who should know better, or at least adults who should have a clue how hard it is being a kid without an authority figure stepping in and deliberately making it worse.

To the credit of the 12 year olds, they didn't want to participate at first. The students initially refused to vote, but the teacher overruled them. The 6th-graders then were horrified to see their names listed on the chalkboard, ranked in lists for everyone to see.

It's sad that our educational system is in such a state that we allow teachers like this access to our youth. Do they just slip through the cracks? Are they generally good teachers until they just snap one day and make such a bad judgement call that we're all left scratching our heads?

Of course, in some of these instances, the school systems circle the wagons and protect their own, shutting out the parents and insisting that they have their own internal processes that will resolve the situation.

It's exactly then that I think the parents should assume the role of Tribal Council and vote these teachers out of their children's lives.

Vicarious

I'm compelled to share yet another wondrous Tool video. Vicarious is track 1 from their latest disc 10,000 Days and has been getting some pretty heavy rotation since its release. As usual, the animation and graphics are an amazingly bizarre, science-fiction, alternate-reality-nightmare hallucination kind of thing. Or maybe not at all like that, but it's something you don't see every day.

I could climb on a soap box and wax philosophical about the lyrics which speak to the Internet and reality television fueled voyeuristic society we've become, but maybe that's a rant for another time.

In Memoriam

Sydney Irwin Pollack 7/1/34 - 5/26/08


He will be sorely missed. A brilliant director and a fine actor -- here's a scene with Dustin Hoffman in "Tootsie", in which he directed and co-starred.


I remember always at least enjoying -- and some times loving -- any film that had his name attached to it. Sydney made the world a little better.... - George Clooney

And the final clip I'll post may be a bit dry for some, but as a film buff it's a subject close to my heart -- Sydney discusses Pan & Scan verses Widescreen.

Denied

First of all, congratulations to Scott Dixon on his trip to Victory Lane at the Brickyard on Sunday. He's the first Kiwi to ever win the Indy 500.

Regrettably, Danica was taken out of the race with 29 laps remaining after she was hit in pit lane by rookie Ryan Briscoe. After exiting her car, she went looking for Briscoe -- and a fight -- but was stopped by track officials. She later said that it was probably better that she didn't make it down there.

Gentlemen (and Ladies), Start Your Engines

Any racing fans looking forward to the Indianapolis 500 today? As much as I enjoy auto and motorcycle racing, I can rarely make the time to watch it.

But I can't resist the yearly Memorial Day weekend showdown at the Brickyard. I love the fanfare, the back stories, the drama, and of course the two and a half hours of adreneline-fueled, open wheeled excitement.

I'll be cheering for my favorite Fast Woman, Danica Patrick. After finally winning at Twin Ring Motegi in Japan, it's time for her to capture a victory at a major American race.

And let's give a brief nod to Janet Guthrie -- the first woman to qualify for both the Indianapolis 500 and the Daytona 500 back in 1977. Without her, there would be no Danica (as we know her).

Driven To Drink: Part 4 -- 1 In 6

I just read a report based on a study conducted by GMAC Insurance which found that 16.4% of, or about 33 million, drivers don't know the rules of the road.

That figure somehow sounds a bit generous to me. Based on what I see every day during my commute, I would have thought that it's one in six drivers who do know the rules of the road. Or maybe many of those 33 million flunkies live in my area. The Northeast scored pretty badly overall with the Midwest faring much better.

Or maybe even worse is the possibility that there are a lot of competent drivers on the road who know the rules, but don't care enough to bother. That jives pretty much with the general attitude of Screw you and get out of my way that a lot of drivers seem to have.

Take the GMAC Insurance National Driver Test. It's fun. At least, it was fun for me because I scored 100% (La-de-freakin'-da....right?). Yes, I'm gloating. It may be a conceit, but on the other hand it will not be me tailgating, failing to signal, keeping an unsafe distance, or turning into the wrong lane. I haven't had any points on my license for over eleven years and I (and my insurance premiums) like it that way.

So until the scores come up and the majority who passed the test actually drive like they did, buckle up and drive defensively. Drive a tank. But it had better be a hybrid tank with today's petrol prices or you'll only be driving to the poorhouse.

In The Name Of Humor

I listen to a local radio show on the way to work. They have a nice blend of witty banter, traffic and weather, interesting guests, creative (and sometimes bizarre) contests, a good music format, and intelligent as well as infantile, bathroom humor.

This morning they kicked off the holiday weekend by broadcasting their show from a bar at the beach. The place was packed and they chose fans from the crowd for the latest contest, Shock and Paw (or something very much like that). The hosts would ask multiple choice questions of two contestants who would "buzz in" their answers by pressing a button on remote controls for electric dog training collars that were fitted around the necks of two of the station's interns.

I always feel bad for the interns. The pay sucks, for one. Also, their internship -- whether it's a year or several -- is replete with enduring the obligatory hazing at the hands of the hosts. Any outlandish schtick that the morning crew thinks up is usually dumped onto the interns for everyone's entertainment. In their defense, no one is ever hurt -- well, not seriously or permanently -- and I've never heard the interns bitter at all. Maybe that's just the way the radio industry works.

Anyway, at the first Yelp from the interns after both contestants responded to the first question, I vacillated between laughing out loud and being disgusted and (mildly) horrified. One of the girls, after seeing her effect on the intern, said Dude, I'm so sorry! She didn't realize how the game worked. And the show's producer made sure to mention that both collars had been turned up to their maximum setting -- like for a St. Bernard sized dog.

I don't like the whole idea behind those collars. I think there are better ways to train pets without using pain and torture -- it's called conditioning using positive and negative reinforcement. And at hearing the way the interns screeched every time the button was pressed, it made me think of the poor animals that are subjected to this without any clue as to what's going on.

But the interns did have a clue and they put these ghoulish devices around their necks willingly in the name of humor. So with that in mind, I decided that it was more fun to be amused at today's idiocy rather than offended.

And as Steve Martin once said, "Comedy is not pretty".

And The Winner Is....

David Cook

I'm pleasantly surprised. After DC seemingly coming up second after the final round -- in addition to the judges' somewhat lukewarm praise -- I expected Archuletta, the tween heart-throb with the angelic pipes, to run away with the title.

But large and loyal fanbases don't abandon their champions for a single less-than-perfect evening.

And with that I'll share one of my favorite performances from this season -- David Cook's version of Dolly Parton's "Little Sparrow". It's Classic Cook. He stays true to the original while making the song his own. As with "Billie Jean", I've never liked this song as much until his version.

Up, Up, And Away

I've been trying to stay away from blogging about anything to do with the rising cost of oil, but my track record shows that I just can't help myself from time to time. Once again, the Oil Execs are being called front and center before a Congressional committee. How many different ways does Congress need to hear the same story before they stop wasting everyone's time trying to vilify the oil companies?

Could Big Oil be doing things differently, like reinvesting those mind-numbing profits on R&D instead of simply fattening the accounts of its shareholders? Of course, but this is capitalism. What is right and what is easy are usually two very different things.

Nothing that the oil execs can say will change the reality of the World economic situation -- especially the weakening US dollar and the emerging industrial (read - fuel) needs of the BRIC (Brazil, Russia, India, China) nations.

I'm sure I've said it before, but at least we're not paying European prices for gas -- which are two to three times more than we're spending now. Of course, if we were, we'd hopefully be driving European standard cars that get, on the average, 50% better mileage than the tanks we drive over here.

So if you're upset over the cost of filling up, do something about it. Conserve. And I don't just mean behind the wheel. Crude oil is refined into a lot of different fuels and products other than gasoline. Turn back your heat (or air conditioning, depending on the location and time of year), turn off lights in rooms you're not in, carpool, avoid the commute and work from home as often as possible (if you're with a company that offers it), walk, take the stairs.... The list is potentially endless.

I've heard it said that this problem is beyond the ability of any one person to do anything. But We can solve it together if we try. So let's do something about this and quit pointing the finger of doom while complaining that no one is doing something about this.

So, kwityerbitchin. In the big picture, we've made our own beds by allowing this to happen, so we might as well lay down and get comfortable until we figure out how to change the sheets.

One Hundred Years

Today is May 20th -- the one hundredth anniversary of the birth of one of my favorite actors (and possibly one of the finest actors of all time), Jimmy Stewart. As you can imagine, I've been sifting through the Internet in search of a fitting tribute -- and there are several. But I didn't want a bunch of movie stills set to random music. He was an actor and should be shown -- and remembered -- acting.

So instead of trying to throw something together myself or just picking one specific scene, I've decided to post a tribute by his friend, George Kennedy, that was broadcast on Turner Classic Movies over a decade ago before Jimmy's passing.

Sixteen

Photo Four Squared by Elan Photography

Okay, Juls -- I'm game. This post is a response to a blogger bud's post entitled Four Squared. We've all gotten those chain emails with interesting or amusing facts, questions, etc.... And they make us crazy. Well, they make me crazy -- especially the ones with the attached moral imperitives (e.g. forward to ten people within five minutes or your dog will run away....).

The sole redeeming feature of these emails is that receiving one usually means that I am in (or was briefly in) someone's thoughts -- so the forwarding of a joke, a quiz, a cause, or a fact acts as a shortcut to real communication. On the other hand, when I see that I'm part of an enormous distribution list, I suspect that I'm not as special as I'd like to believe and I'm simply in the blast radius of someone's email salvo.

That being said, here are the questions with my answers:

1.) Four places I go to over and over: Work, Home, Ohio, the Beach

2.) Four people who email me regularly: Dena, Michael, Jackie, John

3.) Four of my favorite places to eat: Home, Mom's, Minado's, Eden

4.) Four places I'd rather be right now: The beach, the beach, the beach, the beach

5.) Four people I think will blog about this: Only Juls, but that's because she already has

6.) Four TV shows I watch all the time: LOST, The Tudors, Battlestar Galactica, Torchwood

So there are two dozen answers for a mindless Monday. And now I try to move on to something really interesting -- some new questions....

Barefoot Science: Part 2 -- The Reality

In a recent post, Barefoot Science, I sung the praises of going barefoot thanks to an article on the New York Magazine site entitled You Walk Wrong. The author laments our deteriorating podiatric health as a result of being swaddled in shoes since infancy. The solution? Go barefoot, of course.

So I've taken the cure, but I can't take it very often. As healthy and Bohemian as going barefoot may be, it's more difficult than one might imagine to spend any length of time barefoot if you're anywhere but at home, the beach, or a park. That's because there's a lot of Barefoot Bashing ingrained into our society.

With the exception of Summertime at a resort town near the beach, most businesses -- especially restaurants -- don't want your patronage if you're barefoot, even though the health codes regarding footwear generally refer to the employees of a given establishment, not the customers.

So I've begun an evening ritual of taking a mile or so walk -- yes, barefoot -- around the neighborhood. It actually began as therapy. I managed to injure myself a few weeks ago stepping on a pernicious pine cone in a dark driveway. I twisted my ankle, but injured my foot -- if that makes any sense. If I were to guess, I'd suspect a stress fracture in the fourth or fifth tarsal of my left foot. I say suspect because I haven't been to the doctor. It's sore....a bit, but it didn't swell and I can walk on it. If I sit for any length of time, I'm hobbling the first dozen steps or so before it feels okay again.

Amazingly, it feels the best during and after a barefoot walk. It's also a great way to see the neighborhood and meet some of the neighbors. They all wave and smile, but I notice some of them give me sideways looks -- like, What's with this lunatic wandering through the streets in his bare feet? It makes me wonder if they're polite just because they're afraid that some unknown shoeless freak might just wig out on them if they piss him off.

I've had several people feel it their duty to point out the "Ick" factor regarding the plethora of unmentionable things it's possible to step in whilst shoeless. Fair enough, but I have the utmost faith in my own skin's ability to protect me from nearly anything other than glass and rusty nails. Really, unless there's an open wound, the skin keeps out just about everything nasty whether it's on your head or the soles of your feet.

So I will continue to push the boundaries of barefootism despite being treated almost like a streaker from the 70s. Remember them? They'd duck into a secluded spot to disrobe, then explode into the public view to the shock and amusement of all before disappearing to re-dress themselves and then blend back in as if nothing had happened -- pretty much the story of my barefoot life, except I don't think I'll incur a citation for public indecency (unless I happen to be sporting a nasty hangnail).

Through The Nose

I ran across the new, official Universal Gas Sign recently. They should be going up across the country as soon as the relevant measures get through both houses of Congress. Actually, it's already through the House -- it's being held up in the Senate thanks to the lobbyists. Go figure.

I don't even write about the price of gas anymore. It's not news and there's nothing in the near future that looks to significantly change the status quo. There seems to be no short term solution, the mid-term solution is to produce and refine more oil in this country, and the best long-term solution is, of course, to get off our addiction to fossil fuels.

In that vein, there's a school in Tennessee that's putting up makeshift stables so some of the students can ride their horses to school. Funny how the classics always come back into style -- like the new Mustang looking just like the '69 model (it must be another "horse" thing).

And Then There Were Two

American Idol is winding down and we're left with a pair of Davids in the finals -- David Cook and David Archuletta. They're both great singers, but I've been a David Cook fan since the beginning. His maturity, stage presence, and the risks he's willing to take with his songs make him the front-runner in my opinion. Please enjoy his fine (if abbreviated) version of Roberta Flack's hit The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face - chosen for him by the sometimes ascerbic judge, Simon Cowell.

A Bitter Pill

A study (as reported on Time.com) done by Medco Health Solutions, Inc. now shows that more than half of all insured Americans are regularly taking prescription medications for chronic health problems. Read the article. It's actually a bit disturbing.

Here are a few of the statistics listed in the short article: The most widely used drugs are those for high blood pressure and cholesterol -- problems often linked to heart disease, obesity and diabetes. Medication use for chronic problems was seen in almost 2/3 of women 20 or older; one in four children and teenagers; 52% of adult men; and three out of four people 65 and older.

The president of the American Heart Association said that more people are taking blood pressure and cholesterol-lowering medications because they need them.

Okay....has anyone bothered to ask why they need them? The answer is yes. In short, we eat poorly (read -- unhealthily), don't exercise enough, and our air, water, and food are filled with all manner of things that shouldn't be there.

I'm sure Big Pharma couldn't be happier. Well, they wouldn't be happy with me. I'm not taking anything, nor do I intend to. I'm not one of their customers. And a nation of sickly couch potatoes who are hooked on their drugs to alleviate symptoms (instead of providing a cure) is just the kind of steady income that fattens their coffers year to year.

In a warped way, it reminds me of some inside dirt I've heard about the credit card industry. To them, the deadbeats are the ones who stay within their credit limits, pay on time, and rarely maintain a balance. Why are they the deadbeats? Duh! Because they're not making the credit card companies any money.

The unfortunate folks with financial problems, late fees, and over-limit fees are really the preferred customers -- even though they're treated like criminals. When a $2000 balance can be dragged out for thirty years with only the minimum payments, it's a steady stream of income disguised as legalized extortion. And Dubya is certainly their patron saint since he signed a bill into law last year that makes it even easier for them to screw the rest of us.

But that's a rant for another time. I could go on for a week about the credit industry. The sad fact is that there are grim similarities between Big Pharma and Big Credit -- they both want all of us hooked on what they're selling whether we need it or not.

Little Green Men

As reported by the Associated Press -- The Vatican's chief astronomer says that believing in aliens does not contradict faith in God. How refreshing that the Faithful (as well as the rest of us non-Catholics, presumably) are free to enjoy Star Trek reruns without the need to self-flagellate as penance for heresy.

And who knew that the Vatican had a chief astronomer with so many Earthly concerns occupying the papacy?

The seed of my belief -- or suspicion -- regarding the existence of aliens was planted quite early. I was watching Star Trek at two years old when it premiered on NBC. My opinion is not so much Prove that there are extra-terrestrials, but more like Prove that there aren't.

Of course, it's impossible to prove that there aren't -- which is why it is perfectly fitting what Carl Sagan wrote in his novel "Contact": If it is only us in the universe, it seems like an awful waste of space.

A Mile In My Shoes

It doesn't seem like three years since my first and only (so far) trip to China. I spent a week in Beijing working sixteen hour days for the first half of the trip while the remaining three days were crammed with the mandatory sight-seeing -- the Summer Palace, Temple of Heaven, Pearl Market, Silk Market, Tiananmen Square, and of course, the Great Wall.

The picture above was taken by my personal tour guide, Maggie, after walking a mile or so on the Badaling section. Our chauffeur for those few days was Maggie's father, Mr. Ma -- a retired general in the Communist Party. The company I was working for hired him on occasion to drive clients around Beijing.

You may notice that I'm dressed in the customary tourist garb -- shorts, T-shirt, sneakers -- while every other native is all but bundled up in long pants, long sleeve shirts, and jackets. It wouldn't be a stretch to convince you that my layer of winter fat was keeping me warm, but the day was a hazy 83 degrees. As it turns out, I was told that the Chinese are terrified of the sun and try to subject themselves to it as little as possible. Also, many of them retain the notion that anyone with a tan is a farmer or some other outdoor laborer.

For those who have never been or even considered a trip to Asia, my advice is to go. Admittedly, it wasn't on my bucket list and I may have never gone if not for the opportunity afforded by my job. I was dreading the long flight, the language barrier, and the enormous jet-lag.

But that changed soon after I arrived. I was met at the airport by Mr. Ma and shuttled to the Zhao Long (Great Dragon) Hotel. The people were friendly despite very few of them speaking a word of English. Some in the hospitality industry speak it out of necessity, but most everyone else speaks none at all and they have no intention of learning. For this reason it's good to have a liaison for the duration of your visit or getting around will prove quite a challenge.

The food is to die for. If you like Chinese food here in the States, rest assured you've probably never had real Chinese food. I don't blame the Chinese restaurants here. They're probably doing the best they can with local ingredients and have to adjust to suit Americans' tastes. For my part, I've been hopelessly spoiled and have a hard with what many pass off as Chinese cuisine over here.

So I hope to return someday. The food and shopping alone would be worth the trip to say nothing of the sightseeing and cultural treasures. My wife wasn't able to come with me, but that's only because we couldn't justify the $7000 for a seat with me up in Business Class. For one tenth of that price, a ticket back in steerage was no problem, but I couldn't have stood the guilt.

But the world is big, life is short, and there is a lot of this planet I have yet to see. Whether or not I get to cross off everything on my own bucket list unfortunately depends on two things that very few people have in excess -- money and time. But I'm working on it.

Awesome

This needs no commentary from me whatsoever. I'm a die-hard Trekkie and this was just too priceless not to post. Captain Kirk rocks -- and he knows it.

Tomorrow Is Yesterday

The above picture is the aftermath of Ben Roethlisberger's (of the Pittsburgh Steelers) motorcycle accident in which he was severely injured as a result of not wearing a helmet.

Tomorrow is the Twelfth of May. On that date fifteen years ago, Death smiled at me while I was tumbling several hundred meters down the crowded Autobahn as a result of being thrown off my motorcycle after being cut off by an oblivious German driver. I could only smile back.

You can see here a related post, Old Toys, with a picture of that bike. The picture above is roughly how my machine looked after the crash -- actually, my bike looked worse. I was travelling 120MPH at the time, but as opposed to Ben Roethlisberger I was wearing a $600 racing helmet -- which is why I was able to jump up and run (okay, hobble) to the side of the road after the ordeal.

Granted -- compared to how I dress today for a ride, I was not well protected. I had on Rebock high-tops instead of steel-toed boots; a LLBean bomber jacket instead of heavily armored riding leathers; and Levis instead of padded riding pants.

But the helmet was non-negotiable. When I purchased the bike, my friend insisted I have the best brain bucket money could buy. The Shoei X-8 retailed for about $600. If you have a $50 head, wear a $50 helmet. I spent the money without blinking -- I have a somewhat high opinion of my head and had no qualms paying for the best. My current helmet, a Shoei X-11, still retails for over $500.

Call it brand loyalty, but it was earned. When I would look at the helmet that saved my life and the scrapes and chips it suffered pounding the pavement repeatedly during my somersaults down the A7, I can imagine the same damage to my skull -- in which case the ambulance that came to pick me up would have been doing duty as my hearse.

And bikers refuse to wear helmets why? Freedom of choice? Freedom to act irresponsibly? Unfortunately, I think that people must sometimes be protected from themselves -- like with the seatbelt laws. In many States, an experienced rider can make the decision to go without a helmet, yet an experienced driver can not elect to go without a seatbelt. A bit of inconsistency there, don't you think?

I don't for a moment believe drivers (and passengers) should be given the choice as to whether or not to buckle up. Besides, if I'm unfortunate enough to be in a head-on collision with an unbelted driver, I don't want my car, my self, or any passengers to be injured by the dangerous flying object that will be the other driver's body that, despite the staunch belief on their part, is not immuned to the laws of inertia.

So tomorrow will come and go without fanfare. I don't raise the proverbial glass in remembrance of my brush with death, light a scented candle, or twist my wrist until I'm rocketing down the highway at triple digit speeds just to remind myself of just how low I can fly.

I do, however, look forward to the next ride while holding out hope that those who are too cool to wear helmets will come to their senses before learning the hard way just how unforgiving the pavement really is. After all, it's said that there are two types of riders -- those who have dropped their bikes and those who will.

National Train Day

Today is the first annual National Train Day -- created to raise awareness of the benefits of rail travel. This date, May 10th, was chosen because of the anniversary of the driving of the "Golden Spike" that joined the Union Pacific and the Central Pacific railroads on May 10th, 1869, at Promontory Summit, Utah.

Driven to Drink: Part 3 -- Rain

I hate driving in the rain -- not just because it means I'm being denied sunshine; or because braking, cornering, acceleration and visibility are adversely affected. It's about my fellow commuters who seem to be more than ill at ease with anything but dry pavement. Is it just me, or does it seem like some drivers commit more random acts of idiocy when the weather is worse? I guess they think it's okay because everyone else is being more careful?

After ten years of driving a truck (no way to sugarcoat it - it was not an SUV), I had a certain amount of anxiety every time I twisted the key in inclimate weather. The 4100 pound Dodge behaved itself well enough on dry roads, but water brought out the worst in it. One wheel on its open differential would spin wildly from a standstill at the slightest application of the throttle, one or both of the front tires would lock up and skid far too easily even with judicious pressure on the brakes, and massive understeer was the rule with cornering.

I hope it doesn't come across as gloating when I say that the Benz with its AWD is infinitely superior in every measurable way. It's sure-footed, stable, and never feels like it's even close to coming unglued from the road regardless of conditions.

So today's water-logged commute actually held a splash of fahrvergnuegen. One of the two-lane back roads a mile or so from the office widens to two lanes on the Eastbound side to provide a passing lane up a long, straight hill (well, not that long -- about a 1/2 to 3/4 of a mile). I had been trapped behind two obviously nervous drivers who were unwilling to risk barely 20mph in the 35mph zone. Painful. I have a life to lead and it doesn't involve wasting the day behind slow moving vehicles.

As soon as the left passing lane opened up, I pulled out and mashed the accellerator to the floor with all the finesse of squashing a cockroach. Despite the wet surface the car down-shifted two gears and leapt forward, launched as if assisted by afterburners -- no wheelspin, no torquesteer, no instability whatsoever, just a seemingly endless supply of power that propelled me past both cars in half the distance I'd anticipated. The performance was so surprising I laughed out loud....really.

I'm not sure I remember the last time I was exhilarated by a vehicle -- not one of mine, anyway. It's probably been twenty years. And that car -- the Nissan 240SX -- was cousin to the Porsche 944 as far as dry road handling goes, but a virtual death trap in the rain. It's nice to have finally graduated to something that's equally at home in any weather that allows me to relax and enjoy the ride to work instead of dread it.

Sixty Years....

....Since the birth of the beautiful and troubled State of Israel. I offer here what I hope is the appropriate blessing -- Shehecheyanu.

בָּרוּךְ אַתָה יהוה
אֶלוֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הַעוֹלָם
שֵהֵחְיָנוּ וְקִיְימָנוּ
וְהִגִעָנוּ לַזְמַן הַזֶה

Blessed are You
Lord our God, King of the universe
Who has kept us in life, sustained us,
and brought us to this moment.

And with hopes for peace in the region, a quote from the Iron Lady of Israeli politics:

The Arabs will stop fighting us when they love their children more than they hate Jews - Golda Meir

1.26 Cents For Your Thoughts

It was bound to happen. Prices are going up on...well, everything actually. The cost of some of the metals used to make our coins has tripled since 2003, so the U.S. Treasury is actually putting Americans in debt to the tune of $100 Million a year just to mint pennies and nickels that cost more to produce than they're worth. A penny costs 1.26 cents and a nickel costs nearly a dime.

I found it interesting that the "copper" Penny is really 97.5% Zinc and only 2.5% copper while the Nickel is 75% copper and only 25% nickel. There's been talk of striking both of these denominations using steel. I'm not old enough to remember the series of 1943 steel pennies, but I have a few in an inherited coin collection. Of course back then it was because copper was needed for the war effort to make bullets.

Are we short on bullets? Considering the scope and cost of the Iraq War, it wouldn't surprise me. And we certainly can't leave our foot soldiers armed with nothing but harsh language and low-yield tactical nukes.

For my money, I say give the commodities markets an unceremonious kick in the crotch and start making the coins out of steel. What's the difference? It's not like the good old days when the coins actually had a measurable, intrinsic value based on their composition. They're only worth what the government says they're worth. The U.S. Treasury could start issuing wampum at this point and we'd have no choice but to accept it for the sake of our national debt.

But that is an issue unlikely to be addressed, let alone resolved, this year. Until it is -- you knew this was coming -- don't take any wooden nickels.

Don't Go Killing All The Bees

And the grim news continues.... A survey of bee health released on Tuesday has revealed that we've lost 36.1% of the nation's commercially managed hives since last year. You can read the AP story on CNN.com here.

Is anyone concerned about this? Everyone should be concerned about this. Imagine if one out of three cows suddenly died in this country -- there would be panic.

Bill Maher had something to say about this last year right before Earth Day. I reprint here because I can only say it differently that him, not better. It's punctuated with his own brand of humor, but the message is serious:

So, here's a quote from Albert Einstein. He said, if the bee disappeared off the surface of the globe, then man would only have four years of life left. No more bees, no more pollination. No more plants. No more animals. No more man. Well, guess what? The bees are disappearing in massive numbers all around the world. And if you think I'm being alarmist, and that, "Oh, they'll figure out some way to pollinate the plants." No, they've tried.

For a lot of what we eat, only bees work. And they're not working. They're gone. It's called "colony collapse disorder," when the hive's inhabitants suddenly disappear and all that's left are a few queens and some immature workers. Like when a party winds down at Elton John's house.

But, I think we are the ones suffering from colony collapse disorder. Because, although nobody really knows for sure what's killing the bees, it's not Al Qaeda, and it's not God doing some of his Old Testament shtick. And it's not Winnie the Pooh. It's us. It could be from pesticides or genetically-modified food or global warming, or the high fructose corn syrup we started to feed them.

Recently, it was discovered that bees won't fly near cell phones. The electromagnetic signals they emit might screw up the bees' navigation system, knocking them out of the sky. So, thanks, big mouth guy in line at Starbucks. You just killed us.

It's nature's way of saying, "Can you hear me now?"

Last week, I asked, if it solved global warming, would you give up the TV remote and go back to carting your fat a$$ over to the television set every time you wanted to change the channel. If it comes down to the cell phone versus the bee, will we choose to literally blather ourselves to death? Will we continue to tell ourselves that we don't have to solve environmental problems, we can just adapt? Build sea walls instead of stopping the ice caps from melting. Don't save the creatures of the earth in the oceans; just learn to eat the slime and the jellyfish that nothing can kill; like Chinese restaurants are already doing.

You know what? Maybe you don't need to talk on your cell phone all the time. Maybe you don't need a bag when you buy a keychain. Americans throw out 100 billion plastic bags a year, and they all take 1,000 years to decompose. Your children's children's children will never know you, but they'll know you once bought batteries at the 99-cents Store because the bag will still be caught in a tree. Except there won't be any trees.

Sunday is Earth Day. Please educate someone about the birds and the bees. Because, without bees, humans become the canary in the coal mine. And we make bad canaries, because we're already such sheep.

Happy Cinco de Mayo!

Thirteen Seconds in Ohio

On May 4th, 1970, Ohio National Guardsman sent in by then Governor Jim Rhodes continued to pull the trigger for thirteen seconds while firing sixty-seven bullets into a crowd of students. Nine were injured and another four were killed.

We remember those fallen students:
Allison Krause
Jeffrey Miller
Sandra Scheuer
William Knox Schroeder

Moved by the incident, Neil Young wrote this song the very same day and, after David Crosby convinced him that they had to record it immediately, flew to Los Angeles and went into the studio. The song was finished the next day and was on the charts within a week.

Saturday

It's Saturday, I'm on vacation, and I deliberately haven't seen or heard any news of the world today -- because most of it is usually bad -- so I'm simply going to post some entertainment. Have a great rest of the weekend and maybe someday you too can be Saturday Night.

Favorite Family Toys

Dad and I like Camaros -- the more vintage models if you please. Pictured above is his current indulgence, a '77 Camaro LT with a built 350 and a 4-speed. I learned to drive in his '73 Camaro 3-speed and soon after sadly became the car's undoing after losing control through a S-turn a few weeks after acquiring my license. Ouch.

Dad replaced that with an '80 model that I was, for some reason, also permitted to drive. I later acquired my very own Camaros; a '70 RallySport followed by a '70 Z28 with a close-ratio 4-speed.

So we attended "Cruise night" last night in the '77. There was actually very little cruising going on -- not in the cars, anyway. Scores of autophiles gather at the local Whataburger with their restored and in-process vehicles, wander from car to car, and hob-knob about chrome and carburation. I saw nearly everything from a rusting Packard wrecker from the Twenties to a new BMW M5 sporting a vicious looking V-10.

And a good time was had by all. I know those cruise nights go on in other parts of the country, but it gets to be more of a challenge up in the Rust Belt to keep the cars pristine -- not that a lot of these vehicles are used as grocery-getters, but there is an element of risk for nearly half the year if they're driven at all.

I'll have another Camaro -- a SS model next time. Whether it will be the latest and greatest example of Chevy ingenuity or a late Sixties to early Seventies big block has yet to be determined. After all, we just bought vehicles and there's only so much room in the driveway.

Gone To Texas

I'll be out of town the next few days as we visit relatives in the great state of Texas. I'll post when and if I can -- otherwise I'll catch up when I'm back in town.

And for those who know that the book "Gone to Texas" was made into Clint Eastwood's 1976 Oscar nominated film The Outlaw Josey Wales, I've posted the TV spot you'll never see on television.

WARNING: Contains one F-bomb. So please don't click if your sensibilities can't be overcome by your curiosity. Otherwise -- Enjoy.