I am a supporter of mass transportation systems. I think they have the potential to save vast amounts of energy supplies and reduce pollution. I have heard arguments against them, saying they actually consume more energy in total than cars, but I doubt that. They certainly reduce congestion. They make for less stressful travel. They allow people watching. And they can permit people to read and otherwise be distracted during their commutes.
The Dallas Area Rapid Transit (DART) system has been improving over the years. While buses remain a very tough way to get around Dallas (due to schedules, routes, etc. being designed by people who don't use the roadways...ever), the trains are really slick. Apparently, when DART first proposed a system of light rail throughout Dallas, one of the lines was to have run from DFW airport through Carrollton and up through Addison and into Richardson. But, after North Dallas residents got wind of the plan, they balked, arguing that a light rail system through their neighborhood would result in a reduction in land values, noise pollution (they prefer their pollution in the air they breathe), crime, interracial marriage, liberal political positions, homosexuality, etc. So, thanks to the Republican monied masses, that plan was shelved.
But, lately the powers that be in Addison and some in North Dallas and Richardson (I think it's Richardson) have put pressure on DART to add the "Cotton Belt" rail line back to the long-term plan. My wife and I received notice a few weeks ago that a meeting on the subject would be held tonight at the recreation center just around the corner from us, so we are going to go. We're both ardent supporters of mass transit, though we both realize we will be long gone (either distance or death) by the time any such plans would come to pass in our neighborhood. But we'll go tonight to express our support for the concept.
I have no idea where the stations would be, or how far from us, but I am convinced that mass transit that is convenient to this area would drive values up, the way it has in every other area of Dallas. I think the muttonheads who oppose it because of the noise and crime have never used mass transit.
OK...I went to the meeting. I actually learned some things about plans under contention. The plan supported by the City Councilman who called the meeting actually looks good. But it does not involve the Cotton Belt rail line that is close to us. I learned, though, that the Cotton Belt plan that is favored by other cities close by would just zip through our neighborhood, with no stops for at least a 3 or 4 mile stretch. And, I learned that an alternative plan for the Cotton Belt rail line would have 3 stations within about 2-3 miles of us. But that plan is being supported only as a "backup" if the primary plan does not get support by the DART board.
Finally, I learned that there are, indeed, people in my district who are self-centered, selfish, rotten fascists. During the comment period, when people were to have 2-3 minutes, the first speaker was a Not in My Back Yard guy who pranced and strutted about how successful he and his Stalinist buddies have been for years in saying "NO TO PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION IN MY BACK YARD!" My wife and I listened to him for 5 minutes, stood up, and walked out of the meeting. The tone in the room suggested everyone else was a supporter.
I gotta get out of this place!
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Monday, February 27, 2006
Hope & Dreams
I just read the "This I Believe" piece from today...it made me sad, but gave me just a tiny touch of hope, nonetheless. Read what a 16 year-old thinks about the future. I am so worried that the young man's hope is badly misplaced, but it's still something that makes me hopeful. Would that hope and desire control the future, rather than Bush and radical Muslims.
I'm trying to conduct a rational assessment of the amount of money I have in my accessible and inaccessible (e.g., 401K accounts, etc.) accounts. I want to know how much of, and when, my money will be available to me. I want to calculate, coldly, what I might be able to do if I sold my house, my car, my "stuff," and all the other material things I have. How long would I last, at various levels of consumption, if I dropped out?
Am I being completely blind? How could I possibly retire at 52? I'm willing to defer it until I'm 53 if necessary. One of my sisters may want to do the same, but I don't know that she wants to contribute to my retirement and live in the same house. But maybe we could make it a compound..
I do have ideas about making money into retirement...but don't know how realistic and legitimate they are.
I'm trying to conduct a rational assessment of the amount of money I have in my accessible and inaccessible (e.g., 401K accounts, etc.) accounts. I want to know how much of, and when, my money will be available to me. I want to calculate, coldly, what I might be able to do if I sold my house, my car, my "stuff," and all the other material things I have. How long would I last, at various levels of consumption, if I dropped out?
Am I being completely blind? How could I possibly retire at 52? I'm willing to defer it until I'm 53 if necessary. One of my sisters may want to do the same, but I don't know that she wants to contribute to my retirement and live in the same house. But maybe we could make it a compound..
I do have ideas about making money into retirement...but don't know how realistic and legitimate they are.
Dubrovnik, etc.
Today, I had a conversation with a Board member of a client association who is going to attend the meeting in Dubrovnik with me. She said a group of member of the association are taking advantage of the meeting by doing some travelling after the meeting...they plan on taking a cruise ship overnight from Dubrovnik, after the meeting, to Barri, Italy. Then, they will rent a car and drive to Naples and other places of interest. When they fly back, they will fly back from Naples. She claims she got a ticket from Phoenix to Milan to Zagreb to Dubrovnik, and then from Naples to Phoenix, for only $849. I can't find anything like that from Dallas. The cheaptest ticket I could find for Dallas/Milan/Zagreb/Dubrovnik and then Naples/Dallas was $1800+
I'd love to go to Italy, for just a bit, but the cost and the time may make it impossible. If only I could simply leave my office for six weeks, I'd do something different.
Drat!
I'm almost annoyed that I have to go to Dubrovnik. I want to take advantage, but my company needs my attention. Don't get a company like mine!
I'd love to go to Italy, for just a bit, but the cost and the time may make it impossible. If only I could simply leave my office for six weeks, I'd do something different.
Drat!
I'm almost annoyed that I have to go to Dubrovnik. I want to take advantage, but my company needs my attention. Don't get a company like mine!
Get Thee to a Bloggery
If Shakespeare were to have created a character to give me advice, instead of Hamlet giving Ophelia a suggestion, I suspect he would have had the character suggest "Get thee to a bloggery." I can't seem get in the right pace of blogging that suits me. I'll go crazy with posts for awhile, then lose the interest or the stamina to keep it up. I should establish some discipline for my regular writing and my blogging...'X' hours per day devoted writing, 'YY' minutes devoted to blogging, etc.
Well, tonight won't be the night I'll spend on 'YY' minutes. I have to make dinner (pasta, probably spaghetti, with a sauce created from canned tomatoes, basil, maybe some canned clams, etc.). Then, I have to watch my television program, 24. If I had left the office earlier, I would have watched the News Hour with Jim Lehrer, but it's almost 7:00 pm. I have only an hour before I can watch my program, so I better start dinner.
No getting myself to a bloggery tonight.
Well, tonight won't be the night I'll spend on 'YY' minutes. I have to make dinner (pasta, probably spaghetti, with a sauce created from canned tomatoes, basil, maybe some canned clams, etc.). Then, I have to watch my television program, 24. If I had left the office earlier, I would have watched the News Hour with Jim Lehrer, but it's almost 7:00 pm. I have only an hour before I can watch my program, so I better start dinner.
No getting myself to a bloggery tonight.
Sunday, February 26, 2006
More Rambling
As we were out doing errands this afternoon, my wife and I heard David Sedaris, on This American Life, reading something he had written...a bizzare story of cat & mouse bravado in a prison setting. We only heard part of it, so it didn't make a great deal of sense, but I look forward to downloading the piece later this week when it's available. I enjoy Sedaris and his bizarre odd, dark, sense of humor.
The way the piece was staged, essentially a children's story for cynical adults, appealed to me. I will try to remember that approach for something I write in the future.
One of our stops today was the grocery store...but fortunately for me, it happens to be next to a Barnes & Noble bookstore, so I wandered about B&N while my wife shopped at Tom Thumb. I indulged myself...a copy of the Sunday New York Times ($5!) and a book on sale at $4.98,, The Darwin Awards, 3rd edition. I could spend weeks on the NYT and still not be done. But at a cost of almost $5, it's a hard sell for me. After I started reading the book reviews, I felt better, but not much better. While I appreciate the newspaper, I don't appreciate getting screwed. The edition I bought is printed in Austin...so it's not like the cost of shipping should be so hight. Oh, well, they didn't ask me what I would pay...I will pay $5 once, but probably not again. The online version should be just fine.
I'm very tired tonight, probably just a reaction to my realization that tomorrow is a workday. I will almost certainly go to bed very early...the question is whether my wife will stay in the bedroom and watch her Olympics there (I can sleep through it, easily) or will move out to the family room, where the mammoth TV resides.
My brother and his wife who live in Mexico have graciously agreed to look at houses my wife and I might consider buying. We're ready for retirement, but not old enough according to the U.S. Government, but we want to make the move anyway. My wife and I would have to borrow from the company we own, but we think we can do it...but it will be tight! I need, desparately, to win the Texas Lottery of the Powerball, or something!
Enough, for now.
The way the piece was staged, essentially a children's story for cynical adults, appealed to me. I will try to remember that approach for something I write in the future.
One of our stops today was the grocery store...but fortunately for me, it happens to be next to a Barnes & Noble bookstore, so I wandered about B&N while my wife shopped at Tom Thumb. I indulged myself...a copy of the Sunday New York Times ($5!) and a book on sale at $4.98,, The Darwin Awards, 3rd edition. I could spend weeks on the NYT and still not be done. But at a cost of almost $5, it's a hard sell for me. After I started reading the book reviews, I felt better, but not much better. While I appreciate the newspaper, I don't appreciate getting screwed. The edition I bought is printed in Austin...so it's not like the cost of shipping should be so hight. Oh, well, they didn't ask me what I would pay...I will pay $5 once, but probably not again. The online version should be just fine.
I'm very tired tonight, probably just a reaction to my realization that tomorrow is a workday. I will almost certainly go to bed very early...the question is whether my wife will stay in the bedroom and watch her Olympics there (I can sleep through it, easily) or will move out to the family room, where the mammoth TV resides.
My brother and his wife who live in Mexico have graciously agreed to look at houses my wife and I might consider buying. We're ready for retirement, but not old enough according to the U.S. Government, but we want to make the move anyway. My wife and I would have to borrow from the company we own, but we think we can do it...but it will be tight! I need, desparately, to win the Texas Lottery of the Powerball, or something!
Enough, for now.
Wordsmithing on Sunday
Unlike yesterday, today I awoke to unmistakable evidence that, outside, the sun was shining brightly. I awoke a bit later than I would normally have gotten out of bed on a Sunday morning, so the sun was already up. The moment I opened my eyes, I saw that the walls of the bedroom were awash with light; our window coverings do not block out sunlight very well.
Even inside the house, I can hear birds giving their enthusiastic endorsement to a day without rain. There are still signs of yesterday's rain; the color of the wooden fence behind the house is much darker than it is when dry, betraying the fact that it remains soaked in water. The rain has passed, but the temperatures remain very brisk. It's 39 degrees now, according to my WeatherUnderground report on my Internet launch page...that's 2 degrees warmer than it was when I sat down at the computer after getting my first cup of coffee.
I awoke later than normal because my wife and I went out to dinner with friends last night and, after a nice meal of shared tapas, they invited us over to their house for some wine. We stayed there for quite awhile and did not get home until late, then I stayed up until well after midnight, reading and watching television.
Yesterday, after reading some poetry on someone's blog, I dusted off some of my old poems from months and years past. As I read them, I realized how intensely personal poetry can be and, for me, how it can capture the mood of a specific moment in time that may never be repeated. I read some of my poems that made me laugh at my own sense of what was, at the time, drama. I think my reaction to those poems was a good indicator that the poems were not good...not at all good! I'm delighted that I saved them only for myself, because I am sure I would want to disappear into the wallpaper if someone else were to read them.
That notwithstanding, I do sometimes like to write poetry, or at least what I consider poetry. One day, if I get up the nerve, I may "go public" with something I write. Earlier this morning, I found a website for theDallas Poets Community, which seems like an extremely SMALL community, but one I might be interested in learning more about, nonetheless.
Maybe I will take some time today to revisit some of my poems (there aren't that many) to see if they can be salvaged. Or maybe I'll write some new poetry. Or maybe I'll just do some wordsmithing without caring whether the words belong in poems, in short stories, or in my long-awaited but still unborn novel.
Even inside the house, I can hear birds giving their enthusiastic endorsement to a day without rain. There are still signs of yesterday's rain; the color of the wooden fence behind the house is much darker than it is when dry, betraying the fact that it remains soaked in water. The rain has passed, but the temperatures remain very brisk. It's 39 degrees now, according to my WeatherUnderground report on my Internet launch page...that's 2 degrees warmer than it was when I sat down at the computer after getting my first cup of coffee.
I awoke later than normal because my wife and I went out to dinner with friends last night and, after a nice meal of shared tapas, they invited us over to their house for some wine. We stayed there for quite awhile and did not get home until late, then I stayed up until well after midnight, reading and watching television.
Yesterday, after reading some poetry on someone's blog, I dusted off some of my old poems from months and years past. As I read them, I realized how intensely personal poetry can be and, for me, how it can capture the mood of a specific moment in time that may never be repeated. I read some of my poems that made me laugh at my own sense of what was, at the time, drama. I think my reaction to those poems was a good indicator that the poems were not good...not at all good! I'm delighted that I saved them only for myself, because I am sure I would want to disappear into the wallpaper if someone else were to read them.
That notwithstanding, I do sometimes like to write poetry, or at least what I consider poetry. One day, if I get up the nerve, I may "go public" with something I write. Earlier this morning, I found a website for theDallas Poets Community, which seems like an extremely SMALL community, but one I might be interested in learning more about, nonetheless.
Maybe I will take some time today to revisit some of my poems (there aren't that many) to see if they can be salvaged. Or maybe I'll write some new poetry. Or maybe I'll just do some wordsmithing without caring whether the words belong in poems, in short stories, or in my long-awaited but still unborn novel.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
An Interest in Etymology
On Fridays from noon until 1:00 pm, our local NPR station, KERA, produces a special Friday edition of a program called The Talk Show. It is the replacement and tribute to The Glenn Mitchell Show, whose namesake and host died in November last year. Every Friday, Glenn Mitchell would have an open question session, during which listeners would call in with questions on any topic they found to be interesting and other listeners would call in to answer them. Glenn promoted it as a show in which "all questions are answered, all knowledge revealed."
The Talk Show is not nearly as good as The Glenn Mitchell Show, but they are trying. It's still interesting to listen to.
Frequently, the subject of callers' questions involves the etymology of words. That is something I always find interesting, so I listen especially closely. I've learned quite a lot about language by listening to such programs and reading things online. One of the callers this week asked about the origin of "nickname," which I'd never thought about (that I recall). The responses came quickly; nickname is a misdivision or letter shift of eke name, which meant an additional name and was originally "an eke name." "An eke name" morphed into "a neke name" and then into "a nickname."
One of my brothers sent me a podcast from the Podictionary.com, which explained the etymology of the word "geezer." Geezer came from guise, through a series of interesting connections.
If you're interested in etymology or just words in general, here are some links you'll find interesting:
Well, we're about to go off to have tapas with our friends, making today's two meals similar...for lunch, we went to a sushi bar at which the sushi is prepared and placed on small plates that travel around the sushi bar on a conveyor sort of arrangement. Pick and choose what's of interest. Tonight, we'll pick and choose tapas of interest.
The Talk Show is not nearly as good as The Glenn Mitchell Show, but they are trying. It's still interesting to listen to.
Frequently, the subject of callers' questions involves the etymology of words. That is something I always find interesting, so I listen especially closely. I've learned quite a lot about language by listening to such programs and reading things online. One of the callers this week asked about the origin of "nickname," which I'd never thought about (that I recall). The responses came quickly; nickname is a misdivision or letter shift of eke name, which meant an additional name and was originally "an eke name." "An eke name" morphed into "a neke name" and then into "a nickname."
One of my brothers sent me a podcast from the Podictionary.com, which explained the etymology of the word "geezer." Geezer came from guise, through a series of interesting connections.
If you're interested in etymology or just words in general, here are some links you'll find interesting:
- www.podictionary.com--Unrelated to etymology, but to poetry (and found as I wandered Podictionary.com) is John W. MacDonald's weblog (he's a guy who lives in Ottawa and is interested in poetry).
- www.etymonline.com--It's the Online Etymology Dictionary
- www.m-w.com/cgi-bin/mwwod.pl --The Merriam-Webster website with word of the day
- www.westegg.com/etymology/--Etymologically Speaking site
- www.corsinet.com/trivia/j-triv.html--Trivia about the English language
- www.funwords.com/ --Funwords site, operated by Martha Barnette
- www.kpbs.org/Radio/DynPage.php?id=12 --A Way with Words site, a program hosted by Martha Barnette (above) and Richard Lederer (he wrote Anguished English, The Cunning Linguist, and other interesting books)
Well, we're about to go off to have tapas with our friends, making today's two meals similar...for lunch, we went to a sushi bar at which the sushi is prepared and placed on small plates that travel around the sushi bar on a conveyor sort of arrangement. Pick and choose what's of interest. Tonight, we'll pick and choose tapas of interest.
Mexico and Money
At a time that I'm seriously considering how I might be able to retire to Mexico, something about my plans is troubling to me. The cover story from the February 6 issue of Time Magazine makes mention of the issue that's so troubling. Here is the issue: as U.S. dollars flood into the Mexican economy (primarily from Mexicans working in the U.S.), Mexican towns are changing...housing, clothing, food, and almost everything else is getting more expensive.
That's not so bad for people who benefit from money flowing south from relatives working in the U.S. But it has to be bad for people who don't have that reliable stream of money. For them, their low incomes are just becoming more difficult to live on. Something else that bothers me about the influx of U.S. dollars to the Mexican economy is the prospect (and the Time article addresses this directly) that the money won't necessarily go to improving the lot of the public but will, instead, go toward more expensive homes, more expensive cars, more expensive clothes, etc.
My concern about my interest in moving to Mexico is this: will I contribute, through my dollars going south, to exacerbating the economic reverberations on the Mexican economy? Will the dollars I spend really move through the economy in helpful ways, or will they flow to a few people who will use their good fortune to create more ways of gathering dollars to their own accounts? Will the money I spend simply help the rich get richer? Will it contribute to more Mexicans being able to live a decent lifestyle, with running water and solid housing and good public infrastructure, or will it instead contribute to more sharply defining the divide between the haves and the have-nots?
When I look around Dallas at the neighborhoods that have heavy concentrations of Mexicans and other Hispanics, I see neighborhoods that are insular. Many of the people there speak little or no English and they seem content to establish their own oases in the U.S., setting up miniature pockets of Mexico or 'home' where they can feel comfortable and at ease. I understand their desire to live in a way that reminds them of home, but I also feel that they are intentionally keeping me out...I am not Mexican, and therefore do not belong. I find that offensive.
I don't want to engage in Mexico in precisely what I find offensive here. On the other hand, I don't want to engage so completely that I exercise too much influence and, therefore, contribute to changing a culture. Maybe I view my influence in too grandiose a way...maybe I couldn't change it if I tried.
I wonder how hard, or how easy, it would be to establish relationships with Mexicans so that they, and I, feel comfortable with one another and come to view one another as friends.
As I sit here and think about it, though, I wonder if it's perfectly OK to move into another culture and maintain some insularity. That is, after all, how Italians and Irish and Germans and countless others who migrated to the U.S. have maintained their own sense of cultural identity.
I suppose I would just want to feel sure that Mexicans would, in general, not view me as the arrogant gringo. OK, what can I do to protect myself from being viewed in that way? Learn and speak Spanish. Learn the culture and live the culture of Mexico when in the presence of Mexicans and truly appreciate that culture. Contribute my 'wealth' to help improve the lot of Mexicans in general, not just a few people close to me. Live a lifestyle that does not suggest I am a wealthy American but, instead, live a reasonably frugal lifestyle that is aligned with the Mexican people around me. Something else that occurs to me that might help bridge the divide between Americans (and Canadians) and Mexicans in Mexico is a dual-language newspaper...a paper that would not simply duplicate articles in both languages, but would have some articles in English and some in Spanish. The paper would have to be good enough to prompt Mexicans to want to read the English sections and Americans/Canadians to want to read the Spanish sections. I like the idea, but I am afraid I might be the only one.
Something else I have been thinking about since reading the Time article...setting up a microlending company that would lend small amounts of money to Mexicans who have good ideas about creating a small business and who can justify with a solid business plan getting a loan...and who have a plan for paying it back. I haven't a clue how to go about doing this, but maybe I can find out...or maybe readers of this blog can post information.
I still want to find a way to get to Mexico. I want to feel good about doing it, so I need to be confident that I can assuage my concerns. In reality, my 'wealth' would probably be laughed at by many Mexicans who I might mistakenly assume are dirt poor. I just want to be sure I do not do something that I will regret.
That's not so bad for people who benefit from money flowing south from relatives working in the U.S. But it has to be bad for people who don't have that reliable stream of money. For them, their low incomes are just becoming more difficult to live on. Something else that bothers me about the influx of U.S. dollars to the Mexican economy is the prospect (and the Time article addresses this directly) that the money won't necessarily go to improving the lot of the public but will, instead, go toward more expensive homes, more expensive cars, more expensive clothes, etc.
My concern about my interest in moving to Mexico is this: will I contribute, through my dollars going south, to exacerbating the economic reverberations on the Mexican economy? Will the dollars I spend really move through the economy in helpful ways, or will they flow to a few people who will use their good fortune to create more ways of gathering dollars to their own accounts? Will the money I spend simply help the rich get richer? Will it contribute to more Mexicans being able to live a decent lifestyle, with running water and solid housing and good public infrastructure, or will it instead contribute to more sharply defining the divide between the haves and the have-nots?
When I look around Dallas at the neighborhoods that have heavy concentrations of Mexicans and other Hispanics, I see neighborhoods that are insular. Many of the people there speak little or no English and they seem content to establish their own oases in the U.S., setting up miniature pockets of Mexico or 'home' where they can feel comfortable and at ease. I understand their desire to live in a way that reminds them of home, but I also feel that they are intentionally keeping me out...I am not Mexican, and therefore do not belong. I find that offensive.
I don't want to engage in Mexico in precisely what I find offensive here. On the other hand, I don't want to engage so completely that I exercise too much influence and, therefore, contribute to changing a culture. Maybe I view my influence in too grandiose a way...maybe I couldn't change it if I tried.
I wonder how hard, or how easy, it would be to establish relationships with Mexicans so that they, and I, feel comfortable with one another and come to view one another as friends.
As I sit here and think about it, though, I wonder if it's perfectly OK to move into another culture and maintain some insularity. That is, after all, how Italians and Irish and Germans and countless others who migrated to the U.S. have maintained their own sense of cultural identity.
I suppose I would just want to feel sure that Mexicans would, in general, not view me as the arrogant gringo. OK, what can I do to protect myself from being viewed in that way? Learn and speak Spanish. Learn the culture and live the culture of Mexico when in the presence of Mexicans and truly appreciate that culture. Contribute my 'wealth' to help improve the lot of Mexicans in general, not just a few people close to me. Live a lifestyle that does not suggest I am a wealthy American but, instead, live a reasonably frugal lifestyle that is aligned with the Mexican people around me. Something else that occurs to me that might help bridge the divide between Americans (and Canadians) and Mexicans in Mexico is a dual-language newspaper...a paper that would not simply duplicate articles in both languages, but would have some articles in English and some in Spanish. The paper would have to be good enough to prompt Mexicans to want to read the English sections and Americans/Canadians to want to read the Spanish sections. I like the idea, but I am afraid I might be the only one.
Something else I have been thinking about since reading the Time article...setting up a microlending company that would lend small amounts of money to Mexicans who have good ideas about creating a small business and who can justify with a solid business plan getting a loan...and who have a plan for paying it back. I haven't a clue how to go about doing this, but maybe I can find out...or maybe readers of this blog can post information.
I still want to find a way to get to Mexico. I want to feel good about doing it, so I need to be confident that I can assuage my concerns. In reality, my 'wealth' would probably be laughed at by many Mexicans who I might mistakenly assume are dirt poor. I just want to be sure I do not do something that I will regret.
Thunder and Rain
Deep, bone-jarring cracks of rolling thunder awakened me from sleep early this morning. The initial peals of thunder were followed by what seemed to my sleepy brain to be echoes of the noise, smashing against the ground and back up against the sky and then back again, each bounce creating an unearthly growl. I heard the thunder some time before it woke me. I know that because the thunder somehow shaped a dream I was having as I heard it. I don't recall what I was dreaming, only that I was having a dream and thunder changed it. Isn't it odd how I can be so sure that happened, but am utterly at a loss to know just how it happened or the specifics of my dream?
I looked at the clock when I finally bridged the gap between sleep and wakefulness; it was just after 5:00 am. I didn't get up right away. I waited for at least an hour, and probably drifted back off to sleep, with the thunder as my mind's companion. Then, it occurred to me: it's Saturday, I can't waste the day on sleep! So, I got up and made a pot of coffee. Time to start this day in earnest.
Rain has been falling, on and off, but mostly on, since before dawn yesterday. Yesterday's drive home from the office was very, very wet, with sheets of wind-blown rain beating against the windshield so heavily that it was hard to see the cars ahead of us at times. The streets were flooded in many places and the stoplights at intersections along the Tollway were flashing red in all directions...that happens almost every time it rains heavily. It was a long drive home. And the rain continues this morning. The thunder was simply a signal, I think, that the rain is back. It came down very heavily for awhile before I got up and continued after I made my coffee, but it seems to have slacked off a bit now.
I didn't start blogging until later than weekend-normal. It's almost 7:00 am now and I have only been at this a few minutes. I have been waiting for the sky to have enough light so that I can see outdoors. But it's still very, very dim outside. I can tell the day will be another very dreary one. From the looks of things this morning, we won't see any sun today...we'll see low clouds, rain, and it will be chilly, but not cold. From the looks of it, at least.
I need to sit back and enjoy my coffee. More later, perhaps.
I looked at the clock when I finally bridged the gap between sleep and wakefulness; it was just after 5:00 am. I didn't get up right away. I waited for at least an hour, and probably drifted back off to sleep, with the thunder as my mind's companion. Then, it occurred to me: it's Saturday, I can't waste the day on sleep! So, I got up and made a pot of coffee. Time to start this day in earnest.
Rain has been falling, on and off, but mostly on, since before dawn yesterday. Yesterday's drive home from the office was very, very wet, with sheets of wind-blown rain beating against the windshield so heavily that it was hard to see the cars ahead of us at times. The streets were flooded in many places and the stoplights at intersections along the Tollway were flashing red in all directions...that happens almost every time it rains heavily. It was a long drive home. And the rain continues this morning. The thunder was simply a signal, I think, that the rain is back. It came down very heavily for awhile before I got up and continued after I made my coffee, but it seems to have slacked off a bit now.
I didn't start blogging until later than weekend-normal. It's almost 7:00 am now and I have only been at this a few minutes. I have been waiting for the sky to have enough light so that I can see outdoors. But it's still very, very dim outside. I can tell the day will be another very dreary one. From the looks of things this morning, we won't see any sun today...we'll see low clouds, rain, and it will be chilly, but not cold. From the looks of it, at least.
I need to sit back and enjoy my coffee. More later, perhaps.
Friday, February 24, 2006
Coherent Babbling on Many Unrelated Topics
Today, Alejandra was born. One month premature, but still healthy at 19 inches and 6 pounds. I'll visit her and her mother tomorrow....her mother works for me. Alejandra's early arrival created a bit of a problem for my office, but we will get through. Being a small office, every person's contributions are highly important and anyone's absence is felt deeply...giving everyone else more to do and more stress on top of an already stressful (sometimes) environment. I'm trying to find a temp now.
What else is new...let's see. Danny, of Danny & Annie Perasa who have been featured more than once on Story Corps on NPR, died today. This morning, before Danny died, a conversation between the two of them was broadcast on NPR. It's very poignant.
I spent time today trying to finish up a 'white paper' for a client. The article is intended to offer a persuasive argument about the value of the services that are provided the client association's members. I actually agree that the services have value, so it was not hard to write from that perspective, but I wasn't 'in the groove' today, so what I wrote was not satisfactory. Another try tomorrow or Monday, perhaps.
The NPR 'This I Believe' series is interesting, even when the commentators are unapologetically religious. It gives me reason to examine my own beliefs...what I feel strongly about. It actually makes me realize that, despite my frequently strong opinions, I often see things from many viewpoints and, consequently, don't have really deep-seated 'beliefs' about very much. I act like I do, but I find myself arguing vehemently against myself when I see more than one viewpoint. "I believe that there is more to belief than simply believing. I believe that belief must be tempered by a recognition that the very word acknowledges that a belief is not necessarily the truth. I believe there is more to truth than belief, and more to belief than truth. I believe I am not sure what I believe."
I have had a godawful pain in the right side of my neck and right shoulder for what seems like an eternity. Tonight, I would gladly pay for a massage to try to mitigate the pain. I'm fairly sure this pain is related to a very similar pain I felt 2 or 3 years ago. Back then, I got MRIs done and was told there were problems with my nerves and they wanted to 'replicate' the pain to see if they could pin it down with another MRI after replicating it. Maybe I should have had it done, but the doctors who wanted me to do it struck me as money-hungry bastards who would use any means necessary to charge me big, big bucks. So, I declined. And here's the pain again. Oh well, I can take it, for the time being.
Sanjay Gupta is a neurosurgeon who somehow turned into a medical reporter for CNN. I'm not sure how that happened. Anyway, he related on an CNN blog a story of a man who had no memory, short-term or long-term...could not even remember his own name. A MRI scan revealed that the man had a huge brain tumor; once removed, his memory returned. Further along in the blog, Gupta asks the question: How many people out there who are homeless and dismissed as mentally ill might in fact have a very treatable brain problem? My question: even if there are homeless people out there who have treatable brain problems, who cares enough to do something about it?
One of my brothers sent me a link to an article on BBC News about Crohn's disease (a disease which I have) and the possibility that a completely different theory explains its cause. The theory is that a weakened immune system (versus an overactive one) may be at the root of Crohn's. Interestingly, Viagra may help treat Crohn's. I haven't tried Viagra...but maybe I should!
According to the Texas AAA magazine, by December 31, 2006, Americans will need a passport for air & sea travel to and from Canada, Central & South America, the Carribean, and Bermuda. By December 31, 2007, a passport will be required for all land border crossings. I'm going to recommend to my brothers and sisters and friends who do not have passports (I don't know who does or doesn't) that they get them. You never know when you might have a reason to get out of the country. With George Bush in power, it's likely to be sooner than later.
Tomorrow (Saturday) evening, my wife and I are getting together with some friends for drinks/hors d'ouevres and/or dinner. They're retired (he's probably 63-64, she's maybe 55) and far too well-off...I envy them. She was a city council member of an upscale town on the northern edge of Dallas and he was, and is, involved in some political stuff, but more involved in arts organizations. Before that, he was an engineer, I believe. She talks alot...a LOT. But they're good to spend time with in small doses. They do have a strange compulsion...it's like pulling teeth to get them to go to a restaurant outside their little town (which is on the way to our office). And they eat like anorexic sparrows, which is another strange thing. We always look like starved Samarai in comparison to them.
I want to ride on a train. I need to remember that I want to do that, so I get it scheduled in the not-too-distant future. Now, where shall I go? I could take the train to San Antonio. Or maybe I could go to Chicago. Maybe New Orleans? That would be good...I could express my support for the rebuilding of the city. Maybe, though, I should just ride the Tarantula Train, which goes from Grapevine to Fort Worth. Or I could take the train from Rusk to Palestine and back...though it may not be operating at the moment. This weekend is not a good time for it. Very cool weather, in the 40s and 50s, with lots of heavy rain.
I just opened a bottle of 2003 Long Neck Merlot, a South African wine. The bottle is interesting, with a graphic of a giraffe prominentaly displayed. The wine is, without doubt, one of the most loathsome, miserable-tasting bottles of swill I have had the misfortune to drink in decades. Yeauucchhh! It's so very rare to have really bad wine. I bought this one at World Market...probably cost about $5. Usually, the cheap wines we buy there are pretty decent. This stuff is poisonous. Do NOT buy Long Neck Merlot. I'm pouring this crap down the sink; it will no doubt kill any creatures that might be trying to sneak up through the sewer system.
Have you ever heard of Frisco, Texas? If you have, you're probably from the Dallas/Fort Worth area. But you probably will hear of Frisco soon. It's a former ranch town, way north of Dallas, that has turned into a godawful expensive place with enormous numbers of people moving there, massive malls, etc. It is replacing Addison as the chi-chi place to be. I hate it. Visiting there is like taking a trip to see consumerism taken to the ultimate excess...overindulgence, massive excess, a place that celebrates grotesquely conspicuous consumption. Huge infusions of money continue to transform the once-sleepy community into a celebration of waste and consumption.
Oh, no...it's 9:21 pm! I have to go become one with nature before 9:23 pm or I'll turn into a langostino in a simple but delicious wine bath imbued with the tastes of just a touch of ginger, habanero, and dill! Bye for now.
What else is new...let's see. Danny, of Danny & Annie Perasa who have been featured more than once on Story Corps on NPR, died today. This morning, before Danny died, a conversation between the two of them was broadcast on NPR. It's very poignant.
I spent time today trying to finish up a 'white paper' for a client. The article is intended to offer a persuasive argument about the value of the services that are provided the client association's members. I actually agree that the services have value, so it was not hard to write from that perspective, but I wasn't 'in the groove' today, so what I wrote was not satisfactory. Another try tomorrow or Monday, perhaps.
The NPR 'This I Believe' series is interesting, even when the commentators are unapologetically religious. It gives me reason to examine my own beliefs...what I feel strongly about. It actually makes me realize that, despite my frequently strong opinions, I often see things from many viewpoints and, consequently, don't have really deep-seated 'beliefs' about very much. I act like I do, but I find myself arguing vehemently against myself when I see more than one viewpoint. "I believe that there is more to belief than simply believing. I believe that belief must be tempered by a recognition that the very word acknowledges that a belief is not necessarily the truth. I believe there is more to truth than belief, and more to belief than truth. I believe I am not sure what I believe."
I have had a godawful pain in the right side of my neck and right shoulder for what seems like an eternity. Tonight, I would gladly pay for a massage to try to mitigate the pain. I'm fairly sure this pain is related to a very similar pain I felt 2 or 3 years ago. Back then, I got MRIs done and was told there were problems with my nerves and they wanted to 'replicate' the pain to see if they could pin it down with another MRI after replicating it. Maybe I should have had it done, but the doctors who wanted me to do it struck me as money-hungry bastards who would use any means necessary to charge me big, big bucks. So, I declined. And here's the pain again. Oh well, I can take it, for the time being.
Sanjay Gupta is a neurosurgeon who somehow turned into a medical reporter for CNN. I'm not sure how that happened. Anyway, he related on an CNN blog a story of a man who had no memory, short-term or long-term...could not even remember his own name. A MRI scan revealed that the man had a huge brain tumor; once removed, his memory returned. Further along in the blog, Gupta asks the question: How many people out there who are homeless and dismissed as mentally ill might in fact have a very treatable brain problem? My question: even if there are homeless people out there who have treatable brain problems, who cares enough to do something about it?
One of my brothers sent me a link to an article on BBC News about Crohn's disease (a disease which I have) and the possibility that a completely different theory explains its cause. The theory is that a weakened immune system (versus an overactive one) may be at the root of Crohn's. Interestingly, Viagra may help treat Crohn's. I haven't tried Viagra...but maybe I should!
According to the Texas AAA magazine, by December 31, 2006, Americans will need a passport for air & sea travel to and from Canada, Central & South America, the Carribean, and Bermuda. By December 31, 2007, a passport will be required for all land border crossings. I'm going to recommend to my brothers and sisters and friends who do not have passports (I don't know who does or doesn't) that they get them. You never know when you might have a reason to get out of the country. With George Bush in power, it's likely to be sooner than later.
Tomorrow (Saturday) evening, my wife and I are getting together with some friends for drinks/hors d'ouevres and/or dinner. They're retired (he's probably 63-64, she's maybe 55) and far too well-off...I envy them. She was a city council member of an upscale town on the northern edge of Dallas and he was, and is, involved in some political stuff, but more involved in arts organizations. Before that, he was an engineer, I believe. She talks alot...a LOT. But they're good to spend time with in small doses. They do have a strange compulsion...it's like pulling teeth to get them to go to a restaurant outside their little town (which is on the way to our office). And they eat like anorexic sparrows, which is another strange thing. We always look like starved Samarai in comparison to them.
I want to ride on a train. I need to remember that I want to do that, so I get it scheduled in the not-too-distant future. Now, where shall I go? I could take the train to San Antonio. Or maybe I could go to Chicago. Maybe New Orleans? That would be good...I could express my support for the rebuilding of the city. Maybe, though, I should just ride the Tarantula Train, which goes from Grapevine to Fort Worth. Or I could take the train from Rusk to Palestine and back...though it may not be operating at the moment. This weekend is not a good time for it. Very cool weather, in the 40s and 50s, with lots of heavy rain.
I just opened a bottle of 2003 Long Neck Merlot, a South African wine. The bottle is interesting, with a graphic of a giraffe prominentaly displayed. The wine is, without doubt, one of the most loathsome, miserable-tasting bottles of swill I have had the misfortune to drink in decades. Yeauucchhh! It's so very rare to have really bad wine. I bought this one at World Market...probably cost about $5. Usually, the cheap wines we buy there are pretty decent. This stuff is poisonous. Do NOT buy Long Neck Merlot. I'm pouring this crap down the sink; it will no doubt kill any creatures that might be trying to sneak up through the sewer system.
Have you ever heard of Frisco, Texas? If you have, you're probably from the Dallas/Fort Worth area. But you probably will hear of Frisco soon. It's a former ranch town, way north of Dallas, that has turned into a godawful expensive place with enormous numbers of people moving there, massive malls, etc. It is replacing Addison as the chi-chi place to be. I hate it. Visiting there is like taking a trip to see consumerism taken to the ultimate excess...overindulgence, massive excess, a place that celebrates grotesquely conspicuous consumption. Huge infusions of money continue to transform the once-sleepy community into a celebration of waste and consumption.
Oh, no...it's 9:21 pm! I have to go become one with nature before 9:23 pm or I'll turn into a langostino in a simple but delicious wine bath imbued with the tastes of just a touch of ginger, habanero, and dill! Bye for now.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Now I Understand
Read this. It explains better than I ever could why I need to write, even when what I write may seem to be meaningless drivel. It gives me hope that, one day, I will write something worth reading.
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=5221496
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=5221496
Ports--I Hate It When I Agree with Bush
Like the lapdog to Democrats that I am afraid I sometimes become, my immediate reaction to the Bush administration's decision to allow Dubai Ports World to operate terminals at several U.S. ports was negative. If Bush permits it, it must be bad. That is an easy trap to fall into, because almost everything Bush favors is bad.
In the case of the Dubai ownership of leases in port terminals, though, I think the Democrats, and even the snarling Republicans, are wrong. I base my opinion on what I thought was a realy illuminating piece on the subject on tonight's News Hour with Jim Lehrer.
The anchor woman to the segment I watched (I never remember her name), inquired of two experts what all the hubbub was all about. Both of them explained that, first, the issue is not about Dubai "buying" or "owning" ports; rather, the governmentally owned company is buying from the British company only the ownership of leases to specific terminals. When I first learned of this issue, I immediately wondered why in the hell foreign companies had so much ownership of port operations. Tonight, I learned that the reason for foreign ownership of port terminal leases is that these foreign owners want to make sure that they have control over scheduling of incoming and outgoing cargo...particularly to and from their home countries. By leasing port facilities, the companies can take some control over the shipping traffic that uses the facilities...they can be sure that there is space for ships important to them and their economies.
One of the people being interviewed noted that there must be control over what occurs in these terminals (and they both say there is...a lot of it, though it should be increased). But they say people don't seem to understand that the U.S. is in a position to insist on control of inspections, etc. at the point of departure in foreign ports of ships heading our way. And they say we have not established any appreciable leadership in setting standards in this area, nor have we implemented the sorts of inspections of outgoing cargo that we should.
Ultimately, they argue (and they convinced me), the issue is not who owns leases in terminals (the media is saying foreign companies are buying ports...they are not, they are buying leases of terminals), but who controls and inspects containers leaving foreign ports and bound for U.S. ports.
I think the issue should be explored, and explored deeply, but based on what I learned on The News Hour, I am far less concerned about foreign ownership of terminal leases than I am with this administration's continuing failure to set standards of surveillance and assessment of cargo destined for U.S. ports.
Of course, I do not think George Bush has a clue about any of this. He is still, and will always be, an irrepressible idiot. Mr. Moron. Or, as the South American nutcase (that would be Hugo Chavez) calls him, Mr. Danger!
In the case of the Dubai ownership of leases in port terminals, though, I think the Democrats, and even the snarling Republicans, are wrong. I base my opinion on what I thought was a realy illuminating piece on the subject on tonight's News Hour with Jim Lehrer.
The anchor woman to the segment I watched (I never remember her name), inquired of two experts what all the hubbub was all about. Both of them explained that, first, the issue is not about Dubai "buying" or "owning" ports; rather, the governmentally owned company is buying from the British company only the ownership of leases to specific terminals. When I first learned of this issue, I immediately wondered why in the hell foreign companies had so much ownership of port operations. Tonight, I learned that the reason for foreign ownership of port terminal leases is that these foreign owners want to make sure that they have control over scheduling of incoming and outgoing cargo...particularly to and from their home countries. By leasing port facilities, the companies can take some control over the shipping traffic that uses the facilities...they can be sure that there is space for ships important to them and their economies.
One of the people being interviewed noted that there must be control over what occurs in these terminals (and they both say there is...a lot of it, though it should be increased). But they say people don't seem to understand that the U.S. is in a position to insist on control of inspections, etc. at the point of departure in foreign ports of ships heading our way. And they say we have not established any appreciable leadership in setting standards in this area, nor have we implemented the sorts of inspections of outgoing cargo that we should.
Ultimately, they argue (and they convinced me), the issue is not who owns leases in terminals (the media is saying foreign companies are buying ports...they are not, they are buying leases of terminals), but who controls and inspects containers leaving foreign ports and bound for U.S. ports.
I think the issue should be explored, and explored deeply, but based on what I learned on The News Hour, I am far less concerned about foreign ownership of terminal leases than I am with this administration's continuing failure to set standards of surveillance and assessment of cargo destined for U.S. ports.
Of course, I do not think George Bush has a clue about any of this. He is still, and will always be, an irrepressible idiot. Mr. Moron. Or, as the South American nutcase (that would be Hugo Chavez) calls him, Mr. Danger!
A Baby
Today at the office started with a big surprise. My pregnant staffer, whose due date is March 20, had a doctor's appointment this morning, so wasn't expected until late morning. But shortly after the office opened, we got a call from her fiance, who told us her water broke at 4:30 am. So, three weeks before we'd planned to have a temporary staff person in place, we find ourselves with a more immediate need.
Later in the day, around noon, we got a call from my pregnant staffer in the hospital...still pregnant, but being told that she could expect to start having contractions within several hours and the baby would arrive later today. That's the last we've heard from her.
The baby is a girl...or so they were told, months ago. They will name the baby Alejandra, and call the baby Ale. No, not like Ginger. Like Alejandra, without the jandra. I told her people who see the baby name will call the baby something like the Ginger variety.
We (humans) need to do something about biology. People should have babies after they have finished their careers and have experienced their lives at the pinnacle of their health and energy. Babies should come much later, when folks have smoothed out and are more laid back. (And it would be great for business, too, since there wouldn't be the high likelihood of young people leaving on maternity leave and being away from work on frequent doctor visits, etc. It's very selfish but...hey, there was a reason I didn't have children! And it wasn't that I simply forgot to have any.
Later in the day, around noon, we got a call from my pregnant staffer in the hospital...still pregnant, but being told that she could expect to start having contractions within several hours and the baby would arrive later today. That's the last we've heard from her.
The baby is a girl...or so they were told, months ago. They will name the baby Alejandra, and call the baby Ale. No, not like Ginger. Like Alejandra, without the jandra. I told her people who see the baby name will call the baby something like the Ginger variety.
We (humans) need to do something about biology. People should have babies after they have finished their careers and have experienced their lives at the pinnacle of their health and energy. Babies should come much later, when folks have smoothed out and are more laid back. (And it would be great for business, too, since there wouldn't be the high likelihood of young people leaving on maternity leave and being away from work on frequent doctor visits, etc. It's very selfish but...hey, there was a reason I didn't have children! And it wasn't that I simply forgot to have any.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
More Interesting Ideas from an Awake Geezer
Tonight, I watched a piece on television about www.craigslist.com. It was intriguing. I've used craigslist before (tried to sell my pickup truck from the bowels of Hell) and was impressed with the concept. I wasn't impressed with the results (no sale but I did get some scammers trying to pull one over on me), but I was impressed with the ease of using it. That wasn't the first time I used craigslist. I remember trying to find someone to ride with me to Albuquerque, New Mexico just before the 2004 presidential election; I had offered MoveOn.org to go to New Mexico to take people to the polls...for various reasons, it did not happen.
I used craigslist before, or at least I perused it. It's fascinating just to look at...some very strange postings. Oh, yeah, I looked for free, house-trained puppies on craigslist sometime before Christmas last year. It's an amazing source of information and access to the community. I imagine most of the craigslist community is much younger than I am, but I think it is interesting, nonetheless.
Some strange experiences with Skype give me reason to wonder whether such a resource exists in Mexico...I don't know. The strange experiences involve middle-aged Mexican woman sending me messages on Skype, suggesting an interest in developing a relationshipo with me. After getting such messages, I changed my visibility on Skype (I am not interested in trysts with middle-aged Mexican women...I'm just not), but I wonder if there's a need going unfilled in Mexico. If I were to help fill any such need, I would need to take speed to accelerate learning Spanish...hmmm, I wonder if that, too, is a potentially unfilled need...?
I'm coming up with bizarre ideas about what I could do if I moved to Mexico. Today, I communicated via email with David Dorado Romo, who wrote a book entitled Ringside Seat to a Revolution, An Underground Cultural History of El Paso and Juarez: 1893-1923 . Actually, he responded a few days ago to a message I sent to his publisher, asking to get in touch with him. I responded back to him today. Anyway, he told me just a bit about how he did the research for his book, and the processes he had to go through to do the research. I thought to myself, "Hey, I could do research on various historical events that occurred in Mexico and write about them!" Of course, he has an advantage in that he is fluent in Spanish and he lives (I think) in El Paso and knows lots of people in both U.S. and Mexican archival institutions. Romo seems like an interesting guy I would enjoy talking to...but I'm usually wrong about people. People I think I will like, after a first meeting, I usually despise. People to whom I take an instant dislike often turn into people I consider friends. So, if I like you at the start, I'll probably consider you to be an asshole in short order...if I loathe you, please plan on coming to my next party and sharing your insights on life with me.
What am I rambling about...? I don't know. My wife and I went out to a very upscale steakhouse chain tonight (Smith & Wollensky), using a $100 gift card to cover 2/3 of the cost. So, I'm wired. Big steak for me, enormouse filet for my wife, tomato & onion slices for me (with wonderful bleu cheese sauce and chunks), salad for my wife, 4 samples of wine (for my wife...she got the expensive prix fix item), etc., etc. I actually enjoyed the place, which is unusual for me...normally, national chains, even the upscale very expensive ones, fall flat with me. Not tonight. It was good. Obscenely overpriced, but the gift card helped enormously. I was impressed with the kitchen...I asked for my steak very, very, very rare. Usually, the result is that I get medium rare steak, which is OK...I actually like it best truly rare, with a slightly warm red center. But tonight, they listened. I got a piece of meat that was flash-seared on both sides, with virtually all of the inside absolutely raw and cold. I like my meat that way, but need spices to enjoy it. When I go back to Smith & Wollensky, I'll ask for my steak to be cooked medium rare, leaning toward the very rare side. I will eat raw meat, though...in fact, I could use a big chunk right now!
Speaking of food, as I am wont to do, I just grabbed a small handfull of wasabi peas and popped them into my mouth. I bought a container of wasabi peas for my wife as a stocking stuffer at Christmas...she hates them. But I like them! They cause my sinuses to clear, my mouth to go into some type of severe shock, and my brain to go on temporary assignment elsewhere. But that heat does feel good!
OK, it's late. Enough of this bloggery.
I used craigslist before, or at least I perused it. It's fascinating just to look at...some very strange postings. Oh, yeah, I looked for free, house-trained puppies on craigslist sometime before Christmas last year. It's an amazing source of information and access to the community. I imagine most of the craigslist community is much younger than I am, but I think it is interesting, nonetheless.
Some strange experiences with Skype give me reason to wonder whether such a resource exists in Mexico...I don't know. The strange experiences involve middle-aged Mexican woman sending me messages on Skype, suggesting an interest in developing a relationshipo with me. After getting such messages, I changed my visibility on Skype (I am not interested in trysts with middle-aged Mexican women...I'm just not), but I wonder if there's a need going unfilled in Mexico. If I were to help fill any such need, I would need to take speed to accelerate learning Spanish...hmmm, I wonder if that, too, is a potentially unfilled need...?
I'm coming up with bizarre ideas about what I could do if I moved to Mexico. Today, I communicated via email with David Dorado Romo, who wrote a book entitled Ringside Seat to a Revolution, An Underground Cultural History of El Paso and Juarez: 1893-1923 . Actually, he responded a few days ago to a message I sent to his publisher, asking to get in touch with him. I responded back to him today. Anyway, he told me just a bit about how he did the research for his book, and the processes he had to go through to do the research. I thought to myself, "Hey, I could do research on various historical events that occurred in Mexico and write about them!" Of course, he has an advantage in that he is fluent in Spanish and he lives (I think) in El Paso and knows lots of people in both U.S. and Mexican archival institutions. Romo seems like an interesting guy I would enjoy talking to...but I'm usually wrong about people. People I think I will like, after a first meeting, I usually despise. People to whom I take an instant dislike often turn into people I consider friends. So, if I like you at the start, I'll probably consider you to be an asshole in short order...if I loathe you, please plan on coming to my next party and sharing your insights on life with me.
What am I rambling about...? I don't know. My wife and I went out to a very upscale steakhouse chain tonight (Smith & Wollensky), using a $100 gift card to cover 2/3 of the cost. So, I'm wired. Big steak for me, enormouse filet for my wife, tomato & onion slices for me (with wonderful bleu cheese sauce and chunks), salad for my wife, 4 samples of wine (for my wife...she got the expensive prix fix item), etc., etc. I actually enjoyed the place, which is unusual for me...normally, national chains, even the upscale very expensive ones, fall flat with me. Not tonight. It was good. Obscenely overpriced, but the gift card helped enormously. I was impressed with the kitchen...I asked for my steak very, very, very rare. Usually, the result is that I get medium rare steak, which is OK...I actually like it best truly rare, with a slightly warm red center. But tonight, they listened. I got a piece of meat that was flash-seared on both sides, with virtually all of the inside absolutely raw and cold. I like my meat that way, but need spices to enjoy it. When I go back to Smith & Wollensky, I'll ask for my steak to be cooked medium rare, leaning toward the very rare side. I will eat raw meat, though...in fact, I could use a big chunk right now!
Speaking of food, as I am wont to do, I just grabbed a small handfull of wasabi peas and popped them into my mouth. I bought a container of wasabi peas for my wife as a stocking stuffer at Christmas...she hates them. But I like them! They cause my sinuses to clear, my mouth to go into some type of severe shock, and my brain to go on temporary assignment elsewhere. But that heat does feel good!
OK, it's late. Enough of this bloggery.
Mexican Retirement...and Business
I'm "only" 52+ but I'm not even remotely interested in waiting until I'm 65+ to retire. I may not actually want to retire...maybe just change direction...but I know I do not want to keep up the 8-5 office routine. That's getting stronger every day. Today, I think I experienced a distant...or maybe not so distant...glimmer of the lights of retirement when I spoke to my wife about possibly buying a place in Mexico. We're not in position to retire now, but we may be in a position to buy a place down there as an investment property...later to become our retirement home. When I mentioned that to my wife, she didn't simply smile and act like I was delusional again. She actually seemed to signal that it might well be worth looking into! She actually spoke those words!
OK, I'm ready to get serious about this now. I may need to establish some business connections in Mexico, near the area I want to look at buying, so I can legitimately travel down there on my company's nickel while I explore.
I need to set up an association management collaboration in Guadalajara...or maybe a trade show in the city...with plenty of Mexican intellectual horsepower to make it fly.
¡Si un empresario mexicano lee este e interesa a trabajar conmigo, quiero hablar con usted!
OK, I'm ready to get serious about this now. I may need to establish some business connections in Mexico, near the area I want to look at buying, so I can legitimately travel down there on my company's nickel while I explore.
I need to set up an association management collaboration in Guadalajara...or maybe a trade show in the city...with plenty of Mexican intellectual horsepower to make it fly.
¡Si un empresario mexicano lee este e interesa a trabajar conmigo, quiero hablar con usted!
Focus
I wrote some time ago about my idea for a session to "stir things up" for association executives. The title of the session was to be "Thinking Across Time in Foreign Languages." It did not get the kind of reaction I had hoped, but that was OK by me, because I became enamored of the title and promised myself that I would do something with it one day. That day has not yet come...but it might today.
I was invited by the local group of association executives to participate in a focus group, which will be held today. I think the invitation went out to people who once were very active in the organization but who have curtailed their participation. That is, the inactive geezers were invited...the purpose, I think, is for the current crop of leaders to figure out how to get us back around the table.
The invitees are not all geezers, in fact. I noted on the invitation list that there are some people I do not know...people who are probably young and energetic and look at association management as more important than it is.
I'll use this opportunity to try to get the crowd to think about things from a broader perspective than I think they have tended to take. I want them to think less in terms of "how do we get members to support a 'member-get-a-member campaign' we are planning" and more in terms of "how relevant is our association and how do we make it no only relevant, but vital, to our members." The answers to both questions is the same, but I believe you'll get to the answer far faster by asking the latter question. It's a matter of focus. A good thing to do with a focus group.
I was invited by the local group of association executives to participate in a focus group, which will be held today. I think the invitation went out to people who once were very active in the organization but who have curtailed their participation. That is, the inactive geezers were invited...the purpose, I think, is for the current crop of leaders to figure out how to get us back around the table.
The invitees are not all geezers, in fact. I noted on the invitation list that there are some people I do not know...people who are probably young and energetic and look at association management as more important than it is.
I'll use this opportunity to try to get the crowd to think about things from a broader perspective than I think they have tended to take. I want them to think less in terms of "how do we get members to support a 'member-get-a-member campaign' we are planning" and more in terms of "how relevant is our association and how do we make it no only relevant, but vital, to our members." The answers to both questions is the same, but I believe you'll get to the answer far faster by asking the latter question. It's a matter of focus. A good thing to do with a focus group.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Business...Is the Game Worth the Candle?
I may have said it before, but I'll say it again. My company is one of four finalists that will be interviewed by the selection committee for an association that I have been pursuing for management for awhile. I will appear before the selection committee of five people on March 1, from 9:30 am to 10:45 am. I would like to get this account...it would provide a much-needed infusion of cash to my company, plus it would provide some prestige that could be parlayed into yet more business. It could be very important for us, and could help position us as a property that might be sellable. Ultimately, that's my objective for the long haul. But if we get it, I will personally be expected to devote a lot of time and travel to the organization and would be expected to be the association's primary spokesperson. I'm doing that now for our largest client, so it's not beyond me...but it could stretch me very, very thin. So, the question becomes, as it always does for me of late, "Is the game worth the candle?"
Monday, February 20, 2006
My Heart Belongs to...My Cardiologist
Today I was scheduled to have a thalium stress test and a follow-up visit with my cardiologist. Because of the thalium stress test, which was to have been done at 3:45 pm, I was not to have had any alcohol, tobacco, caffeine, chocolate, or diet caffeine-free drinks after 3:45 pm yesterday. None of this presented any problems, especially the tobacco...no longer interested in that stuff. A nice glass of wine or a stiff drink would have been good last night, though.
Not long after I got to the office today, my cardiologist's office called to tell me that someone had goofed. They do not conduct thalium stress tests on Mondays, I was told. Also, they need to get the results of the test for a while, so a doctor's appointment immediately thereafter made no sense, they said. I needed to reschedule both of them. So, I rescheduled the stress test for the afternoon of February 24. The follow-up with the cardiologist won't take place until the morning of March 9, due to the fact that my travel to Washington, DC (March 6-March 8) conflicts with available appointment times earlier than the 9th.
As I was thinking last night about the stress test, I thought how I have not been doing what the doctor said to do. No exercise of any kind (my walking was put on hold, first by chafing, then by bad ankles and knees...the later of which still prevent me from doing much walking). I have not been watching my diet. Actually, I have been behaving like I was in a race to see how much weight I can gain and how many pounds of unhealthy foods can I eat within a short timeframe. It worries, me, of course, to think that I may go in and the doctor may tell me that I'm on the edge. I really need to get some discipline to do what needs to be done...exercise, good eating habits, cutting down on the booze, forcing myself to be lest stressed-out, listening to my little cordovan Buddha tell me to chill.
I've continued to read bits and pieces about moving to Mexico. And I've started looking closer at what's available for sale. The more I see the prices in and around Ajijic, the more astonished I get...for the most part, they are far, far higher than the housing prices where I live. While I admit that Ajijic is also a nicer place and Mexico's leadership is far less frightening that ours, I am just amazed at the prices. When I look at them, and compare them to the prices of Fort Frances, Ontario (just across from International Falls, Minnesota), the economics argue for a move north, not south. Of course, the move north would involve enormous amounts of heating oil, coats, snow throwers, and all manner of other cold-weather investments. But, hey, a 3-bedroom house for $69,000? My kind of place...at least it's the kind of place my bank account could get to like...maybe.
To over-use a phrase I've adopted of late, with regard to my exploration of a move to Mexico, I'm afraid the game is not worth the candle. It doesn't make good sense to invest a great deal of my time and energy into looking for a place to retire anytime soon. I don't have the requisite money now, and there is no rational reason to believe I will by the time by age-appropriate retirement comes about. Then, of course, I change my mind and think I can do it. At least I can argue with myself and we'll see who wins.
Not long after I got to the office today, my cardiologist's office called to tell me that someone had goofed. They do not conduct thalium stress tests on Mondays, I was told. Also, they need to get the results of the test for a while, so a doctor's appointment immediately thereafter made no sense, they said. I needed to reschedule both of them. So, I rescheduled the stress test for the afternoon of February 24. The follow-up with the cardiologist won't take place until the morning of March 9, due to the fact that my travel to Washington, DC (March 6-March 8) conflicts with available appointment times earlier than the 9th.
As I was thinking last night about the stress test, I thought how I have not been doing what the doctor said to do. No exercise of any kind (my walking was put on hold, first by chafing, then by bad ankles and knees...the later of which still prevent me from doing much walking). I have not been watching my diet. Actually, I have been behaving like I was in a race to see how much weight I can gain and how many pounds of unhealthy foods can I eat within a short timeframe. It worries, me, of course, to think that I may go in and the doctor may tell me that I'm on the edge. I really need to get some discipline to do what needs to be done...exercise, good eating habits, cutting down on the booze, forcing myself to be lest stressed-out, listening to my little cordovan Buddha tell me to chill.
I've continued to read bits and pieces about moving to Mexico. And I've started looking closer at what's available for sale. The more I see the prices in and around Ajijic, the more astonished I get...for the most part, they are far, far higher than the housing prices where I live. While I admit that Ajijic is also a nicer place and Mexico's leadership is far less frightening that ours, I am just amazed at the prices. When I look at them, and compare them to the prices of Fort Frances, Ontario (just across from International Falls, Minnesota), the economics argue for a move north, not south. Of course, the move north would involve enormous amounts of heating oil, coats, snow throwers, and all manner of other cold-weather investments. But, hey, a 3-bedroom house for $69,000? My kind of place...at least it's the kind of place my bank account could get to like...maybe.
To over-use a phrase I've adopted of late, with regard to my exploration of a move to Mexico, I'm afraid the game is not worth the candle. It doesn't make good sense to invest a great deal of my time and energy into looking for a place to retire anytime soon. I don't have the requisite money now, and there is no rational reason to believe I will by the time by age-appropriate retirement comes about. Then, of course, I change my mind and think I can do it. At least I can argue with myself and we'll see who wins.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Memories
Certain moments in one's life are seared into memory so deeply that they just won't allow time to change them. Most of our memories change over the years so that they become elastic and they allow intervening years to shape the way they are experienced.
My own memories of living through Hurricane Celia are like that. My family's house was wrecked by the storm. We were inside the house as pieces of it blew away around us. I responded with panic and fear during the height of the storm. My parents responded with parental calm, even at the worst of it. It was a very tough time, but it doesn't seem so awful now. The experiences that people in New Orleans went through during and after Katrina put the Celia experience into perspective for me. Time and experience have interceded, changing my memories of Celia, and they have made the memories more tolerable. My parents had a much harder time with Hurricane Celia than I did, as a high school student, I'm sure, but the experience of losing our home back then has been filtered and made less intense to me by time.
Some memories, though, won't allow time to mold and shape them. They are what they are and time can't change the experience. Time can't make those memories more tolerable. They are seared into the brain with a red-hot branding iron. They are always vivid and fresh. Those memories are like powerful jolts of electricity. They are perpetually painful and stunningly current. When those memories surface, they bring back emotional experiences that make the heart race, the skin crawl, and the tears flow.
My memories of the day my wife was diagnosed with breast cancer are among those few memories that are seared into my brain so that time cannot change them. The doctors had done a biopsy of a lump in my wife's right breast a few days earlier. She had an appointment with another doctor who was to review the results of the biopsy. For some reason, I asked if she wanted me to go with her. I had never asked before if she wanted me to go along to a doctor's appointment, but I sensed that she might want me to go. She did.
We were ushered into the examining room together and the doctor arrived shortly thereafter, with his assistant or his nurse, I'm not sure which. Immediately he began talking about how this was a terrible thing that she was experiencing, as if she knew something about the results of the biopsy that she did not know. Both my wife and I were stunned at what the doctor was saying, but I think both of us were hoping that his words would eventually lead to him telling us that it always looks bad but reality intervenes and fixes it. But he didn't. He ultimately made it clear that the biopsy revealed breast cancer and it was too large for a lumpectomy and its location was such that the only option was a mastectomy.
Much of the rest of that day is a blur, but that experience of being told my wife had breast cancer is seared into my brain. Similarly seared into my brain is the experience of hearing the surgeon, a few weeks later, come out of the operating room to tell me that he had hoped the cancer had not spread to the lymph nodes but that, unfortunately, the tests revealed it had. I remember him telling me she had a hard road ahead. I was able to hold it together for only a few moments. My wife's sister was there with me and she led me outside to the parking garage, where I completely lost my composure. I called my sister to tell her the news and I was barely able to talk to her.
It has turned out well. My wife is doing fine now and the cancer is gone. She has the lasting scars of a missing breast and her hair never came back after the chemotherapy, but she is with me and that is all that really matters to me. Memories of all of the horrors of her chemotherapy and the agony she went through during that time have softened for me with time, but the memories of those few awful moments will never change.
When those memories surface, they put my attitudes about politics and culture and humanity into perspective. Suddently, when confronted with those memories, nothing else seems awfully important.
My own memories of living through Hurricane Celia are like that. My family's house was wrecked by the storm. We were inside the house as pieces of it blew away around us. I responded with panic and fear during the height of the storm. My parents responded with parental calm, even at the worst of it. It was a very tough time, but it doesn't seem so awful now. The experiences that people in New Orleans went through during and after Katrina put the Celia experience into perspective for me. Time and experience have interceded, changing my memories of Celia, and they have made the memories more tolerable. My parents had a much harder time with Hurricane Celia than I did, as a high school student, I'm sure, but the experience of losing our home back then has been filtered and made less intense to me by time.
Some memories, though, won't allow time to mold and shape them. They are what they are and time can't change the experience. Time can't make those memories more tolerable. They are seared into the brain with a red-hot branding iron. They are always vivid and fresh. Those memories are like powerful jolts of electricity. They are perpetually painful and stunningly current. When those memories surface, they bring back emotional experiences that make the heart race, the skin crawl, and the tears flow.
My memories of the day my wife was diagnosed with breast cancer are among those few memories that are seared into my brain so that time cannot change them. The doctors had done a biopsy of a lump in my wife's right breast a few days earlier. She had an appointment with another doctor who was to review the results of the biopsy. For some reason, I asked if she wanted me to go with her. I had never asked before if she wanted me to go along to a doctor's appointment, but I sensed that she might want me to go. She did.
We were ushered into the examining room together and the doctor arrived shortly thereafter, with his assistant or his nurse, I'm not sure which. Immediately he began talking about how this was a terrible thing that she was experiencing, as if she knew something about the results of the biopsy that she did not know. Both my wife and I were stunned at what the doctor was saying, but I think both of us were hoping that his words would eventually lead to him telling us that it always looks bad but reality intervenes and fixes it. But he didn't. He ultimately made it clear that the biopsy revealed breast cancer and it was too large for a lumpectomy and its location was such that the only option was a mastectomy.
Much of the rest of that day is a blur, but that experience of being told my wife had breast cancer is seared into my brain. Similarly seared into my brain is the experience of hearing the surgeon, a few weeks later, come out of the operating room to tell me that he had hoped the cancer had not spread to the lymph nodes but that, unfortunately, the tests revealed it had. I remember him telling me she had a hard road ahead. I was able to hold it together for only a few moments. My wife's sister was there with me and she led me outside to the parking garage, where I completely lost my composure. I called my sister to tell her the news and I was barely able to talk to her.
It has turned out well. My wife is doing fine now and the cancer is gone. She has the lasting scars of a missing breast and her hair never came back after the chemotherapy, but she is with me and that is all that really matters to me. Memories of all of the horrors of her chemotherapy and the agony she went through during that time have softened for me with time, but the memories of those few awful moments will never change.
When those memories surface, they put my attitudes about politics and culture and humanity into perspective. Suddently, when confronted with those memories, nothing else seems awfully important.
Cocoon
Our icy weather, or rather the threat of icy weather, resulted in a change of plans for the weekend. My wife and I were planning to use a certificate for a free hotel room in downtown Dallas so we could explore the downtown area. After hearing forecasts of icy conditions, we opted to postpone. My wife was feeling really worn out, anyway, so it was best to put it off for a while. We may use it around our anniversary. I thought the certificate expired soon, but my wife says it is good through April.
Our satellite TV provider is offering free access to a couple of premium channels this weekend, hoping to lure people into subscribing to them, so we decided to watch some movies...mindless stuff, but it provided entertainment as we holed up indoors against the cold. We did go out for awhile...to drop by the post office and get a late lunch (a bowl of tortilla soup for my wife and a cup of tortilla soup and enchilada/beans/rice for me) at at place we like a lot, Luna de Noche.
Since we had planned to be eating out, we hadn't prepared for dinner, but recovered nicely with a tasty wild rice casserole, topped with cheddar cheese and shrimp...my wife had accumulated most of the ingredients, planning to have it sometime soon. She found the recipe in the newspaper, I think. It caught her eye because it emphasized that it was low-carb.
We stayed in mostly...in our warm cocoon. That was Saturday. Sunday, we may venture out if the weather cooperates. It's 12:30 am and I hope to be up reasonably early so I won't miss out on Sunday, so I better get to bed.
Our satellite TV provider is offering free access to a couple of premium channels this weekend, hoping to lure people into subscribing to them, so we decided to watch some movies...mindless stuff, but it provided entertainment as we holed up indoors against the cold. We did go out for awhile...to drop by the post office and get a late lunch (a bowl of tortilla soup for my wife and a cup of tortilla soup and enchilada/beans/rice for me) at at place we like a lot, Luna de Noche.
Since we had planned to be eating out, we hadn't prepared for dinner, but recovered nicely with a tasty wild rice casserole, topped with cheddar cheese and shrimp...my wife had accumulated most of the ingredients, planning to have it sometime soon. She found the recipe in the newspaper, I think. It caught her eye because it emphasized that it was low-carb.
We stayed in mostly...in our warm cocoon. That was Saturday. Sunday, we may venture out if the weather cooperates. It's 12:30 am and I hope to be up reasonably early so I won't miss out on Sunday, so I better get to bed.
Saturday, February 18, 2006
Worth Pondering
I read the other day that Sweden aims to become the world’s first oil-free country by 2020 or 2030. That is accoring to the Swedish minister for sustainable development, Mona Sahlin. That's a noble goal. But I wonder if energy dependence will long be a priority anywhere in the world. Other more basic priorities may emerge.
The very last sentence of a piece published in the English language edition of Pravda (a Russian newspaper, online) offers an eerie prognostication. It says, Those willing to die for their values surely will triumph over those who have none worth dying for. Another, related, opinion piece is equally disturbing. Both articles suggest we are witnessing the demise of Western civilization. I think we are. And I think it is unraveling at astonishing speed....think years, not decades or centuries.
Read some other items from Pravda and other admittedly propaganda-oriented sources I think you'll see the world from a different perspective than you're used to seeing.
Read about the Pentagon's control over U.S. society.
Read about how Russian writers view Bush and the U.S.
There is, of course, stuff that suggests nut-cases are rampant, but they no longer seem quite so utterly outlandish as they once did. I am afraid the U.S.A. is coming apart at the seams, courtesy of George Bush and clan, and we, The People, are doing nothing to stop it. The outlandish piece linked in this paragraph no longer seems utterly absurd to me. It makes me wonder.
The very last sentence of a piece published in the English language edition of Pravda (a Russian newspaper, online) offers an eerie prognostication. It says, Those willing to die for their values surely will triumph over those who have none worth dying for. Another, related, opinion piece is equally disturbing. Both articles suggest we are witnessing the demise of Western civilization. I think we are. And I think it is unraveling at astonishing speed....think years, not decades or centuries.
Read some other items from Pravda and other admittedly propaganda-oriented sources I think you'll see the world from a different perspective than you're used to seeing.
Read about the Pentagon's control over U.S. society.
Read about how Russian writers view Bush and the U.S.
There is, of course, stuff that suggests nut-cases are rampant, but they no longer seem quite so utterly outlandish as they once did. I am afraid the U.S.A. is coming apart at the seams, courtesy of George Bush and clan, and we, The People, are doing nothing to stop it. The outlandish piece linked in this paragraph no longer seems utterly absurd to me. It makes me wonder.
Respect for Religion (Not that I have much....)
The horrors of Muslim violence against Westerners may be just beginnings. I'm upset that people all over the world are taking up arms against Christians (and all who they assume are Christians) because of a bunch of cartoons. The insanity of religious intolerance is spreading like wildwire. Christians do not have a firm grip on the idiocy of intolerance...some Muslims, too, are just as stupid and just as mindless as Pat Robertson and his cohorts.
It is a shame that a limited number of Muslim radicals are able to stir up violence against everything 'Western' simply by calling up images of Danish cartoons. To me, that says very devious Muslims are able to control huge numbers of very stupid Muslims. Rather like Pat Robertson controlling huge numbers of nut-case Christians. I have never met anyone who thought Pat Robertson was anything other than an idiot...but there must be those who support him. Ditto the Muslim experience. My solution assumes people of intellect on both sides of the debate and dilemma...absence intellect, use intelligence: People of all faiths should be acknowledged and appreciated...failure to do so is grounds for appropriate response, not including violence.
It is a shame that a limited number of Muslim radicals are able to stir up violence against everything 'Western' simply by calling up images of Danish cartoons. To me, that says very devious Muslims are able to control huge numbers of very stupid Muslims. Rather like Pat Robertson controlling huge numbers of nut-case Christians. I have never met anyone who thought Pat Robertson was anything other than an idiot...but there must be those who support him. Ditto the Muslim experience. My solution assumes people of intellect on both sides of the debate and dilemma...absence intellect, use intelligence: People of all faiths should be acknowledged and appreciated...failure to do so is grounds for appropriate response, not including violence.
Friday, February 17, 2006
When I Grow Up, I Want to be a...
My office is, finally, beginning to look reasonably well-organized. I have had boxes full of useless crap stacked all over the office for months...too lazy to go through it, throw it out, or take it to storage. On the likelihood that prospective clients may come by, though, I got in gear and insisted that everyone else do the same. I want the offices to look presentable to potential clients. Only one office still looks like a paper-recycling station...but it's far better than it has been. The woman who occupies the office is probably the least-productive person on staff...much busy work, but not much real productivity.
I think I will have to fire her, but first I need to get a new client to enable me to get a new person in here who will be able to take up the slack during the transition. I fired the woman's predecessor. I am not good at hiring people, at least people I can afford. I know good people when I see them...but they are always out of my price range...I would like to hire them, but then I would not be able to pay other people. I need existing clients to pay reasonable fees for the work they expect us to perform. Or, I need to get out of this business and do something completely different.
I cannot be a farmer. As much as I would like to think I could, I cannot. I don't have the knowledge, background, skills, stamina, or capital.
I cannot be a cardiac surgeon. I do not want to be a cardiac surgeon. But I would like the income of a cardiac surgeon.
I cannot be a mercenary soldier, for the reasons under 'farmer' above and for the fact that 'the game is not worth the candle.' (If you have read certain parts of this blog before, you will know what that means.)
I cannot be a ballet dancer. For many reasons.
I cannot be an auctioneer...maybe I could, but I do not want to be an auctioneer.
I cannot be a nose straightener. As for cardiac surgeon, I do not want to be a plastic surgeon (nose straightener), but would appreciate the income.
I can be who I am. Who I am should not necessarily link inextricably to what I do. I keep having to tell myself that. Given sufficient time to clear my mind and settle my nerves, I think I could write stuff that people would want to read. Fiction, mostly, but also nonfiction. I'd like to learn to paint, as well. And I'd like to learn how to create stained glass. The stained glass class I expected my wife to give me as a present did not materialize, so maybe I should just bite the bullet and buy it for myself.
My wife used to like to sew, but she doesn't do it anymore. I wonder what she wants to learn to do.
I think I will have to fire her, but first I need to get a new client to enable me to get a new person in here who will be able to take up the slack during the transition. I fired the woman's predecessor. I am not good at hiring people, at least people I can afford. I know good people when I see them...but they are always out of my price range...I would like to hire them, but then I would not be able to pay other people. I need existing clients to pay reasonable fees for the work they expect us to perform. Or, I need to get out of this business and do something completely different.
I cannot be a farmer. As much as I would like to think I could, I cannot. I don't have the knowledge, background, skills, stamina, or capital.
I cannot be a cardiac surgeon. I do not want to be a cardiac surgeon. But I would like the income of a cardiac surgeon.
I cannot be a mercenary soldier, for the reasons under 'farmer' above and for the fact that 'the game is not worth the candle.' (If you have read certain parts of this blog before, you will know what that means.)
I cannot be a ballet dancer. For many reasons.
I cannot be an auctioneer...maybe I could, but I do not want to be an auctioneer.
I cannot be a nose straightener. As for cardiac surgeon, I do not want to be a plastic surgeon (nose straightener), but would appreciate the income.
I can be who I am. Who I am should not necessarily link inextricably to what I do. I keep having to tell myself that. Given sufficient time to clear my mind and settle my nerves, I think I could write stuff that people would want to read. Fiction, mostly, but also nonfiction. I'd like to learn to paint, as well. And I'd like to learn how to create stained glass. The stained glass class I expected my wife to give me as a present did not materialize, so maybe I should just bite the bullet and buy it for myself.
My wife used to like to sew, but she doesn't do it anymore. I wonder what she wants to learn to do.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Thursday Update...
My wife and I went out to lunch today to an Italian restaurant that had been recommended to us by an acquaintance. My take: OK, as a last resort. Her take: she liked it.
Such is life...the vagaries of spousal restaurant assessments.
Completely new topic: While we were on the way to lunch (or was it on the way back), we heard an interesting interview. It was an interview of Norah Vincent, author of Self-Made Man: One Woman's Journey into Manhood and Back Again.
Vincent, we learned during the interview, is a lesbian. Her sexual preferences do matter, as the interview revealed. But they matter only in terms of how she perceives people with whom she interacts...pretending to be a straight man. I think I'd like to read the book. Add it to the list of 999 others that I want to take time to read.
The dryer alarm just went off...loud, obnoxious, noisy bastard...but my wife, who put the clothes in the dryer in the first place, is in bed. This is an indication that the load in the dryer is either towels, sheets, or underwear...things that do not need to be hung up or folded or put on hangers. So, despite hearing the annoying alarm, I sit here writing about...laundry noises. I'm such a cosmopolitan guy! I think I'll give lessons.
This weekend, we will use our hotel certificate. Free room, free breakfast, opportunity to wander around downtown Dallas without paying for the convenient bed we'll sleep in...(the Heavenly Bed...I'm loving that!). We may go to a godawful expensive restaurant, Stephen Pyles, which is said to be phenomenally good, with prices to match. But my wife found a list of great ceviche options that we could have at only $48 for a sampler...so we may do that, and have crackers and cheese for our real dinner.
It's supposed to get godawful cold tonight and tomorrow and through the weekend. That's a pain, given our downtown escapades. But, we will wear layers and pretend it's summer. We will enjoy this weekend, by God!
It would be even better if it were in Ajijic!
Such is life...the vagaries of spousal restaurant assessments.
Completely new topic: While we were on the way to lunch (or was it on the way back), we heard an interesting interview. It was an interview of Norah Vincent, author of Self-Made Man: One Woman's Journey into Manhood and Back Again.
Vincent, we learned during the interview, is a lesbian. Her sexual preferences do matter, as the interview revealed. But they matter only in terms of how she perceives people with whom she interacts...pretending to be a straight man. I think I'd like to read the book. Add it to the list of 999 others that I want to take time to read.
The dryer alarm just went off...loud, obnoxious, noisy bastard...but my wife, who put the clothes in the dryer in the first place, is in bed. This is an indication that the load in the dryer is either towels, sheets, or underwear...things that do not need to be hung up or folded or put on hangers. So, despite hearing the annoying alarm, I sit here writing about...laundry noises. I'm such a cosmopolitan guy! I think I'll give lessons.
This weekend, we will use our hotel certificate. Free room, free breakfast, opportunity to wander around downtown Dallas without paying for the convenient bed we'll sleep in...(the Heavenly Bed...I'm loving that!). We may go to a godawful expensive restaurant, Stephen Pyles, which is said to be phenomenally good, with prices to match. But my wife found a list of great ceviche options that we could have at only $48 for a sampler...so we may do that, and have crackers and cheese for our real dinner.
It's supposed to get godawful cold tonight and tomorrow and through the weekend. That's a pain, given our downtown escapades. But, we will wear layers and pretend it's summer. We will enjoy this weekend, by God!
It would be even better if it were in Ajijic!
Doggie Snobbery
A colored bull terrier is this year's winner of the Westminster dog show. I looked at a photo...it's buckskin colored, with white markings. I'm used to seeing all-white bull terriers. I'm not sure what I find so interesting about watching the Westminster dog show on television, but I do find it interesting. I did not watch it this year, but in years past my wife and I have watched bits and pieces of it. I'm even more surprised that she finds it interesting. We don't have pets, we aren't into doggie snobbery, and we have no 'dog in the hunt,' but we do find the competition interesting to watch.
It was sad to hear that another dog from the show, a whippet, got out of its cage at JFK airport. As far as I know, the dog is still missing.
Speaking of pets, I found the following quote from an article from the Sydney Morning News website to be fascinating:
It was sad to hear that another dog from the show, a whippet, got out of its cage at JFK airport. As far as I know, the dog is still missing.
Speaking of pets, I found the following quote from an article from the Sydney Morning News website to be fascinating:
A collaborative research paper delivered at the International Conference on Human-Animal Interactions in Glasgow last October said pet owners in Australia and Germany made 15 per cent fewer visits to a doctor each year than those who don't own a pet. In China the difference was about 20 per cent.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Random Thoughts On Wednesday Morning (And So Forth)
Today's blog is split. I started it this morning, I'm adding to it tonight. But tonight's comments will come first.
My wife and I started watching "Road to Perdition" tonight but were rudely interrupted by a phone cal from my wife's sister...so, I am posting to the blog. Actually, my sister in law is very nice, so I do not mind getting shoved aside. The movie is, frankly, a bit boring so far. Maybe I'm too used to action...this has some, in spurts, but the story seems to lag.
On an unrelated note, I confirmed my reservations to Washington, DC today. I also discovered that the attorney for my client, who I thought might be a progressive thinker, is a Republican. This, after I exposed my fundamental attitudes about Bush, et al to him. He's not a bad Republican, but he is on the other side. I may expect my phone to be tapped and my email to9 be read by George and his gestapo cronies. Seriously, the attorney & I disagree on some very fundamental issues, but he really is a decent person, in spite of his political leanings. You see, there are a limited number of Republicans who are worth talking to. Not many, mind you. OK, it's 8:46 and I have things to be and people to see...so I'll sign off and write again another time.
When I got up this morning, it was dark outside, but there were hints that the sun would peek over the horizon soon. The sky was not black, as it is at night. There was just the slightest bit of pale light, so that the outlines of houses and trees were visible against a grey background. That pale grey was made much dimmer this morning than most mornings because of a fast-moving cloud cover. Low, dark clouds were blowing from south to north. This morning's sky looked like winter. Just a few days ago, I thought winter was almost done, but as I've written before, it is not. Last night, I heard a weather forecast that suggested we might see freezing precipitation by the weekend. It's hard to imagine freezing rain in two days...the high today should reach 80, the weather forecasters say.
The timing of the wintry weather isn't particularly good. This weekend my wife and I will use our certificate for a free night in a downtown Dallas hotel. She booked us for Saturday night so we can act like tourists on Saturday and Sunday. If the weather is nasty, I guess we'll not be walking tourists (though Dallas is not friendly to walkers, anyway).
Actually, the hotel took my wife's reservation but said they will have to call her back to confirm whether our certificate is good this weekend. We're assuming it is, and we must use it soon or lose it.
I may take a day off during the week within the next couple of weeks to do some work around the house...a bit of painting, patching, cleaning, etc. Having the house to myself when I do such things makes the process go more smoothly, I think. I don't have to worry about bothering my wife with noise, etc., nor do I have to worry about her being in a place where I want to be. I have been saying I would take a day off during the week for months now. I hope I will forego the procrastination this time and do it.
It's time for work. Maybe more later.
My wife and I started watching "Road to Perdition" tonight but were rudely interrupted by a phone cal from my wife's sister...so, I am posting to the blog. Actually, my sister in law is very nice, so I do not mind getting shoved aside. The movie is, frankly, a bit boring so far. Maybe I'm too used to action...this has some, in spurts, but the story seems to lag.
On an unrelated note, I confirmed my reservations to Washington, DC today. I also discovered that the attorney for my client, who I thought might be a progressive thinker, is a Republican. This, after I exposed my fundamental attitudes about Bush, et al to him. He's not a bad Republican, but he is on the other side. I may expect my phone to be tapped and my email to9 be read by George and his gestapo cronies. Seriously, the attorney & I disagree on some very fundamental issues, but he really is a decent person, in spite of his political leanings. You see, there are a limited number of Republicans who are worth talking to. Not many, mind you. OK, it's 8:46 and I have things to be and people to see...so I'll sign off and write again another time.
When I got up this morning, it was dark outside, but there were hints that the sun would peek over the horizon soon. The sky was not black, as it is at night. There was just the slightest bit of pale light, so that the outlines of houses and trees were visible against a grey background. That pale grey was made much dimmer this morning than most mornings because of a fast-moving cloud cover. Low, dark clouds were blowing from south to north. This morning's sky looked like winter. Just a few days ago, I thought winter was almost done, but as I've written before, it is not. Last night, I heard a weather forecast that suggested we might see freezing precipitation by the weekend. It's hard to imagine freezing rain in two days...the high today should reach 80, the weather forecasters say.
The timing of the wintry weather isn't particularly good. This weekend my wife and I will use our certificate for a free night in a downtown Dallas hotel. She booked us for Saturday night so we can act like tourists on Saturday and Sunday. If the weather is nasty, I guess we'll not be walking tourists (though Dallas is not friendly to walkers, anyway).
Actually, the hotel took my wife's reservation but said they will have to call her back to confirm whether our certificate is good this weekend. We're assuming it is, and we must use it soon or lose it.
I may take a day off during the week within the next couple of weeks to do some work around the house...a bit of painting, patching, cleaning, etc. Having the house to myself when I do such things makes the process go more smoothly, I think. I don't have to worry about bothering my wife with noise, etc., nor do I have to worry about her being in a place where I want to be. I have been saying I would take a day off during the week for months now. I hope I will forego the procrastination this time and do it.
It's time for work. Maybe more later.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Strident Response to Stupid Accident--and My Client's Craziness
The Vice President's accidental shooting of a fellow hunter this weekend was unfortunate. I suppose the fact that the White House failed to quickly acknowledge what happened is symptomatic of the Bush administration's climate of secrecy. But that doesn't both me a great deal...I don't mean the climate of secrecy, I mean the fact that Cheney's attack on a fellow hunter wasn't immediately acknowledged. Assuming the guy survives without serious health problems, the incident will serve only as fodder for late night humor and web-based humor...and I wil laugh heartily.
What worries me is the strident responses by some Democrats to the situation...they're making a big mistake by playing this incident up to be more than it is. I am a Bush-loather and am far to the left of most Democrats...I am fervently in the corner of unseating all Republicans and support many Democrats. But I am also conscious that the Democrats' uproar about Cheney is apt to come back to bite them. They will be painted as irrational screamers who will blame Republicans for anything and who will use a simple accident as reason to launch partisan attacks. What the idiot Democrats don't understand is that strident screams at everything Republican will do no good...especially if they do not articulate a rational, from-the-heart, platform that addresses the core values that Democrats claim as their own. If they don't do it, someone will. Maybe it's time for a new party to fill the void that the Democratic party was left with when Bill Clinton left office.
Client CrazinessOne of our clients is having its annual conference in New York City in October. The decision to go there was made despite the fact that it will be extremely expensive, not only for us but for the members. Once the decision was made, though, the client decided to do it up right...they budgeted $50,000 for speaker fees. This is for a meeting that probably will attract fewer than 100 people. The registration fee is less than $500 per person (and multiple registrants from the same company get a big discount), so this is going to be a money losing meeting. I keep telling the group they can't keep doing this.
All that notwithstanding, they have an interesting lineup of speakers:
- David Bach (author of bunches of books on personal money management, including Finish Rich)
- Paco Underhill (very big name in retail consulting)
- Randy Cohen (Ethicist for the New York Times)
Today is Valentine's Day, so I will take my wife out to a nice dinner. Blogging this during a break at the office...probably no more for today. I'll write again tomorrow.
Monday, February 13, 2006
Curling & Poultryhood
A few days ago, on the way home from work, I heard a piece on NPR about curling. The people who were interviewed for the piece made some comments that intrigued me. For one, they noted that, in curling competitions where they live (and, I gather, in most places...but not sure about that), the winning team buys the losing team a round of beer. For another thing, the people seemed to suggest that, while it's competitive, it's not insanely so. The people are in it for the fun of it and for the comaraderie with their teammates and opponents. I mentioned to my wife as we were listening to it that I'd be interested in watching a bit of the Olympic curling competition on television. This afternoon, I did. It's very interesting, in a short dose, but I think I'd find it tough to get excited about on an ongoing basis.
On a completely different topic, I heard from two people today who represent two of the associations for which we have outstanding proposals for management. One of them suggested (but didn't come right out and say it) that the association's leaders wants to come visit our offices for an interview. The other one left a voice mail, saying he had questions about my proposal and wanted clarification. Both are good signs. But I'm not assessing the number of individual poultry units that belong to me before they are transmogrified from the embryonic state into full poultryhood.
On a completely different topic, I heard from two people today who represent two of the associations for which we have outstanding proposals for management. One of them suggested (but didn't come right out and say it) that the association's leaders wants to come visit our offices for an interview. The other one left a voice mail, saying he had questions about my proposal and wanted clarification. Both are good signs. But I'm not assessing the number of individual poultry units that belong to me before they are transmogrified from the embryonic state into full poultryhood.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Wine Tasting
Well, my wife and I just returned from a really fun wine tasting! Some friends just moved into a new house recently and they threw a party. The guy works as wine director for a local liquor store and his connections actually threw the party. Lots of really great, not-to-expensive wines and some very, very good wines that I would never try except at such an event...I'm unwilling to pay the prices. Here are a few we tried:
We tasted more, but these were some standouts. I am far more likely to buy the cheaper ones (I am alergic to paying big bucks for something that will fill my glass three times), but the more expensive ones did, for the most part, outshine the cheaper ones. There were some guys there from a local distributor that just recently (2 months ago) got it license...they were full of knowledge and willing to help. I learned alot and decided I will try to learn some more about wine soon. What a great way to spend a Sunday afternoon...getting drunk on good wine! My wife is laughing way too much, too, so I think we're both soused.
- Cheyanna North Coast Zinfandel (nice, simple): $13.99/bottle
- Kluge Cru (sweet, but good): 25.99/bottle
- Lorca: Gary's Vineyard Pinot Noir (very good): $41.99/bottle
- Lorca: Pison Vineyard Pinot Noir (outstanding): $45.99/bottle
- Lorca: Pino Gris (exceptional, especially for the price): $15.99/bottle
- MacLean Sauvignon Blanc (I liked it much, but my wife did not): $15.99/bottle
- Panther Creek Shea Pinot Noir (fabulous): $39..99/bottle
- Panther Creek Winemaker's Cuvee (very good): $24.99/bottle
- Geoffrey Diamond Mountain Cabernet ('01) (wonderful): $82.99/bottle
- Vinas Magali Malbec (Argentine, I think), (outstanding): $14.99/bottle
We tasted more, but these were some standouts. I am far more likely to buy the cheaper ones (I am alergic to paying big bucks for something that will fill my glass three times), but the more expensive ones did, for the most part, outshine the cheaper ones. There were some guys there from a local distributor that just recently (2 months ago) got it license...they were full of knowledge and willing to help. I learned alot and decided I will try to learn some more about wine soon. What a great way to spend a Sunday afternoon...getting drunk on good wine! My wife is laughing way too much, too, so I think we're both soused.
News Tidbits About the World
Before I get into the news tidbits, I have to share a link to an article that lampoons the "creative" names that parents give to their children. The names in the article don't hold a candle to the names I assigend to some characters in a short story I've been working on: Poison, Rumour, Mexican, and Cataclysm.
Some items in the international news that I found of interest:
- Chile has banned the import of beef from Argentina due to an outbreak of hoof & mouth disease in that country; beef importation into Chile from Brazil has been suspended since last October. Those two countries account for 84% of the beef consumed in Chile. Argentina, alone, accounts for 55% of all meat consumed in Chile. Obviously, the cutoff of beef from Argentina will dramatically impact prices for beef in Chile. Estimates on the size of price increases range from 10% to 50%.
- The U.S. government recently forced a U.S. owned Sheraton Hotel in Mexico City to evict Cuban officials who were staying in the hotel. The Mexican government said it would apply the full force of the law against the Sheraton if it were determined a crime was committed. I found it interesting that I could not find any report of this event in the U.S. media; I had to go to wire services and non-US media to find it. I personally find this action by the U.S. government to be reprehensible and an afront to both the U.S. company affected and to the Mexican people. In exploring this issue, I came across the Cuban website, http://www.ahora.cu/. There is an English language version (not exactly like the Spanish version...likely the English version is intended primarily as propaganda). This is a link to the Cuban perspective.
- This year's Mardi Gras in New Orleans will offer an insight into the people who still inhabit that badly battered city. I read that one display in the Krewe du Vieux parade yesterday asked France to buy Louisiana back. I've never been to Mardi Gras, but I understand it's traditional for some of the Krewes to poke barbs at government, companies, etc. The Krewe du Vieux display certainly does!
- The head of the UN drive to contain the bird flu virus told a Portuguese newspaper that the virus is only "two mutations away" from a form that could cause a worldwide pandemic.
- This isn't so much news, as it is an item of interest. I heard on All Things Considered yesterday an interview with the author of a book called The Reindeer People. It was a really interesting piece and I recommend reading about it online and listening to it. I probably won't buy the book any time soon, because I have too many other books I want to read but have not, but I will put it on my wish list. The link above includes an excerpt that makes me think I would find the book extremely interesting.
- A tiny town called Vernon, California (adjacent to Los Angeles) is in the L.A. news because of its actions to evict some newcomers who were planning to run for election. The town hasn't had a contested election since 1980.
- An article in the San Francisco Examiner says shipping in San Francisco is enjoying a resurgence, which may translate into growth opportunities for my sister's business endeavors (intermodal container repair).
- It will be interesting to follow how Evo Morales, the new president of Bolivia, will mold his policies that permit coca cultivation, but prohibit its trafficking as cocaine.
- Is real diversity coming to Huntsville, Texas? The first Festival of United Cultures was held at the Walker County Fairgrounds last Thursday night. They say 1000-1500 people attended. It sounds like a very good idea, to me.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
A Good Day
Today was a good day, all in all. My wife had an interior decorator over to help her decide where to hang pictures and which pictures to hang. The decorator offered a number of other tips after going through some of our "stuck in drawers" do-dads and such...old crystal glasses, mugs, vases, knick-knacks, etc. The decorator's personality is, for me, like fingernails on a chalk board, so I wanted to be away during her presence, but because I might be needed to hold heavy pictures, I stayed. Her behavior today did not send me over the edge...a good thing. Mind you, despite my lack of love for this woman, she does offer good ideas. My wife has much regard for her creativity. At the end of her visit, we had pictures hung, do-dads in appropriate places, and plans for more improvements that will be painless, financially.
Another good thing today. Ever since we had some sheetrock work and tile floor renovation done, the DVD player connected to our big-screen TV has not worked. I assumed it was the dust, so I tried compressed air to no avail. No luck. I started thinking we would have to pay someone big bucks to test the DVD player (which is, actually, a component of a home theater system, so not an easily or inexpensively replaced part) and might, in the worst case, have to replace the sytem for lots of money. Today, finally, I disconnected the DVD player and placed it my back seat...and we went driving around, looking for a TV/DVD/VCR repair shop. Much driving, not many options...but it was close to 5:00 pm, so our timing was wrong. I decided, though, to buy a CD/DVD cleaning disk and try it out...just in case the compressed air was not sufficient to clean the thing. We found what we needed at Radio Shack and came home to try it out. After a long, painful process of reconnecting the home theater system (why did I disconnect it all before trying the cleaning approach), I tried the cleaner. I went through the process and...it worked! Our DVD player works! We can watch "Road to Perdition" tonight, if we like, on the big-screen! (My wife got the movie from Netflix.)
We had lunch today at one of our favorite Lebanese places...both of us had falafel sandwiches, falafel wraps with a nice yogurt sauce and sour pickles, onions, etc. It wasn't a particularly big lunch, but enough to make us decide we would munch for dinner. After a crazy trip to Costco (we renewed...after thinking about Wal-Mart, we opted to spend money for Costco membership, instead of buying anything from Wal-Mart), we came home and I prepared some stuffed jalapenos...jalapenos stuffed with cream cheese mixed with canned shrimp, lemon juice, and ground comino. We may just nibble tonight.
Another good thing today. Ever since we had some sheetrock work and tile floor renovation done, the DVD player connected to our big-screen TV has not worked. I assumed it was the dust, so I tried compressed air to no avail. No luck. I started thinking we would have to pay someone big bucks to test the DVD player (which is, actually, a component of a home theater system, so not an easily or inexpensively replaced part) and might, in the worst case, have to replace the sytem for lots of money. Today, finally, I disconnected the DVD player and placed it my back seat...and we went driving around, looking for a TV/DVD/VCR repair shop. Much driving, not many options...but it was close to 5:00 pm, so our timing was wrong. I decided, though, to buy a CD/DVD cleaning disk and try it out...just in case the compressed air was not sufficient to clean the thing. We found what we needed at Radio Shack and came home to try it out. After a long, painful process of reconnecting the home theater system (why did I disconnect it all before trying the cleaning approach), I tried the cleaner. I went through the process and...it worked! Our DVD player works! We can watch "Road to Perdition" tonight, if we like, on the big-screen! (My wife got the movie from Netflix.)
We had lunch today at one of our favorite Lebanese places...both of us had falafel sandwiches, falafel wraps with a nice yogurt sauce and sour pickles, onions, etc. It wasn't a particularly big lunch, but enough to make us decide we would munch for dinner. After a crazy trip to Costco (we renewed...after thinking about Wal-Mart, we opted to spend money for Costco membership, instead of buying anything from Wal-Mart), we came home and I prepared some stuffed jalapenos...jalapenos stuffed with cream cheese mixed with canned shrimp, lemon juice, and ground comino. We may just nibble tonight.
Casual conversation
Yesterday, I was ready to announce the demise of this year's winter weather. I should have watched the weather forecast. It's 35 degrees right now and the forecast low for tonight is in the 20s. I've not been outside yet this morning, but I know it will feel very brisk when I finally get the nerve to walk out the door...I checked the online weather report and learned that, with the wind chill, it feels like 26 degrees outdoors.
I had almost convinced myself that I could shed the long-sleeved shirts I have been wearing to the office during the past few months and replace them with the short-sleeved, wash & wear shirts I use most of the year. When I do that, it will save me money; the long-sleeved shirts require ironing, which I just don't do unless 'pressed' into it. I prefer to pay the $0.89 per shirt to have them laundered, starched, ironed, and put on hangars. If I weren't so disagreeable about parting with my money, I'd do the same with the 'wash & wear' shirts; they really don't look good straight out of the dryer and, in some cases, they look positively awful...but I pretend they look the way they should and I wear them. People probably think I slept in them, but that's life.
I'm ready to go back to writing a bit about James Kneeblood and his odd kin, but I've decided to dramatically change the story and the characters. He'll still have daughters with bizarre names, but I think I went over the top when I decided they all had different mothers and were born just months apart. And his demise will be changed...the Wal-Mart truck just doesn't do it for me. I probably will not post the fiction on this blog, at least not for awhile. I may just wait until it's a complete short story...more satisfying to me that way.
My wife and I have a certificate that's good for one weekend night stay at a downtown Dallas hotel. It expires soon, so we're probably going to use it in the next week or two. I rather like turning a weekend into a mini-vacation. It will give us a base of operation as we explore some of the museums, etc., in downtown Dallas. Plus, I believe it includes a bottle of champagne and a breakfast, so it will be a nice little getaway. The certificate was a door prize at an event we attended sometime during the last year...probably close to a year ago, given that the certificate expires soon.
Tuesday night, the evening of Valentine's Day, my wife and I are going to a special dinner at a restaurant not far from our house. It's called Canary Cafe and its owner and chef is a guy by the name of Mansour Gorji, who delivers excellent food every time we've been there (not a lot, but enough to know we like it). The dinner that night is a prix fixe menu with a variety of options. Take a look at the menu options by scrolling down his home page.
Tomorrow afternoon between 2 and 5 pm, we'll drop by the home of some friends who recently bought a house nearby. They invited us over for a casual wine-tasting. The guy is wine director for a liquor store, so I imagine he must get specials on special wines. In fact, he sought out for me a particular New Zealand sauvignon blanc (whose name I now cannot remember) that I had in a restaurant and could not find anywhere...and gave me a 20% discount on a case. It was inexpensive wine to begin with, so a 20% discount made it a great deal. The woman is someone who worked for me years ago when I ran a large association in Dallas...before I ran afoul of the Board and was pushed out. She stayed on at that association for several years, before they downsized her out of a job...and then she went to work for an architectural firm, which decided after a year she was not the right person for their new marketing approach (she was marketing director and supervisor of proposal writers), so she is out of a job. Rotten luck.
My coffee needs refreshing, so I'll take the opportunity to sign off and write again another time.
I had almost convinced myself that I could shed the long-sleeved shirts I have been wearing to the office during the past few months and replace them with the short-sleeved, wash & wear shirts I use most of the year. When I do that, it will save me money; the long-sleeved shirts require ironing, which I just don't do unless 'pressed' into it. I prefer to pay the $0.89 per shirt to have them laundered, starched, ironed, and put on hangars. If I weren't so disagreeable about parting with my money, I'd do the same with the 'wash & wear' shirts; they really don't look good straight out of the dryer and, in some cases, they look positively awful...but I pretend they look the way they should and I wear them. People probably think I slept in them, but that's life.
I'm ready to go back to writing a bit about James Kneeblood and his odd kin, but I've decided to dramatically change the story and the characters. He'll still have daughters with bizarre names, but I think I went over the top when I decided they all had different mothers and were born just months apart. And his demise will be changed...the Wal-Mart truck just doesn't do it for me. I probably will not post the fiction on this blog, at least not for awhile. I may just wait until it's a complete short story...more satisfying to me that way.
My wife and I have a certificate that's good for one weekend night stay at a downtown Dallas hotel. It expires soon, so we're probably going to use it in the next week or two. I rather like turning a weekend into a mini-vacation. It will give us a base of operation as we explore some of the museums, etc., in downtown Dallas. Plus, I believe it includes a bottle of champagne and a breakfast, so it will be a nice little getaway. The certificate was a door prize at an event we attended sometime during the last year...probably close to a year ago, given that the certificate expires soon.
Tuesday night, the evening of Valentine's Day, my wife and I are going to a special dinner at a restaurant not far from our house. It's called Canary Cafe and its owner and chef is a guy by the name of Mansour Gorji, who delivers excellent food every time we've been there (not a lot, but enough to know we like it). The dinner that night is a prix fixe menu with a variety of options. Take a look at the menu options by scrolling down his home page.
Tomorrow afternoon between 2 and 5 pm, we'll drop by the home of some friends who recently bought a house nearby. They invited us over for a casual wine-tasting. The guy is wine director for a liquor store, so I imagine he must get specials on special wines. In fact, he sought out for me a particular New Zealand sauvignon blanc (whose name I now cannot remember) that I had in a restaurant and could not find anywhere...and gave me a 20% discount on a case. It was inexpensive wine to begin with, so a 20% discount made it a great deal. The woman is someone who worked for me years ago when I ran a large association in Dallas...before I ran afoul of the Board and was pushed out. She stayed on at that association for several years, before they downsized her out of a job...and then she went to work for an architectural firm, which decided after a year she was not the right person for their new marketing approach (she was marketing director and supervisor of proposal writers), so she is out of a job. Rotten luck.
My coffee needs refreshing, so I'll take the opportunity to sign off and write again another time.
Friday, February 10, 2006
Weather
This winter has been exceedingly mild, with only one day of icy conditions and very few days when temperatures reached freezing. It's not yet the middle of February, but I can see signs that winter is coming to an end. The trees I planted on the north side of my house last year are beginning to bud and some of the plants that died back after the one-day of ice are starting to come back.
This morning, as I was preparing to go to the office, I looked out the windows at the back of the house and noticed that it was dark, much darker than usual for 6:45 am. It was almost impossible to make out the shrubs and trees in the back yard. I could barely see that the flagstones were wet, though, so it was obvious that there must be a heavy cloud-cover.
A few minutes later, as I took the trash trolley out to the alley behind the house, I felt the humidity in my bones and felt the tiny, tiny droplets of mist cling to a few strands of my hair. The temperature was in the mid-50s, but it felt much warmer. Standing in the driveway, I could see the very, very low, dark clouds rushing by just above me, the kind of clouds that signal some sort of weather event. They were moving too fast; there was only a light breeze blowing, but the clouds were sliding by much faster.
On the way to the office, the 'weather event' happened. Bursts of very, very heavy rain--almost blinding in the darkness with so many headlights and tail lights all around--fell, filling the road with water that cars ahead of me kicked up with their tires, spraying my windshield with dark, dirty water.
The radio weather report forecast falling temperatures and rain. This is weather. It's funny that clear skies, gentle breezes, and moderate temperatures do not feel like weather. But this, this weather.
This morning, as I was preparing to go to the office, I looked out the windows at the back of the house and noticed that it was dark, much darker than usual for 6:45 am. It was almost impossible to make out the shrubs and trees in the back yard. I could barely see that the flagstones were wet, though, so it was obvious that there must be a heavy cloud-cover.
A few minutes later, as I took the trash trolley out to the alley behind the house, I felt the humidity in my bones and felt the tiny, tiny droplets of mist cling to a few strands of my hair. The temperature was in the mid-50s, but it felt much warmer. Standing in the driveway, I could see the very, very low, dark clouds rushing by just above me, the kind of clouds that signal some sort of weather event. They were moving too fast; there was only a light breeze blowing, but the clouds were sliding by much faster.
On the way to the office, the 'weather event' happened. Bursts of very, very heavy rain--almost blinding in the darkness with so many headlights and tail lights all around--fell, filling the road with water that cars ahead of me kicked up with their tires, spraying my windshield with dark, dirty water.
The radio weather report forecast falling temperatures and rain. This is weather. It's funny that clear skies, gentle breezes, and moderate temperatures do not feel like weather. But this, this weather.
Thursday, February 9, 2006
Belief, Family, I Don't Know...
Gordon Lightfoot is out of the public eye. The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald no longer gets the media it once got. The 29 people who died when the ship went down are no longer remembered much outside their home towns.
It's too bad, but that's the way the world works. Life in the fast lane. It's a shame, though. The only people who really cared about the Edmund Fitzgerald's crew have to realize that the hemispheric grief engendered by Gordon's music is gone. It must be tough. In the overall scheme of things, no one outside their personal circles really cared. No one else mourned, at least not in a way that conveyed true grief.
I can tell you my greatest hope, if I were to die unexpectedly. I would want my wife to be treated well by everyone. I would want people to help her financially and emotionally. I would want for people to help her get her footing. And I would want people to help her forget me and move on. A new life, a new love, a new husband...whatever it took to make her happy. And I would want my family and friends to acknowledge my beliefs...such as, there is no God, so don't worship me in a church. I would want people to celebrate, not mourn! Celebrate my life, even if it's not worth celebrating! Eat, drink, talk about me, tell stories. But, be content with a small crowd. I do not have many friends, nor do I want them. I may want more than I have, but I want my circle to be small. It's intentional.
Now some people would say, or think, I'm acting morbidly. To talk about one's own death...! I see it from a different angle. I look at it as an opportunity to live and act the way one wants, before it's impossible. If my bones, my organs, my skin, can help someone else, I want my friends and family to give them freely. It's not like my skin, etc., will be important to me! I'm not looking for assurances my lungs will go to a good cause, only that my lungs won'tg be horded if they are needed!
I love my wife very, very much. The same is true for my brothers and sisters and extended family! Why is it so hard to say it in person? I do wish my parents had imparted to the kids an ability to be emotionally expressive! I got the gene, but it's just the weeping gene!
Holding a person close, hugging a person, really feeling close to someone, that's a remarkable feeling. It's so rare, though. It is something that all families should reinforce. It's something my parents did not do a good job at. If it were possible for all of us to live it over again, we'd all be more emotive, more willing to share our feelings and thoughts, and more willing to challenge the mainstream. Oh, well, maybe next time...oh, I forgot, I don't believe in a next time...
It's too bad, but that's the way the world works. Life in the fast lane. It's a shame, though. The only people who really cared about the Edmund Fitzgerald's crew have to realize that the hemispheric grief engendered by Gordon's music is gone. It must be tough. In the overall scheme of things, no one outside their personal circles really cared. No one else mourned, at least not in a way that conveyed true grief.
I can tell you my greatest hope, if I were to die unexpectedly. I would want my wife to be treated well by everyone. I would want people to help her financially and emotionally. I would want for people to help her get her footing. And I would want people to help her forget me and move on. A new life, a new love, a new husband...whatever it took to make her happy. And I would want my family and friends to acknowledge my beliefs...such as, there is no God, so don't worship me in a church. I would want people to celebrate, not mourn! Celebrate my life, even if it's not worth celebrating! Eat, drink, talk about me, tell stories. But, be content with a small crowd. I do not have many friends, nor do I want them. I may want more than I have, but I want my circle to be small. It's intentional.
Now some people would say, or think, I'm acting morbidly. To talk about one's own death...! I see it from a different angle. I look at it as an opportunity to live and act the way one wants, before it's impossible. If my bones, my organs, my skin, can help someone else, I want my friends and family to give them freely. It's not like my skin, etc., will be important to me! I'm not looking for assurances my lungs will go to a good cause, only that my lungs won'tg be horded if they are needed!
I love my wife very, very much. The same is true for my brothers and sisters and extended family! Why is it so hard to say it in person? I do wish my parents had imparted to the kids an ability to be emotionally expressive! I got the gene, but it's just the weeping gene!
Holding a person close, hugging a person, really feeling close to someone, that's a remarkable feeling. It's so rare, though. It is something that all families should reinforce. It's something my parents did not do a good job at. If it were possible for all of us to live it over again, we'd all be more emotive, more willing to share our feelings and thoughts, and more willing to challenge the mainstream. Oh, well, maybe next time...oh, I forgot, I don't believe in a next time...
Preemptive Execution
Recently, I used the term 'preemptive execution' in a posting on this blog (during an expression of rage at Muslim extremists...and Christian extremists, and religious extremists of all stripes). I've been thinking more and more about it. I think there are some interesting parallels between that term and the term 'preemptive attack.'
George Bush justified his invasion of Iraq with his doctrine of 'preemptive attack.' His argument was this:
George Bush justified his invasion of Iraq with his doctrine of 'preemptive attack.' His argument was this:
- We know with certainty Iraq has weapons of mass destruction (Cheney claimed to know exactly where they were).
- We know Iraq wants to use them against us (because they told us, I guess).
- We have tried peaceful means to convince Iraq to give up their weapons, but they claim they do not have them (Saddam was acting the way one expects a self-important dictator to act...trying to exert his control).
- Other countries should join us in taking military action against Iraq, but they are allowing Iraq to deceive them, so we have to look only to ourselves to make the decision (if the U.S. says jump, it expects the frogs to ask how high).
- The only way we can prevent ourselves from being attacked in by attacking Iraq first (naturally).
Forget, for now, that his arguments were laced with lies and logical leaps that only a meglamaniacal nutcase could make. Let's use his same arguments, but on a more personal level.
We should be able to justify preemptive executions in the same way:
- We believe we have evidence that a specific person has weapons that can be used to murder someone.
- We believe with every fiber of our being that this person wants to use those weapons to kill us.
- We have tried to reason with this person to change his mind and give us his weapons, but he claims he does not own any weapons.
- We have asked others to join us in eliminating the danger this person poses, but they refuse (saying we are crazy), so it is up to us to act alone.
- The only way we can keep this person from killing us is to execute him first.
The "we" in the second scenario could be anyone...a police officer, a judge, a mayor, an ordinary citizen. Our own president has given us the leadership we needed to be able to argue the case for preemptive execution, using his own inassailable reasoning. Thanks, George!
Using this new, Presidentially-Approved logic, we should be able to clean up our streets in no time! All the law-abiding citizens will welcome us into their homes and their lives with welcome arms! I can just imagine the parades, the flowers being tossed our way, the singing, the wine...
You know, actually, I've always felt that George has planned to take me out...he has the means, he has the motive...he won't respond to my calls for his resignation...Republicans won't join my call for his impeachment...and so...
Wednesday, February 8, 2006
And now for some fiction (edited from original post)
I've written tonight about my lust for seafood. If you read this, I'd like to get your reaction.
James Kneeblood was more than eccentric. He was strange and troubling. For starters, he had four daughters, each of whose mothers had died during childbirth. And that’s not the strangest part. Some of his daughters’ birthdays were fewer than eight months apart. His daughters’ names added to the mystery and fears of those who had anything to do with him. The oldest was Poison, followed in age order by Rumour, Mexican, and Cataclysm. Kneeblood home-schooled his daughters, so no one really knew them well. He rarely interacted with people in town, except when he was buying groceries. Even then, his odd habits and his surly demeanor made people nervous. When he was in town, he spoke to people about his past, acting like he was talking to old friends, but didn't like hearing them talk to him. He was an odd and scary codger, if you asked most folks around town.
No one knew the mothers of Kneeblood’s daughters. No one recalled ever having seen him in the company of a woman; it was only his stories about them that informed them of the wives' unfortunate histories. There were those in town who were certain he was not the father of those girls but, instead, was their kidnapper and tormentor . That was not what the girls said, though, when Child Protective Services came calling at the behest of Mamie Crowder, who said she saw Kneeblood fondling Rumour and Mexican. The girls said he was their “daddy” and they said he was good to them. The girls demonstrated their verbal and mathematical skills with CPS, too, just to be sure the social workers understood how much Kneeblood taught them. The girls’ math skills were uncanny. They could perform exceptionally complex mathematical equations in their heads…they responded to even the most complex problems almost immediately.
The questions, the concerns, the secret whispers about Kneeblood and his girls changed abruptly one day in January. James Kneeblood was attempting to push a huge round bail of hay from his southern pasture across the highway to the north pasture, when he was struck and killed by an 18-wheeler that was delivering toilet-paper to Wal-Mart. He just wasn’t paying attention. Neither was the driver.
When Mamie Crowder heard what happened, she immediately called Child Protective Services to insist that, finally, CPS had good reason to take the girls under its protection. But when CPS arrived, it found the girls were gone. When they learned of Kneeblood's death, they knew what was coming and they went into hiding, just long enough for the frenzy about their care to blow over. They returned to Kneeblood's place and took up where they left off, this time without Kneeblood as teacher.
Poison was only 16 at the time, but she immediately took on the role of family steward. Rumour, who was 15 and a few months, was committed to helping her sister deal with this godawful new world, but she had issues of her own. Banter Brainwater was a neighbor boy who was anything but testosterone-challenged. He regularly tried to engage Rumour, even in public places, in vulgar acts of a sexual nature. Rumour had to carry a hickory switch to use as a weapon against the boy's unwanted advances. She didn’t really like him, but she did enjoy his constant sexual attention. What she liked more than anything was stopping him short...she would simply slap him hard across the face and he would start crying, slink off, and leave her alone for a day or two. Brainwater was another one who people in town considered 'off' a bit. It seemed all the people who lived out there were strange and unnerving to the townsfolk. All of them out there lived in scroungy houses or trailers in sorry repair and all of them had a look of lunacy about them, if you asked Mamie Crowder.
Poison's approach to familial stewardship can be best understood if you understand the attitudes and upbringing of James Kneeblood. His was a sad story, of course, but it was the way he passed his view of the world to his daughters that was most heart-wrenching.
C:\Documents and Settings\John\My Documents\Kneeblood.docnow it's time for some uncharted fiction.
James Kneeblood was more than eccentric. He was strange and troubling. For starters, he had four daughters, each of whose mothers had died during childbirth. And that’s not the strangest part. Some of his daughters’ birthdays were fewer than eight months apart. His daughters’ names added to the mystery and fears of those who had anything to do with him. The oldest was Poison, followed in age order by Rumour, Mexican, and Cataclysm. Kneeblood home-schooled his daughters, so no one really knew them well. He rarely interacted with people in town, except when he was buying groceries. Even then, his odd habits and his surly demeanor made people nervous. When he was in town, he spoke to people about his past, acting like he was talking to old friends, but didn't like hearing them talk to him. He was an odd and scary codger, if you asked most folks around town.
No one knew the mothers of Kneeblood’s daughters. No one recalled ever having seen him in the company of a woman; it was only his stories about them that informed them of the wives' unfortunate histories. There were those in town who were certain he was not the father of those girls but, instead, was their kidnapper and tormentor . That was not what the girls said, though, when Child Protective Services came calling at the behest of Mamie Crowder, who said she saw Kneeblood fondling Rumour and Mexican. The girls said he was their “daddy” and they said he was good to them. The girls demonstrated their verbal and mathematical skills with CPS, too, just to be sure the social workers understood how much Kneeblood taught them. The girls’ math skills were uncanny. They could perform exceptionally complex mathematical equations in their heads…they responded to even the most complex problems almost immediately.
The questions, the concerns, the secret whispers about Kneeblood and his girls changed abruptly one day in January. James Kneeblood was attempting to push a huge round bail of hay from his southern pasture across the highway to the north pasture, when he was struck and killed by an 18-wheeler that was delivering toilet-paper to Wal-Mart. He just wasn’t paying attention. Neither was the driver.
When Mamie Crowder heard what happened, she immediately called Child Protective Services to insist that, finally, CPS had good reason to take the girls under its protection. But when CPS arrived, it found the girls were gone. When they learned of Kneeblood's death, they knew what was coming and they went into hiding, just long enough for the frenzy about their care to blow over. They returned to Kneeblood's place and took up where they left off, this time without Kneeblood as teacher.
Poison was only 16 at the time, but she immediately took on the role of family steward. Rumour, who was 15 and a few months, was committed to helping her sister deal with this godawful new world, but she had issues of her own. Banter Brainwater was a neighbor boy who was anything but testosterone-challenged. He regularly tried to engage Rumour, even in public places, in vulgar acts of a sexual nature. Rumour had to carry a hickory switch to use as a weapon against the boy's unwanted advances. She didn’t really like him, but she did enjoy his constant sexual attention. What she liked more than anything was stopping him short...she would simply slap him hard across the face and he would start crying, slink off, and leave her alone for a day or two. Brainwater was another one who people in town considered 'off' a bit. It seemed all the people who lived out there were strange and unnerving to the townsfolk. All of them out there lived in scroungy houses or trailers in sorry repair and all of them had a look of lunacy about them, if you asked Mamie Crowder.
Poison's approach to familial stewardship can be best understood if you understand the attitudes and upbringing of James Kneeblood. His was a sad story, of course, but it was the way he passed his view of the world to his daughters that was most heart-wrenching.
C:\Documents and Settings\John\My Documents\Kneeblood.docnow it's time for some uncharted fiction.
A Taste for Seafood
I really like seafood. Fish, shrimp, oysters, mussels, conchs, clams, lobsters, squid, octopus, abalone...almost everything from the sea, with a few notable exceptions (e.g., sea urchin...I haven't yet developed a taste for it). Unfortunately for me, I live quite a distance from sources of super-fresh seafood, so when I eat it, it's usually not as good as it could be if it were fresh.
Based solely on my own love of seafood, I think there is a place in the marketplace for a REAL seafood restaurant. Not a place that serves a few items, all fried or all baked, but a place that caters to virtually every seafood lover's tastes...a place diners could get exceptionally good sushi, fabulous fried oysters, wonderful clams, conch fritters, whole lobsters, cedar-grilled salmon, smoked halibut, squid salads, fried tilapia, calamari, mussels steamed in wine, fried catfish, shrimp and octopus cocktails...you get the idea. There is probably just such a place, but I have not been there. I've been to some pretty good places for seafood, but nothing that I would consider the ultimate seafood fantasy restaurant. The place I have in mind would be casual, would be restricted to adult diners over 25 years of age, and would encourage 2-3 hour lunches and 3-5 hour dinners. It would have a superior bar and and outstanding wine list, with everything priced under $20 per bottle...none of this 100% profit margin that most places get.
Naturally, this restaurant, whereever it is located, would be in constant receipt of fresh seafood from around the world. Anything from water more than 25 miles away would be shipped to the place live in containers equipped to mimic the appropriate natural environment...and would be custom-killed only when ordered. I want fresh stuff. (There are times I would like my sources of beef and lamb kept similarly 'ready for slaughter,' but I am developing a taste for dry-aged beef...)
Speaking of seafood, my wife and I are having tortilla encrusted baked tilapia tonight...frozen stuff that we bought from, of all places, Omaha Steaks. We've had it before and it's really very good. But it doesn't compare with the stuff that comes out of the seafood restaurant of my imagination.
Speaking of my imagination, my fried Gunnar came by yesterday...he had just returned from an abalone expedition off the coast of Chile and he was just loaded with abalone! He knew how much I loved it and that I had not had it since my wife's former brother-in-law had given us some he got diving off the California coast some twenty years ago. Well, Gunnar brought us almost 40 pounds of fresh abalone! I was stunned! Just as I was about to tell him I would gladly cover his roundtrip airfare to Santiago to show my appreciation, I realized that I do not know anyone named Gunnar and I cannot afford round-trip airfare to Santiago...my imagination had run away with me again!
Based solely on my own love of seafood, I think there is a place in the marketplace for a REAL seafood restaurant. Not a place that serves a few items, all fried or all baked, but a place that caters to virtually every seafood lover's tastes...a place diners could get exceptionally good sushi, fabulous fried oysters, wonderful clams, conch fritters, whole lobsters, cedar-grilled salmon, smoked halibut, squid salads, fried tilapia, calamari, mussels steamed in wine, fried catfish, shrimp and octopus cocktails...you get the idea. There is probably just such a place, but I have not been there. I've been to some pretty good places for seafood, but nothing that I would consider the ultimate seafood fantasy restaurant. The place I have in mind would be casual, would be restricted to adult diners over 25 years of age, and would encourage 2-3 hour lunches and 3-5 hour dinners. It would have a superior bar and and outstanding wine list, with everything priced under $20 per bottle...none of this 100% profit margin that most places get.
Naturally, this restaurant, whereever it is located, would be in constant receipt of fresh seafood from around the world. Anything from water more than 25 miles away would be shipped to the place live in containers equipped to mimic the appropriate natural environment...and would be custom-killed only when ordered. I want fresh stuff. (There are times I would like my sources of beef and lamb kept similarly 'ready for slaughter,' but I am developing a taste for dry-aged beef...)
Speaking of seafood, my wife and I are having tortilla encrusted baked tilapia tonight...frozen stuff that we bought from, of all places, Omaha Steaks. We've had it before and it's really very good. But it doesn't compare with the stuff that comes out of the seafood restaurant of my imagination.
Speaking of my imagination, my fried Gunnar came by yesterday...he had just returned from an abalone expedition off the coast of Chile and he was just loaded with abalone! He knew how much I loved it and that I had not had it since my wife's former brother-in-law had given us some he got diving off the California coast some twenty years ago. Well, Gunnar brought us almost 40 pounds of fresh abalone! I was stunned! Just as I was about to tell him I would gladly cover his roundtrip airfare to Santiago to show my appreciation, I realized that I do not know anyone named Gunnar and I cannot afford round-trip airfare to Santiago...my imagination had run away with me again!
Tuesday, February 7, 2006
Civil Liberties
The death of Civil Liberties in the United States was not unexpected, but it was nonetheless a traumatic event, especially for advocates who had devoted their resources, their lives, and their spirits to preserving Civil Liberties.
On announcing the death of Civil Liberties, U.S. President George Bush said,
On announcing the death of Civil Liberties, U.S. President George Bush said,
"All of us in this wonderful, God-fearing great nation appreciate the contributions that Civil Liberties made to this country, but we are a Christian nation and we understand when our Creator calls us home. She had a long and dramatic impact on our land, but we have changed as a nation. The time has come for us to move to the next level. Civil Liberties will be long remembered, but I am confident our government will honor her memory with the appointment of a new Fascist State to fill the void. May God Bless America and this Administration."
Remember, Caribbism Allows Human Sacrifice!
The rage being unleashed throughout the Muslim world is probably a reaction, in part, to much more than the Danish cartoons. The cartoons merely present opportunities for the Muslim world to identify a target of its anger and to ventilate a rage that has been growing steadily for years. This eruption of rage is directed, in a broader sense, at all the injustices inflicted by the Western world againt Muslims and Islam. Some of the media, including media I usually find credible and rational, apparently think there is something valid about this outpouring of Muslim rage. Our own beliefs in freedom of speech, it seems, is trumped by our obligation not to offend.
While I think I understand the genesis of the rage, I still think it is bullshit, pure and simple. Muslims are using this insignificant incident to justify irrational behavior. One Arabic newspaper decided that the right way to respond to what it called an inexcusable attack on Islam with a contest for the best cartoons mocking the holocaust. Now THAT's an adult, rational thing to do: "Your actions were barbaric and inhuman, so we are going to respond with actions that are barbaric and inhuman." The imams who have been busily spreading the hatred, stirring emotions, and calling on Muslims everyone to cut the heads off of Danes are not just religious zealots, they are murderous bastards whose very existence argues convincingly for preemptive execution. Don't these imbeciles understand that everything they are doing is playing into the hands of George Bush and his Stalinist henchmen? If they want a holy war, they're certainly on the right track.
This entire mess argues in favor of the notion that religion, particularly organized religion, is simply a form of severe psychosis. And it's not the endearing neurotic kind...it's the dangerous, fundamentally immoral, corrupt and viscious kind.
I watch this play out and wonder whether humankind is worth trying to save. All we seem to be able to do is wreck the planet, cause widespread terror and suffering, and then fight to the death about whose imaginary super-being is best.
Despite my despair over the future of the planet and the human race, I do think the religious zealotry can be funny. All of the bizzare practices and beliefs of religions and cults and such make me laugh.
My New Religion: Caribbism
Caribbism is based on my belief that all of mankind sprang from the dream of an ancient caribou that had the power to create beings simply by dreaming them. In one dream, the caribou saw a being with light skin and very little body hair emerge from a river. The being started making noises with its mouth and soon other beings came running. Then, another being emerged from the water; this one had dark skin and a bit more body hair...and the hair was curly. After the dream, we're not quite sure what happened, but what is clear is that once the animal had the dream, it created these creatures who, as we all now know, are people of all colors and sizes and with various types of hair.
Since we owe our very existence to that caribou, we now worship it. And, as we know, the caribou lives on in the skies and the land and the air. It has magical powers and, if we chose not to worship it, the caribou would initiate a dream recall, which as we know would result in the human race's return to pre-existence. So, we worship the caribou. And, as we all know, the caribou has a name, but we cannot say that name, cannot even think it, and cannot allow it to be written, or a huge herd of caribou would drop down from the skies and would run rough-shod over every man, woman, and child on this planet.
Over the millennia since the caribou had its dream, each bristle of its fur has become a pen and has written a billion words. These words have collectively become the Book of Caribou, in which the wisdom of the caribou is passed to humans and which guide our every belief. One of the rules of the Book of Caribou, not surprisingly, instructs us that we must not eat caribou meat except on Thursdays. We have all spoken to the caribou whose name we cannot even think and we know why it is that eating caribou meat is OK on Thursdays, but we cannot exchange that information among ourselves or we will bring a plague upon us and we will live for all eternity in an earthen tub filled with sharp-toothed, alcohol-spewing maggots. So, you and I know why it's OK to eat caribou on Thursdays, but we can't talk about it.
As luck would have it, the sort of anonymous caribou made an announcement earlier this week that I have been named his one and only channeler on earth. So, I am now in the position of informing the rest of you of new rules. Almost immediately upon informing me of my new position the caribou told me he was angry, very angry, about all these other religions. He told me that they were truly a sin against his truth. He told me to tell you that it's time to put an end to all of their lies. So, here's the deal: you, each and every one of you, are to take up arms against the false religions of the world, including all forms of Protestantism, Catholicism, Islam, Hinduism, etc., etc. Yep, take up arms against them. We are to de-life their devotees (we can no longer use the "k" word, thanks to a new caribou rule), using axes, knives, poisons, bricks, baseball bats, rifles, pistols, nails, hammers, automobiles, razor blades, etc., etc., etc. until there are none left but us, the Caribs. Since I'm the new guy in charge, you'll need to wait for further instructions from me. In the meantime, remember, no more lottery tickets for those of you in Washington, DC and Zagreb, thanks to the caribou's most recent proclamations.
Finally, remember that you are free to sacrifice 'pro-life' protesters, provided you ensure that their carcasses are used to feed homeless animals.
It's too bad that religions take themselves so seriously...
While I think I understand the genesis of the rage, I still think it is bullshit, pure and simple. Muslims are using this insignificant incident to justify irrational behavior. One Arabic newspaper decided that the right way to respond to what it called an inexcusable attack on Islam with a contest for the best cartoons mocking the holocaust. Now THAT's an adult, rational thing to do: "Your actions were barbaric and inhuman, so we are going to respond with actions that are barbaric and inhuman." The imams who have been busily spreading the hatred, stirring emotions, and calling on Muslims everyone to cut the heads off of Danes are not just religious zealots, they are murderous bastards whose very existence argues convincingly for preemptive execution. Don't these imbeciles understand that everything they are doing is playing into the hands of George Bush and his Stalinist henchmen? If they want a holy war, they're certainly on the right track.
This entire mess argues in favor of the notion that religion, particularly organized religion, is simply a form of severe psychosis. And it's not the endearing neurotic kind...it's the dangerous, fundamentally immoral, corrupt and viscious kind.
I watch this play out and wonder whether humankind is worth trying to save. All we seem to be able to do is wreck the planet, cause widespread terror and suffering, and then fight to the death about whose imaginary super-being is best.
Despite my despair over the future of the planet and the human race, I do think the religious zealotry can be funny. All of the bizzare practices and beliefs of religions and cults and such make me laugh.
- A religion that considers the very idea of an image of its highest prophet to be sacreligious...cartoons that are the work of a deep evil...what a hoot!
- People standing in line just so a guy who some people think has some pipeline to God can put ashes on their foreheads...this is more than a little odd.
I've started thinking it would be fun to create a religion of my own and institute some rules and practices to guide it.
My New Religion: Caribbism
Caribbism is based on my belief that all of mankind sprang from the dream of an ancient caribou that had the power to create beings simply by dreaming them. In one dream, the caribou saw a being with light skin and very little body hair emerge from a river. The being started making noises with its mouth and soon other beings came running. Then, another being emerged from the water; this one had dark skin and a bit more body hair...and the hair was curly. After the dream, we're not quite sure what happened, but what is clear is that once the animal had the dream, it created these creatures who, as we all now know, are people of all colors and sizes and with various types of hair.
Since we owe our very existence to that caribou, we now worship it. And, as we know, the caribou lives on in the skies and the land and the air. It has magical powers and, if we chose not to worship it, the caribou would initiate a dream recall, which as we know would result in the human race's return to pre-existence. So, we worship the caribou. And, as we all know, the caribou has a name, but we cannot say that name, cannot even think it, and cannot allow it to be written, or a huge herd of caribou would drop down from the skies and would run rough-shod over every man, woman, and child on this planet.
Over the millennia since the caribou had its dream, each bristle of its fur has become a pen and has written a billion words. These words have collectively become the Book of Caribou, in which the wisdom of the caribou is passed to humans and which guide our every belief. One of the rules of the Book of Caribou, not surprisingly, instructs us that we must not eat caribou meat except on Thursdays. We have all spoken to the caribou whose name we cannot even think and we know why it is that eating caribou meat is OK on Thursdays, but we cannot exchange that information among ourselves or we will bring a plague upon us and we will live for all eternity in an earthen tub filled with sharp-toothed, alcohol-spewing maggots. So, you and I know why it's OK to eat caribou on Thursdays, but we can't talk about it.
As luck would have it, the sort of anonymous caribou made an announcement earlier this week that I have been named his one and only channeler on earth. So, I am now in the position of informing the rest of you of new rules. Almost immediately upon informing me of my new position the caribou told me he was angry, very angry, about all these other religions. He told me that they were truly a sin against his truth. He told me to tell you that it's time to put an end to all of their lies. So, here's the deal: you, each and every one of you, are to take up arms against the false religions of the world, including all forms of Protestantism, Catholicism, Islam, Hinduism, etc., etc. Yep, take up arms against them. We are to de-life their devotees (we can no longer use the "k" word, thanks to a new caribou rule), using axes, knives, poisons, bricks, baseball bats, rifles, pistols, nails, hammers, automobiles, razor blades, etc., etc., etc. until there are none left but us, the Caribs. Since I'm the new guy in charge, you'll need to wait for further instructions from me. In the meantime, remember, no more lottery tickets for those of you in Washington, DC and Zagreb, thanks to the caribou's most recent proclamations.
Finally, remember that you are free to sacrifice 'pro-life' protesters, provided you ensure that their carcasses are used to feed homeless animals.
It's too bad that religions take themselves so seriously...