People’s behavior in public situations really cracks me up. Consider the following scenario – you are riding your bicycle on a bike path or lane; another bike rider is coming toward you. Wouldn’t you think that each of you would move to pass each other on the right, you know, like cars on a highway? Nope, about half the time, the oncoming rider moves left, directly into your path!?!?
Or coming up behind a pedestrian; so as not to frighten them, you shout out “passing [you] on your left”, at which point, they step to the left… right into your path!? Perhaps having the words “left” and “right” tattooed onto the backs of their hands may be helpful.
People continue to be oblivious to the traffic patterns of others around them. For example, meeting a familiar friend coming in a doorway or an aisle, people will stop at that spot and converse, blocking the path of others. Move to the side and chat… idiots! The same goes for you dolts who park your shopping carts in the middle of the aisle. I’m going to ram it or move it.
Teller lines [queues for you Brits] are also a source of aggravation for me. I never go into a bank with a transaction that takes more than 22 seconds. Yet time after time, people are standing at the teller windows for an eternity. What the hell are they doing… trying to cash a Bolivian travelers check with only their unique tattoo as ID? And using the ATM is no help – I am amazed at the complex transactions people attempt to perform at the ATM. It dispenses cash… what the hell else to you need an ATM for?
And the Post Office… I won’t even go there unless I absolutely have to. It is a lost cause. In fact, I usually avoid doing anything that requires standing in line. With few exceptions, if it requires standing in line, I will avoid it altogether… whatever it is, it probably isn’t worth doing if I have to wait in line to do it.
I sound like a Grumpy Old Guy. Well I am, so move over and get out of my way! Oh... and “have a nice day!”
George Carlin died this week. He was to be the recipient of the Mark Twain award for comedy, it's sad that he will not be here to enjoy the recognition of his comedy peers.
The news media showed clips of some of his comedy sketches. Of course, they alluded to his most famous sketch, the seven words you cannot say on television - not surprisingly, they didn't actually play THAT sketch. But what was ignored by ALL the media stories about Carlin was that he was an avowed atheist.
The subject of atheism is completely taboo in our culture; the news media will always play it safe and never mention the issue of non-religion ever. You see, in this country, although it is never OK to discriminate against others because of their race, gender or sexual orientation, it is perfectly fine to discriminate against Godless Heathens (aka: Atheists). After all, regardless of race, color or creed, everyone believe in God... don't they!?!
Actually, No -- A whole lot of us don't. And even though we may admire the man for his fame, we will overlook his shortcoming of being a non-believer. We will just pretend that we didn't know.
But I knew; and I admired him for it. Below is Carlin's "Religion is Bullshit" routine. There is nothing I can say here that isn't said more adroitly by Carlin himself. I'll shut up for now and let the man himself tell it like it is.
Look at these two photographs. One of these individuals is a wanted terror suspect; the other, a character from a children’s television show. Concentrate – think carefully before making your decision. A year ago, the Boston Police department was faced with this terrible choice - they got it wrong. And now an innocent cartoon character’s career is ruined.
This is just how stupid our country has become. It really isn’t that funny; thousands of man-hours and law enforcement resources were diverted to run down this alleged terrorist threat. If our law enforcement apparatus is this stupid, how difficult would it be for a REAL terrorist threat to be executed on this country?
But I believe there is something much more sinister at play here. It is my belief that our military and security forces know where Osama bin Laden is located. In fact, I believe that they are intentionally allowing him to remain at large.
This is an outlandish accusation, I know. Why! Because, were bin Laden to be captured, American public opinion would conclude that the “War on Terror” is over. Bin Laden is the poster child for our nation’s continued drive for economic (petroleum) and military presence throughout the globe. This singular focus funnels billions of our taxpayer dollars into private and military contractor’s pockets. And it diverts the public attention from focusing their support away from this foolish cause. Osama bin Laden’s capture would bring this all to a halt.
Municipalities are receiving funding from the Federal Government under the guise of Homeland Security. Why would they want that to end? Halliburton, Boeing, and hundreds of other corporations are receiving lucrative, often no-bid, contracts. Why would they want that to end? Politicians are planking their platforms and staking their public image on their stands on national defense. Why would they want that to end?
Worst of all, bin Laden’s war against the US has essentially won. His action has plunged this country into an expensive war, caused thousands MORE of our citizens lives to be lost or ruined, further limited our civil liberties and diverted our national assets away from those who need them most. At it’s worst, they have us chasing our tails - running down threats posed by a cartoon character advertising campaign.
One of the terrorist suspects in the picture above was eventually brought down. Can you guess which one?
I haven’t posted for a couple of weeks now. Not for lack of topics… no, they keep me awake at night, in fact. No, it’s laziness; or perhaps that my computer is loaned out. Excuses; merely excuses.
I find a frightening reality in the nightly news. Not in what is reported, but what is not reported. The war in Iraq is still raging. Men and women are being killed and even more being maimed. What is sad, frightening, to me is that it is no longer news. It has dropped off the radar of the public consciousness. It is no longer interesting to the viewing public. The “sheep” of this great nation now regard the war in Iraq with a resounding “whaaaa”?
Polls show that “the economy” is most on the minds of American voters. The Economy…as if it was something divorced from the war. It costs $390,000 to deploy one soldier for one year in Iraq. The war is sopping up billions of dollars from the US treasury. That’s an expense you and I pay for. That is money that doesn’t go to improving medical care or job training or any other useful function that ordinary Americans need daily.
And now the war in Afghanistan is ramping up. Donald Rumsfeld stopped bombing there years ago after we had bombed their “rubble into rubble”. Currently 91% of the world opium (Heroin) traffic comes from Afghanistan, which feeds the Taliban and keeps them supplied with arms. A nation that is on the brink of lapsing into the dark ages… with horrible horrible weapons.
Meanwhile the American consciousness is focused on gas prices. We don’t want to trade in our SUV’s, we want to obtain more oil and cheaper, no less. Which is what got us into this mess to begin with… our lust for oil, intoxicating us into making bad decisions about the Middle East.
During the Viet Nam war, American households felt the pain. Kids were pulled out of there homes; drafted into the Army and were being killed in Viet Nam. It hit Americans where they lived… and it was an outrage. But now, there is no draft. If your kid or husband or loved-one doesn’t die in Iraq, and now Afghanistan, it is like it isn’t happening.
And thanks to the news media… it truly isn’t happening. These wars - these drains on the national wealth, on the humanity of American citizens, is now “old news”… it’s boring, it kills viewer ratings. The most important thing on the minds of most American citizens today is who will be the next winner on “American Idol”. It is a disgrace that the news media doesn't show, every night, in the bottom left-hand corner of the screen, the human and financial cost of these two wars. It should remain there during the entire broadcast, every night. A jog to the national mindlessness that is serving to suck the strength from this once great nation.
Several years back, my in-laws were driving their 1975 Pontiac Astre through the Southwest visiting relatives in the area. That is was how people vacationed back in those days. And the tradition of traveling long distances by car remained for that generation even when air travel became affordable to most American families.
In any event, they were driving through Arizona when somewhere just a few miles outside of Flagstaff on Interstate 40, they lost a hub cap off the old Astre. By the time the loss was discovered they were already settled into their motel for the evening; the patriarch, Melvin, would have to deal with it when they returned back home to Oregon.
Once back home, Melvin found that the local Pontiac dealer no longer stocked parts for such an old vehicle and so suggested he try the local wrecking yard. The auto wrecking staff, made up mostly of teen-agers, was more than eager to help. The one young kid explained to Melvin that, although they didn’t have a used 1975 Pontiac Astre hub cap right there in stock, they were connected to a “computer network” linking auto wrecking yards all across the country. Somebody somewhere would likely have the hub cap and it would show up on the network.
A few days went by and Melvin received a call that his Astre hub cap was in and he could come down to the yard and pick it up. As he paid for his used hubcap, Melvin expressed surprise that the wreckers were able to find a replacement hub cap so quickly. As he paid for the replacement hub cap he thanked the young clerk. “It wasn’t a problem, sir”, the young man responded. “It was shipped to us from a wrecking yard down in Arizona… Someone picked it up off Interstate 40 just a few miles outside of Flagstaff”.
I picked up a “Time” magazine in the doctor’s office waiting room today. Remarkably it was a current issue; most waiting room magazines are, well… old. Anyway, the big story in “Time” was about John McCain’s health. More specifically, the story was an analysis of how John McCain’s health could affect his run for office. Several polls were cited in the article in order to assess public confidence in whether McCain was healthy enough to be president.
And what exactly was McCain’s serious health issue? Eight years ago he had a melanoma removed from his skin. It’s usually a five-minute procedure which is then treated with a band aid! Why his took five-hours is anybody’s guess – open heart surgery takes five hours. I’ll wager the reported got minutes and hours mixed up. Journalists often have trouble keeping their facts straight.
Yes I know… melanoma can be a deadly cancer if it is not treated. My wife had such an incident. In fact, her primary care physician misdiagnosed the spot on her arm as a harmless mole. As is becoming all too unsettlingly common, I again found my medial knowledge superior to that of many physicians, so we had a dermatologist remove the mole. The pathology report came back: malignant melanoma! (My wife doesn’t see that physician any more, by the way).
It really pains me when journalists are so bent on doing journalism that they create a story where there is none. And John McCain’s fitness to be commander-in-chief is in no way threatened or impaired by virtue of The Media crafting of a Health issue”. Now I can list a number of other reasons which, in my opinion, cause me to believe John McCain is a less than desirable choice to be president. But his having the foresight to have a “potentially” dangerous mole scratched off his skin is not one of them.
I understand that "Time" has magazines to sell. I also know that journalists need to write just as fish need to fly and birds need to swim. [Yes, I know what I said] But often there is no story there – and there is no issue with McCain’s fitness for the presidency here, at least, where his health is concerned.
Here is a story suggestion for “Time”, (or any other journalist out there, for that matter) - Do an article on how many Americans die each year of melanoma because they don’t have health coverage or the money to visit a dermatologist. Or would that require too much writing?
From reading one of my previous posts, you would know that I have a difficult time going through airport security. So I make a game out of trying not to “beep” the metal detector. I usually win; but not last time on our recent return from Hawaii.
As we went through security at Kailua-Kona airport, I did my usual emptying of my pockets into my upturned fedora. However, I left two film cans in my pocket this time – it is high speed film taken with our under-water camera while we snorkeled on the Big Island. I didn’t want the powerful X-ray to cloud my tropical fish pictures.
BEEP! “Would you step back through the metal detector, please, sir” the TSA agent says. Realizing it had to be the film cans setting off the detector, I removed them from my pocket and attempted to hand them to the TSA agent. Nope - I had to walk through the metal detector again, film cans in hand. BEEP!
“Step over here, sir” the TSA agent monotones. “The reason why we have to check you is because you set off the detector twice”. (Duh! I set if off twice because the film cans are still in my hand.) They have me gather all my things together from the X-ray belt and move to a section behind a glass partition. All the while I’m still holding the two film cans in my hand.
“We can take you someplace more private to do this if you would like, sir”. TSA agent now says. Like why!?! Are they going to strip search me? The TSA agent puts on a pair of purple latex gloves. I swallow hard.
They have me put the film cans on the table and I sit in a chair and kick off my low-security Crocks. He picks up a metal detector wand and begins wanding my feet – nothing! He then he has me stand on a mat, my legs apart and arms outstretched. I look like the drawing Leonardo da Vinci made of the guy in the circle. The TSA agent begins wanding the outline of my body – nothing. He seems disappointed. He wands his wrist watch to verify the detector is still working – Beep! Yup, it works.
He then begins wanding up between my legs. I stare at the horizon – silence. The wand lingers a little bit longer in the vicinity of my groin than I am comfortable with. I'm wondering now just how badly this guy wants to find metal in my pants? Again, he tests the wand on his wrist watch. Beep! Yes, it's still apparently working.
“I’m going to pat you down, now, sir.” TSA agent now says. I now become curious just how much “patting” I am going to get? I’m just wearing shorts and a t-shirt. I stare again at the horizon… but this is getting creepy.
As I am standing there with my arms outstretched being patted down, I turn to the other assisting TSA agent and suggest: “Just out of curiosity, can you wand the film cans there?” He waves the wand over a film can – Beep! They now decide to turn their attention to the film, testing it for traces of explosives residue. Nada! The disappointment is palpable.
Unless they want me to strip naked, they are out of options at this point. My wife hands me my jacket and we head to our gate.
It must be an incredibly boring job being a TSA agent. Like being a fireman where there’s never a fire; like being the sheriff of Mayberry. He probably went home all excited and told his wife about me today: “Honey, guess what happened at work today!!”
Ted Kennedy has just been diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor. He now has a much clearer idea of just when his life on this planet will be coming to a close. A few months ago, one of my friends was diagnosed with the same type of deadly tumor. He had gone to a fair, had a massive seizure and woke up in the hospital. Now his life completely revolves around fighting a tumor that inevitably will end his life.
Today I’m sitting here in Hawaii, perhaps with a greater appreciation of this warm beautiful place than on my previous visits. When I return to Oregon, I begin interviewing physicians, one of whom I will select to open my chest and replace my aortic valve. I can’t help but look around at the bright tropical fish as I snorkel and wonder if this will be the last time I see these colorful critters again. There will ultimately be that day, but we are never truly ready for it to be now.
I might be lucky, if I don’t survive the surgery I will never know it. I will be under sedation; my consciousness will fade and never come back. The mortality rate for this type of surgery is 2%; the mortality rate for not having the surgery is 100%. Michael Shermer is often asked what his opinion is of life after death. “I’m all for it!” he says. But he is under no illusions that his consciousness will survive forever in a Biblical Heaven. Those are stories made up for us to believe so we will not worry about death. They are for children.
My documentary about Jerry Andrus is extremely close to being ready for release. In it I recorded one of my favorite poems of Jerry's. He reads in the film; part of it goes like this: “I dreamt I died and went to Heaven; everything was perfect. I could stand it for just one day. You could not help anyone because no one needed help. You could not improve anything because everything was perfect. What a joy to worship the lord for a billion billion years."
You can hear the entire poem in the memorial excerpt clip from the documentary I played at Jerry’s memorial celebration here.
I find comfort in something my wife believes; that the quality of one’s life is related to the quality of one’s relationships. If it is my time to die, I won’t take my comfort in the illusion that I will see my mom and dad and grandparents in Heaven. Rather, I find solace in the thought that my memory will live on in the minds and hearts of my wife, children, grand children and friends. And when they die, it will no longer really matter.
For now I look at my toes against the salt-and-pepper sand on the warm Hawaiian beach and realize that I am made of the same stuff; cooked in the furnaces of stars of a billion galaxies. I was created from the stuff of the universe and it is there I will ultimately return someday. I find my peace in that. - Aloha
I actually believed I would not be blogging from Hawaii, however with the advent of wireless networking everywhere, (even in Paradise) well, why not. Even Kara was able to blog from places like Romania – Hell, I was surprised they even had electricity there.
So here we are on the beautiful Big Island, USA. We Americans take it for granted that Hawaii is just another one of our states, you know, like Iowa or Wisconsin. After all, it is so conveniently located to our borders, a mere 5-hour flight. I am sure the rest of the civilized world must lift a skeptical eyebrow when they acknowledge that we conveniently acquired this place as just another “state”. Yeah… right! Well, what the hell, we are big and powerful and what the hell are they going to do about it anyway? Hawaii is a state. Funny how we aren't that interested in wanting Porto Rico to be a state… but that’s another subject entirely.
The “natives” (meaning people born here) speak Hawaiian, a distinct language. However, it sounds a lot like pigeon-english which leaves me a bit suspicious. None the less, they have a lot of places here with names we mainlanders can’t pronounce. I don’t worry much about that; I couldn’t pronounce the names of the native American names in Washington State either. They have a lot of lava here, as we do in Oregon, so I’m not feeling like I have to adopt some type of foreign awareness pretentiousness either. They take VISA card here just like they do at home. No big deal.
Still there are differences here that make it worth the trip. Papaya for one… tastes like tepid ice cream here, back home Papaya tastes like crap. Mangos here are wonderful also; a little better than crap back home, but not by much. We make “POG-Tais” here – Rum and POG (Papaya-Orange-Guava) juice. They go down so nice! Of all the staple foods we picked up here, the rum is being depleted the most quickly.
Gasoline is something else, it is $4.35 a gallon or more depending on where you get it. So we try to limit our driving as much as possible. Worst of all, with the grand-baby and all the equipment, we had to rent an SUV. I can imagine a fleet of tanker ships laden with gasoline coming to the Big Island, my only consolation is that these tankers are returning to the mainland laden with holds full of pineapple juice. If I think along those lines, I don’t feel so badly.
Some friends of ours who travel a lot said, after their last trip here, that they thought they were through coming to Hawaii. I can’t ever think I would ever be “through” coming to a place like this. It is warm and wonderful and I can pretty much understand the language. I hope I will be back again someday.
People who know me know I am a Skeptic - I believe we all live in a natural universe and that science is a tool to help us understand how that universe works. My friends and family all know that nothing yanks my chain more quickly than claims of the paranormal. I don’t suffer the fools very well who believe in ghosts, lake monsters or telekinesis.
So recently when a friend told me that she believed “something” (or someone) was going into her closet and moving her things when she wasn't there, I challenged her to come up with some type of explanation. Not included among her various hypotheses, however, was the distinct possibility that she herself had moved those items and had simply forgotten.
I was feeling rather smug about my Rational World View until I recently, as has happened to me all too many times before, again had the unsettling experience of having my own small possessions disappear... apparently, completely off the face of the Earth.
Now, surely, I might have concluded that I too had simply misplaced these items. My dark glasses, for example; I wore them just yesterday. I have a strong recollection of having rinsed the dusty glasses off in the bathroom. Yet, they can not be located on the usual surfaces on which they are ordinarily placed. I searched the EVERYWHERE. Nothing! They cease to exist.
Having studied this odd phenomenon for a number of years, I have come to the rational hypothesis there has to exist an Alternate Parallel Universe (APU). Clearly, after using an object, and upon placing it down and diverting one’s attention from it… Poof, it is transported by yet undetermined means to the APU. There can be no other reasonable explanation.
My dark glasses are there now (actually, several pairs) as are a number of screwdrivers and the chuck key to my power drill. Grocery lists are also, I suspect; although some physicists postulate that the wad of dried pulp often found pants pockets removed from the laundry may have been the grocery list at some previous time. Data regarding this is still being gathered. Science has long confirmed that an even number of socks placed into the laundry will result in an odd number of socks coming out. PhDs have written papers on this.
No, the APU seems to be the strongest theory of where my things seem to go when I put them down. And conducting thorough searches of the proximity for these objects invariably turns out to be fruitless.
I don’t believe that man can travel to the APU and recover the lost tools, objects and eyewear. I just believe that at the moment of my final breath, I will have a flash of incredible brain power and suddenly remember exactly where I put my dark glasses, and all the other junk I've misplaced in my life! Although, at that precise moment, it won’t really matter much anymore.
People’s behavior in public situations really cracks me up. Consider the following scenario – you are riding your bicycle on a bike path or lane; another bike rider is coming toward you. Wouldn’t you think that each of you would move to pass each other on the right, you know, like cars on a highway? Nope, about half the time, the oncoming rider moves left, directly into your path!?!?
