Captain's [B]log

I'm moving

2008-12-20T02:18:00.001-06:00

This Blogger quirk with the messed up comment thing if you're using IE has caused me to jump ship. I'll be taking my babbling over to http://www.edub52.com/blog/. See ya there. :)

Yeah, I'm still doing the blog thing...

2008-12-18T23:11:00.003-06:00

...what can I say? I've been busy. But exams are finally over and now I can pretend to have a real life, and that involves posting stuff like this:

I'm thinkin' this wouldn't happen if he kept his dick in a box. ;)

Thanks ACORN!

2008-11-04T08:55:00.004-06:00

Voting is fun! We got to do it over and over again! And you pay better than mom and dad.

Ya know...

2008-11-01T18:50:00.010-06:00

For someone who hates Halloween (and I do, intensely), I spend way too much time carving pumpkins. In what has become a tradition, I was tasked to create pumpkins in keeping with the kids' mode of costume.

Meg has moved on from the Harry Potter series to something called Twilight. Apparently Meg has a thing for Edward the vampire. Edward leaves hickies. Bad hickies. Meg should ask her mom about dear ol' dad's reaction to hickies. ;) (private joke)

No, she's not really that pasty white, but I feel compelled to make that qualification since pasty whiteness is a familial trait. Meg said this was awesome. I found it tedious, but if it makes her happy...

Bry went from being Anakin Skywalker last year to being Captain Rex, the clone trooper who served alongside Anakin in the Star Wars: Clone Troopers film.

In what seemed like the logical extension of this trend to his falling to the dark side...

Next year we're doing cats or faces made of triangles or something like that.

I'm back

2008-10-26T16:21:00.013-06:00

Well, actually, I never went anywhere. Rather, I've been mired in a great malaise, sort of like the late 70's, bordering on a 30's-like depression. But to hell with that. Better to be mirthful. It's much too hard to fake a smile. To wit:

Thinking of mom...

2008-09-28T00:22:00.001-06:00

If life works the way it's supposed to, we're guaranteed to feel the pain of loss. A parent. A spouse. Maybe a sibling. God forbid a child. It's unavoidable. We usually don't know when to expect it. Sometimes we know how it happened. We always ask why when it does. We beg God for the answer to that question, but we know why. And still we ask.

The only thing that makes any of this alright is hope. Hope that our loved ones are forever in a better place. Hope that we'll one day be reunited with them by the grace of God. For some, this hope comes easily and naturally. For others, like myself, it's a struggle. And still I hope.

If you're fortunate enough to have your parents around, call them. Tell them you love them. Don't wait hoping for a day that may never come. Life has a way of letting you know how it's supposed to work when you least expect it.

Our government at work

2008-09-23T07:56:00.003-06:00

Lisa hands me a letter from the IRS with a snort. What now? She's not the snorting type, so this should be good, or bad, as the case may be. The last letter I received from this paragon of governmental efficiency said I underpaid my 2006 federal income taxes by $400 and that a $40 interest penalty was assigned. My accountant admitted the error and covered the $40 interest penalty.

Apparently the interest on the $400 underpayment was only $39.68, and that I had a refund due of $0.32. $0.32! Wow, imagine what I could do with $0.32. Why, I could send a lette... wait a minute. The IRS sent me a letter telling me I could send them a letter to recover $0.32? Not only me, but Lisa too. I check the envelope; first-class presorted postage, which is $0.394. So let me get this straight--the IRS spent $0.788 in postage alone to tell Lisa and I that we can spend $0.42 to request a $0.32 refund? Are these people daft? Is this all part of the USPS welfare program? Yes, I know this is all automated and no one really made the decision to issue we serfs... err, taxpayers, a $0.32 refund, but then someone had to program the IRS Tax-o-tron 9000 with this bit of logic. I won't even get into the cost of materials, e.g. paper. It's ludicrous.

I'm not a tax expert. I've had all of two law classes in tax, which probably makes me as qualified as the next guy to work at H&R Block, but it's a vast, exceedingly complex field and I am a bear of very little brain. But from what I can tell, the tax system in this country is f'ed up (and my choice of words and contractions is so damn clever and works on so many levels that I just had to point it out parenthetically). We tax the fruits of our labor and the government gets the first fruits before we ever see a dime. It's sorta like tithing. And we tax when we give, either by gift or in death, the underlying principle being that we don't want future generations to have it too easy, which strikes me as institutionalized class envy. We've certainly gone out of our way to make a function of the government adversarial to the interest of the people. I blame Woodrow Wilson, a liberal fascist if there ever was one, but I digress.

For a country that prides itself on its industriousness, our tax system stands at odds with what we value. So, why don't we tax something that most refer to with derision, that being consumerism? Why don't we simply impose a national sales tax in lieu of a personal income tax? I don't think most people refrain from purchasing something simply because of the local or state sales tax, though people will shop online to avoid it. Let's close the loophole and charge a flat 5% for everything purchased except maybe basic food stuffs. No more filing annual tax returns. No more hunting for deductions. No more silliness on the part of the IRS as to under or overpayment. You keep what you make and you're taxed on what you spend, and if you spend less and keep more, then maybe this country won't have the credit issues and problems with healthcare and housing costs. Maybe.

In any case, I'll pass on my $0.32 refund. Consider it a gift, Uncle Sam, pursuant to Sec. 170(c)(1) of the Internal Revenue Code.

This should be fun...

2008-09-08T10:51:00.002-06:00

Knowing that politics, like the economy, runs in cycles, I pretty much wrote off the upcoming election as being a redux of 1976. People like soaring rhetoric, and while I'll be damned if I can tell you what Obama stands for, he does have soaring rhetoric. McCain, on the other hand, comes off sounding like the old guy telling the kids to stay off his lawn. He did, that is, until he discovered Palin. Zowie for a number of reasons... ahem, all political reasons, of course. ;)

Once the media got over its shock at the novelty of the selection, the attacks began. Some were ridiculous, like her family issues, while some were reasonable in context, like her supposed lack of experience, though equally ridiculous when the charges come from Obama. The New York Times raised the issue in an August 30, 2008 editorial when it said:

Governor Palin’s lack of experience, especially in national security and foreign affairs, raises immediate questions about how prepared she is to potentially succeed to the presidency. That really is the only criterion for judging a candidate for vice president.

But contrast that to what The New York Times said on July 3, 1984:

Where is it written that only senators are qualified to become President? . . . Or where is it written that mere representatives aren’t qualified? . . . Where is it written that governors and mayors . . . are too local, too provincial? . . . Presidential candidates have always chosen their running mates for reasons of practical demography, not idealized democracy. . . . What a splendid system, we say to ourselves, that takes little-known men, tests them in high office and permits them to grow into statesmen. . . . Why shouldn’t a little-known woman have the same opportunity to grow?

That, of course, was written in support of Geraldine Ferraro. So which is it? I don't really care, since I find the NYT to be substandard medium upon which to potty train a puppy, let alone read, but it does amuse me to see the left-wing media flip-flopping to lash out at a threat to the Obamessiah. It's gonna be an interesting race to November.

My Olympic Thought for the Day

2008-08-14T20:29:00.000-06:00

Nostalgia

2008-08-04T09:26:00.006-06:00

It's not often, if ever, you hear a country song about a college, but then this isn't just any college. A&M is quintessentially Texas. It's rich with tradition and a heritage intertwined with the state itself. My time there was short, something I'll always regret, but it left an indelible impression. Ok, so maybe I could easily be the subject of a few Aggie jokes. ;) I thought this song and video captured some of those traditions, some of that spirit.

Pardon me, have you seen a Titleist 3?

2008-08-02T21:47:00.013-06:00

For those not interested in golf or comparisons of me to bears, and the comparison is not slight, you may resume your regularly scheduled innerwebs browsing. Otherwise, behold me, the mighty bear. From the story:

The inquisitive beast ambled out of the wilderness and onto the East Course at the Broadmoor on Friday, crossing the 13th fairway between ESPN on-course color analyst Dottie Pepper and golfer Bernard Langer and his caddie, Terry Holt, before trying to mingle with spectators outside the ropes.

Now is it any coincidence that I'm an inquisitive bear and I happened to amble out of the wilderness that is O'Fallon onto the course at Mid-Rivers on Friday? I think not.

Curtis Lemay wept...

2008-06-05T20:26:00.009-06:00

Ok, no one I know cares about this except for Herndawg, who's too busy diving elbow-deep into people's innards to comment here, but I'm posting it anyway because it's not everyday you see SecAF and the Air Force Chief of Staff get taken out at the knees.

As previously posted, the unauthorized transport of six nuclear warhead-equipped cruise missiles was a career-limiting maneuver for 70 officers and enlisted associated with the 5BW at Minot. Now life at Minot is one of great agony and torment even during the best of times. It's cold. It's isolated. It's basically the third ring of hell (Barksdale's the fifth). Now imagine being in the third ring of hell and having Cerberus scrutinize every little frikkin' thing you did over and over and over and over and over and over... this is what life was like after that mistake. You would think with this much scrutiny, the 5th would have sailed through its Operational Readiness Inspection. It didn't. I don't think even Dante could imagine the level of hell the troops of the 5th experienced after that. I think today's organizational bloodshed was just as much a reflection of the 5th's failure as it was the mistaken shipment of fuses cited as the straw that broke the camel's back in The Donald Report (am I the only one who thinks of Trump?).

I titled this "Curtis Lemay wept..." because I think ol' Curt would be truly saddened at what his Air Force has become. With no Cold War, we have no incentive to maintain a force capable of responding in [redacted]. Consequently, our pointy tip of the spear no longer has an edge. Here's the scary part to that--the squadron commanders that are in charge of maintaining that edge are younger than I am, and I sat all of one full nuclear alert tour before President Bush had our forces stand down. That means none of the people who actually make all this work have any real experience doing so. It wasn't long after the stand down that the Air Force was reorganized--TAC-imcized, as we used to say. In other words, the Strategic Air Command (the bomber guys) were the subject of a hostile takeover by the Tactical Air Command (the fighter guys). The two cultures don't mix well, and the resultant Air Combat Command never really understood or assumed the kind of mindset needed when it comes to playing with nuclear weapons. And, as evident by recent events, that lack of mindset caught up with the powers that be, who are no more.

I don't think sacking SecAF and the Chief of Staff will fix what ails the Air Force. They didn't create the culture; they inherited it. But, it was an unusual display of accountability on the part of government. I hope they keep that up.

Proud Daddy

2008-06-01T00:23:00.004-06:00

Say what you want about the intelligence, or perceived lack thereof, of President Bush, but it's still very cool that my little girl earned this award. Hell, even with my government service, I don't think I have anything signed by the president's autopen.

Just as proud, here's "huggie boy's" walk across the preschool graduation stage.

res ipsa loquitur

2008-05-30T14:43:00.002-06:00

My Grand Plan

2008-05-22T08:15:00.009-06:00

Wow, I've really slacked off on the whole blog thing. StumbleUpon has been my social media medium of choice lately, if for no other reason than it doesn't require me to think much. And it has pictures... ooooh, pretty pictures...

But thinking I've been doing. Some of that was in conjunction with school (another semester down, three more to go), and some of that was as a result of where I think we, as in the good ol' US of A, are headed if we don't pull our head out. Pardon the War & Peace post, but some assumptions need to be explained lest you think I'm whack.

One of my classes this semester was antitrust. I thought it would be good for a would-be corporate lawyer to know how corporations can get themselves into trouble. It seems intuitively obvious that the powers that be frown if you try to take over the world, or your little commercial corner of it, and yet that doesn't seem to stop corporate Dr. Evils from trying to do so. Now don't get me wrong--I still believe in big "bidness" and the wonders of capitalism. But, I think my free market brethren have turned a blind eye to Big Oil, and I fear for the fate of the Republic if we don't take steps now to head off the economic disaster that we're hurtling toward at $4.00 a gallon.

Gasoline/diesel--automotive petrol--is not a "normal" good in an economic sense. Its demand curve is inelastic, which is to say demand for gasoline remains relatively stable regardless of the price, at least in this country. This is because the US is geographically expansive and the dominant form of transportation used to traverse this expanse, namely cars and trucks, uses gas or diesel almost exclusively. Consequently, the price of anything that requires transportation by car or truck will rise and fall (heh!) with the price of fuel. Now imagine the price of goods when the price of gasoline climbs to $12.00 a gallon, as predicted by some analysts. The price of goods in and of itself isn't a big deal if wages rise accordingly, but unless you make your living one job at a time and can raise your rates accordingly, it's almost a certainty that wages won't keep up with the cost of living. No one gets weekly or monthly COLA increases, so this will then impact consumer spending and consumer confidence. For all the bad-mouth consumerism gets, it *is* what drives our economy, so if people aren't buying, companies aren't profiting, resulting in the layoff of the already non-buying people. Vicious circle much?

So, what to do... what to do... I know! The government should get into the gas station business! Well, not the gas station business so much as the energy station business, with energy being the generic term for hydrogen and electricity. Now being the paleo-conservative I am, I loathe government involvement in business about as much as the next sane guy, but there's a time to stick to your ideological guns, and there's a time to acknowledge that sometimes--sometimes--government is the answer. The federal government is good at doing things which are cost-prohibitive for states and municipalities, like maintaining a standing army or building an interstate highway system, and doing things which aren't profitable for business to do, like providing healthcare to the indigent and performing research that has little commercial value. Of course the production, distribution and sale of petroleum is lucrative on a scale few of us can imagine, but no one in their right mind would open a station that sells hydrogen and electricity for alternative-fuel vehicles because there simply aren't enough of such vehicles to make that venture profitable. It's a chicken/egg problem. Let's have the feds create an egg so private enterprise can grow it into a chicken... or a turkey; your mileage may vary.

I propose that the feds start buying out stations, or, dare I say it... use... eminent domain to secure the properties (I am *so* going to lose my standing with the vast rightwing conspiracy™). I don't have a good sense (some say any) as to what the saturation point would be, but I don't think it would take all that many stations to get the ball rolling... say, one station every 20 square miles in a major metropolitan area. Refit these stations with equipment like this (the Danes are way ahead of us on this).

Now it's not enough to simply build energy stations; you need customers. Governments can take the lead in converting vehicles to hydrogen, but that's a mere drop in the fuel cell as compared to what the driving public uses. No, we need to be driving this or this or any number of other hydrogen-powered vehicles as seen on Hydro Kevin's Hydrogen Cars & Vehicles. I might even go so far as to mandate that auto manufacturers produce a certain percentage of hydrogen-powered vehicles for sale in the US market by year such & such.

As a rule, new technology tends to cost more than old technology. Some of that is driven by the lack of economies of scale, and some of that comes from market forces, namely, people are willing to pay a pretty penny for shiny new toys. Hydrogen cars may be more expensive at the outset, but I would advocate a tax credit for their purchase to offset the higher cost. As to hydrogen fuel, the cost of such poses an interesting question--how low do you go when you're selling government-subsidized fuel? Do we want to drive the oil companies out of business? I hope not, but I do want to encourage them to take over the business of producing and selling hydrogen with the same ubiquity as gas. The majority of profit for oil companies and the majority of cost for consumers comes in the sale of crude. At roughly $120 a barrel, about $2.70 of the price you pay at the pump for each gallon of gas went to the purchase of the crude. Problem is, there's not a lot of competition when it comes to producing crude, and the cartel that produces the most is overt in controlling price; cartels are, by definition, anticompetitive. The price at the pump also reflects the cost of refinement, distribution, sales and marketing, but the second largest chunk of change of the pump price goes to taxes--roughly 20%. Taxing goods which are not economically "normal" is great for revenues because government is guaranteed a steady stream of income regardless of what price that good is sold. However, taxing gas when the price of gas threatens to tank our economy is not so great, and it should be stopped or curtailed. Having two goals of encouraging the transition to hydrogen and reducing the cost of petroleum, I would set the pump price for hydrogen at maybe $1.50 a compressed gallon... maybe a buck, maybe two. Yes, the oil companies will scream bloody murder that they can't compete and that the government is trying to drive them out of business. True, they can't compete when oil sells for $120 a barrel, so start selling something they can compete in. With competition, the price of oil will drop. Whether you drive a hydrogen- or gas-powered car, you'll have more money in your pocket under my grand plan.

Of course once we transition to a hydrogen-based economy, we still have some of the same issues we face with petroleum, the primary being a lack of competition. There may be new entrants into the hydrogen market, but just as we have an oligopoly on the production of petroleum, so too is there an oligopoly on the distribution and sale of gas. This is because the market is defined differently. In terms of production, the market is global; in terms of distribution, the market is the corner where you notice you're running on empty. The purchase of gas isn't planned, so consumers are largely dependent on what fuel costs at a given corner. Gas stations act collusively in that they set prices within a penny of each other. Some may see that as perfect competition, but gas is bought on futures contracts, so it's highly unlikely the gas used to supply four stations on any given corner was bought at precisely the same price. If hydrogen were to become the dominant automotive fuel, we could see the same oligopolistic behavior as we do now with gas. It's useful to note that where monopolies are granted or allowed to exist, such as public utilities, they're regulated. If the government were to get out of the energy station business, which it eventually should, some form of regulation needs to be implemented to keep what is the lifeblood of our economy at a reasonable price that allows for producers to profit, but not at the expense of throwing out the economic baby with the bath water.

So there you have it. I'm hoping some politician will steal my idea. In the meantime, feel free to pick it apart.

Wee!

2008-04-18T10:14:00.003-06:00

There be earthquakes!

That was kinda fun. Ok, maybe it's only fun if your house doesn't come tumbling down on you. It's like 4:30 in the morning and I'm sacked out on the couch due to, well... intestinal distress. I feel this whomp whomp that I associate with a helicopter rotor wash and think to myself "damn, that's waaay too close." But in the haze of fitfull sleep, it takes a few moments to realize I don't hear a helicopter. Lisa comes running out of the bedroom, Bryan's crying and I'm looking in the backyard for a helicopter. Meg sleeps through it all.

With my intestinal distress mostly under control, Bryan and I wander back to my bed. Lisa, journalist/blogger/Twitter addict that she is, decides now's a good time to Twitter and blog about geotectonic disturbances. Great fun.

Nothing Like a Spring Snow

2008-03-23T18:27:00.004-06:00

We awoke today, Easter Day and a three days into spring, to snow. The sun then came out and melted all that snow. It then got to about 41 degrees and, believe it or not, it started snowing again. Hard. With huge wet snowflakes, blowing north to south in my yard, but south to north in my neighbor's yard. And it continued snowing even as the sun came out. In a word, it was weird.

I wonder how that all fits into the global warming alarmists' picture? I thought it fitting, given todays's snow, to highlight an interesting article in the The Australian titled Climate facts to warm to. Of course this article is categorized as opinion whereas a similar article in favor of the global warming hype would be considered to fall into the, ahem... climate category.

My favorite part:

If Marohasy is anywhere near right about the impending collapse of the
global warming paradigm, life will suddenly become a whole lot more interesting.

A great many founts of authority, from the Royal Society to the UN,
most heads of government along with countless captains of industry, learned
professors, commentators and journalists will be profoundly embarrassed. Let us
hope it is a prolonged and chastening experience.

With catastrophe off the agenda, for most people the fog of millennial
gloom will lift, at least until attention turns to the prospect of the next ice
age. Among the better educated, the sceptical cast of mind that is the basis of
empiricism will once again be back in fashion. The delusion that by recycling
and catching public transport we can help save the planet will quickly come to
be seen for the childish nonsense it was all along.

The poorest Indians and Chinese will be left in peace to work their way
towards prosperity, without being badgered about the size of their carbon
footprint, a concept that for most of us will soon be one with Nineveh and Tyre,
clean forgotten in six months.

The scores of town planners in Australia building empires out of
regulating what can and can't be built on low-lying shorelines will have to come
to terms with the fact inundation no longer impends and find something more
plausible to do. The same is true of the bureaucrats planning to accommodate
"climate refugees".

Penny Wong's climate mega-portfolio will suddenly be as ephemeral as
the ministries for the year 2000 that state governments used to entrust to
junior ministers. Malcolm Turnbull will have to reinvent himself at vast speed
as a climate change sceptic and the Prime Minister will have to kiss goodbye
what he likes to call the great moral issue and policy challenge of our
times.

"The great moral issue and policy challenge of our times." Pshaw.

Cool New Tunes

2008-03-20T08:15:00.004-06:00

I ripped this off Julie O's blog. Much better music gadget than last.fm because you can play the whole frikkin' song if you click on it, and it has a better selection of songs. And it doesn't time out like last.fm. I should probably reorder the songs, as there are more than a few "what the?" transitions. Still, I'm funny that way.

I'm kind of a big deal

2008-03-19T16:50:00.004-06:00

So, the transmission on the Honda goes kaput. Not kaput as in "energetically disassembles" kaput, but it's noticeable that things are awry... askew... a-not-so-good. Lisa, in her OCD researchy way, discovered that this was a common problem for Hondas of our ilk and that your mileage may vary as to whether the dealership would stick it to you. So, we were prepared for a fight.

Upon dropping the vehicle off this morning, things were not looking good; we were headed in the direction of getting oh so stuck. The service guy feigned ignorance as to the commonplace nature of the problem.

Later, the dealership calls Lisa and the stick is on. $3500 for a new transmission. Pshaw! Lisa summoned her mighty bunny indignant righteousness and pounded her little fist verily, which resulted in her speaking to someone trained to deal with such a ferocious onslaught. "How many Hondas have you owned?" asked the Honda poopscreen. "Three" was the answer, with the clear implication that if they wanted to trade a $3500 transmission for a $35,000 sale on a new car, they were well on their way to success. The woman poopscreen takes this under advisement (note: I'm not using the term "poopscreen" derogatively--I'm a poopscreen, and for Honda no less).

Lisa calls me and I call the dealership. The service guy wants to argue over semantics about what is or isn't a "recall." I allow him this indulgence while I take notes. My plan is simple: I'm going to amass a body of evidence so overwhelming, so utterly complete and unassailable, and then call my contacts within Honda corporate and beat them about the head and shoulders until the word comes from on high to the dealership that this error on their part will be dealt with promptly and gratis.

After picking Lisa up from work, we plot our next step in the education of Honda. First, there's the "I'm kind of a big deal" spiel. Let them know that future business hinges on this decision. Let them know that should they resist, holy hell will rain down on them as Lisa, social media maven that she is, goes to war with Honda on the internet. While we're doing this, the phone rings. It's the service guy. There's a long pause. A really long pause. Is he waiting to see who speaks first? Oh, enough of this already! "Yes?" My response lingers with expectancy. "Would you be willing to pay a hundred dollar deductible?" "You mean instead of paying $3500?" "Yes, and you get a 3-year, 36,000-mile warranty." Victory! Because, I don't know how to put this, but I'm kind of a big deal.

sigh

2008-03-09T11:48:00.000-06:00

And I thought I had this fairly well concealed.

Since you asked...

2008-03-07T11:04:00.005-06:00

I've had a number of friends and acquaintances ask me about the upcoming election, so I thought I would share my views for all.

First, fair notice for those visiting for the first time or just don't know me well enough to get a sense of my politics: I'm a registered Republican and a paleoconservative. Life was good in the 80's and Reagan should be beatified. If you disagree--*shrug*

Also, this is admittedly a simplified view. I'm not a political wonk, economist, or someone "in the know." I'm a simple guy with simple thoughts.

I liken this to 1975 or 76. Probably more like 75. We had an unpopular war, made unpopular by the Left (though it's ironic that it was Johnson, a liberal Democrat, who escalated the Vietnam conflict, but I digress). Congress was controlled in 1975 by the Democrats, and it was Congress which ignored Ford when he practically pleaded for them to not cut off funding to support South Vietnam. With absolutely no support from the US, things turned out badly for the South Vietnamese. Furthermore, Ford was faulted for the loss of South Vietnam to the Communists by conservatives in the GOP.

Ford was also criticized by the GOP for negotiating with Panama to hand over the canal to their control. It was seen as being weak in protecting US interests.

We also had a faltering economy in 1975. We had 9% inflation in 75, with an increase to almost 14% by the time Carter left office. Unemployment was at about 8.4% on average. Not all Ford's fault, but like it or not, the President gets credit or blame for the economy whether it's warranted or not.

With Ford being blamed for all this, Reagan was seen as the party's salvation. Unfortunately, Reagan's attempt to reach out to the centrists in the party backfired, giving Ford the nomination. Thing is, most conservatives were disenchanted with Ford, and as such, stayed home on election day. The rest is regrettable history.

Now today...

We have an unpopular war, and while the Bush administration has tripped over its feet every step of the way in marketing the war, ultimately it's the same ideological group which has worked to make any military intervention on our part unpopular (except Kosovo, but that's because it was their idea). We have a Democrat-controlled Congress which is all too eager to pull our troops out and leave Iraq and Afghanistan to fend for themselves. It doesn't take much imagination to see how that could end badly for both countries. And we have conservatives turning on Bush and his administration of the war.

Bush is criticized for his unwillingness to halt illegal immigration, as is McCain. It's seen as being weak on protecting US (sovereignty, domestic, economic and cultural) interests.

And then there's the economy. While both inflation and unemployment are relatively low, both are creeping up, which is getting a fair amount of negative press. The housing market is also seen as a crisis; given that it's where most people put their money, the effects of such could be much worse than a stock market crash.

While Bush isn't running, his legacy is. McCain is probably the closest thing to a standard bearer for that legacy in terms of supporting its policies. Unfortunately, many in the GOP are disenchanted with the legacy and want anyone but McCain (despite the fact that he's locked up the nomination quite handily). I say "unfortunately" because it's to the point that many Republicans are willing to chop off the nose to spite the face, and it's a foolish position to take. Some notable commentators, like Ann Coulter, have said they would rather vote for Clinton if McCain received the nomination, presumably because McCain isn't conservative enough. Others may be thinking more strategically. Re:

The problem with this thinking is that it demands an all or nothing approach. I've always considered conservatives to be generally a pragmatic lot and that politics is more business than personal. So I find such spoilsport thinking to be quite... alien. And the reality is, if conservatives decide to stay home on election day again ala 1976, or do the insane and vote for Obama or Clinton, then if it's all or nothing they want, it's nothing they'll get and it'll be an ugly next four years.

That said, I do think Obama has this won for some of the reasons alluded to in the Muir strips. Hope sells, and Obama is perceived as being the purveyor of hope while McCain is perceived as selling fear. For the uncommited 40% swing vote--the 40% which is likely to take their news in pablum form from the MSM--Obama is the savior. Nevermind that he's been silent on his position to most issues; he's photogenic, well-spoken, and he leaves the masses with a warm gooey feeling on the inside. Sadly, that's enough for most.

I'm not a McCain kinda guy; Fred was my guy. I think the best presidents are the reluctant ones. Still, I respect McCain's service and I think he's the GOP's best candidate to capture that 40%--the best candidate to win. I think he'll make a good CINC and that he won't cut & run from Iraq and Afghanistan. He also has cordial relations with the other side of the aisle, which is necessary when you don't control Congress. And, I think he'll be fairly well received by foreign leaders, but not as warmly received as Obama. Hell, even Canada's supporting him, in a manner of speaking; "blatantly unfair." Pshaw! No, not a McCain guy, but I'll be there on election day voting for him because ultimately it's better to get something than nothing. And if you need proof of that, turn on your way-back machine and remember 1977-1981.

Perfection

2008-02-27T09:35:00.003-06:00

NOTICE: the topic of this blog post deals with food. If you have an aversion to blog posts discussing this topic, please avert your gaze or click on the provided link. Always consult your physician before starting a regimen of reading blog posts discussing food. If you feel shortness of breath or lightheaded while reading this blog post, stop and seek immediate medical attention.

In case you hadn't noticed, the world came to an abrupt halt yesterday for three hours. It was so abrupt I thought we were all going to be thrown from the face of the planet into the icy depths of space! During that time, Starbucks took it upon itself to cease operations, forego profit and retrain their baristas (which sounds an awful lot like a Cockney barrister, but I digress) in the art of drawing the perfect espresso. This isn't small change; based on the company's 2007 revenue, most of it coming from its 7000 stores in the US, Starbucks pulls in a little over $1 million an hour, $3.50 at a time.

The problem is technology and automation. Starbucks went to automatic espresso makers about a year ago. Since then it's been trial and error just to find that Starbucks flavor that we've all grown addic... err, to love. My own mocha order started sounding like Steve Martin's in L.A. Story. "I'd like a quad venti mocha, nonfat, no whip, three pumps." While I'm sure Starbucks was looking forward to the profit acquired from its customers ordering extra shots, I bet that was offset by fewer sales as orders grew longer and more complex, all in an effort to recreate what was a pretty decent mocha to begin with.

So, I put Starbucks to the test this morning. Pulling up in the drive-thru, I engaged in the idle chit-chat with the woman manning the register. I suspect there's a company policy that tells them to do this. Still, they do it artfully. I told her it was test time... "I'd like a venti mocha." I felt as if I was forgetting something, that it couldn't be that simple, but I suppressed the urge to futz with it. I was met at the window with my customary pumpkin loaf, napkins galore, and it. The woman looked at me expectantly, as if I was going to try it right there, then followed up with "please tell us if you like it." Oh, I will, I thought in that sinister whisper voice I'm known to occasionally employ for effect. As I drove away, I nibbled on the pumpkin loaf, almost hesitant to take that first sip. Such high expectations I had. Was I being unfair?

At the first stop light, I raised my cup (made of 10% post-consumer recycled fiber) and took the first sip of the rest of my life. Hmmmmmmm... no insulin shock from the chocolate... not so strong that it puts (more) hair on my back... not acidic... it's... It's... IT'S... PERFECT! And I rejoiced--yay.

So they did it. In three short hours, Starbucks rediscovered their roots and the secret of making a decent mocha. Mostly machine-made, but what isn't?

If a weapon were made of barbeque spare ribs...

2008-02-20T09:11:00.004-06:00

...would you eat it? :)

Man that pisses me off!

2008-02-15T10:55:00.016-06:00

I don't think I'm prone to fits of anger, but some things just set me off. Two things that immediately come to mind are:

1. Berkeley, California

They don't call it "Bezerkely" for nuthin'. Not surprisingly, the Berkeley city council gave the Code Pink asshats a parking space out in front of the Marine Corps Officer Selection Office and in essence told them to go to town in trying to drive the Marines out of town. That's the funny thing about the anti-military types; they don't really know anything about the military. If they did, they would know the Marines don't give up ground.

Actually, that little stunt isn't what pisses me off. It's to be expected, and frankly, if Code Pink wants to protest, so be it. Not as the "useful idiots" of the Berkeley city council, mind you, but I think everyone should be given equal opportunity to speak their mind. Free speech--right on, man!

No, what pisses me off is the city council's response when the state legislature grabbed 'em by the financial short hairs and told them to knock it off. For example, take this statement made by Mayor Tom Bates.

I have heard from people all over the country regarding the action taken by the Berkeley City Council regarding the Marines recruiting center.

I bet you have.

Let me be absolutely clear that this is not about the men and women who are serving our country in our armed forces. I am a retired U.S. Army Captain and I respect the choice of those who are serving our country.

Translation: it's about the men and women serving in our armed forces--we're going to make it our mission to badger the few, the proud, the Marines who work in recruiting center into leaving Berkeley.

And, really, if you're so respectful of the choice to serve our country, why are you interfering with their ability to make this choice?

However, this community strongly opposes the war in Iraq and the foreign policy of the current administration. I believed from the beginning that this was an unjust, illegal, and immoral war of choice.

Yeah, whatever. Get in line.

A year ago, the U.S. Marines established a recruiting office within a few blocks of our local high school, community college and university. Since then, community members who oppose the war in Iraq have been exercising their free speech in protesting the presence of the Marine recruiters. Pro-war protestors have also attended to exercise their free speech rights.

That's fine and dandy, but you crossed a line, as you've been painfully made aware.

On January 28th, the Berkeley City Council took action to waive the permit fee for anti-war protestors one afternoon a week. Any group, whether pro- or anti- war, can obtain such a permit. In addition, the City Council indicated its desire for the Marine recruiting station, as a visible symbol of the war, to be relocated.

Pardon my skepticism, but somehow I doubt that. And since when is a recruiting station a "visible symbol of the war?" It's a visible symbol of the Marine Corp--the Marine Corps is not "the war," and it's that kind of 'logic' that makes nutjobs think it's ok to target "symbols."

I understand that there are people across the country that may not agree with this action but it is the Berkeley City Council's responsibility to represent the will of the people of Berkeley.

If the "will of the people" was to arrest the Marine recruiters as "war criminals," as the Code Pinkers like to call them, would you do that, Mayor Tom?

I also understand that the language proposed to the Council did not adequately differentiate our respect and support for those serving in the armed forced and our opposition to the Iraq war policy. I will be working with the Council to clarify that language at our next meeting.

Translation: please don't cut off our state and federal funding.

I hope that our country will end the war in Iraq soon and bring our troops home safely. We are truly fortunate to live in a country that can tolerate and accept a range of views and opinions.

Bullshit. If you were truly tolerant of the range of views and opinions in your 'fair' city, you wouldn't have given Code Pink a blank check to harass the Marines and their neighbors. The statement in total is disingenuous and the actions of Code Pink and the Berkeley city council are a blatant example of the utter hypocrisy of The Left.

However, my annoyance has been tempered somewhat by those stepping up to the plate to defend the Marines. I was most amused by this account. My favorite excerpts:

4:00 pm- Waterboarding time! WHoohoo! The moment ive been waiting for! They begin by talking about the waterboard and spewingout the usual propaganda how over 1000000 Iraqs died from being waterboarded by US Marines from this recruiting station. As they are going down their list of facts, it gets worse and worse. the embellished facts were so numerous, I couldnt keep up. They have this guy lay down on the board, which is correctly set up. They then announce that a military vet will perform the demonstration. He takes a dishcloth and a 1 ltr soda bottle cut lengthwise and hides the bottle under the dishcloth. he then sets the bottle/dishcloth on the guys face with the inside of the water bottle forming a protective pocket over the guys face and proceeds to pour water on the dishcloth. The guy being "boarded" begins to convulse and jerk and try to sit up but gets pushed back down by his pseudo-interrorgator. All the while the "interrorgator is yelling "are you going to answer my questions?" At this point I step into the circle and yell out in my best Marine bass tones. ."YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG!!!!! The vet looks up at me and goes "oh yea, how would you know?" I smiled at him and told him very loudly so everyone could hear, to "take the plastic bottle away from under the dishcloth and then do it!" This immediately draws a response from the guy laying on the board! He jumps up and yells out, "its just a safe demonstration of how it works!!!!" This obviously gets everyones attention including a few passerby's who begin to laugh uncontrollably! Apparently this wasnt the response that they was hoping for and decided that I should at this point become the focal point of their anger...

5:15 pm- I finally get to corner the veteran who performed the waterboarding demonstration. I ask him who he was with unitwise, mos, and his dates. His response was he was with 663rd Army in Panama, (see, this for the 663rd http://www.setaf.army.mil/663/history.htm) he was a radio operator, during his tours of early 1987 to late 1990 when he earned himself a silver star there in Desert Storm. So I asked him if he saw alot of action down there in Panama, to which he replied, "no, nothing happened the entire time I was down there". This immediately began to sound klaxons with my internal B.S. meter as I remember being in Panama in 1989 when we had to deal with Noriega. So I decided to press the subject a little bit farther and ask him where he learned the waterboarding technique then. He informed me that it was standard technique for SOF/Delta guys down there. So immediately I went into my "oh, so you went to JPAO (Joint Public Affairs Office) for your 922alpha certification ( Food Service Specialist and Food Service Technician MOS 92G / 922A.) then I assume, howd you like it?" His response was . ."it was hard, but I was a experienced Staff Nco". At this point I stated what JPAO/922a was and he should be ashamed of himself impersonating a military veteran.

Now on a more personal note...

2. Kitaros

This is (was) one of favorite restaurants. Because I'm lazy, I'll just do a copy & paste of my new and improved review.

So it's Valentine's Day and the place is packed, as you expect just about every restaurant to be. Unfortunately, law school recognizes neither love nor joy (nor hunger, for that matter) so I was unable to partake in the ritual that is Valentine's Day evening at a restaurant. But, I decided that I could do the next best thing and bring Kitaro's home. So, I find a spot at the bar, as is my custom, and fill out my sushi order only to be told they won't do carry-out because they're "too busy." Excuse me?! I could sit there at the bar, sip a Sapporro and have them serve me sushi rolls to the tune of $30, plus the cost of the beer and tip, but they won't serve me those same sushi rolls in a to-go container? I'm still paying $30 for sushi. I'm still buying a beer and paying a tip. The only difference is that I clear my spot at the bar a whole lot faster, making room for another paying customer who would otherwise leave because the place is packed. The junior associate deputy probationary bartender was very nice in light of my incredulity and asked the real bartender if this was, in fact, the policy. She even went so far as to wander off to find a manager, but such efforts are pointless. Any manager who comes up with such a ridiculously illogical policy in the first place isn't going to change it in the face of an annoyed regular, who will no longer be a regular. As the saying goes, "you can't fix stupid."

Ahh... I feel much better.

What's in an avatar?

2008-01-27T15:57:00.000-06:00

That which we call an avatar by any other name would make me chuckle.

Hot Pocket

2008-01-20T12:54:00.000-06:00

For Meg's education on cultural references.

Silence! I KEEL YOU!

2008-01-18T15:43:00.000-06:00

For Scott, who misses my videos.

The Webs Reference

2008-01-18T11:25:00.000-06:00

By not-so-popular demand, I'm expounding on the Webs reference. As some know or have suffered through, I've prattled on about Warbirds to various people at various times, usually using hyperbole like it's the best, it's so cool, it's better than sliced bread (not true). Basically, it was this MMO WW2 combat sim in which a bunch of middle-aged guys spent $2 an hour to play a video game where you got to be a combat pilot (because simulating life and death is fun!).

Looking back on this shadowy part of my past, I can't help but shudder at the thought of the small fortune I spent for the opportunity to squint at little dots on a screen surrounded by a crude facsimile of an airplane cockpit. I say that as if I'm above all that now. Hey, have you heard of Planetside? It's this MMO space combat sim. It's the best, it's so cool, it's better than sliced bread!

Any time you get a group of devotees to something, they congregate together. These congregations often stand in opposition to one another, for it's only natural that if you're simulating life and death over the skies of Europe or the Pacific, someone has to be the killer and someone has to be killed. It helps to have friends who are of the killer persuasion if you find yourself to be prey, or friends who are better at being prey than you are so the killers hunt them first. There's a life lesson somewhere in all that.

Our merry little band of Warbirds devotees included people from all over the globe. Webs, or Laurie to people who know him in real life (and I don't), hails from Montreal, Canada. Married, couple of kids, has a thing for hockey (ok, so that's a given) and teaches writing at a university level. I seem to recall he was a reasonably good "pilot," someone more of the killer persuasion, though I suspect he left our group to start his own because he was tired of having me vultch him incessantly during our Sunday "Fox Fights." ;-) Later, we played another game called Diplomacy, an online version of some board game I never heard of. Webs was England, I was Spain, and thinking old squadmates could unite and rule the world, we formed an alliance. However, what I quickly learned was that an alliance with Webs simply meant I would be the first country he stabbed in the back. Bastard! Hence all subsequent references to Webs have been in the form of Webs, Diplomacy Cheat--Bastard! ;-) Then one day I was perusing Wily's blog and followed the link to Webs' (Webs's according to Strunk & White, but that looks so wrong) and saw the cool Last FM widget. I added it to this blog, credited Webs for it, and Webs eventually found my reference, probably while looking through his traffic reports. So, visit Webs at many of his fine blogs and feel free to berate him for being a Diplomacy cheat.

* Speaking of Last FM, I changed my playlist around. Got rid of some of the 80's hard rock in favor of stuff more befitting my advanced age.

Crawling into 2008...

2008-01-12T21:00:00.000-06:00

...gasping for air. Yes, I still have pneumonia (confirmed) and in my hypochondria, I think I might have COPD (a wild-assed guess on my part because this crap won't go away, ergo chronic and ergo some sort of pulmonary disease). *hack*

So once again I find myself not having much to say. While Kelley and Scott are off making resolutions, I'm resolving not to resolve. Ok, so maybe my house is cleaner and maybe I'm taking my meds like a good boy and maybe I don't eat red meat everyday. Maybe I'm trying to be more conscientious about my checkbook and maybe I'm trying to keep my work email inbox clean. Maybe. But those don't count as resolutions and you can't hold me to 'em.

I say "not much to say," but some of you keep coming back ever hopeful that I will. I can tell. I don't know who you are, but I can tell. In fact, people from twelve countries have paid this blog a visit in the last month. Twelve! I can explain who from Canada has paid me a visit now that Webs has found my blog. But deepest darkest Peru? Switzerland? Seven visits from the UK? Interesting.

I will endeavor to come up with something to say instead of relying on videos that catch my fancy. In the meantime, I leave you with a video that caught my fancy. Hey Bill, John... err, MCP 1299398 here. Can I have my soul back now that you're not using it?

Not much has changed...

2007-12-28T18:01:00.000-06:00

"Break right..."

2007-12-19T22:40:00.000-06:00

"...six at two o'clock, in the air." Just in case you were wondering about the header graphic, it's the face of a radar warning receiver based loosely on my memory of the AN/ALR-46. The "6" is the SA-6, which looks like this when it's about to kill you.

The little circle around the 6 means it has missile guidance, meaning it's about to kill you. The little diamond around the circle lets the poor schmuck listen to the sound of death, which kinda sounds like beep beeep beeeep beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

The "2" is just a SA-2.

Anyway, I thought the header needed something, but I'm not sure this is it. Kinda esoteric, don'tcha think?

Why are we here?

2007-12-18T17:05:00.000-06:00

Classic crewdawg humor. :)

Memories of my first alert tour...

I'm officially 55.5% evil

2007-12-16T00:17:00.000-06:00

But after next semester, I'll be 66.6% evil, and you can't get any more evil than that. ;)

Wow, this whole law school thing doesn't get any easier. You would think after 2.5 years, I would have cracked the code by now, but every semester it's the same. I think I allow myself enough time to study, so much so that I let myself screw around posting blog posts or doing the [shudder] Facebook thing (I did it just to take the Heroes quiz. Really!). Then on the day of the exam, I do some CALI exercises (computer-aided law instruction) and I find out I really don't know what I should know. I invariably spend a full day preparing an outline and tabbing the snot out of it until it looks like it's exploding with technicolor post-its, only to find out that it was too cumbersome to use when scrambling to answer the questions (and yes, even on a four-hour exam, you scramble the whole four hours). At the end of it all, I spend a month running through exam questions in my head, answering them in my sleep (usually with different, better answers than what I gave on the exam), growing ever more impatient and pessimistic. I vow that next semester will be different; that I'll review each week and hone my outline to a finely crafted masterpiece of legal precision, and that come test time, I'll walk out of the exam without an iota of doubt as to my superior performance. These are the fantasies of a law student.

But for now, I'm actually doing pretty good with the post-test regret. Christmas is almost here, the kids are excited, and I am quickly trading the "damn, I shoulda..." for "damn, I'm glad it's over." My shopping is almost done, work is, well, work, and I'm looking forward to reading a book for fun (God and Gold: Britain, America and the Making of the Modern World, by Walter Mead), cleaning out the basement and maybe starting on the build-out of my office. These are the fantasies of a 40-something, married father of two law student on Christmas break.

You know what I hate?

2007-12-07T01:31:00.000-06:00

That long walk from the law school to the parking garage. In December. Right after taking a final. And it's dark. And cold. You're all alone with your thoughts, that is until someone asks you what you got on question such & such. That's when that nagging doubt becomes full-blown regret.

Yeah... I hate that.

Bryan is CHEESE!

2007-11-23T22:24:00.000-06:00

Naturally, that makes Meagan Bloo.

ONOZ! OMG!

2007-11-23T21:04:00.001-06:00

(click for the full effect)

Mankind 'shortening universe life.'

This 'story' annoys the crap out of me. First, there's the ridiculous supposition that somehow we're shortening the life of the universe. C'mon! It's bad enough people slurp up global warming kool-aid, but now our study of the cosmos has reduced the probability of survival of the universe? Please. The universe was around well before we showed up, and it'll be here long after we die out or evolve into something else. Whatever the case, observing something, whether it's a cat in a box or 'dark matter' doesn't physically change something. An object might change due to the circumstances surrounding the observation, such as being exposed to heat or light, but inanimate objects and mere matter don't change simply because they can be sensed in some sense.

What also irks me is the author's claim that quantum theory is the "most successful theory we have." Wha? By whose measure? In the very same article is a link to the Garret Lisi, the "surfer dude" physicist who has supposedly given us a "theory of everything"--the "Holy Grail" of physics. But M-theory, which combined five super-string theories (all supposedly the theories of everything), was supposed to be the "Holy Grail" of physics. Not only does the multitude of "Holy Grail" theories tend to undercut the author's position, but none of these theories work unless you make shit up. Case in point; Lisi's "exceptional theory of everything" only works if you include 20 "theoretical" (read not real) particles. M-theory falls on its ass because it fails to predict anything empirical (read real). In my unscientific lay opinion, this reliance on the unreal makes these theories less than successful.

The irony in all this is that science embraces the "unreal" when it's convenient, leading to absurd notions like this, yet it mocks religion when it does the same thing. Thing is, a notion like a supernatural (not explainable by science) entity makes way more sense in explaining the origins of the universe and life than anything science has come up with. The universe has a certain order and predictability that seems rather improbable if you accept that everything we know of came from the explosion of a primeval atom. After all, where did the atom come from and why would you expect order out of what was ostensibly a chaotic event? Order is the product of intent. Life also has a certain order and predictability that is very improbable if you accept that all life, from a bacterium to a human, including every plant and animal in between, originated from RNA (the current fashionable theory). So, we're to believe that life on Earth originated from RNA, which doesn't exist naturally in the absence of life? That's quite a chicken-egg paradox ya got there, Dr. Bunson Honeydew.

I like science. I like that it offers answers to fundamental questions, and when applied through engineering, makes really cool stuff. What I don't like is when science comes up with grandiose theories that rely on 2 + 2 = 5 math or makes up theories that are wholly umprovable... or makes whack claims, as is the case here.

Fall Color

2007-11-18T17:46:00.000-06:00

Who said there was no fall color this year? Oh yeah, KSDK's Cindy Pressler. Something about it being too dry. And yet a few weeks after she proclaimed the end of fall before it began--BOOM--fall color! Brilliant color! As brilliant as any I've seen here. In fact, while most of the trees have already peaked, this one is, by far, the most brilliant I've ever seen.

My camera phone doesn't do it justice, but this tree popped out from behind the others as if it were on fire. Just... wow.

Snap!

2007-11-17T21:52:00.000-06:00

Bowling sucks.

But I did make a strike.

Disturbed...

2007-11-16T23:39:00.000-06:00

...and infuriated. Maybe it's the geographic proximity, or the similarity in age and name, or because I've seen my daughter hurt. I don't know. All I do know is that I feel for this family. Sympathy has an odd way of sneaking up on you, especially for someone like me, who tends to maintain emotional detachment from all but my family and friends. But then, so does anger.

There are two sides to every story, and in some sense, I could make an argument for either side. That's the danger of becoming a lawyer. You find yourself willing to consider positions you find repugnant simply for the sake of argument. There are limits, though, and this is one of them. "But when adults are involved and continue to screw with a 13-year- old, with or without mental problems, it is absolutely vile." I can't argue with that.

Mom: MySpace Hoax Led to Daughter's Suicide

[Edit]

I agree with Professor Turley, although in some way it was better not knowing. Now that the real identity of "Josh Evans" is known, the net is lashing out with its own brand of frontier justice. I admit that some part of me thinks "well, it sucks to be them," and that they deserve whatever grief they've brought upon themselves. But another part of me recognizes that there's another 14 year-old girl who is hating life now because of what her mom did. Maybe Lori Drew's daughter was complicit in the scheme, but lashing out at her strikes me as another line crossed.

The problem with frontier justice, in whatever form, is that it lacks the objectivity and dispassion, which are key ingredients to American jurisprudence. Of course subjectivity plays a part in deliberation and jurors and jurists may be outraged by the crimes of the accused, but the legal system works because of its rules that are carefully designed to obtain a fair outcome. There are no such rules to regulate mob mentality; consequently, the result is vengeance, not justice.

There are no criminal penalties for what Lori Drew did, and I can't even envision how a workable criminal statute could be drafted to address something like this. You can't outlaw meanness or mean words. But, I hope the Meiers file a civil action. It obviously won't bring their daughter back, but if successful, it would set a legal precedent that establishes a much-needed line that shouldn't be crossed.

There's a party in my tummy!

2007-11-16T00:08:00.000-06:00

I'm a bit of a Rain Man when it comes to catch phrases. Something will stick in my consciousness and I'll go around repeating it. For weeks. Incessantly. My latest is "because you're soft. Like pudding." Of course, I watched Office Space afterwards and Bill Lumbergh crept in. Aahh, now, are you going to go ahead and have those TPS reports for us this afternoon? Ah. Yeah, I’m gonna be the one who breaks you. You know why? Because you're soft. Like pudding.

So it's no surprise my kids do the same thing. Hopefully they'll stop parroting Yo! Gabba Gabba before it becomes socially crippling.

Law Students & Legos

2007-11-12T23:40:00.000-06:00

My favorite; ahhh...I had to punch him to survive! :)

Captain's [B]log, Director's Cut...

2007-11-08T15:46:00.000-06:00

...with never before seen stuff! Buy it now on DVD!

Ok, maybe not. I just thought I would point out a few new things I've added. First, a link to my lovely wife's blog, JediMom. Lisa's professional life now seems to center on all things social on the internet. Whether it's digg, del.icio.us, MySpace, Facebook, LinkedIn, or Yelp (to name a few), she has her finger on the pulse of it. As you can see, her blog has a point--a purpose--whereas mine doesn't (not like I had to point that out).

One of the social networking sites that I haven't scratched my head at is Yelp. I see the value of consumer opinion, particularly if it's the opinion of friends. Lisa is my only "friend" on Yelp, and I've written all of one review (reiterating my love for Whataburger), so it's not all that "social" for me. But I thought the Yelp applet was kinda nifty, so check back for thoughtful commentary about the places where I stuff my pie-hole.

Another new link of interest is The Simmons Family News, where Rob (law school and golfing buddy) and his wife Kristina share their view on life as proud new parents of their adopted daughter, Evelyn. Credit the high production value to Kristina, as Rob has demonstrated difficulty in simply turning on and off a computer.

The last new link of interest is to Neo-Neocon. I don't recall how I stumbled across this site, but I was intrigued by her story of transformation from liberal to conservative--a real neocon (a term regularly misapplied these days). What made her story even more intriguing is that she was a New England liberal and is a psychotherapist to boot. Ya don't see that every day. Anyway, I forwarded the link to Kelley in the hope of broadening her horizons, but thought I would share it with everyone else. She's an incredibly prolific writer, but well worth the time to read. It also cracks me up to think that behind that apple, she's really Lilith Sternin.

More posts soon. I'm getting back in the saddle and am currently fired up about IQ tests. More on that later.

Trick or Treat...

2007-10-31T23:07:00.000-06:00

...thank you, may the force be with you. That was Obi-Wan... err, Anakin... err, Bryan's mantra for the evening. He kept changing his story as to who he was, but then, some people mistook him for a ninja. A ninja?! C'mon! Lightsaber, people, not a sword--lightsaber.

Of course, the pumpkin is carved according to the year's theme. In this case, I couldn't make Meagan's "gypsy" thing work, so I went with what I knew.

Catching Up

2007-10-27T20:29:00.000-06:00

I bet y'all thought I gave up on this whole blog thing. After all, one post a month does not a blog make. Chalk it up to my general sense of disconnectedness, or disconnectivity, or whatever. You know what I mean.

So, since I last wrote, I've completed another orbit around the sun. My 41st. Turning 41 isn't the milestone that 40 is. In my case, it was a fairly low-key day. Slept in, enjoyed breakfast in bed, played some golf with Rob, went to dinner at J.Buck's with the family... it was nice. :) But no matter how I do the math, I'm left with the inescapable conclusion that I'm on the downhill, that my days are numbered. I know, I know--our days are numbered from our very first breath, but it takes the first 40 years to realize just how short the last 40 can be. Or at least it did for me.

With this realization more at the forefront of my consciousness, I'm feeling behind. Personally, professionally, financially, spiritually, you name it... I'm feeling like I'm not where I should be for someone of my age. I need to catch up. Yet turning 41 and starting on the downhill has left me with another inescapable conclusion that I need to slow down and make each of my numbered days count more. But how do you do that? How do you get more from your time, more from your relationships, more from your life? I don't think it involves skydiving, Rocky Mountain climbing or 2.7 seconds on a bull named Blue Manchu.

Doh!

2007-09-05T09:13:00.000-06:00

B-52 mistakenly flies with nukes aboard

Can you say "career limiting maneuver"?

Update: Doh! x 70!

Some blithering idiots claim that the move of the nukes was a a signal to Iran. Some tinfoil aficionados have gone so far as to theorize that the discrepancy in the number of weapons reportedly moved--5 versus 6--was an inadvertent slip of what was to be a false flag op in which the missing nuke was supposed to be detonated by "terrorists," but it's really Booooosh!!!11!eleventy1one1! I am so losing patience with the Bush haters, conspiracy nuts, anti-war types and the whacked out Left.

Check Thumbs Up Light - Illuminated

2007-09-03T21:24:00.000-06:00

Three-quarters of the clan made an impromptu visit to the St. Louis County Fair & Air Show (while Meg played nature girl with her friend for three days of camping). It was a clear, cloudless Sunday afternoon, maybe twenty degrees too warm, so it was a relatively brief trip. Still we stayed long enough to sample fair delicacies like meat-on-a-stick and catch a few planes making the sound of freedom. Bryan came prepared.

The F-15, being a home-grown bird in these parts, led the show. I really need to get a telephoto lense to do the subject justice, but I thought Lisa's effort in capturing the Red Baron Pizza PT-17s was quite artful.

We made it a point to check out the statics as we headed out. No B-52s, but Bryan got to see what daddy learned basic airmanship in, namely the T-37 "Tweet." The recruiters had a mini F-16 for the kids to play on. Bry signaled he was good to go.

On the way home, Bryan made known his intention to become a "Blue Angels airplane pilot guy." Check Dad's Thumbs Up Light - Illuminated.

"But what if we get an eight? God help us all."

2007-08-10T15:35:00.001-06:00

Ok, at the risk of this blog becoming nothing more than a compilation of internet videos, I present to you "Minesweeper: THE MOVIE!"

Hey look! New toys...

2007-08-07T21:07:00.000-06:00

I was perusing the blog of Webs, a former WarBirds squaddie and known Diplomacy cheat, when after scrolling for what seemed like days, I came upon this nifty little widget that played music. Apparently it was music that Webs likes, and I thought "huh, cool." So I followed the link and discovered the joy that is last.fm.

This is so much better than Apple's goofy iMix thingie. Why? Thanks for asking. First, it works, whereas it took multiple emails to Apple's tech support to finally get the iMix to show up. Second, it's not just a marketing ploy to sucker people into an online store. Yes, they both play 30-second snippets, and they both give you the opportunity to buy the song or album, but if you click on the big glowing button on the widget, it actually plays all the songs in the playlist in their entirety. You can open the widget in a new window, allowing for uninterrupted listening pleasure. And just for Scott, I didn't configure it to autostart, though that's a neat feature if you wanted to give your blog some ambient music beyond the dreaded MIDI.

So, consider this "Mood Music, Part 2," which represents 4.9% of my electronic music collection. Enjoy!

South County Humor

2007-08-06T16:04:00.000-06:00

NASCAR Coach Reveals Winning Strategy: 'Drive Fast'

Summer Vacation

2007-08-04T13:37:00.001-06:00

Cynical as it may be, one could argue that vacation is that time in which families get together for forced fun just so they can appreciate the time they spend apart from one another. Still, this vacation went pretty well and ended with me contracting a serious case of homesickness (and Montezuma's Revenge, but we won't go there).

Day 1

Bryan: Are we there yet?
Dad: No.
Bryan: Then can we go home?
Dad: No.

Day 1 found the family on the road in our Honda-built Conestoga, our Wagonqueen Family Truckster, careening at 95mph over the rolling hills of Missouri, through the hundred or so piss ant towns (aka speed traps) of Oklahoma, and across the wide open plains of Texas in our quest to make Dallas before nightfall. Having accomplished that mission, nightfall on Day 1 brought about the search for "shelf-stable" soy milk--something Bryan requires now moreso out of habit than dietary necessity. After visiting numerous grocery stores, some of which were detestable in odor, I finally gave up and fed Bry's growing Starbocks addiction with a kid's soy hot chocolate, hold the whip. Mini bars--don't rent a room without one.

Day 2

Bryan: Hey Grandpa, do you like sausage?
Grandpa: Why, yes, yes I do like sausage.
Bryan: Hey Grandpa, are you having a good day?
Grandpa: Why, yes, yes I am having a good day.

(isn't the stream of consciousness of a four year-old grand?)

Day 2 was spent mostly driving around Dallas and at one of its many fine malls taking in a movie and shopping. You do a lot of driving in Dallas. It's unavoidable; the DFW Metroplex sprawls across four counties. This sprawl is creeping farther and farther north, and what used to be new and upscale is now tired and worn. This was readily apparent when we drove into town on Day 1. My hometown of Plano, once an All-America City and ranked 11th in 2006 by Money magazine as the best place to live in the US, looked a little less shiny, a little less new than I remember it (hey, O'Fallon was ranked 39th--cool). The hip, happenin' places are Frisco, Allen and McKinney. Still, Plano has a certain charm, due in part to some creative zoning. It's not everywhere that you see a working cattle ranch across the street from a Domino's Pizza, or an upscale subdivision, or say next door to the corporate headquarters of EDS. If you're ever in Plano and find yourself heading west on Legacy Drive just off Preston Road, look left and take a look at these guys:

There's buffalo in the herd, too, but they were off doing their own thing. You can see the top of the EDS building in this shot.

But what I get a kick out of is seeing cattle, horses and alpacas across the street from a Domino's. The Haggard family is one of a few founding families of Plano and still owns and works 2400 acres smack dab in the middle of suburbia.

Day 3

Meg: What the?!
Dad: Hmmm?
Meg: Do you see anything in my hair?
Dad: Guano. Bird guano.

Day 3 found us in San Antonio. I'm not sure why we chose to drive south. In July. In Texas. It's pure masochism, I tell ya, yet it was unseasonably cool (relatively speaking). It rained like the dickens (like a cow pissin' on a flat rock, as they say in Kansas) on the way down. The rain drove all manner of critter inside, including the five crickets that took up residence by the soda fountain at the Whataburger in Temple (mmmmm... mustard, all the way is like talkin' dirty to a Whataburger devotee). This freaked Meg and Lisa out, so we were forced to take refuge in the van while we enjoyed our blessed midday victuals. For Meg, this would not be the only unpleasantry of the day.

We got into San Antonio in the evening and decided to wander the riverwalk. San Antonio is one of those cities of dramatic contrasts. At street level you have filth and crime; on the riverwalk, it's remarkably clean and well-patrolled. We were greeted by this lovely view from our hotel.

We walked for a little over a mile and a half before the kids started to whine. After dinner, we decided to forgo the forced march and indulge in a tour by water taxi. Along the way, Meagan was the unfortunate target of a bird apparently suffering from irritable bowel syndrome. Of course I offered to buy her a cap earlier, but nooooo. Here are the kids post-attack, Meg now wearing my cap (she looks an awful lot like my mom in this photo).

Day 4/5

Days 4 & 5 were spent at SeaWorld. SeaWorld San Antonio is, well, quaint when compared to SeaWorld San Diego. It's like Auggie Busch ran out of money when doing the San Antonio park and settled on the bare bones. For example, I spent the better part of Day 4 trying to convince Meg that the Journey to Atlantis ride was the same as the one she rode in San Diego, minus the staging, music, narration and building that made the San Diego ride cool. Still, as a means of getting wet and experiencing a few momentary negative Gs, it served its purpose. The wave pool and water slides provided the most entertainment, though I had a few "Monk" moments and was forced to suppress the revulsion that comes with the realization that many of my fellow swimmers don't necessarily adhere to a reasonable standard of hygiene, as evident by people coming out of the restrooms in their bare feet. Public restrooms. Bare feet. [shudder]

Day 6

We left San Antonio sunburned and eager to get back to Big D, though this meant spending time with my mother-in-law. As is customary, my mother-in-law and I don't get along all that well, but have come to a tenuous détente over the years. This détente was stressed when she decided we needed to meet her for dinner, but was incredibly cryptic as to where we were supposed to do so. All she could tell us was that it was some Mexican restaurant in Plano, the name and location of which escaped her. After a lengthy phone interrogation, I was able to extract from her a useful landmark, and lo and behold, we ended up at Aparicio's. I once knew an Oscar Aparicio in school. We played soccer together. He was good. I was not. Could it be, I wondered? Sure enough, the restaurant is owned by Oscar's family, and he was managing that night. Nice little reunion.

Day 7

Day 7 was very much like Day 2, only it involved my mother-in-law, who has an incredibly short attention span. Suffice it to say, a movie was out of the question and shopping involved dashing from store to store. After m-i-l left, we headed over to Ikea. Now, we have a fully furnished home and really don't need inexpensive Scandinavian furniture, but Ikea is something of an experience. Lisa said it's best not to design a website like an Ikea store, and now having been trapped in the maze that is an Ikea store, I can understand why. Still, if some great catastrophe were to befall us, being trapped in an Ikea wouldn't be so bad, though my first choice would be Costco. Or, if the whole law school thing doesn't work out, I could see spending my resulting vagrancy whiling away the days at an Ikea. They sell incredibly cheap food, and as long as I maintain a reasonable standard of hygiene, I don't think anyone would know or care that I took up temporary residence in one of the displays. Be prepared--that's what I always say.

Day 8

Everyone: I gotta go potty.

It took us the better part of 13 hours to make it home, mostly because we drank the water. Never drink the water. Never. That, and avoid the Wal-Mart in Muskogee, Oklahoma at all costs. I orbited the parking lot losing IQ points by the second while Lisa and the kids ran in to pick up a few diversions for the remainder of the trip. Thirty minutes later, I was reduced to a drooling imbecile capable of only making left-hand turns... hey, wait, that kinda sounds like NASCA... uh, nevermind.

So that's what I did on my summer vacation. The end.

Observations from Bryan...

2007-07-26T09:31:00.000-06:00

...on today's drive to preschool.

"There are Starbocks in this world."

"There are ballcanoes in Texas."

"Our dog runs super fast. That's why she's old."

"The construction guys forget when they bury the cars."

This last one makes me think I should survey the yard for fresh shallow graves filled with Hot Wheels cars. The lawn guys are coming this afternoon and I would rather not play the home version of Will It Blend?

What a great day

2007-07-14T20:09:00.000-06:00

It started with the abrupt, ear-shattering wailing of the smoke detector at 6 A.M.. 120 decibels. 6 A.M.. I'm up, I'm up! I'm not sure why it decided to blurt out like that... maybe it was just craving attention, but after three or four beep-beep-beeps, it stopped. Naturally, it freaked Bry out, so I spent the next three hours being kicked in the kidneys by a fidgety four year-old (which is still infinitely preferable to where I could be kicked). But it got better.

It was a glorious day and I got to play my favorite game--golf. I couldn't putt worth crap, but I came within four feet of a hole-in-one (I, of course, two-putted to blow the easy birdie). We then went to one of my favorite hamburger joints (Red Robin), where I had my favorite hamburger (the Royal Red Robin--bacon and eggs on a cheeseburger, because breakfast is the most important meal of the day) and my favorite beer (Blue Moon--I don't know what coriander is, but it and orange peel belong in beer). I then came home and grilled my favorite steaks (Delmonico) in my favorite marinade (chipotle pepper) and had more of my favorite beer. Sated on red meat and coriander, I'm feeling quite favorably. I'm sure tomorrow will be another story.

So, I can't believe no one had anything to say about my taste in quasi-classical music or B-52 porn. Ok, if it's more deep-fried twitchy fish you want...

[Note: I'm leaving this topic front and center because it's driving Scott nuts that I wrote about what I ate on July 14th. Snirtle]

Yeah baby!

2007-07-12T09:46:00.000-06:00

I came across a video of the F-22 and thought it was pretty damn impressive. Lots of "alpha loops" and "power loops" and whatnot. Of course, you had Joe Cool Fighter Jock narrating, hands on hips, feet shoulder width apart as he assumed the Fighter Pilot Stance ™, followed by lots of talking with his hands. But who cares about the F-22 when you can watch a B-52! Check this out...

This first video has some nice footage. I always thought AC/DC's Hells Bells was the quintessential B-52-goin'-to-war song, but I guess Thunderstruck will do in a pinch.

Then I found this...

Check out the footage from 2:10 to 2:58 (4:13 to 3:24 on time remaining). I can't say for certain because all gun camera footage tends to look alike, but it seems awfully familiar. I'm thinkin' the Utah Test and Training Range, 1994. If only the pilot had said "knock it off," then I'd know for sure that I was that MF (we nearly smacked a mountain). I rarely make it a point to go into any detail about what I did while flying B-52s because it tends to make one's eyes glaze over and induces a catatonic state, but it's nice to be able to show the final product of my effort. So, daddy, what did you do when you flew B-52s? I upset the bad men in pointy airplanes and broke their toys. ;)

Mood Music, Part 1

2007-07-11T22:23:00.000-06:00

In an effort to move the fish head post to "below the fold" (just for Scott, disturbed as he is), I thought I would ramble on about a few of my favorite songs. And, for your listening pleasure, feel free to right-click and save as on the various links. I won't tell if you won't.

A quick glance at my music library might suggest that I have fairly eclectic tastes. It's a library in which the Chemical Brothers happily coexist next to Peter Cetera and George Strait doesn't mind hangin' out with Fourplay. Intermingled among these fairly well-known artists are lesser known composers who have scored, in my opinion, some of the best orchestral arrangements for motion pictures, which one might call "modern American classics." Now, I don't know much about classical music, but I'm betting if Beethoven or Schubert were alive today, they would be writing music for the movies.

Of course, everyone has heard of John Williams. The guy's composed the music for just about every blockbuster known to man, but my favorite songs from John Williams come from the movie Saving Private Ryan. I think I'm a fairly stoic individual, but man, did that movie make me cry! It still chokes me up to think of that scene where Ryan is standing at the grave of Captain Miller, remembering the captain's last words of "earn this," then turning to his wife and asking "[t]ell me I've lived a good life. Tell me I'm a good man." As I recall, Williams' Hymn to the Fallen provided the background for that moment. Another haunting song from that movie is Omaha Beach, made more so by the sight of the carnage that was Normandy on D-Day.

A lesser known, but just as talented composer is Trevor Rabin. You wouldn't imagine a member of the rock group Yes would compose such great movie music. The Great Raid is another favorite movie of mine, mostly because James Franco did such an awesome job of portraying Captain Prince. The story itself still makes my blood boil. The tide had turned in the Pacific and the Japanese started executing Allied POWs rather than repatriating them as part of their surrender. The 6th Ranger Battalion was sent in to liberate the POWs located at Cabanatuan, and successfully rescued all but one. Most of Rabin's score for the movie was intended to evoke a mood, but his Closing Titles, which accompanied images of the actual raid, left a lump in my throat.

Rabin also penned the score for National Treasure. I'm not a big Nicholas Cage fan, but I loved this movie mostly because of the subject matter--the Declaration of Independence. The more you know about how the Declaration came into being, the less romantic it seems, but damn, what an audacious way to commit treason and tell the king to pound sand! I thought Rabin's Ben captured the drama of the story, silly as it was, while his Declaration of Independence captured, in my mind, the essence of what was one of the most dramatic periods in our country's history.

David Foster is one of those composers you've probably never heard of, but have definitely heard his music. In addition to writing and producing for the likes of Michael Jackson (eww!) and Peter Cetera, he's also penned the score to movies like St. Elmo's Fire and Stealing Home, though some of his best work can be heard on The Symphony Sessions. Lisa and I took one of our first vacations to Williamsburg, Virginia, and the songs from this CD are the soundtrack to those memories. Piano Concerto in G and The Ballet both make me think of the history of Williamsburg, walking into the Capitol and imagining the words of Patrick Henry and George Mason echoing in its chamber. Conscience evokes the memory of crushed stone crunching beneath our feet on that cool autumn day, while Time Passing is the memory of evening light streaming through the trees.

As the title suggests, this is part one of my tour through my music library. Hope you enjoy the tunes. :)

Yum!

2007-07-09T21:23:00.001-06:00

Something tells me General Tso's Chicken isn't really Chinese food. After all, how can the same culinary culture come up with such a delectable dish as General Tso's Chicken and still produce "yin yang fish"? Yes, friends, deep-fried twitching fish. Yum!

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Am I the only one thinking these immortal words?

Fish heads, fish heads
Roly poly fish heads
Fish heads, fish heads
Eat them up, yum!

Happy Birthday!

2007-07-04T23:11:00.000-06:00

231 years old and she doesn't look a day over 200.

The skies over our fair city were alight with firework barrages as one neighbor would respond to another neighbor's volley with a bigger, better blast. The air was thick with smoke and the smell of gunpowder, and on two occasions, I was sent diving for cover with Bryan in my arms as instructions on the munitions, like "this side up," went unheeded by some of our firing party (Kelley!). And, all this happened in a city where the use of fireworks is illegal (but that doesn't stop the city from selling licenses to firework vendors). America--home of the free and the scofflaw. ;)

What were you thinking, Rob Bell?

2007-06-28T09:54:00.000-06:00

First, a bit of background; I'm the resident heathen in a "Methodist" church (sorta kinda Methodist), and by extension, a Methodist "small group." They're too nice to call me heathen (seeker being the churchy word), but by "heathen," I mean I'm quite certain there's a God, though I'm pretty Jeffersonian in my Christianity. In other words, my beliefs about Jesus don't comport with conventional Christianity.

Anyway, we've been watching these Nooma videos in our small group get-togethers. Nooma, as we've learned, is the phonetic spelling of the Greek word pneuma, which means spirit or breath. These videos feature Rob Bell, the young, hip, charismatic pastor of Mars Hill Church. I like listening to Rob Bell. He's very conversational, very energetic, very cool. But, in each of these videos, I've had a "what the--?" moment... a moment in which what he's saying seems kind of incongruous with what he's doing. It's not that he's being a hypocrite. Hell, he probably doesn't have anything to do with the script. It's just there are moments when I've thought (with a chuckle) "what were you thinking, Rob Bell?"

The first video has Rob in his living room. Wherever Mars Hill is, it's cold and there's snow on the ground. I don't remember the exact message, but the gist of it was you spread the word of Jesus by the way you live and what you do, not what you say. As he's saying all this, there's this person--some of us think it's a portly teenage boy and some think it's a portly middle-aged woman--shoveling snow from a driveway. Rob occasionally glances out his window, coffee mug in hand, watching the portly person shovel snow. Eventually, the person finishes shoveling and then we realize it's not their driveway; evangelism through unsung good deeds. But then I thought "Hey! Where was Rob Bell during all this?" Drinking coffee in his living room, talking to us, the lazy schmuck! ;) Now, wouldn't it have been a more effective message if Rob is talking to us while he's putting on his coat, grabbing a shovel and helping the neighbor shovel snow? It's not unheard of, ya know. Jack (Kelley's hubby) has done this on a number of occasions. Maybe Jack should narrate these videos... now that would be a hoot. ;) But it begs the question: what were you thinking, Rob Bell?

I didn't get to see the next video until the Father's Day sermon, though we apparently showed it in small group (I must have been AWOL). It's really a very touching video which probably elicited a tear from more than one father in the congregation. Rob Bell is walking through the woods with a baby, his son, in one of those little backpacks. He tells of how it started to rain and how his son started to scream in terror and how he would do anything to get his son home safely. The gist of the message was that God, as our father, loves us as his children and would do anything to protect us. But here's the "what the--?" moment; he says he puts the baby's hood up (he's wearing a cotton hoodie, like that'll help), that the hood slips off and that he doesn't know this as his baby screams in terror, completely drenched, over the course of a mile that he has to walk through the woods, with rain pounding and lightning flashing. I'm thinkin' "take the kid out of the backpack and put him inside your raincoat, ya knucklehead." Or at least hold him in front of you so he can see your face. Eventually he does this, but you've got to ask: what were you thinking, Rob Bell?

The last video has Rob on the subway, and he's talking about breathing. We finally learn what that groovy little "nooooooma" that comes at the beginning of each video means. Spirit. Breath. The gist of this message is that the spirit of God is in our breath and gives us life. That the ground we walk on is holy (God made it) and that each of us is a holy, sanctified child of God (God made us). Knowing this, we should change how we treat our fellow human being. Be nice. There's probably also an environmental message buried in there, but I won't go there today. So, Rob gets on the subway train and there's this guy. A black guy. Nothing particularly notable about this guy other than his head is hanging like he's put in a 14-hour day somewhere. Rob sits down a seat or two away and the body language is perfect; he turns his body away and looks away from this guy, his fellow child of God. Hello! No nod, no smile, no how ya doin', how's it goin' how's it hangin'... nuthin'. Now is that any way to treat a fellow holy, sanctified child of God? It makes one wonder: what were you thinking, Rob Bell? Ok, the answer to this one is probably "please don't hurt me," but c'mon! Child of God. Be nice.

Father's Day

2007-06-24T21:35:00.000-06:00

So, in case y'all haven't noticed, I haven't had much to say lately. It's due to the confluence of my temporary bout of consumption or lung cancer or somethin' and the daily dread I wallowed in while waiting for my grades to come back so I would know whether I was still in law school. Well, I'm only coughing up little bits o' lung now, and my grades came back much better than expected. [whew]

Actually, I've been thinkin' about Father's Day. Yes, it was last week, so I should be looking forward to something else, but this Father's Day was a particularly contemplative day for me. It occurred to me just how crappy a father I've been and how I need to do better. Case in point--shower time with Bryan. Bryan has always been squeamish about water. It was impossible to give him a bath for months because he was afraid of water getting in his eyes. Not soap. Water. We eventually worked through this, but not without many a frustrating evening of crying and gnashing of teeth--and Bryan wasn't happy either.

Anyway, Bryan has been taking showers now for a few months. He liked showers because he was now a big boy, and he liked playing with the shower head (I need to see about replacing the drywall on the ceiling). Note that I said he liked, because somewhere along the way, his fear of water inexplicably returned. He said the water was too fast, though it couldn't dribble out of the shower head any slower than it was. So he would thrash around, cry and carry on, much to my frustration. And, on Friday night, the Friday before Father's Day, my frustration took the form of yelling. I'm not much of a yeller, but I yelled... I yelled angrily at my little boy, who's just a little kid with little kid fears. And he cried. God, I felt so ashamed after that... as if I hit him. He's just a little kid.

On Sunday, Mike (Pastor Mike for those who don't know Mike) preached his Father's Day sermon. It was good. It made me think, and truthfully, it shamed me. So, when it came time to pray, I prayed to God that I could be a better father... a father that Bryan and Meagan deserve. And I vowed I would never yell at Bryan the way I yelled at him that Friday night (unless, of course, he wrecked my car).

So far I've yet to raise my voice to the kids, and things have been pretty harmonious. Today was a challenge because Bryan was pushing buttons, but I didn't yell, and I won't. Not any more, not if I can help it.

Wow!

2007-06-24T19:56:00.000-06:00

Pardon me while I indulge in an aviation geek moment (unlike the previous post, which was just a geek moment). I've managed to do something like this in Warbirds in a AGM5, but that's a video game... err, multi-mega player online combat simulator... and this is real life. Truly impressive.

Gosh!

2007-06-10T20:05:00.000-06:00

This movie speaks to me.

My Jazz iMix

2007-06-09T22:16:00.000-06:00

Not. Pardon the pointless post. Troubleshooting in progress. (Editor's note: hey, whadaya know! It works! I take back all that bad stuff I was sayin' about Apple... well, most of it.)

Congress Needs More Lawyers

2007-05-10T21:12:00.000-06:00

Yeah, you heard me. More lawyers. Congress needs 'em. Or maybe Nancy Pelosi simply needs to consult one. You see, my friends, Speaker Pelosi wants to sue President Bush over the latest Iraq bill if he issues a signing statement. Sue.

Ok, I'm but a mere second-year law student, a veritable neophyte, if you will. That said, even I know that despite the litigiousness of our society, you can't just sue the President of the United States, or anyone else for that matter, without jumping through a few hoops. First and foremost, you need to have standing to litigate. Simply put, in order to show standing you need to show that you have personally suffered some actual or threatened injury (an invasion of a legally-protected interest) as the result of the supposedly illegal conduct of the defendant. One wonders what sort of injury Nancy Pelosi might suffer if George Bush tells her to pound sand in a signing statement.

Of course, a lawyer would also tell Speaker Pelosi that federal courts are "prudentially barred" from answering political questions. Federal courts stay out of political pissing contests, so unless there has been some violation of law, the courts don't go there. Thing is, not only has no law been broken, but the US Supreme Court said in Chevron U.S.A., Inc. v. Natural Resources Defense Council, Inc., 467 U.S. 837 (1984), that it defers to the Executive's interpretation of law if Congress has not directly spoken to the precise issue in question. That means if Bush wants to add a signing statement--something presidents have done ever since Monroe--he can damn well add a signing statement.

I know this is pretty esoteric and not on anyone's radar. I just find it amazing that a lawmaker doesn't know the law.

"France is a dog-hole...

2007-05-05T22:08:00.000-06:00

...and it no more merits the tread of a man's foot."

- William Shakespeare, All's Well That Ends Well

It should come as no surprise that I'm a Francophobe, which is not to say that I fear all things French. Rather, I simply loathe French attitudes and French collectivist culture. Take your average Frenchman; he manages to work only 35 hours a week and take off the entire month of August, yet apparently can't seem to spare a moment to check on grand-mère, who has since died of heat stroke. You would think 15,000 people dying of heat stroke in a month might make a bit of a stink (pun intended). Then again, who can tell. As Frances Trollope once wrote:

I remember being much amused last year when landing at Calais, at the answer made by an old traveler to a novice who was making his first voyage. 'What a dreadful smell,' said the uninitiated stranger, enveloping his nose in his pocket hankerchief. 'It is the smell of the continent, sir,' said the man of experience. And so it was.

Ok, all French-bashing aside, I've taken a slight interest in the French presidential race. On the left, as in the blithering "useful idiot" Left known as France's Socialist Party, you have Ségolène Royal (ironic name, huh?), while on the "right" (a term to be used loosely when describing a European politician) you have Gaullist Nicolas Sarkozy. What interested me about this race was the similarity of tactics employed by Royal to those employed by those on the Left here in the states; it's as if they've been issued the same playbook. Instead of addressing, you know... hard things, like issues, Royal and her supporters have focused on demonizing Sarkozy, running on a platform with a central plank of "tout sauf Sarkozy"--anyone but Sarkozy. Sound familiar? In fact, Royal's supporters have gone so far as to describe Sarkozy as a "French George W. Bush." I find that good for a chuckle because the cheese-eating surrender monkeys are wholly incapable of producing anything or anyone that is remotely Texan in character.

Maybe a politician is a politician regardless of nationality. Maybe the Euro Lefties and the American Lefties trade notes. I dunno, but the similarities are worth noting. Another page out of the common playbook is the threat of violence if the other side wins. I seem to recall Elizabeth Edwards saying the same thing just before the 2004 election. While such threats are largely ineffectual here in the US (particularly down south, where they're always eager to pop open a can of whup-ass at the mere whiff of provocation), I can see how this might be an effective tactic in a country known for its tendency to run up the white flag... or just run. Sarkozy has a 10-point lead, so it'll be interesting to see if things go to hell. Of course, as Frank Zappa said, "there is no hell. There is only France."

"Sadly, there are no integers on this scale...

2007-05-02T10:22:00.000-06:00

...so your gangly adolescent attempt to be clever has proved futile."

Dieter's words echoed in my head as I googled Captain's [B]log, only to find my attempt at a clever title was, in fact, trite and derivative. There are countless blogs and blog-like pages using this very title. I am emotionally obliterated.

In case you're interested, here's a sample of other captains' blogs.

http://www.enterprisemission.com/weblog/weblog.htm (notice the similarity of appearance?)
http://shavlik.typepad.com/
http://www.earthrace.net/index.php?section=41
http://www.captainsblogcayman.blogspot.com/ (another dark, foreboding black & blue blog, but pretty pictures!)
http://blogs.msdn.com/kdrage/default.aspx
http://ifcblog.ifctv.com/evan/2005/12/this_film_is_no_1.html
http://captnsaj.blogspot.com/
http://whatspocksawintheloo.blogspot.com/ (hmmmm...)
http://www.captainsblog.se/?language=en
http://bugscaptainsblog.blogspot.com/
http://www.parrotbayvillage.com/captainsblog/
http://www.englishbrain.blogspot.com/ (more black & blue.)
http://firefightersworkout.blogspot.com/
http://captaincapitalism.com/blog/blog.html (stop with the black & blue already!)
http://www.stu-wilson.blogspot.com/
http://captainsblog.tumblr.com/
http://tobyvstheworld.blogspot.com/
http://captainhumphreys.blogspot.com/
http://geekswithblogs.net/skibum/Default.aspx
http://jonashoffmann.blogspot.com/
http://captainslog.bloog.pl/?ticaid=63ac3 (pretty, but me no speakski Polish.)
http://nikolez.blogspot.com/ (damn, she ripped off my brackets AND it's black & blue!)

Well, you get the idea. Actually, I opted to go black & green because it tied in nicely with my mature geekiness, meaning I've been a geek since the days of the "green screen." That, and most of my time as a captain was spent staring at little black & green screens inside a big gray airplane. So, black, gray, green... it all makes sense now, huh?

Oh, I should note I only ranked an obscure 16th in Google when I searched for my wee lil' blog. It made me think vhy is it that the truly brilliant are doomed to a life of obscurity, surrounded by a sea of mediocrity, only to end up covered in sores in a pool of their own filth? Oh vell, the beat goes on.

What the &#$% were they thinking?

2007-04-29T20:31:00.000-06:00

Ok, I'm not what you would call an "animal lover." I like dogs. Some dogs--mostly big goombah dogs like my dearly departed Arnold. And bears. I like bears, but then I kinda have bear-like characteristics and tendencies. A man-bear, if you will. Other than that, I'm pretty ambivalent about animals. That said, this struck me as sick and wrong.

Things that make you go "hmmmmm..."

2007-04-25T09:36:00.000-06:00

I recently picked up 5 People Who Died During Sex - And 100 Other Terribly Tasteless Lists by Karl Shaw (ISBN 978-0-7679-2059-9, for those who care). Lemmee tell ya, fascinating stuff. So as a public service, I thought I'd periodically share brief passages of this highly topical and relevant book.

(Editors note: I make no claim as to veracity of this information. In fact, I found one blatant error, namely under the list No Nearer My God to Thee: Quotes from Twenty Dead Atheists, it quotes Thomas Jefferson. Thomas Jefferson wasn't an atheist--he was a deist who saw Jesus as a great prophet, though questioned his divinity. Jefferson wrote in a letter to Dr. Benjamin Rush, dated April 21, 1803, "[t]o the corruptions of Christianity I am indeed opposed; but not to the genuine precepts of Jesus himself. I am a Christian in the only sense he wished any one to be; sincerely attached to his doctrines, in preference to all others; ascribing to himself every human excellence; & believing he never claimed any other.")

Speaking of religion, under the list of Ten Appalling Pontiffs is Pope Boniface VIII.

Boniface got rid of his predecessor, Pope Celestine V, by locking him up in
Fumone Castle and leaving him there to die of starvation. Boniface was
an atheist who had numerous gay lovers and was eventually tried for heresy,
rape, sodomy, and eating meat during Lent. Boniface didn't attend his
trial and escaped punishment, but went mad soon afterward and committed
suicide. Pope Clement V had Boniface's body exhumed and burned as a
heretic.

Emphasis added. Hmmmmm...

Peep

2007-04-24T09:42:00.000-06:00

Well, haven't I been just the slacker. Two weeks and not a peep from me.

I think of myself as being pretty well-informed. Well, maybe not on current pop culture, given Meg's roll of the eyes when she has to explain to me the current state of affairs on American Idol. But, you know, when it comes to news and world affairs, I can usually nod my head knowingly when someone casually mentions Boris Yeltsin's legacy or the Dow Jones Industrial Average. I attribute this knowing bobble head nod to my spending a good solid hour (or more, but don't tell my boss) every day pouring over the headlines through various portals, following the links to the wire services and media outlets. I would then spend another hour or more arguing points brought out in these articles with my fellow denizens on AGWOT. I felt the debate was essential to my understanding of events because as one poster's signature line quoted, "As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another."

But no more. I've quietly retired from the Warbirds community (aka AGW). I know this has no significance to anyone, but it does to me if for no other reason than I was a part of that community for over eleven years. I was flying online with my "squad"--friends who I had never met in person, but knew much about--when my wife told me it was time to land and head to the hospital because we were about to be parents. Births, deaths, changes in life's circumstances... these were all things we shared. Over time, the game changed and we changed, so the squad disbanded. We took our conversations--the chatting we would do in between calling out bandits or telling your wingman to "check six"--to the alt.games.warbirds board, and then to the Off Topic page when we stopped talking about how overmodelled the guns were on the FW-190D or how "jet day" ruined it for us purists.

For many of us, the good-natured verbal sparring that took place on the Off Topic page took the place of our dogfights and furballs. It was interesting to see how one's debate style stacked up with his air combat tactics. Some guys (and it was almost exclusively a males-only community, with a handful of notable exceptions) were "boom n' zoomers"; they'd circle from high above looking for unsuspecting targets, diving down to make high-speed gun passes and then climbing out to repeat. Those that were effective at this in the "air" and on the board were able to obliterate their enemies in one pass; those that weren't were inconsequential annoyances. Then there were the "turn n' burners"; those that would maneuver to their target's "six" to get off a shot, often on the edge of the envelope with the stall horn blaring, full stick and rudder deflection, drifting in and out of blacking out... man, that was fun! Those that were effective would tenaciously wear their opponents down until they were out of airspeed or logic; those that weren't were, well, inconsequential annoyances.

But, just as the game changed, so has the Off Topic page. Naturally there was a fair amount of vitriol associated with the 2000 and 2004 elections; some people take their politics way too seriously. September 11th also changed the board. Warbirds was international from the start, which I think brought immense value because despite our increasingly "global" world, we don't communicate regularly with people from other countries... or at least that's not done here in suburban St. Louis. But on that day, I learned that there were Europeans--ostensibly our friends and allies whose countries we helped to liberate with our blood and treasure in two world wars and defend during one long cold one--who were not our friends... who indulged in a bit of schadenfreude at the death of some 3000 people, who said we "had it coming" and took delight at our comeuppance at the hands of the "downtrodden and persecuted freedom fighters." Uh huh. And then there was the PATRIOT Act, Afghanistan, Iraq, global warming, blah, blah, blah. In the end, or the end for me, the board became a home for those were against everything and for nothing. Probably the only thing most seemed to agree on, save a rational few, was that Booosh was the dephil!!1!!1111!1eleventy-one!!1 [sigh] Whatever.

So, what does that have to do with being well-informed? Well, I think we're falling victim to media with an agenda, or so many on AGWOT have. We're not examining the "news" with a critical eye, and we don't hold the purveyors of "news" accountable for what amounts to journalistic malpractice. Note that I'm quoting the term "news"; the word means a report of recent events. In the past, this meant a fact-based recitation of the five Ws with a H thrown in for good measure. Now it means the inclusion of "thought-provoking commentary" (aka bias), the outright fabrication of stories, documents and sources (Dan Rather interviews then Lt. Bush's flight commander, Captain Jamil Hussein) and the "enhancement" of photos (I guess someone didn't get that Photoshop Bible he asked for for Laylat al-Qadr). Apparently, "news" is now synonymous with infotainment and propaganda. Frankly, I've had enough of it, and enough of those who have slurped the Kool-aid, gone back for seconds and have the pink mustache to prove it.

The question that I've been wondering about, though, is whether one can be well-informed without having to wade through the muck that is modern journalism? For example, I've intentionally not read a single "news" account of the Virginia Tech incident, knowing full well that the press would sink to crass sensationalism as each outlet tried to outdo the other in telling the tale. Yet I know a South Korean student by the name of Cho killed thirty plus students and faculty and made some whack video "manifesto"--all this from headlines. Do I need to know any more than that? The one article I did read had this bit of timely wisdom (for me):

Actually I thought of Thoreau. He said he didn't have to read newspapers because if you're familiar with a principle you don't have to be familiar with its numerous applications. If you know lightning hits trees, you don't have to know every time a tree is struck by lightning.

Whew! Sorry for the rambling, but there's nothing like a good diatribe.

A Must-Know

2007-04-10T11:46:00.000-06:00

I offer this INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT INFORMATION as a public service.

P.S. For the curious among us, Scott looks like Tom Merritt.

Uhmm...

2007-04-08T20:07:00.000-06:00

...is it a bad thing that I have a "crush" on a character in a comic strip?

No, not the guy--Sam, the *hawt* redhead. Another favorite, just for my bud Rob, if he's reading:

Of course, no comic strip character could hold a candle to my lovely wife (love ya, honey!), but it's clear Chris Muir has an appreciation for the female form and a gift of being able to render it. And he's funny. And conservative. And I want to be just like him when I grow up.

For a witty read on his time in Iraq, check out his embed report. You can also check out the rest of the Day by Day strips by clicking on the panel that appears at the bottom of this finely crafted blog. Ok, commercial's over--we now return to a regularly scheduled programming.

Slacker

2007-04-06T10:53:00.000-06:00

slack·er /ˈslækər/ - [slak-er]
–noun

a person who evades his or her duty or work; shirker.
a person who evades military service.
an esp. educated young person who is antimaterialistic, purposeless, apathetic, and usually works in a dead-end job.
Me, when it comes to yard work, various household chores, and maintaining a blog.

While #3 has a certain familiarity with respect to my life (except the "young" and "antimaterialistic" parts), I had to add #4 for no other reason than I'm becoming vaguely aware of my neighbors' disdain for my lawn maintenance skills. I can tell because in the mumbling mutterings of my neighbors, the word slacker rings out loud and clear (and no, I'm not imagining this). It's not that I'm incompetent in the use of a lawnmower or a weedeater. I actually pride myself in my ability to push a lawnmower in a relatively straight line, and I've got "skillz" when it comes to edging. But in modern suburbia, where a man is measured by the greenness of his lawn, I suffer the daily humiliation of knowing the little old lady across the street has a green, weedless lawn--and I don't.

Of course in polite suburban society, people don't openly criticize a man's inability to grow grass. It's just not done. But behind the words of neighborly encouragement that "it'll green up after it rains" lies the unspoken sentiment "it better... or else." I'm not really too worried about the "or else" part because I'm bigger than they are, and worse comes to worst, I can swing Bryan around like a 35-pound mace (he likes that sorta thing). Still, I want to be a good neighbor, and being a good neighbor means being in tune with the neighborhood ethos. Around here that means eager participation in a weekly regimen of aeration, liming, fertilizing, mowing, raking, bagging, edging, pruning, clipping, and ritual sacrifice to the god known as Scotts, who makes all things heavenly green with his gift of Turf Builder®. Problem is, I'm just too damn lazy. Too apathetic. Too much a slacker.

Oh, and I'd like to take this opportunity to give a shout out to my second reader, Scott (no, not the god). Scott has been my partner in crime and academic underachievement since the third grade. A better friend no man can find. Hi Scott!

According to Paul...

2007-03-22T10:02:00.000-06:00

...in 1 Corinthians 13, love is patient, kind, not jealous, and so on--this coming from the biblical purveyor of practical advice. The list, when read in its entirety, appears fairly comprehensive, but I think Paul intentionally glossed over his lack of experience in certain matters by nebulously hinting that love "endures all things." This is not to say the sentiment is untrue; on the contrary, love does endure all things. But, if Paul had been a parent, I'm sure he would have been more specific. For example, he might have said "love endures full-force projectile vomiting of curdled soy milk."

Yes friends, love does endure such unpleasantries when we speak of parental love, even if it brings about our own demise, because absent a toilet or bucket (Editor's note: you'll just have to imagine that eloquent phrase "better get a bucket. I'm going to throw up, " from Monty Python's Meaning of Life. Linky no worky. But, as I was saying...) ...no loving parent can hold an ill child at arm's length as if their little one was a leaking bag of garbage. No, the parental imperative to comfort requires that we hold them close and tell them it'll be ok, even if it means being coated from head to toe in partially-digested chicken nuggets.

According to our pediatrician, Bry's latest affliction has a viral "gotcha." Unlike most stomach bugs, which seem to pass in a mere 24 hours, this one pops up unexpectedly a day or two later just so you don't get cocky thinking you've beat it. Of course, I'm sharing in this experience, but my gastric training, honed by flying backwards in a windowless cockpit, has allowed me to control my vomitus urges. Fun.

Rock Star

2007-03-20T09:17:00.001-06:00

My son is a rock star. No, not a Superstar (Editor's note: think Molly Shannon. The copyright nazis struck)... a rock star.

Dropping him off at preschool is like The Beatles at Heathrow. Ok, I expect a certain adoration on the part of the teachers; he is, after all, a damn cute kid. But, what defies explanation is his classmates' compulsion to swarm the little guy the moment he sets foot in the room. Every day we pause as we get to the classroom door. He peers through the window, gauging the crowd's temperament. "You ready?" I ask. "Let's do it" he responds, as if he's about to step out of a limo into a horde of paparazzi and screaming fans. The door swings open, and with it comes the cry "Bryaaaaaaaaan!!!" On cue, ten 3 year-old boys stop what they're doing, their heads popping up like little prairie dogs out of their burrows, followed by a mad dash to lay hands on King Julian (damn, they struck again!) of Room 502. At what age does the concept of the "personal bubble" take shape?

You sold us out, Bob...

2007-03-13T23:13:00.000-06:00

...for a Winnebago and a mail order bride!

Internet Luddite

2007-03-12T21:28:00.000-06:00

It occurred to me as I futzed around with putting this blog together that I'm something of a "Luddite" when it comes to the whole internet thing. This is more than a little ironic to those who know me, given my enthusiastic embrace of all things tech. Yet as I browsed my IE favorites to find some links of interest to post here, it became readily apparent that I just don't do a helluva lot online. For example, I've never been on eBay. Ever. Of course I know what eBay is, but I must say I was momentarily tempted to take John Scherer of Video Professor up on his offer to try [his] product™ just so I could get his free CD on eBay. I mean, who wouldn't? You just put the CD in your computer and it plays just like a VCR! Now you're talkin'. But alas, he couldn't promise to make me a millionaire by selling baseball cards on eBay, so no deal.

Not only have I never been on eBay, I've never been on MySpace, though something tells me I'm not missing anything. Nor have I ever made a phone call using Skype, which despite my telecom background, seems like internet voodoo to me. Second Life is what I hope to experience after racking up high score on this life's quarter. And, truth be told, I'm not sure I can conceptualize "surfing" the net. Do people really ride a random wave from site to site? I don't get it.

My wife has asked the question "what the hell do you do on the damned computer?" more than once. Evidently not much, which doesn't seem to accurately account for the 8 to12 hours I might spend online in a given day. Ok, there's work, but that doesn't count. I mean after I log on in the morning and delete the 200 or so email messages that flooded my inbox overnight, I just sorta space out for an hour. Yeah, I just stare at my desk, but it looks like I'm working. I do that for probably another hour after lunch too; I'd say in a given week I probably only do about fifteen minutes of real, actual, work. By the way, I think it's no small coincidence that Ron Livingston, aka Peter Gibbons, is now my company's spokesperson... well, that's the word on the street. (Editor's note: [sniff] ah, yes, the unforgettable stench of the copyright nazis, said the aspiring intellectual property lawyer. Link broken forever.)

So if it's not work, then what? Well, I'd like to think of myself as well-informed, but am deeply suspicious of the MSM, so I get my infotainment fix from the Drudge Report. I know, I know... Drudge has his days when his site reads like the front page of the National Enquirer, but I like the diversity in content. If I'm feeling political, I wander to National Review Online; Jonah Goldberg is the George Will for my generation. I might even take a gander at a Bill O'Reilly clip over on Fox. But the single greatest waste of my time is a cesspool of a UBB known as alt.games.warbirds. [old man voice] Back in the day, I used to bring hell to those damn Naaatzeees [/old man voice] virtually, of course, in a MMO air combat sim known as WarBirds. But like most Americans, I have a short attention span when it comes to stuff like war, so now I merely engage in verbal dogfights, trading insults and the occasional word of practical advice with my virtual friends and enemies alike. While by no means the most prolific, I've logged 4591 verbal "sorties" since July 1999. Some of these were short "out n' backs," a word or two or maybe a smilie. Most, however, were fairly lengthy (no surprise given what you've read here), involving some sort of planning, gathering of intel and whatnot. Estimating an average of 30 minutes per post, I've logged just under 2300 hours--95 days--indulging in my favorite pastime of being an opinionated jerk. Maybe I should reconnect with my inner Amish and get back to life's basics.

Captain's log, star date...

2007-03-10T22:14:00.000-06:00

...ok, I promise to never use that Star Trek reference again, though it seems fitting, doesn't it? Actually, the inspiration for this blog's title was my former life, a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...

I must admit that there are days in which I miss being Captain Y--. So much of our identity is wrapped up in what we do, and what I do now leaves much to be desired. Alright, I really don't have any reason to complain. After all, I do have a job in which I'm well-paid and enjoy the perks of telecommuting and extraordinarily generous flex time, which is saying something. But, there is that little matter of my company dumping 10% of its workforce again. This frustrates me because it's apparent such drawdowns are done to appease shareholders. Pardon me as this investor indulges in a bit of hypocrisy, but I think the recent market crash bears out the point that while a person is smart, [shareholders] are dumb, panicky, dangerous animals, and you know it. Stop me before I quote any more SciFi movies.

Welcome!

2007-03-09T20:30:00.000-06:00

My friend Kelley encouraged me to start a blog, probably because I was spamming her blog with my incessant comments; the topic was breakfast cereal, and who doesn't have strong opinions on breakfast cereal?

Anyway, I was reluctant to "blog" because, well, I consider myself to be a fairly private person and because I don't think I have all that much to say. Of course, I've already told you my life story in 88 words; so much for privacy. As for having something to say, while some blogs have a central theme or a point to make, this one doesn't. Maybe it will someday, but for now this is just a place for me to comment on things that strike my fancy and perhaps encourage conversation on those topics among the very few friends who may know about this, my dirty little secret. Of course if you're a complete stranger, you're welcome as well. Feel free to peruse and comment.