On the one hand, it’s a job.

I’ve got a line on a potential job, but it’s one of those that demands some serious consideration. The job involves travel, which I’m not opposed to, but it could mean that I’m gone from one to three months at a time.

If Kitten and Cub were a little older, that wouldn’t be much of a problem, but they’re at that age where every day brings new discoveries and new successes – especially with Cub, who’s hit some super-accelerated acquisition phase, and is astounding us with his expanded vocabulary and new skills. Three months, and I wouldn’t even recognize him. Not to mention the fact that Mrs. Cat would be on her own with the litter for three months. As it stands now, we’ve got a good schedule worked out where we both get almost enough sleep, the kids get fed and bathed semi-regularly, and they aren’t left alone to run wild throughout the palatial Cat estate.

Another major drawback is that it seems I would be asked to travel to third-world countries. Now, I’m not one of these people that has to fly first-class and stay at a five-star hotel on every trip, but I would like the reassurance that I would get clean water out of the tap, have a reliable power grid, and not be caught up in some local civil war.

And then there’s the work itself. I would be expected to travel to these places and write about the company’s ongoing efforts all over the world. Their focus?

Leprosy.

Excuse me? You’d better have one hell of an insurance plan. And I don’t expect to have to pay any deductibles, either.

So as it stands now, I’m probably going to have to pass this one off to some other writer. Maybe one without a family, and who’s less aware of their own mortality.

However, if the company wants to pony up the outrageous salary I’d ask for this job…

Roundup

Bootlegging 2.0

On March 1st, Arkansas will institute a $0.56/pack tax on cigarettes. On April 1st, the new federal tax goes into effect, raising the price another $0.62/pack. The Arkansas Attorney General’s Office has stated that any Arkansas resident that drives across the Missouri border to purchase cigarettes is legally restricted from possessing any more than 1 carton and 1 pack (11 packs total) without an Arkansas tax stamp. If the value of the un-stamped tobacco in their possession is greater than $100, it’s a Class C felony, punishable by up to 3-10 years in prison.

The federal government punishes tobacco bootlegging of more than 300 cartons (3000 packs total) with a 5-year sentence.

These hicks are nucking futs.

***

One lump or two?

Speaking of taxation, groups in many states are recreating the Boston Tea Party on a local level to protest all both new taxes and hikes on existing taxes. Unfortunately, a group in Cedar Rapids doesn’t seem to have a clear idea about how to protest, as they asked a senior Environmental Office specialist for permission first. Turns out that tea is considered a pollutant, and discoloration is considered a violation. The Tea Party will instead water from buckets labeled “Tea” into the river. And not just any tap water, either – the group was told they’d have to let it sit out for a while first so the chlorine will evaporate, as chlorine is considered a pollutant.

“We don’t want to hurt the river,” said the group’s founder, Wussy McWuswus.

Uh…when you ask the entity you’re protesting for permission to protest, then meekly follow their guidelines on how to do it, you’re not really effecting any sort of change, you gutless cowards.

***

If I say White-Out, is that racist?

Speaking of “Change,” I guess the President “Change”d his mind on not allowing any sort of pork-barrel earmarks into the stimulus bill, as there are 9,427 of them – one of which, a $7.7 million earmark for Tribally-Controlled Postsecondary Vocational Institutions, lists Obama as a co-sponsor. But not to worry. Rob Blumenthal of the Senate Appropriations Committee assures us that in the next draft of the bill, they will remove Obama’s name from the list of sponsors.

I am fucking gobsmacked over the chutzpah of that announcement.

***

PORN!!!

According to a report from NewScientist, so-called “Red States” consume more online porn than so-called “Blue Staes.” I don’t know if that’s weighted according to population density, or if paging through a 20-page X-rated slide show counts as one visit or twenty, but there’s a simple explanation:

They’re all doing research like the guy from yesterday’s entry.

Actually, there’s a lot that’s lacking in this study in terms of correlation/causation. I think they ran it on their site because people in all states click on links with the word “Porn” in them.

***

Get over it. And get over it.

Two things I read about this week. One, a teen-aged girl in the UK described her job as “boring” on Facebook, and was surprised to find out that her bosses knew how to use the internet. She is completely clueless as to why she was fired after posting comments such as:

'first day at work. omg!! So dull!!''all i do is shred holepunch n scan paper!!! omg!''im so totally bord!!!'

Personally, I would have fired her for not knowing how to spell “bored.”

The other incident was reported on the Huffington Post by Lane Hudson, a man who presumably took so much crap growing up over being named “Lane” that he has to spread his utter lack of humor to as many people as possible.

On a United Airlines flight, the pilot made this statement:

“Ladies and Gentlemen, if you are on the left side of the plane, you will see a spectacular view of New York City and US Airways' new runway, the Hudson River.”

Was the comment on poor taste? Debatable. My first reaction was that of one professional good-naturedly ribbing a fellow professional in light of the heroic efforts he made to protect his passengers and crew. It was not a disaster, so we can be a little light-hearted about it.

Apparently, Lame…I mean, Lane…can’t, and he’s asking for people to help him track down this pilot so he can get him fired.

Someone’s still a virgin.

G4TV Uses Games to Lurer Young Boys Into Sin
http://christwire.org/2009/02/g4tv-uses-games-to-lurer-young-boys-into-sin/

“I’m in utter disgust this morning as I research this website G4TV. It is a classic case of “devil in sheeps clothing.” I could get into all the different way this filth is against God, but I want to focus on one show and mainly one person….Olivia Munn on Attack of the Show.

This female acts like she is into gaming, cartoons and nerds. What she is doing is, using this wool to lure young men into watching her and then she starts using her devil powers to expose them to breasts, uncovers legs, mouth sex acts, sexual suggestions and other unholy things.

Even her website is full of scum and sin. She posts photos of her half naked and posts videos partaking in simulated sexual acts. On her “blog” she tries to act like she is an every women, who loves regular men. We all know she is using this on youth to gain ratings and to drive traffic to her website, when in reality she is doing drugs with her high dollar pimps.”


I love the fact that this guy was “researching” the website. I’ve always wondered how these Evangelicals become aware of all the pornography and filth in mainstream pop culture. Hmmm…it’s a channel devoted to the interests of young men, you say? Gaming, cartoons, technology. Think girls might be another interest? Think the directors of programming know that? Think that may be why she was hired?

Let’s ignore the multitude of spelling, grammatical, and other orthographic errors in this foam-flecked screed, and focus on the important point:

Women have devil powers.

Well duh! Why do you think the human race has lasted this long?

Now I’ve got this song stuck in my head:

I don't know much about art, but I know I'd like to kick your teeth down your throat.

“As we create the future of public art, we should also look to its past. The time is ripe to reconsider the most prominent piece of public art in Raleigh: the Confederate monument that guards the State Capitol.

Since it was erected in 1895, the 75-foot-high statue has been the city's signature symbol. Like the best works of public art, it long reflected the values and attitudes of the community -- of most white citizens, that is, who ruled the city through laws that disenfranchised African-Americans.

In 2009, this monument honoring the Lost Cause no longer reflects the feelings of North Carolinians. If we held a statewide referendum, I believe a majority of residents would vote to remove it from its singular place of privilege.”

Here we go again; some fucking Yankee wants to tell us “poor Southerners” how we’re doing wrong. This is happening more and more in my state. These carpetbaggers come down here and immediately start trying to reshape the communities into carbon copies of the ones they left above the Mason-Dixon line.

So this fucker’s complaint is about the War Memorial in Raleigh. It’s a monument to those that lost their lives fighting in the Civil War. And because this asshole thinks the war was all about slavery, he thinks it should be torn down. I don’t see these meddling fucks campaigning to turn the battlefields into wind farms or free-range chicken ranches, so why the hell is a collective tombstone fair game?

“It’s a monument to hate,” they always say. Fuck you. Those boys gave their lives fighting for a cause they believed in. It’s the same as with all the other War Memorials in this country. You pansy Liberals are always bitching about Viet Nam, but no one’s been stupid enough (yet) to suggest the Wall be backfilled in. Hey…how about we take a few depth charges back to Pearl Harbor and re-sink the Arizona? After all, we proved we were war-mongers when we nuked the Japanese twice. While we’re at it, someone’s gonna have to get a lot of chisels together and take down Mount Rushmore and Stone Mountain (in Georgia), since the artist was a lifetime KKK member.

Oh…and we’re also going to have to remove a particular memorial in Washington, D.C., because it gives tribute to a man who said: “I am not, nor ever have been, in favor of bringing about in any way the social and political equality of the white and black races - I am not, nor ever have been, in favor of making voters or jurors of Negroes, nor of qualifying them to hold office.”

Don’t recognize that quote? Here’s another. He also said: “Fourscore and seven years ago…”

Blah

Blah, I say.

And again I say blah.

The quickest way to your heart is through your rib cage.

Being a homeschooling family, we get all kinds of catalogs and e-mails for books, supplies, field trip packages, and support resources. Most of these are run-of-the-mill, though there are some cool items like robotic kits and off-hour zoo visits.

Then there are the really bizarre items.

For the low, low cost of $20 per student (eight student minimum), homeschooling families can engage the services of a mobile dissection lab. You fill out the form, deciding what experiments you want for the kids - dissecting various animal eyeballs, for example, or opening up a pig or cat (Hey!) – and the company trucks out all of the necessary equipment.

Being in a part of the South where people sell meat out of a freezer on their truck, I pictured:

A rusting old Ford pickup pulls up in the yard. It’s been lifted, and the new radials crush an azalea bush that was too small to be seen over the hood. The force of the dual pipes knocks a garden gnome off the rock where it was mooning passers-by, and the noise of the big diesel engine scatters a flock of crows from the power lines overhead. Mud is splattered down the sides of the truck, with heavier concentrations at each wheel-well. The dirt and spots of primer stand in sharp contrast to the bright chrome of the roll-bar, which sports a number of very large spotlights. A couple of rifles are visible in the window-mounted rack behind the seats, and the “N.R.A.” and “#3” stickers catch the early-morning light. A scruffy guy in a camouflage jumpsuit gets out and adjusts his John Deere ball cap. He spits a stream of tobacco juice into the grass, then ambles to the back of the truck. He pulls a folding table out of the bed and sets it up. A few hunting knives are tossed onto the table as the families start to gather around. The driver goes back to the truck. Dropping the tailgate, he asks one of the dads to give him a hand in carrying a deer over to the table.

“I know y’all was expectin’ a pig, but they done fixed th’ fence out by th’ mill pond. Lucky I bagged this baby las’ night.”

He steps to the passenger side of the cab, and retrieves a promotional nylon gym bag blazoned with the name of a local brick manufacturer. The zipper is stuck together with some unidentifiable industrial compound, but the cheap nylon has pulled away from the seam on one side, so the bag is still serviceable. He pulls out a worn spiral notebook with AC/DC on the cover, and his lips move as he flips through the pages, scanning for the lesson plan. A few pages fall out, their tattered edges fluttering. The dew on the grass spots the paper, washing out the penciled notes. While he tries to decipher his own handwriting, the families eye the carcass nervously.

***

Needless to say, we will not be using this particular service. I see no reason for students to dissect anything or anyone unless and until they are in medical school; that’s what illustrations are for. I dissected a worm and a frog in high school, and all I learned was that it’s really hard to wash the smell of formaldehyde off your hands.

Also, it’s not as fun when the nose doesn’t light up with a BUZZZZ!

Panama!

I saw today where Demetri Martin was getting some press for having written a 224-word palindromic poem. I was expecting to be impressed, but alas.

I’ll grant some minor props, because it’s not easy to arrange palindromes, but it’s more a collection of random words than any sort of meaningful piece. Lines like “Ah, say burning is, as a deified gulp,” are just there to satisfy the required letter arrangements, though I’ve met “poets” that will insist their word-salad carries a deeper meaning beyond the plebian grasp of the reader. My reply to that is that if that’s the case, they’ve completely failed as a writer.

Here’s the poem:

Dammit I’m mad.
Evil is a deed as I live.
God, am I reviled? I rise, my bed on a sun, I melt.
To be not one man emanating is sad. I piss.
Alas, it is so late. Who stops to help?
Man, it is hot. I’m in it. I tell.
I am not a devil. I level “Mad Dog”.
Ah, say burning is, as a deified gulp,
In my halo of a mired rum tin.
I erase many men. Oh, to be man, a sin.
Is evil in a clam? In a trap?
No. It is open. On it I was stuck.
Rats peed on hope. Elsewhere dips a web.
Be still if I fill its ebb.
Ew, a spider… eh?
We sleep. Oh no!
Deep, stark cuts saw it in one position.
Part animal, can I live? Sin is a name.
Both, one… my names are in it.
Murder? I’m a fool.
A hymn I plug, deified as a sign in ruby ash,
A Goddam level I lived at.
On mail let it in. I’m it.
Oh, sit in ample hot spots. Oh wet!
A loss it is alas (sip). I’d assign it a name.
Name not one bottle minus an ode by me:
“Sir, I deliver. I’m a dog”
Evil is a deed as I live.
Dammit I’m mad.


While no more sensible, at least this one rhymes:

The Inside Story

The Tulsa International Airport has installed the latest generation of scanners. The glass cases use electromagnetic waves to generate a full-body scan, which reveals everything beneath the passengers’ clothing, not just metallic objects.

The major concern from people is that the machines produce full images, which of course includes their “private parts.” As a half-salute to privacy, the scanners blur out faces.

This doesn’t really bother me. What bothers me is this quote from one of the TSA screeners:

"I don't look at them as people. I look at them as a thing that could have something on it."

That explains a lot about the way we get treated when we’re in the cattle lines at the airports. I’ve traveled enough that I know how to minimize the hassle, but even when I go out of my way to acknowledge the folks on the other side of the machines as human beings, there’s a distinct lack of reciprocity.

I remember the first time I was asked to remove my shoes at an airport. It was in Birmingham, Alabama, and my first instinct was to say “Now…I know you’re from Alabama, and aren’t familiar with these things, but they’re called shoes, and we use them to protect our feet.”

Glad I managed to rein that in, or I’d be on a “No-fly” list for sure.

I’m waiting for the first scans to show up online. It's inevitable.

I wonder if TSA-TnA.com is available.

Monkeyshines

So Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson have found employment for the next few months, protesting the New York Post’s recent editorial cartoon. As near as I can tell, there was a local story about a rabid monkey that had had to be shot at a zoo. The cartoonist depicted the animal control officers standing over the hole-y corpse and saying “Looks like they’ll have to find someone else to write the next stimulus bill.”

Of course, the professionally offended are all up in arms about the implication that Obama is a monkey, because they don’t know:

a. The President didn’t write the bill; Congress did.
b. There is an old theory about monkeys at typewriters turning out the works of Shakespeare.
c. It’s not uncommon to refer to a colossal cock-up as having been engineered by monkeys.

I found this quote at DemocraticUnderground:

“The cartoonist should be fired! The office of the president deserves our respect.”

Coming from a group that referred to Bush as “Chimpy” for eight years, that’s fucking rich.

***

Quite possibly the best line on television this week:

Man hands gun to girl: “You know how to use one of these?”
Girl takes gun: “Four brothers.”
Girl cocks gun with attitude: “None of them Democrats.”

Dollhouse

***

I saw where Obama wants to nationalize the banks. Since it was Congress that mandated the lending rules that started this big ol’ ball rolling in the first place, why would we do that?

***

A local job fair charged applicants $20 per person to attend. Talk about a recession-proof business.

Autonomous Collectives

The whole Gay Marriage thing has erupted in our county, and I’ve enjoyed reading the stories and comment threads at the local newspaper sites. One thing that struck me in reading these stories is the awkwardness in sentences like “a group of local gays as well as an out-of-town group of lesbians met to voice their opposition to the bill, whereas a group of religious leaders and various members of the religious community turned out in support.”

Tortuous (and torturous) phrasing like that could be obviated by some choice collective nouns. Surprisingly, there aren’t any; so I made my own.

“A local lisp of gays partnered with a flannel of lesbians to oppose the bill, which has the support of a thump of Evangelicals and a pulpit of religious leaders.”

And because I am not totally without mirrors here:

“Proceedings were documented by a bias of bigots using a cliché of stereotypes.”

It was fêted to be

Twenty years together, five cities, two kids – and I’d still rather wake up beside you than anyone else.

Happy Birthday, Mrs. Cat!

It's Like 10,000 Spoons

“You may not have heard much about it, but there's a quiet movement afoot to reassert state sovereignty in America and stop the uncontrolled expansion of federal government power. Almost half of the state legislatures are considering or have representatives preparing to introduce resolutions which reassert the principles of the 9th and 10th Amendments to the Constitution and the idea that federal power is strictly limited to specific areas detailed in the Constitution and that all other governmental authority rests with the states.” (http://blogcritics.org/archives/2009/02/05/1833542.php)

This article goes on to explain that the states are concerned about unfunded mandates (i.e. No Child Left Behind), where the Feds demand the states meet certain goals, but don’t provide enough funding for them to be met, leading to shortfalls which the states must make up out of their own budgets.

And though the article also says “Contrary to the fantasies of some extremists, these sovereignty bills are not the first step towards secession or splitting up the union…”, I can’t help but notice the similarities between South Carolina’s latest resolution:

A CONCURRENT RESOLUTION

TO AFFIRM SOUTH CAROLINA'S SOVEREIGNTY UNDER THE TENTH AMENDMENT TO THE UNITED STATES CONSTITUTION OVER ALL POWERS NOT ENUMERATED AND GRANTED TO THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT BY THE UNITED STATES CONSTITUTION…

Be it further resolved that all governmental agencies, quasi-governmental agencies, and their agents and employees operating within the geographic boundaries of the State of South Carolina, or all governmental agencies and their agents and employees, whose actions have effect on the inhabitants or lands or waters of the State of South Carolina, shall operate within the confines of the original intent of the Constitution of the United States or be subject to penalty of law as provided for now or in the future, within the Constitution of South Carolina, the South Carolina statutes, or the common law as guaranteed by the Constitution of the United States.

…and their earlier one:

The people of the State of South Carolina, in convention assembled, on the 26th day of April, A.D., 1852, declared that the frequent violations of the constitution of the United States by the federal government, and its encroachments upon the reserved rights of the states, fully justified this state in then withdrawing from the Federal Union.



Wouldn’t it be really ironic if Obama had to preside over a second Civil War?

Legume: It May Concern

Northwest Airlines has added peanuts back to its in-flight snack menu, and boy are some people pissed. The web site of the Star Tribune (in Minneapolis, where Northwest is based) was inundated with complaints from the public.

One man stated “This is a very disappointing development. My wife’s allergy is so severe that if someone is sitting next to her and eating peanuts, the odor is enough to trigger an allergic reaction."

I’m thinking if your wife is that susceptible, what the hell is she doing out in public?

“What’s wrong with pretzels?” asked another. Nothing at all…unless you’re allergic to wheat.

We’ve all heard horror stories about severely allergic people accidentally ingesting some peanut product and dying. Schools across the country scrambled to remove peanut products from their lunchrooms, airlines endure the bitching and demands for special accommodation, and lobbyists try to cadge money for research.

Know how many people died of food allergies in the US in 2005, according to the CDC?

Eleven.

That’s eleven total; from all food allergies.

Peanut allergies seem to account for approximately 54% of all food allergy-related deaths, so that’s what…six people a year, or thereabouts? And, as it turns out, many of those deaths happened because the person did not have their epi pens with them, so that’s their own fault. So we’re left with maybe two or three people dying each year from a peanut allergy. To hear the stories, though, you’d think these folks were bursting into flames if they even came into contact with Styrofoam peanuts.

Of course, there’s always that one fucking idiot that piously informs you that if even one person dies, it’s too many. If we banned every thing that ever killed at least one person, we wouldn’t have anything left. People are remarkably inventive/stupid when it comes to finding ways to off themselves. More people die from falling out of bed (about 450) every year than from food allergies, but no one is lobbying for the elimination of beds. (At least...I hope not. I'm not giving up my California King.)

I hate it for them, but people that are allergic to peanuts are in the extreme minority. You don’t hear folks with dairy allergies (the #1 food allergy) kvetching about the creamer the stewardesses are tossing around the cabin, do you? Should the rest of the flying public have their P-NUT PAKs taken away because 0.0000006% of the U.S. population might be on the same flight, and might accidentally hoover up some peanut dust?

Don’t be a goober.

Private Dic-tion

I read a lot of old pulp fiction from the 30s and 40s, because I groove on that noir beat. One of the things that I enjoy about it, apart from the snappy patter and flawed heroes, is the difference in how certain words were used then as compared to now. For example, the word “okay” used to be spelled “okey”. Now, “okay” has a murky etymology, but I think it’s evident that the authors were using a shortened version of “okey-dokey”, which kind of kills that tough-guy vibe.

Another interesting usage (to language nerds, anyway) is the fact that editors struck out not only the heavier curse words, but any use of “God” as an oath. Here are stories all about greed, murder, and misogyny, and the readers had to be protected from the hero saying “I’ll kill him, by God!”.

Speaking of cursing, I’ve noticed that in many stories, the term “damn” has an apostrophe at the end. This reflects the fact that people were starting to use the root word as an adjective, but the writer wanted to make it clear the word should be “damned”. It’s a nice balance between accurately capturing the dialect and being precise as a writer.

I was kind of surprised that a lot of these authors use “till” to mean “until”. It’s one of my pet peeves, so it jumped out at me. I would have imagined that an author conscientious enough to put an apostrophe at the end of “damn’” would use “‘til” to denote the missing letters, rather than a word that means a cash drawer or turning soil over.

I’m glad Black Lizard has carved out a niche in making sure these stories stay around. Though many of them were adapted into movies around the same time period, it’s nice to be able to read the originals. I am kind of surprised that with all of the remakes Hollywood is cranking out, none of these great stories have been updated. I could probably tolerate a new version of The Thin Man if the right people were involved. And by “the right people,” I mean “not Will Smith or JJ Abrams.”

As long as they leave the Bogart stuff alone.

And Antiquated Notions

“Science has tried to assume a monopoly – or, rather, a tyranny – over our understanding of the world around us…We are only now beginning to understand the disastrous results of this outlook.”
-Prince Charles

“Screw that!” -Archimedes
“How self-centered.” -Copernicus
“He's obviously been hit on the head.” –Isaac Newton
“I’d like to beat him bloody.” -Hippocrates
“Does anyone understand this guy?” -Einstein
“I’m not certain he knows what he’s talking about.” -Heisenberg
“What is going on inside his head?” -Marie Curie
“I wash my hands of it.” -Louis Pasteur
“Did I hear him correctly?” -Marconi
“He’s not the brightest bulb in the lamp, is he?” -Thomas Edison
“England is so fucked.” -Sophistacat

For those of you playing along at home…

Number of deaths in peanut salmonella case: 9
Number of deaths in Michael Phelps pot case: 0

Number of arrests in peanut salmonella case: 0
Number of arrests in Michael Phelps pot case: 8

I’m glad we’ve got our priorities straight.

For further consideration:

Number of Olympic Gold Medals salmonella-infected corpses have won: 0
Number of Olympic Gold Medals Michael Phelps has won: 14

Yet this is the media portrayal:

versus

Neo-Luddites have the answer. Or not.

The problem's plain to see,

Too much technology,

Machines to save our lives,

Machines de-humanize

-Styx; “Mr. Roboto”

I found this letter to the editor this morning, and have been giggling over it all day. Part of me hopes it’s satire, and part of me hopes it isn’t. I’ll let you read the whole thing first, because it all hangs together as a beautiful work of absurdity.

Curse of automation

Question: How do we get out of the recession?

When we went to work in the 1980s and '90s, we had to use our hands, backs, eyes, minds and feet to get a job done. Now, I consider that the 25 percent of the working population who used their minds have put 75 percent of the working population out of a job. How is that, you ask?

Remember the song about John Henry? He drove spikes into railroad ties to hold the track to the ties. But he was only one of many who were replaced by a machine that could do more for a lot less. This was called automation. Every time a machine is developed to do the job of more workers, this takes the food away from another family.

It was great when they developed the computer. Now look how many jobs it has taken away.

I am sure that there are a lot of jobs out there that could be done by one or two men for minimum wages. And if the nation would get together, we might get out of the mess made by all the rich people who have all the automated machinery.



Let’s parse this out, shall we?

Curse of automation

DAMN YOU, HENRY FORD!

Question: How do we get out of the recession?

Ironically, he never answers this question.

When we went to work in the 1980s and '90s, we had to use our hands, backs, eyes, minds and feet to get a job done.

Yep *adjusts suspenders* I ‘member back in the Golden days of the eight-oughts *spits ‘baccy* Nothin’ but hard toilin’ all day an’ all night *fiddles with hearing aid*It was us against th’ land, an’ we had t’ take what we wanted with both hands! Nobody gave us nothin’! *sneers* You kids today with yer fancy…machinery.

Now, I consider that the 25 percent of the working population who used their minds have put 75 percent of the working population out of a job. How is that, you ask?

No. What I ask is: With the Bureau of Labor Statistics reporting an unemployment rate of less than 8% nationally, where the fuck are you getting 75%?

Remember the song about John Henry? He drove spikes into railroad ties to hold the track to the ties. But he was only one of many who were replaced by a machine that could do more for a lot less.

I’m guessing that the author is a Union member, as John Henry is one of their favorite bedtime stories, reflecting on the soulless company that only wants to become more efficient instead of spending all of its money caring for its workers. I’m sure glad Unions have moved with the times, or else our auto manufacturers might get into trouble.

This was called automation.

Or “progress.” Take your pick.

Every time a machine is developed to do the job of more workers, this takes the food away from another family.

But not the families of:

· the engineers who designed the machine
· the people who provided the parts for it
· the assemblers who built it
· the software technicians who programmed it
· the transport people who delivered it
· the packaging people who protected it during transport
· the maintenance people who service it

It was great when they developed the computer. Now look how many jobs it has taken away.

Which computer? The ENIAC from 1946? Babbage’s Difference Engine from 1822? The abacus from 2300 BC?

I’m not sure if this guy is confusing computers with machinery, or if they’re equal in his mind. In any case, Google and Microsoft alone employ around 100,000 people directly, not to mention the thousands of independent contractors that work with them, and the millions of people that make their living in some sort of computer-related field. E-bay, WIRED magazine, Dell, YouTube, etc.

I don’t know of any workers directly replaced by a computer. The computer is a tool. That’s sort of like getting replaced by your stapler. Of course, computers are used to control machinery, which may be his main beef. Personally, I’d rather my car be assembled by robots that won’t be distracted by a fight with their wife when they’re installing the electronic braking system. It would also be comforting to have the retinal laser aimed at my iris guided by a computer rather than a guy who’s in all likelihood probably mostly sober.

I am sure that there are a lot of jobs out there that could be done by one or two men for minimum wages.

Or by one or two women for even less than that! Hopefully, these jobs don’t require precision tolerances. You know, like for designing bridges, airplanes, CAT scanners, or skyscrapers.

And if the nation would get together, we might get out of the mess made by all the rich people who have all the automated machinery.

This part is just dripping with class hatred, bitterness, and a flawed understanding of both basic business and modern life. I love it.

On second thought, this guy probably was replaced by a computer, as his boss probably would rather deal with Vista’s bullshit than his.

Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition

Ark. House OKs bill allowing guns in churches

“LITTLE ROCK, Ark. (AP) -- The Arkansas House on Wednesday approved a bill allowing concealed handguns in churches, despite hearing arguments that lawmakers should put their faith in God, not guns…”

Faith is fine, but you’re supposed to show some initiative in directing your own life. That includes protecting it.

“The bill's sponsor, Rep. Beverly Pyle, R-Cedarville, said she introduced the measure after a series of church shootings across the country…”

The reason there are shooting sprees at churches, malls, and schools is that those places don’t allow anyone to carry a weapon. The shooter knows they’ll be unopposed. You never hear about a spree at a gun show or police station.

“The measure drew opposition from a pair of pastors who are also legislators.

Rep. Steven Breedlove, D-Greenwood, a minister at the Valley View Church of Christ, said allowing concealed handguns won't stop someone from opening fire inside a church…”

But it will allow you to stop them once they’ve started, which is the crux of the matter. (Ha! Crux = cross. It’s a church story. Get it? I crack myself up.)

“Another pastor, Rep. Otis Davis, said he couldn't, in good conscience, return to his constituents in eastern Arkansas and say that he voted in favor of the bill.”

I had the chance to let y’all defend yourselves, but I voted against it. If something happens, everybody get behind me.

“Pyle had an unexpected ally in liberal Rep. Lindsley Smith, who said she supported the bill because it was an issue of separation of church and state. Smith, D-Fayetteville, urged lawmakers to pass the bill because churches shouldn't be treated differently from other private entities under state law, she said.

Gov. Mike Beebe, a Democrat, said Wednesday he'd sign the bill if it made it to his desk.”

Holy shit…Democrats are supporting concealed carry? Surely this is a sign of the coming apocalypse. Either that, or Obama’s promised change has kicked in.

Does the Left complain about DINOs (Democrats in name only) as much as the Right bitches about RINOs?

Money, Money, Money

You an ABBA fan? Oh well.

I tried to watch the Presidential address last night; I really did. I couldn’t finish for two reasons: 1. Cub was sick to his stomach several times, whether from a virus, hairball, or bad Kitty Chow, I don’t know. (He's fine now, thanks.) 2. When Obama said “only government has the resources to fix this,” I damn near threw up myself.

First of all, only government can create a fuck-up of this magnitude. It's their fault to begin with.

Secondly, government has no resources, folks! Government gets all of its money from us. He very easily could have said “The American people have the resources to fix this.” Instead of the wealth redistribution plan, how about declare the entire country a disaster area and ramp up the no- or low-interest loans for small businesses, or cut the stimulus bill in half and offer to match state-raised funds for projects. Let the people decide what’s important to them, then have the states sell bonds to pay for priorities.

One resource I’ve found interesting/maddening is Stimulus Watch (http://www.stimuluswatch.org/), which identifies individual projects, the number of potential jobs it would create, the cost, and where it’s being spent.

One of their tabs sorts the projects by cost. Of the 50 most expensive projects, three of them (including the most expensive one) are located in Puerto Rico.

What the fuck?

I know Puerto Rico enjoys many of the rights and benefits of being a state without actually being a state, so technically should be included in the Big Prize Giveaway, but come on. $17,500,000,000 for “Energy Efficient Industrial Zones”? $500,000,000 for solar-powered water heaters? In that light, $350,000,000 for a rail system seems kind of reasonable. (Wait. You’re spending more on water heaters than a rail system?) Why are we spending more than $18 billion in tax-confiscated money in an area with less than 4 million people, most of whom don’t pay Federal income taxes? Similarly, these three projects are only estimated to create 2,142 jobs. Can I apply for one of these $8,600,000 jobs?

Just for comparative purposes, there’s a project in Alaska to expand the Anchorage port. It is ready to go immediately, will create 1500 jobs, and will only cost $75,000,000. That just seems a little more reasonable to me; almost the same number of jobs for 1/244th of the cost.

Here’s the other thing that worries me about the “only government” statement: there’s a project for Arizona under the “Most Expensive” tab which has no description and will create zero jobs, yet has $290,000,000 allocated to it. Yeah…that sounds like typical government oversight.
How does one get in on this? Is there an application online I can fill out?

I guarantee you, give me $290 million dollars, I won’t work, either.

I knew he was crazy; I didn’t know it was contagious.

“Last year, an anxious, depressed 17-year-old boy was admitted to the psychiatric unit at the Royal Children's Hospital in Melbourne. He was refusing to drink water. Worried about drought related to climate change, the young man was convinced that if he drank, millions of people would die. The Australian doctors wrote the case up as the first known instance of ‘climate change delusion’.”

http://www.boston.com/lifestyle/green/articles/2009/02/09/climate_change_takes_a_mental_toll/

Hardly the first case, doc. One preeminent sufferer won an Oscar.

This article goes on to point out many obvious things, such as “extreme weather events, such as droughts, floods, cyclones, and hurricanes, can lead to emotional distress” and “Such anxiety over current events is not a new phenomenon.”

In addition to the 17-year-old, “Robert Salo, the psychiatrist who runs the inpatient unit where the boy was treated, has now seen several more patients with psychosis or anxiety disorders focused on climate change, as well as children who are having nightmares about global-warming-related natural disasters.”

See, this tickles me, because the author of the article points out that kids are having nightmares, then goes on to include such gems as “Over this century, the average global temperature is expected to rise between 1 degrees and 6 degrees Celsius. Glaciers will melt, seas will rise, extremes in precipitation will occur”, “Climate change is expected to create about 200 million environmental refugees by 2050”, and “climate change may eventually deplete natural resources, make it more difficult for people to live off the land, and disrupt the global food supply…That will mean declining socioeconomic status and quality of life across the world.”

Damn, people. You had the sympathetic vibe going on with the kids, then blasted them with even more doomsday prophecies. That’s like writing an article about coulrophobia, which is the fear of THE CLOWNS THAT ARE RIGHT BEHIND YOU!!!!!

Jesus, it pisses me off to see crap like this getting published when I can immediately name five better writers who are unemployed.

Yes…I’m one of them.

Childhood 2.0 – Random Memory Access (part 2)

There was no chinking in between the small logs that made up the walls of the cabin, so we could see it was empty. I volunteered to make a circuit around the house, looking for evidence of parental activity or a potential ambush. The garage door was down, and I peeked through the dusty windows, cupping my hands around my eyes to peer into the gloom. The family truck was gone. A new 10-speed bike was resting on its kickstand close to the door, pointing out toward the driveway so its pilot could rocket directly out from the oil-streaked garage and into a perfect day. I carried the news of the good fortune back to my squad, and we whooped and hollered as we descended on the tiny cabin, as exhilarated as if we’d actually won a victory over a hundred Indians riding dinosaurs and armed with crossbows (no mere black-hatted villains with six-shooters for us!).

Stooping down to enter the pint-sized doorway, we made a beeline for the northwest corner. Brushing aside some of the cut grass that lined the floor (it kept the dust down…fancy!), we revealed a small length of rope. Pulling on that rope raised a piece of ¾” plywood about eighteen inches square. Beneath that…

Treasure.

An old Army ammo box was pulled up, the lid hastily pried open. The box unceremoniously dumped onto a jacket spread out on the ground, we pawed through the figures and cards, momentarily reclaiming those riches which so often act as currency among small boys (Trade you that Cobra Commander for two Ghost Rider comic books!) I say momentarily because we’d only hold onto them for a week or so at most, when our fort would be raided in turn – though once we had kept possession of an original Boba Fett figure for an entire summer because I’d had the idea of burying a new cache (a coffee can) directly under our old one (a small, rusty tool box).

“Holy crap, guys. Look at this.” We clustered around our scout, who had found a creased Polaroid picture stuck between the pages of a MAD magazine. We stared, awed at the scene within that uneven white frame. The older sister of one of the other gang in the act of getting dressed. She was wrestling with a button on her skirt, and her blouse was open. It wasn’t a great picture, motion-blurred and hastily snapped, but we didn’t care. This wasn’t some artificially-posed no-name model; this was a real girl we all knew. She wasn’t the prettiest girl in the neighborhood, but she was more tolerant of us than the other girls were – had even ridden her bike with us on a few occasions.

This picture, just one of an ongoing series of acts designed to irritate an older sibling, and probably long-forgotten by the target, was the equivalent of a nuclear weapon. Like any other dangerous material, we were unsure on how to use it safely. In order to use it as blackmail material, we’d have to admit we had possession of it, which opened us up to all kinds of parental retribution. And even the idea of blackmail was never fully fleshed out. What would we blackmail her for? Money? She had an allowance, but that was it. Driving us to the mall? She had a learner’s permit. French kissing? (The height of sexual favor any of us could imagine at that point.) She was almost another member of the gang, not a girlfriend.

In the end, we cleaned out everything from the box except that picture. We saw no advantage in possessing it other than taunting her little brother with the fact that we had it, a temporary position at best. Leaving it alone in the box assured them that we had seen it.

We left the cabin and went back to our fort to deposit our easily-won goods. We jumped on our bikes and headed to the local arcade to spend our allowances on Centipede, Asteroids, packs of Bubble Yum and greasy pizza slices. As we pedaled back, we worked out a plan to get to the skating rink the next day (My mom’ll take if yours’ll pick up!). As dusk fell, we checked on our fort.

They’d been fast.

Not only had all of our booty been reclaimed, but they’d taken advantage of the fact that our fort was literally held together by old shoelaces, friction, and one bent nail we’d found. It had been taken apart and the pieces tossed into the woods. As we picked them up, we debated on how to avenge this. Arson was suggested. Okay…I suggested it, but no one took me seriously. While we put the fort back together (that being the biggest advantage to using shoelaces), we argued over who had to bring new batteries for the walkie-talkies, who had a higher score on Battle Zone, and which was better: a moped or a go-kart.

Home for supper. (“What did you do today?” “Nothin’.”) But the greatest kind of nothing. The empty schedule of a warm afternoon, where plans for your fantasy worlds have as much weight as the ones for this one, and you casually fight your friends over stupid stuff you don’t even remember an hour later. Everything you want to do falls into two categories: Now, and When I’m grown-up. Immediate gratification or a nebulous Sometime.

Next weekend, we’d do it all again.

Childhood 2.0 – Random Memory Access (part 1)

We’ve had a couple of really nice days here: 70+ degrees, clear skies, light wind. Not bad for having had an inch of snow on the ground earlier in the week.

I remember days like these when I was but a small cub. I’d be out the door with a “Be back later!” to meet up with whichever friends the ever-shifting treaties dictated I currently had alliances with. We’d tear through the neighborhood on our bikes (banana-seats for the win!), heading for the pitiful collection of broken timber and discarded boxes we called our fort. There, surrounded by splintery walls which leaned drunkenly against a rusting chain-link fence, we would plan the next raid on the other gang’s demesne – a well-designed, adult-built miniature log cabin with a “secret” underground storage room. That’s in quotes because we’d all been part of that gang at one time or another, so we all knew about it. The purpose of the mission: to reclaim certain baseball cards, choice matchbox cars, or favored G.I. Joe figures. Yes…we could have kept them inside where they’d be safe from being looted, but where’s the fun in that?

An hour of planning, mostly taken up by arguing over whether our scout got to carry the Han Solo pistol (with real movie sounds!), or if the main strike force – all three of us – should have it. Since the scout already carried the walkie-talkie with the dedicated Morse code button, it was decided he shouldn’t have the gun, too. Not to imply that there was any sort of reasoned discussion. It basically boiled down to “You’ve already got something; I’m taking this.” punch scuffle

Cadging a drink of water from the nearest garden hose (let it run until it cools down!), we set off on foot, sneaking through the woods to the other side of the pond and into the back yards of the adjoining neighborhood. The scout was sent up into a tall pine to look for activity around the cabin, as well as act as an early warning system in case we had an encounter with the local group of older kids who roamed the neighborhoods randomly, killing time before their dates with actual girlfriends. Lacking anything better to do, they would lazily pick us up and threaten to throw us into the pond, or push us off our bikes into the dirt with that apathetic cruelty that comes with puberty. Caught between true childhood and true adulthood, their first reactions were to try and tear down anything that reminded them of themselves just a few short years ago – from their Hardy Boys posters and Bionic Man lunchboxes to their little brother and his friends.

The walkie-talkie came to life with a static-filled series of beeps. Our scout was painstakingly trying to send a message by Morse. Since none of us had memorized the code, he had to keep turning his WT over to read the guide printed on a sticker on the back, then turn it back over to send the letter. To make it even more difficult, he kept forgetting whether a short beep was a dot or a dash, so we’d hear his voice break into the stream, “Uh…hang on. Nevermind that last one.”, then a (presumably) corrected series of beeps. At this point, one of us would usually chuck a pine cone at him. We’d hit him more often than not, since he was only about seven feet above us in the tree we were clustered around. “Why didn’t y’all just talk?” I hear you asking. Are you kidding? We had technology! We weren’t going to just let it go unused. There were racetrack sets, miniature video game consoles, and electric candy dispensers that were just begging for those 9-volt batteries.

Movement at the cabin. We dropped down below the slight hummock at the back of the yard. It only covered a drainage culvert, but to us it was San Juan Hill. Cautiously, we peeked over the ridge to see the small terrier that was the family pet. Instantly, it transformed into a bloodthirsty German Shepherd to some of us, and an attack droid to the rest. A hasty, whispered conversation ensued over what to do about it. We had two walkie-talkies, a Han Solo pistol, and a “lock-picking kit” that consisted of two small screwdrivers. We hadn’t thought to bring dog biscuits. Several scenarios were suggested: wait until he left; throw rocks at him to drive him away; shoot him with the pistol. None were optimal. To help out, the dog came over and participated in the discussion, and we idly scratched his ears while we tried to decide his fate. He got bored waiting for us to come to an agreement and ran off to the pond to swim.

Congratulating ourselves on successfully negating the threat, we moved towards the cabin.

Time is on my side (yes it is).

There’s a button on my microwave labeled “Stop Time.” The thing that intrigues me is there’s no corresponding “Start Time” button, which you would expect if its function was to run the cooking cycle over a particular time period.

The microwave was here in the house when we moved in, and we don’t have the manual, so I’m not sure how Kenmore engineered the oven. Does it stop subjective time or actual time? Is it just for the person that presses the button, or for everyone? Is it an instant effect, or is there a gradual slowing down while inertia is compensated for?

Now, it wouldn’t make sense to stop time for everyone, because then it could never be started again, (which would negatively impact Kenmore’s profit margin), so I’m assuming that it stops time relative to the person pressing the button. The fact that there is no “Start Time” implies some built-in limit to the event – perhaps the LED screen runs a countdown – which further implies the microwave itself is immune to the effects, or else it wouldn’t be able to measure the elapsed time. If this is the case, we must be missing some parts, because there is no obvious way to ground the static electricity and dissipate the friction heat you’d build up moving around in a stopped-time world. If such a device was never included, I’m really surprised they got the thing UL-listed, because that’s very dangerous.

Knowing that engineers look for the easiest way to achieve the desired results, I’m assuming the microwave just speeds up the person pressing the button, rather than attempting to stop every other piece of matter in the universe. If that’s the case, I would hope the effect has a generous time limit, because you’d have to walk everywhere you wanted to go. On the other hand, it runs off a plain old 120 outlet (impressive!), so I guess you could take it wherever you wanted to use it. My car has a 120 outlet built in, so I could theoretically create a time machine as long as the effect can be extended to non-living matter. If not, the chemical reactions that power the car would be too slow for me to realistically use it for travelling. I don’t want to just sit there waiting for the fuel to combust under the pistons.

I’d like to think I’d use this power responsibly, if only because it would be tough to use it for crime. Even if I wanted to clean out the local banks, I’d have to wait until every door was open – front door, the hall door that leads to the vault, and the vault door itself. What are the odds of that? And the typical loser geek fantasy of finally having your way with the head cheerleader is right out. If you build up dangerous amounts of friction just by walking around, you’d definitely combust during any sort of sexual act. Even mugging people on the street wouldn’t be worth the effort. The way the economy is these days, no one is carrying any serious cash. I suppose I could take whatever I wanted from the local stores, but again, the static buildup would destroy any expensive electronics when the time flow was restored.

Maybe I won’t push the button after all. Doesn’t seem worth it.

Maybe I’m just really overthinking this.

Conspiracy, Corporations, and catty remarks

Barack Obama Hates White People

I’m not going to echo the Right’s “outrage” over the lag time in FEMA’s response to those in Kentucky who recently lost power due to the ice storm. I think we all know that it doesn’t matter who the president is, FEMA is just another bloated government agency that takes a little while to build up any sort of inertia. Especially when they’re hampered by, you know…ice.

No, I’m referring to the fact that Obama secretly arranged for FEMA to distribute salmonella-tainted peanut butter in the emergency rations. (http://www.cnn.com/2009/HEALTH/02/04/fema.peanut.butter/index.html )

This is understandable, actually. Kentucky voted mostly for McCain, so Obama’s not losing a lot of followers, and he’ll be wiping out a coal state, which should make his environmentalist supporters happy.

It’s every bit as realistic as the “dam-blowing” scenario spun by the tinfoil brigade regarding Katrina. The president is a powerful man, true, but not in the way most people seem to think. The New York Times apparently bugged the Oval Office, and took great delight in reporting every conversation, strategy, and confidential plan Bush had for eight years, and Obama has the watchdogs at PolitiFact eyeballing him. (http://politifact.com/truth-o-meter/) The notion that a president could do anything in secret is laughable, which is why the more successful TV shows and movies always portray a shadow government organization or rogue agent intent on causing chaos, rather than the guy who lives in a fishbowl.


A/S/L?

So MySpace deleted the accounts of 90,000 registered sex offenders this week (in totally unrelated news, Facebook reported almost 100,000 new users). North Carolina Attorney General Roy Cooper demanded the site should do more. "Technology moves forward quickly, and it's important for these companies to stay ahead of the technology," he said. "And they're not moving fast enough for us."

How much you want to bet that the AG’s office still has Windows2000 loaded on their Acer computers?

What do you want them to do, Roy? Their technology enables people to converse online and decorate a home page, not provide real-time GPS tracking. Can you guarantee you know every e-mail address these criminals are using? Know each site they visit? Do you even know where they all are right now?

Personally, I’m not worried about the registered offenders that are stupid enough to use their real names on a social networking site; Darwin will take care of them in time.


This is a round-trip ticket, right?

IBM ups the ante for big corporations that are considering outsourcing. Not only are they outsourcing the jobs, they are offering the employees who used to do those jobs the opportunities to outsource themselves to the country that’s getting those jobs and keep doing the same job, but “under local terms and conditions.” They are graciously offering to help with relocation costs, travel arrangements, and visas. (http://money.cnn.com/2009/02/05/news/companies/ibm_jobs/index.htm)

“So…Frank. We’re relocating your department to our call center in India. You can keep your job if you’re willing to move to Bhopal and work for a few rupees a day.”


Man…accountability sucks

Goldman Sachs CFO David Viniar announced today that the financial institution is looking for ways to repay the $10 billion the government gave the group. In totally unrelated news, Obama proposed capping the salaries of officers of any institution that accepted bailout money at $500,000/year. Carly Fiorina opines that Obama has no business capping salaries. In totally unrelated news, Ms. Fiorina earned $8,000,000/year as CEO of Hewlitt-Packard, and received a $21,000,000 payoff when she was fired.


But I’m not a little person

If Obama really wants to revitalize the economy, he could start by insisting that all of his cabinet appointees pay their taxes.


Let’s make a (book) deal

Elizabeth Edwards is writing a book about facing adversity. The book, Resilience, is due in stores May 12.

Yeah...like she knows anything about adversity.

Taxing Ourselves into Prosperity

President Obama reauthorized the State Children's Health Insurance Program today, expanding the program by an additional $32.8 billion. Not satisfied to take that money from the trough that is the bailout package, the feds more than tripled the existing tax on cigarettes, bringing the total tax to $1.01 per pack.

I cannot adequately express how fucking brilliant this is.

Sure…let’s take a product that has declining usage rates country-wide, thanks in large part to anti-smoking laws, and make it the cornerstone of funding for this bill. They should tack a surcharge on buggy-whips and whalebone corsets while they’re at it.

I’m not even going to get into the fallacious arguments about the long-term health costs for smokers (you know, those people that tend to die 30 years before non-smokers); I am going to point out that the largest demographic for smoking is comprised of those that qualify as “poor” by government income standards. Why do I mention this? Because Obama stated specifically: “I will not raise taxes on anyone making less than $250,000 a year.” There was no “unless they smoke” codicil stated aloud, but I admit he could have had his toes crossed.

What’s really amusing about this plan is the fact that, according to Heritage Foundation estimates, 22,000,000 new smokers will be needed to pay for it. Who has the most in disposable income? Young people.

Forget Joe the Plumber. Meet Obama’s new spokesman for the State Children's Health Insurance Program:

One Man's Meltdown is Another's Remix

This is why Americans own the entertainment industry.

Yesterday, a recording surfaced of Christian Bale losing his temper on set:



Less than 24 hours later, RevoLucian pwned the whole thing:

Clever title to be determined later

Is there some sort of weird IT meme in development out there? This past week, I’ve had two different people suggest using a praying mantis as a logo for their networking/programming business. I’m not so sure that’s the right angle for a couple of different reasons: mantids are only associated with computers because they are insects, and bugs are not a good thing in your system; the only other thing people know about mantids is that they get their heads ripped off after mating, and do you really want the phrase “rip off” associated with your business?

I’ve been doing a lot of reading on what goes into creating corporate identities lately, and it’s amazing the depths some people will get into when they are trying to pick themes/colors/icons/etc. I imagine a lot of that is influenced by programs like ISO 9000 and Six Sigma – where every single process is defined in respect to every other process. I’m not totally against that idea, as I’ve seen some really shitty corporate processes that could have benefited from at least a cursory look by an efficiency expert, but I think they go a little overboard with the belts and things.

Like any other process, it can be too easy to get caught up in the details – what exact shade of blue should be used and what quadrant of the logo should have gradients applied. These things can be important overall, sure, but I think a lot of Graphic Designers are overstating the importance of these details to satisfy their own inflated egos. The client’s desires are important, I’m not denying that, but a designer insisting that each project requires delving into their client’s every rationale for being in business strikes me as padding the account hours.

Maybe it’s because I’m first and foremost a writer, but the way I approach things is to determine overall impact first – what reaction do you want? – then break it down into its component parts. Sometimes a picture first, then a headline; sometimes the opposite. It seems easier to me to work backwards from the desired result to the components you have to build with. On the other hand, I may think that way because I learned early on how to rationalize and justify decisions in the face of critical design panels.

The map is not the territory. Except when it’s expected to be.

Remember that.

And if you can find them

Kitten is involved with the Upward program at our church. If you’re not familiar with it, it’s part of the church’s community outreach program, where they sponsor sports leagues for the kids. When we went in for orientation, the organizer explained they were not going to keep score this year, since out of all the complaints they’ve received over the years, 50% were from parents, and 100% of those were about unfavorable scoring “mistakes.” That’s probably a good decision, as I’ve seen several parents storming out of the bleachers to have a word with the coaches – angry gesturing and pouting included. They’re 3rd and 4th graders, people, not the Globetrotters. If the coach lets some traveling or double-dribbling slide, it’s because it just isn’t that important in the face of the lessons on teamwork and good sportsmanship. On the other hand, I did see one kid that had one of the few ref calls go against him. He slammed the ball down to show how pissed off he was, and his mom teleported onto the court to smack his butt and make him apologize to the ref. I bet that sticks with him longer than having Mommy bawl out the coach on his behalf.

I’m finding that the crappy economy can be a bargain-hunter’s dream if you’re willing to put in a little work and have at least a minimal income. As a for-instance, a local video store is going out of business, so we were able to pick up seven DVDs – including two newly-released titles – for a little more than the cost of one new one. I’m hoping the local office supply store will tank so I can pick up a bunch of whiteboards. I like to brainstorm on them: storyboards, plot arcs, a list of supplies to survive the coming zombie apocalypse. You know…stuff.

Speaking of minimal incomes, I was speaking with a former Marketing femme I know (formerly in Marketing, still a femme), and she clued me into the enormous earning potential of doing corporate logos. I did some research, and it’s not unusual for these things to cost $1000-$3000. Figure it takes you 10 hours total to dash out a few choices, wrangle the VPs into agreeing on one, and finishing touches. If you get the max on that, you’re making the equivalent of $624,000 a year. Guess which cat is hitting the Graphic Design section at Amazon this week (for someone that excels at visual thinking, I have the GD skills of a sea sponge).

I have several friends that are also unemployed, and we’ve all said at one point or another “We should start a company together.” The problem is that, while we are all very skilled in our chosen areas and would make a great A-Team for someone, our collective brain trust lacks a unifying corporate focus. If we could find one person with the capital and credulity to hire us all, that would be awesome.

I want to be Murdock.