These are a collection of thoughts and ideas that I've had floating around in one form or another for the past year. After Trump's drubbing of Secretary Clinton, a lot of these have started to metastasize and so I hope to remove them by being inarticulate on the internet...
Let's start with this: stop protesting. Put away the 'Not My President' signs - they weren't ok when President Bush won, they weren't ok when President Obama won, and they're not ok now. You might not have voted for him, you probably didn't support him, but he is our President. If nothing else, you have to respect the office. You're even allowed to hope that the office changes the man. Un-wring your hands and start planning. There will likely be plenty of things to protest once President Trump takes office, you needn't give him any ammo or justification for being an authoritarian before he takes his oath. Yes, you have an absolute right to assemble and protest, but he hasn't done anything yet. And when he does do something, we're going to need our message heard by people who aren't already burned out by the constant whining. Reduce your noise and make sure the signal is loud and clear: Trump won the election. He does not have a mandate or the freedom to do as he pleases. When he tries to create a database of Muslims, we'll protest, we'll file suit, and we'll all register as Muslims.
The electoral college: I am a huge fan of Professor Lessig. I would be hard pressed to come up with anyone in the political arena for whom I have more respect, but I disagree with him on this. Electors within the college cannot ignore the message sent by the electorate (a message sent both by those who voted for Trump and those who didn't vote) by reducing the results to the popular vote tally. If they do, they really serve no purpose at all and we might as well have an election based on the popular vote. The electoral college is meant specifically for this type of election where the final tallies are very close - they magnify the results and produce a clear winner; the country is split, the states are not. Welcome to federalism.
The Democrats: This is a tough one because there are more questions than answers and some of the answers just raise other questions, but it has to start with taking blame for your nominee. The way the DNC silenced opposition, ignored alternatives, and forced Hillary Clinton onto the ballot because it was 'her turn' deserves the bulk of the blame. The rest lies with the hubris of the Clinton campaign and Clinton herself. Instead of the message of jobs, policies, strength from diversity, the message was 'ZOMG NOT DONALD TRUMP' and 'if you vote for Trump you're a racist'. It was the same peril of right-think we've seen the past several election cycles that have given us a Republican House, Senate, Governorships, and state legislatures. The scene during and immediately after the election of Democrats frothing at 3rd party voters is precisely the message you don't want to send. There wasn't outreach, their wasn't any sort of internal reflection; it was somebody else's fault. It's possible I'm being too harsh here and we're still in the early stages of Kübler-Ross. If that's the case, then Act 5 Acceptance needs to start with a mea culpa and new leadership. Unfortunately, that doesn't appear likely right now. The answers to who should head up the DNC and who the 2020 candidate should be are not readily available at the moment, nor are they questions that need to be answered right now. There is a modicum of time to grieve, reflect, and analyze, but come March there needs to be a clear answer to the first question. That leader then needs to put together an agenda and coalition that focuses on jobs, the economy, and equality not for the 2020 race, but for the party. I don't think we'll have any idea who the next candidate will be until Super Tuesday 2020, in the meantime the Democratic party has to define itself as something other than 'Not Republican' which is exactly the message they've been sending since 2008 and since then the Obama Coalition has won the White House once and that's about it. Congress and state legislatures continue to tilt Republican because they offer a vision. The Democratic party needs to start defining who they are and what they stand for and not start every sentence with 'Republicans want to...'. One disturbing scenario is that President Trump implodes, the people he conned vote (D), no lesson is learned, and we continue on with identity politics through the 20s
Forward: I am hopeful that the enormity of the Office of the President is not lost on Mr. Trump. I hope that he takes his responsibility and the oath of office seriously, that he hires & appoints skilled and knowledgeable individuals as his advisors and to his cabinet. I am hopeful, but not optimistic. Given the current rumblings of Chief of Staff Bannon/Lewendowski, Secretary of State Gingrich, Attorney General Giuliani/Christie, and Secretary of Defense Sessions, I am even less optimistic. But no one has been confirmed yet and there is time for President-Elect Trump to make good decisions.
Part of moving forward is going to be the understanding a few things:
1.) The Affordable Care Act is done
2.) President Trump will probably get to appoint 2 Supreme Court justices (you can thank Justice Ginsburg for not retiring after the 2012 election). Which leads to...
2a.) Obergefell v. Hodges will probably be overturned
2b.) Roe v. Wade will probably overturned
3.) Voter ID laws are likely to continue to be made more burdensome
4.) Planned Parenthood is probably getting de-funded
5.) The Department of Education could very well be dissolved
I say this not because I want to see these things happen, but because I have spent the past six years listening to what Republicans have wanted to change and now they have complete control. It's also important to get through our 5 stages as quickly as possible so we can start planning our response. What can we do about these?
The ACA, probably not much. Republicans have hated that from Day One, so while the individual mandate and Medicaid expansion are probably gone (and premiums are going back up), we might be able to keep wording on the books that would prevent insurance companies from denying coverage based on preexisting conditions.
The Supreme Court - well the filibuster is an option, but it shouldn't be used. If Democrats hope to claim any sort of moral high ground, they cannot be reduced to the same tactics used by their Republican counterparts. Recognize that you're filling Scalia's seat - a position that, even when filled with a very conservative justice, still allowed the ACA and Obergefell in the first place. Democrats don't have to sign off on anybody, but I think they would be better suited saving their bullets for when it's time to replace a moderate on the court. As for 2a & 2b, there will still be states where both are legal (Nominee Trump has indicated abortion-rights should be left to the states). Obviously this is not ideal, but there are no permanent majorities. Fight to get the right people elected to state legislatures and what happens at the SCOTUS level may be moot.
Voter ID laws - I don't really know. I find Republican attempts to suppress minority votes appalling and abhorrent. My only suggestion is to be active in your community, speak up when something's not right, and offer any assistance you can to those who need it. I know, it's not much of an answer =\
Planned Parenthood is going to go through some lean times to be sure, but it won't be permanent and it may not even be immediate. PP receives ~$500 million a year from the federal government. If everyone that voted for Hillary kicked in about 8 bucks, that would cover the loss from being completely defunded.
Department of Ed dissolution - this is the most far-fetched on the list (I think) and I really don't know what implications such a move would have. But I do know that right now, you can run for a seat on your local school board. Get involved.
A reminder from Tip O'Neill that all politics are local; go to neighborhood meetings, get on school boards, go city council meetings. It's time to start building.
Friday, November 11, 2016
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Pointless Analysis 2
My apologies, you've all been very patient and I really have no excuse for not posting a 'Welcome to 2011' message. I'm not too good at this whole blog thing - I'm sure this comes as a surprise to no one.
Anyway, welcome to 2011 and another round of silly analysis regarding grocery spending. Looking at this data indicates two things; food prices are going up and having someone live with you is kinda costly. I made 14 more trips in 2010 than 2009 (82 vs. 68) and the average trip increased from $27.98 to 31.61. I'm sure you've already done the math, but yes that means I spent an extra $690 on groceries in 2010. Savings stayed even at 33% and the best day to save was again Wednesday. Most costly month was September at $310 (compared to May 2009 - $307) and it wasn't close as 2nd place was October at $271. The biggest difference? In 2009 there were only two months in which I spent more than $200 in 2010 there were only three months I didn't (not counting July when I was in Europe for two weeks). And of course, you guessed it, those three months all occured before I had a roommate. Again, sorry it's been so long, I'll try to post more than once every six months in 2011. No promises though, might be busy moving =)
Anyway, welcome to 2011 and another round of silly analysis regarding grocery spending. Looking at this data indicates two things; food prices are going up and having someone live with you is kinda costly. I made 14 more trips in 2010 than 2009 (82 vs. 68) and the average trip increased from $27.98 to 31.61. I'm sure you've already done the math, but yes that means I spent an extra $690 on groceries in 2010. Savings stayed even at 33% and the best day to save was again Wednesday. Most costly month was September at $310 (compared to May 2009 - $307) and it wasn't close as 2nd place was October at $271. The biggest difference? In 2009 there were only two months in which I spent more than $200 in 2010 there were only three months I didn't (not counting July when I was in Europe for two weeks). And of course, you guessed it, those three months all occured before I had a roommate. Again, sorry it's been so long, I'll try to post more than once every six months in 2011. No promises though, might be busy moving =)
Friday, October 29, 2010
woah
So T-Rex totally reads my blog. I don't think there's any other way to put it. I emailed the group at Machine of Death to say, 'hey, I want the Kindle version, I bought the book now send me the Kindle version!'.
And Ryan, T-Rex's manager, actually replied and two days later what is T-Rex talking about? Pasta sauce. What was I talking about two days ago? Pizza sauce. So yeah. Obviously I'm a muse by proxy. See, Ryan saw me talkin' about The Sauce and it got in his brain and then he mentioned it to T and, well, done & done. Wow...I'm a muse. Holy shit! I'm T-Rex's muse. I can probably die happy now. Like, right now.
And Ryan, T-Rex's manager, actually replied and two days later what is T-Rex talking about? Pasta sauce. What was I talking about two days ago? Pizza sauce. So yeah. Obviously I'm a muse by proxy. See, Ryan saw me talkin' about The Sauce and it got in his brain and then he mentioned it to T and, well, done & done. Wow...I'm a muse. Holy shit! I'm T-Rex's muse. I can probably die happy now. Like, right now.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
In the kitchen
Welcome back to Cooking With The Lights Off, the only show to freely admit that following the recipe isn't really that important and measuring instruments are a waste of money. Today we'll be attempting a Chicago-style deep dish pizza. Thinking about visiting the city for A Very Mayer Christmas got my mouth salivating and I didn't want to shell out $65 for the real thing, but how can I let my mouth water for two months, my appetite unsatiated? Conundrum.
Solution: Gather up a thing of flour, some warm water, a little oil (EVOO in this case), approximately some yeast, and a bit of salt. Dissolve the yeast in the warm water, add the oil & salt, and start stirring in the flour until it is no longer sticky (TS hint: keep flour on your hands to keep dough from sticking!) Once you've kneaded in enough flour to keep the dough from stealing your wedding ring, cover it with a nostalgic, and in no way sexist, 50's era towel and let rise until it has roughly doubled in size (~45 minutes). While the dough rises you can work on the next part...
The Sauce. Unfortunately we're not talking about the good, top-shelf stuff, we're talking about marinara. Gather up your ingredients, we'll be using tomatoes, onions, tomato sauce, parsley, basil, oregano, salt, sugar, black pepper, and garlic powder. You may elect to use different spices and seasonings as long as you have the first three items you'll probably be alright. Probably. Anyway, stir it all together in a sauce pan over some heat, bring it to a boil, then reduce the heat and let it simmer until you think it's done. (TS hint: 2 medium/smallish tomatoes is probably 1/2 a tomato too much and a little extra sugar wouldn't hurt the congealing process.)
Oh, hey, our dough looks like it's done rising! Pat it down and knead it a few times because playing with our food is the fun part! Grab a smallish handful and toss it back in the bowl - we'll use that as the top - the rest needs to be flattened out to whatever thickness you'd like your crust to be. Grab your lightly oiled cast iron pan and gently press the crust in. (TS hint: Moving a large, flat piece of dough can be a PAIN, roll it once around the rolling pin, and unroll it over the pan to reduce headaches and expletives.)
Now it's time for the fillings. Today we'll be stuffing our pie with Italian sausage, green peppers, onions, tomatoes, and an obscene amount of cheese. I'll likely receive a fine from the FCC for showing all that cheese. I probably just earned my blog an 'adult content' tag. Sorry younger readers, you'll have to grow up a little before you can handle this site. So yeah. Throw all those fillings in then grab that piece of dough we left out, flatten it out and place it on top. Now tuck the dough that was hanging over the edge into the edge of the pizza, poke some holes in the top crust to release steam (or don't), slather on some sauce and extra cheese then bake it in the oven until the cheese on top is nice and melty and brown. Let it cool for as long as you can (I lasted about 25 seconds) and enjoy.
Solution: Gather up a thing of flour, some warm water, a little oil (EVOO in this case), approximately some yeast, and a bit of salt. Dissolve the yeast in the warm water, add the oil & salt, and start stirring in the flour until it is no longer sticky (TS hint: keep flour on your hands to keep dough from sticking!) Once you've kneaded in enough flour to keep the dough from stealing your wedding ring, cover it with a nostalgic, and in no way sexist, 50's era towel and let rise until it has roughly doubled in size (~45 minutes). While the dough rises you can work on the next part...
 |  |  |
The Sauce. Unfortunately we're not talking about the good, top-shelf stuff, we're talking about marinara. Gather up your ingredients, we'll be using tomatoes, onions, tomato sauce, parsley, basil, oregano, salt, sugar, black pepper, and garlic powder. You may elect to use different spices and seasonings as long as you have the first three items you'll probably be alright. Probably. Anyway, stir it all together in a sauce pan over some heat, bring it to a boil, then reduce the heat and let it simmer until you think it's done. (TS hint: 2 medium/smallish tomatoes is probably 1/2 a tomato too much and a little extra sugar wouldn't hurt the congealing process.)
Oh, hey, our dough looks like it's done rising! Pat it down and knead it a few times because playing with our food is the fun part! Grab a smallish handful and toss it back in the bowl - we'll use that as the top - the rest needs to be flattened out to whatever thickness you'd like your crust to be. Grab your lightly oiled cast iron pan and gently press the crust in. (TS hint: Moving a large, flat piece of dough can be a PAIN, roll it once around the rolling pin, and unroll it over the pan to reduce headaches and expletives.)
 |  |
Now it's time for the fillings. Today we'll be stuffing our pie with Italian sausage, green peppers, onions, tomatoes, and an obscene amount of cheese. I'll likely receive a fine from the FCC for showing all that cheese. I probably just earned my blog an 'adult content' tag. Sorry younger readers, you'll have to grow up a little before you can handle this site. So yeah. Throw all those fillings in then grab that piece of dough we left out, flatten it out and place it on top. Now tuck the dough that was hanging over the edge into the edge of the pizza, poke some holes in the top crust to release steam (or don't), slather on some sauce and extra cheese then bake it in the oven until the cheese on top is nice and melty and brown. Let it cool for as long as you can (I lasted about 25 seconds) and enjoy.
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Thursday, October 21, 2010
A Post - oh my!
This is going to be a two-parter with the important and time-sensitive stuff in the first part. And the more wistful, dreamy, written-like-three-weeks-ago stuff afterwards.
First of all, there is a book
that you should purchase
but not until October 26th
Sorry, I don't really have a picture for what October 26th looks like. Plus, you guys! I turned October 26th into a link to Amazon where you can purchase the book. I know, I'm a swell guy, you don't owe me anything. Unless you don't buy the book. Then you owe me an explanation. The authors are trying to make it the best-selling book for one day (guess which one!) You can read more from the authors about this little experiment here and here, too! You can also read the comic that inspired it all here.
So that's the first part. Pretty straight forward, but let's recap anyway.
1.) There is a book
2.) People all over the world should buy this book
3.) You are one of those people
4.) You should not buy this book until October 26th
5.) You should still buy this book even if you can't afford it until after October 26th
6.) You should set a reminder on the wall of your cave to buy this book on October 26th
Hey, we made it through the first part! This second part is going to be old hat for most of you apathetic, hipster, news junkies, and yet, I post...
I've finally found something, besides more stuff, to spend my money on this holiday season, and of course, it's probably too expensive. Jon Stewart's Rally to Restore Sanity is set for October 30th in Washington D.C..
Unfortunately plane tickets and hotel would run somewhere in the neighborhood of $400 for one person (and ~$750 for two) and I don't have that kind of coin just sitting around nor do I plan on spending that much TOTAL on christmas gifts. So here I sit, refreshing hotwire, kayak, and expedia every 5 minutes. Santa, if you find yourself reading this post before the last Saturday in October, you know what to do. I have been a VERY good boy for the past several years.
Maybe I'll dress like I went to the rally as my halloween costume this year - sorry, authentic Pamplona running with the bulls outfit, you've been replaced.
First of all, there is a book
that you should purchase
but not until October 26th
Sorry, I don't really have a picture for what October 26th looks like. Plus, you guys! I turned October 26th into a link to Amazon where you can purchase the book. I know, I'm a swell guy, you don't owe me anything. Unless you don't buy the book. Then you owe me an explanation. The authors are trying to make it the best-selling book for one day (guess which one!) You can read more from the authors about this little experiment here and here, too! You can also read the comic that inspired it all here.
So that's the first part. Pretty straight forward, but let's recap anyway.
1.) There is a book
2.) People all over the world should buy this book
3.) You are one of those people
4.) You should not buy this book until October 26th
5.) You should still buy this book even if you can't afford it until after October 26th
6.) You should set a reminder on the wall of your cave to buy this book on October 26th
Hey, we made it through the first part! This second part is going to be old hat for most of you apathetic, hipster, news junkies, and yet, I post...
I've finally found something, besides more stuff, to spend my money on this holiday season, and of course, it's probably too expensive. Jon Stewart's Rally to Restore Sanity is set for October 30th in Washington D.C..
| The Daily Show With Jon Stewart | Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c | |||
| Rally to Restore Sanity Announcement | ||||
| ||||
Maybe I'll dress like I went to the rally as my halloween costume this year - sorry, authentic Pamplona running with the bulls outfit, you've been replaced.
Friday, June 25, 2010
The Reckoning
The day dawned dark and dreary (and with an apparent affinity for alliteration). It was cold and windy and already I was glad I had unearthed my winter coat for this trip - and I was barely above sea level. It was unclear what genius was behind the scheduling of this early AM flight, but I had to give them credit, they were truly diabolical. I was fortunate enough to have enlisted the assistance of my lovely...assistant for a ride to the airport. Without my assistant's...assistance, an alarm of at least an hour and a half earlier would have been necessary, and getting up that early has been shown to cause cancer. I made my way through ticketing and security to my departure gate and warmly greeted my traveling companion. Eagerly we laid out plans for our forty-six hour trip to the Rockies. It would later occur to me, as we waited for my companion's checked luggage, that he did not quite grasp the significance of having ONLY FORTY-SIX HOURS, NO, WE CAN'T WAIT FOR YOU TO GO TO THE BATHROOM!
We were met at the airport by two local gypsies that we counted amongst our friends. I calmly relayed to them how much I was looking forward to the weekend and how well the flight had gone. I should have known they would be in no mood for MY stories as the vicious harpies glowered at me and threatened untold torturous deeds. I cowered in the backseat as their magic caused my seat belt to lock and tighten around my terrified torso. Soon we arrived in the western suburbs of the Mile High city and loaded up on drinks and party snacks (for Super Sunday) and Good Times burgers (for immediate consumption). Little did I know this was simply a ruse to lure me into a false sense of security.
Barely had we arrived at our housing destination than the girls began to discuss, touch, and even comb my hair. This activity should've piqued my suspicion, but my new hobby was pretending to be completely color blind and ignoring any and all red flags (ominous clouds, glowing red, harpy eyes, then niceness and burgers, then feigned interest in the hair). The attention to hairstyle continued and it was combed, pulled, photographed, and even done up into braids under the auspices that it would be "fun". Then it was decided it would be more fun out in the garage. It sounded like a good idea at the time and I obliged. There were cameras and beer and I was drunk on attention.
In my inebriation I was vaguely aware of the danger that lurked on the counter, a primitive pair of needle-nose pliers whose sides had, for whatever reason, been sharpened to form a cutting edge. Again, my new hobby kicked in and I conveniently ignored yet another warning. Shortly thereafter disaster struck:
The massacre continued. There was no hope. The monsters even took pictures.
We were met at the airport by two local gypsies that we counted amongst our friends. I calmly relayed to them how much I was looking forward to the weekend and how well the flight had gone. I should have known they would be in no mood for MY stories as the vicious harpies glowered at me and threatened untold torturous deeds. I cowered in the backseat as their magic caused my seat belt to lock and tighten around my terrified torso. Soon we arrived in the western suburbs of the Mile High city and loaded up on drinks and party snacks (for Super Sunday) and Good Times burgers (for immediate consumption). Little did I know this was simply a ruse to lure me into a false sense of security.
Barely had we arrived at our housing destination than the girls began to discuss, touch, and even comb my hair. This activity should've piqued my suspicion, but my new hobby was pretending to be completely color blind and ignoring any and all red flags (ominous clouds, glowing red, harpy eyes, then niceness and burgers, then feigned interest in the hair). The attention to hairstyle continued and it was combed, pulled, photographed, and even done up into braids under the auspices that it would be "fun". Then it was decided it would be more fun out in the garage. It sounded like a good idea at the time and I obliged. There were cameras and beer and I was drunk on attention.
In my inebriation I was vaguely aware of the danger that lurked on the counter, a primitive pair of needle-nose pliers whose sides had, for whatever reason, been sharpened to form a cutting edge. Again, my new hobby kicked in and I conveniently ignored yet another warning. Shortly thereafter disaster struck:
The massacre continued. There was no hope. The monsters even took pictures.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Sno-hibited
January 2010 saw an unusual rash of blizzards across the entire continental U.S., whether it was Snowmaggedon, Snopacolypse, or Snowtorious B.I.G., if you were a fan of winter weather you called it one thing: sweet. Arizona was no exception. Granted what was three feet of snow everywhere else turned into 3 inches of rain in Phoenix, but in Flagstaff it was anywhere between 3 and 6 feet of snow over the second to last week of the month. NAU closed its campus on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. I-17 was closed W-F and most of Saturday morning. Snowbowl closed its slopes Friday morning and wouldn't open again until Saturday afternoon and even then only the lower runs. FOX News reported that roughly ten million had died in the storm and at least half of those went out Donner Party style. It was the most snow Arizona had received in a three day span in several decades and a plan was hatched.
The Kahn Man called with a crazy idea; we could spend the night in Flag with friends, rent skis, and hope they opened the rest of the mountain on Sunday. The thought process being that even if they didn't open the rest of the mountain, we'd at least get in some solid skiing and have an entertaining Saturday night in Flagstaff. The call went out to all winter enthusiasts, but only the Spartan decided to join us. This turned out to be an ideal mix as topics of discussion ranged from merkins to education to ejaculate to foreign languages, and why the UP wishes it was actually part of Wisconsin. The group arrived an hour before the rental location closed its doors and were greeted by a friendly operator happy to have someone to talk to as he described his Friday morning skiing in fresh powder up to his armpits. An hour later sees our troupe exit the rental location loaded with skis, boots, poles, helmets, and freshly purchased snow pants and gloves. Another half hour (and several wrong turns later) we were tracking snow into the house on whose couches we would be spending the night. Then we promptly headed for the bars. 2 am sounds the closing bell and finds our heroes in the street walking home, determined to be up by 7 and at the mountain by 8:30 (it opens at 9).
The incessant sound of a cell phone alarm rippled through dreamworld and created enough of a disturbance to pull at least one person off the couch. The time: 7:30. A little late, but there was still time for oatmeal...after cleaning a few mugs out (seriously, there were no bowls to be found - at least, no bowls out of which you could eat cereal, soup, or oatmeal). There also wasn't time to completely heat the water which caused at least two of the campers to complain and stick their breakfast in the microwave thereby allowing radiation to warm their food! We received a call from one of the housemates that had to work on the hill that day around 7:50 and in his words, "we're getting fucking slammed today. We're a mile from the mountain and the road is a parking lot." A flurry of activity and we were out of the house by 8:15. To get to the slopes we would have to take the highway to a small, barely paved road and 8 miles later we would be in the parking lot.
We made it to the highway and - promptly made a wrong turn. Not a big deal, we got GPS! After a few minutes we (no fewer than 4 degrees mind you) figured this out and turned around, total detour time: 15 minutes, maybe. At 9:15 we turned off the highway to a confusing site, cars were going towards Flagstaff with skis and boards on their roofs. Denial began to set in. Maybe they had spent the night in the resort and had to return their gear this morning or had long drives home or were flying out. Or maybe they heard their house was on fire. We turned off the highway, the passenger caught a glimpse of an electronic roadside about a quarter of the mile up the road and since traffic was crawling, the passenger leaned their torso out the window, read the sign, and sat back down, speechless. A few minutes later the trio would arrive at the sign: "Mountain at capacity. Parking lot full." And two employees kindly telling everyone to "GO HOME."
And that, ladies and gentlemens, is Fail Skiing
The Kahn Man called with a crazy idea; we could spend the night in Flag with friends, rent skis, and hope they opened the rest of the mountain on Sunday. The thought process being that even if they didn't open the rest of the mountain, we'd at least get in some solid skiing and have an entertaining Saturday night in Flagstaff. The call went out to all winter enthusiasts, but only the Spartan decided to join us. This turned out to be an ideal mix as topics of discussion ranged from merkins to education to ejaculate to foreign languages, and why the UP wishes it was actually part of Wisconsin. The group arrived an hour before the rental location closed its doors and were greeted by a friendly operator happy to have someone to talk to as he described his Friday morning skiing in fresh powder up to his armpits. An hour later sees our troupe exit the rental location loaded with skis, boots, poles, helmets, and freshly purchased snow pants and gloves. Another half hour (and several wrong turns later) we were tracking snow into the house on whose couches we would be spending the night. Then we promptly headed for the bars. 2 am sounds the closing bell and finds our heroes in the street walking home, determined to be up by 7 and at the mountain by 8:30 (it opens at 9).
The incessant sound of a cell phone alarm rippled through dreamworld and created enough of a disturbance to pull at least one person off the couch. The time: 7:30. A little late, but there was still time for oatmeal...after cleaning a few mugs out (seriously, there were no bowls to be found - at least, no bowls out of which you could eat cereal, soup, or oatmeal). There also wasn't time to completely heat the water which caused at least two of the campers to complain and stick their breakfast in the microwave thereby allowing radiation to warm their food! We received a call from one of the housemates that had to work on the hill that day around 7:50 and in his words, "we're getting fucking slammed today. We're a mile from the mountain and the road is a parking lot." A flurry of activity and we were out of the house by 8:15. To get to the slopes we would have to take the highway to a small, barely paved road and 8 miles later we would be in the parking lot.
We made it to the highway and - promptly made a wrong turn. Not a big deal, we got GPS! After a few minutes we (no fewer than 4 degrees mind you) figured this out and turned around, total detour time: 15 minutes, maybe. At 9:15 we turned off the highway to a confusing site, cars were going towards Flagstaff with skis and boards on their roofs. Denial began to set in. Maybe they had spent the night in the resort and had to return their gear this morning or had long drives home or were flying out. Or maybe they heard their house was on fire. We turned off the highway, the passenger caught a glimpse of an electronic roadside about a quarter of the mile up the road and since traffic was crawling, the passenger leaned their torso out the window, read the sign, and sat back down, speechless. A few minutes later the trio would arrive at the sign: "Mountain at capacity. Parking lot full." And two employees kindly telling everyone to "GO HOME."
And that, ladies and gentlemens, is Fail Skiing
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
2 (per)cents
So the Phoenix City Council has approved (6-3) a 2% sales tax on grocery items (Story). These are items like milk, bread, eggs, fruits, and vegetables. The council indicates that the tax will be used to prevent layoffs of first responders (police and firefighters) and other city workers AND that the tax will sunset after 5 years. The mayor cites a Census study to say the tax will cost a family of four ~$240/year. Food that is purchased with food stamps will NOT be taxed. The tax goes into effect April 1st (are they joking?), but the Council will be holding 15 public budget hearings over the next month to "gather input".
Obviously my knee-jerk reaction is similar to those in the 'comments' section of the article, if not a little less vitriolic. I understand the need to fund the police and fire departments and that this tax will raise roughly 60 million of the necessary $140 million shortfall the city is facing through FY 2011. So in the end, cuts will still have to be made, just not as severe. If I were to attend any of these hearings I would have one two-part question a.) Obviously you're concerned that fewer police on the streets will have a negative impact on the crime rate, how much of a spike in crime do you expect to see if this tax is not enacted and the police department is forced to make sweeping cuts? b.) How much of a spike in crime do you expect to see if this tax IS enacted and makes it harder for people to buy milk, bread, and eggs?
Judging by the comments section of the article other citizens will bring up some equally relevant points like, "Where the hell did all that money from the photo radar zones go" (I'm betting a significant chunk of that goes to the state). And the ever popular "ZOMG. Tax and spend libera-faci-zis! We's gonna vote yallz out!!1one".
Personally I don't have a problem spending an extra 2% on groceries. I do; however, worry about the number of families that ARE out there living on meager wages and not on food stamps (think illegals). For these people an extra $240/yr might well be 2% of their entire income, and I'm never in favor of making it harder to buy daily essentials like milk and bread (and cheese, yes, it IS essential). It just doesn't feel like the City Council has really thought of all the options available to them before approving this tax - but I suppose that's also why it doesn't go into effect until April 1st (seriously?)
I think the only truly ridiculous part of this is the idea that the tax will "sunset" after 5 years. Yeah. Right. The Council argues that they're trying to reduce the $140M they have to cut by the end of FY 2011 (June 30th, 2011), and if that's the case then the tax should sunset after TWO years, not FIVE. If it were truly meant to be a temporary relief then it should expire once it has served it's purpose, and if it turns out the city is still in dire straights in 2012, then re-up the tax for another year. Five years. HA. Ha. ha.
Obviously my knee-jerk reaction is similar to those in the 'comments' section of the article, if not a little less vitriolic. I understand the need to fund the police and fire departments and that this tax will raise roughly 60 million of the necessary $140 million shortfall the city is facing through FY 2011. So in the end, cuts will still have to be made, just not as severe. If I were to attend any of these hearings I would have one two-part question a.) Obviously you're concerned that fewer police on the streets will have a negative impact on the crime rate, how much of a spike in crime do you expect to see if this tax is not enacted and the police department is forced to make sweeping cuts? b.) How much of a spike in crime do you expect to see if this tax IS enacted and makes it harder for people to buy milk, bread, and eggs?
Judging by the comments section of the article other citizens will bring up some equally relevant points like, "Where the hell did all that money from the photo radar zones go" (I'm betting a significant chunk of that goes to the state). And the ever popular "ZOMG. Tax and spend libera-faci-zis! We's gonna vote yallz out!!1one".
Personally I don't have a problem spending an extra 2% on groceries. I do; however, worry about the number of families that ARE out there living on meager wages and not on food stamps (think illegals). For these people an extra $240/yr might well be 2% of their entire income, and I'm never in favor of making it harder to buy daily essentials like milk and bread (and cheese, yes, it IS essential). It just doesn't feel like the City Council has really thought of all the options available to them before approving this tax - but I suppose that's also why it doesn't go into effect until April 1st (seriously?)
I think the only truly ridiculous part of this is the idea that the tax will "sunset" after 5 years. Yeah. Right. The Council argues that they're trying to reduce the $140M they have to cut by the end of FY 2011 (June 30th, 2011), and if that's the case then the tax should sunset after TWO years, not FIVE. If it were truly meant to be a temporary relief then it should expire once it has served it's purpose, and if it turns out the city is still in dire straights in 2012, then re-up the tax for another year. Five years. HA. Ha. ha.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Pointless Analysis
First of all - Hello and welcome to the new year at TS! We hope you had a great 2009 and are looking forward to all the neat stuff that is sure to happen in 2010; two trips to Denver in February, a trip to Portugal, continuing to learn fun languages like French, Hungarian, Portuguese, and English, and hopefully a new job on a new continent (or at least a new state, with mountains, and skiing, and a bunch of friends that are already there...) Anyway, on with the show!
As promised, be prepared for the most in-depth look at my grocery spending that you never wanted.
A couple notes:
1.) This is my grocery spending only. It does not include restaurants, convenience stores, bars, or the ten bucks the mall charged to let me sit on Santa's lap. Basically this is all the money I spent at Safeway and AJ's in 2009 (Safeway ~95%, AJ's <5%). Yes, I still have all the receipts. No, I'm not going to scan each of the in individually. You are welcome by anytime to peruse them.
2.) Some people have expressed surprise that I spend <$200 a month. Partially, I imagine, due to my reputation to spend that much a week on beer. That might have been true of 2007 or 2008 me, but 2009 me bought beer from the store on perhaps 4 occasions. '09 Me opted for the $7 bottle of Vitali vodka and whatever chaser/mixer might be lying around the apartment (mustard, relish, and mayo qualify as chasers; soy sauce, cottage cheese, and Girl Scout cookies-Thin Mints count as mixers). What can I say, it was a fun year? I finished grad school?
So, onto the numbers and summaries! (raw data here)
On the year I spent $1,902.73 and saved $919.22. May and December were the only months I spent more than $200 (see graph below). Sunday was far and away the busiest day with 20 visits and $530 spent followed by Friday at 11/$331 and Saturday 10/$280. Woah, cue suspenseful music - I do my shopping on the weekend. Something interesting though, the most expensive average trip was Thursday when I spent an average of $32 compared to the cheapest average trip day, Tuesday, which usually cost $18. On the year I made 4 trips on Tuesday and 7 on Thursday. On average I save 33% of the total bill, but on Wednesdays that number jumps to 40% and on Thursdays it falls to 21%. Why? I have NO IDEA. The weekly sales at Safeway roll over on Wednesday, so it would make sense that I would save MORE on Wednesday and Thursday because I'm going for some sweet deals. The only reason I can think of the disparity is that when I shop on Wednesday it's to take advantage of some great deals the first day being offered (and likely stocking up again on Sunday), but shopping on Thursday is necessity shopping, getting items I HAVE to have (milk, flour, crackers, fruits, and veggies) whether they're on sale or not, so the savings takes a hit.
How about a sweet table and sweetier graphs? (*edit - is there a giant gap here? I can't seem to get rid of it...)
As promised, be prepared for the most in-depth look at my grocery spending that you never wanted.
A couple notes:
1.) This is my grocery spending only. It does not include restaurants, convenience stores, bars, or the ten bucks the mall charged to let me sit on Santa's lap. Basically this is all the money I spent at Safeway and AJ's in 2009 (Safeway ~95%, AJ's <5%). Yes, I still have all the receipts. No, I'm not going to scan each of the in individually. You are welcome by anytime to peruse them.
2.) Some people have expressed surprise that I spend <$200 a month. Partially, I imagine, due to my reputation to spend that much a week on beer. That might have been true of 2007 or 2008 me, but 2009 me bought beer from the store on perhaps 4 occasions. '09 Me opted for the $7 bottle of Vitali vodka and whatever chaser/mixer might be lying around the apartment (mustard, relish, and mayo qualify as chasers; soy sauce, cottage cheese, and Girl Scout cookies-Thin Mints count as mixers). What can I say, it was a fun year? I finished grad school?
So, onto the numbers and summaries! (raw data here)
On the year I spent $1,902.73 and saved $919.22. May and December were the only months I spent more than $200 (see graph below). Sunday was far and away the busiest day with 20 visits and $530 spent followed by Friday at 11/$331 and Saturday 10/$280. Woah, cue suspenseful music - I do my shopping on the weekend. Something interesting though, the most expensive average trip was Thursday when I spent an average of $32 compared to the cheapest average trip day, Tuesday, which usually cost $18. On the year I made 4 trips on Tuesday and 7 on Thursday. On average I save 33% of the total bill, but on Wednesdays that number jumps to 40% and on Thursdays it falls to 21%. Why? I have NO IDEA. The weekly sales at Safeway roll over on Wednesday, so it would make sense that I would save MORE on Wednesday and Thursday because I'm going for some sweet deals. The only reason I can think of the disparity is that when I shop on Wednesday it's to take advantage of some great deals the first day being offered (and likely stocking up again on Sunday), but shopping on Thursday is necessity shopping, getting items I HAVE to have (milk, flour, crackers, fruits, and veggies) whether they're on sale or not, so the savings takes a hit.
How about a sweet table and sweetier graphs? (*edit - is there a giant gap here? I can't seem to get rid of it...)
| # of Shopping Trips | Avg Monthly Spending | Avg Monthly Saving | Avg Spent/trip | Avg Saved/trip |
| 68 | $158.56 | $70.60 | $27.98 | $13.52 |
Saturday, October 17, 2009
promotion!
Ok, so you might remember me railing against the establishment a couple months ago and insinuating that anyone with certain words in their job title were nothing more than grifters hellbent on pilfering any credit for successful operations. What I failed to mention was all the hard work those people do supporting, training, and assisting their coworkers in a multitude of different work-related scenarios and endeavors. Add to that the fact that these people tend to be paragons of social embededness and interactivity, and I really feel like a jerk. I mean, these are professionals that have spent years dedicating their lives to their craft; if they delegate a task to a coworker it must be because they have other things that are keeping them busy and they have the utmost confidence in their coworker's ability to complete said task. And when you take into account the amount of time they spend working outside the office, well, they should probably be up for a raise!
Anyway, I can't believe I was so short-sighted in my characterization of people simply because of their job titles. How silly, huh guys?
Anyway, I can't believe I was so short-sighted in my characterization of people simply because of their job titles. How silly, huh guys?
Saturday, October 10, 2009
preparation
I don't really understand why I bother giving myself an hour and a half or more when getting to the airport. Outside of one experience at O'Hare during the Christmas season evacuation I don't think it has ever taken me more than about 15 minutes to get through security and I always plan on it taking over an hour...you'd think I'd learn. As you can guess I'm typing this up from Gate B13 in Terminal 4 at Sky Harbor - the last remaining airport where wifi is free, and for that SH will always be my favorite airport.
Anyway, getting up before 5 am to give yourself enough time to make your flight only to have to spend an hour dicking around on the internet to pass the time really sucks. Wish me luck as I travel to Minneapolis for a Very Mayer/Bos Wedding!
Anyway, getting up before 5 am to give yourself enough time to make your flight only to have to spend an hour dicking around on the internet to pass the time really sucks. Wish me luck as I travel to Minneapolis for a Very Mayer/Bos Wedding!
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Behaviorism
It's amazing how different two people's reactions can be to the exact same scenario. Even more fascinating is the consistency in differences between two types of people and their responses.
THIS WEEK: PEOPLE AND THEIR DIFFERENCES, WOAH!
Obviously we're talking about the workplace and the way things are handled (it's not like I have a social life to discuss). As I was saying, the most interesting difference I've noticed is the way parents and non-parents interact with other people in the workplace.
Parents seem to be able to deal with a much wider range of personalities and managing styles and are much less likely to make or listen to excuses of others. Frankfurt wrote a book about the difference between bullshit, lies, and simple ignorance. In my experience parents and cynics have an uncanny ability to sniff out the bullshit shoveled by other departments. Maybe people just aren't cynical enough anymore. Maybe. It might be the teacher in me, but I find myself having much more in common with my parental co-workers when it comes to social temperament and the competence level of the people I'm working with.
By contrast, people without kids or experience with them seem to be much more passive or at least willing to put up with the rationalization other people put forth. I'm not sure if I would describe this approach as soft or simply diplomatic but it drives me crazy. My two biggest points of contention occur when a.) people can't handle criticism or view it as some sort of personal attack when commenting on an idea or procedure or b.) some one's not doing their job and rather than hold that party responsible some excuse is made (or accepted) and the behavior is never corrected - the ringing bell in this Pavlovian example is the bullshit being proposed as some acceptable excuse and the salivating dog is the diplomat who wants nothing more than to believe that everyone is telling the truth and no one has any need for deception. There is no food here, the subject has already been properly conditioned.
THIS WEEK: PEOPLE AND THEIR DIFFERENCES, WOAH!
Obviously we're talking about the workplace and the way things are handled (it's not like I have a social life to discuss). As I was saying, the most interesting difference I've noticed is the way parents and non-parents interact with other people in the workplace.
Parents seem to be able to deal with a much wider range of personalities and managing styles and are much less likely to make or listen to excuses of others. Frankfurt wrote a book about the difference between bullshit, lies, and simple ignorance. In my experience parents and cynics have an uncanny ability to sniff out the bullshit shoveled by other departments. Maybe people just aren't cynical enough anymore. Maybe. It might be the teacher in me, but I find myself having much more in common with my parental co-workers when it comes to social temperament and the competence level of the people I'm working with.
By contrast, people without kids or experience with them seem to be much more passive or at least willing to put up with the rationalization other people put forth. I'm not sure if I would describe this approach as soft or simply diplomatic but it drives me crazy. My two biggest points of contention occur when a.) people can't handle criticism or view it as some sort of personal attack when commenting on an idea or procedure or b.) some one's not doing their job and rather than hold that party responsible some excuse is made (or accepted) and the behavior is never corrected - the ringing bell in this Pavlovian example is the bullshit being proposed as some acceptable excuse and the salivating dog is the diplomat who wants nothing more than to believe that everyone is telling the truth and no one has any need for deception. There is no food here, the subject has already been properly conditioned.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
voices
You know what I hate? My conscience or maybe more accurately, my sub-conscious, or something. Not that I think I'd be better off without them/it, just that I wish it'd shut up every once in a while. Like when I'm walking through the store wondering how the hell I can manage to spend a hundred sixty dollars a month on groceries and I grab a bag of Doritos because they're on sale for $1.88 and that little voice goes, "THAT, THAT RIGHT THERE, THAT'S HOW YOU SPEND ALMOST TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS A MONTH ON GROCERIES!"
"Geez, calm down, you don't have to yell at me, man I haven't had Doritos in forever and they finally go on sale and I get a lecture...I really don't need this. Oh crap, am I having a breakdown in the snack food aisle of Safeway? OH CRAP AM I SAYING ALL THIS OUT LOUD?!"
"Now, who's yelling? I needed to yell to be heard over that stupid iPod. What's your excuse?"
It's an awkward feeling watching security of Safeway approach you, nervously glancing at each other, hands hovering over what I can only assume are high-caliber hand canons needed to protect the grocery store from fat people in their Hoverounds and old ladies with their walkers.
"Geez, calm down, you don't have to yell at me, man I haven't had Doritos in forever and they finally go on sale and I get a lecture...I really don't need this. Oh crap, am I having a breakdown in the snack food aisle of Safeway? OH CRAP AM I SAYING ALL THIS OUT LOUD?!"
"Now, who's yelling? I needed to yell to be heard over that stupid iPod. What's your excuse?"
It's an awkward feeling watching security of Safeway approach you, nervously glancing at each other, hands hovering over what I can only assume are high-caliber hand canons needed to protect the grocery store from fat people in their Hoverounds and old ladies with their walkers.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
my moment
I think rituals and routines are very close cousins in the evolution of habits. They needn't be something we get sucked blindly into and continue doing by going through the motions. That morning cup of coffee used to be a nice morning ritual - walk through the park to get to the barista, slowly sip, give tongue second degree burns, soak in the rising sun and singing birds. And now it's become a chore? People ask where you're going and you angrily mumble something about caffeine and the intense need for everyone to shut the hell up. Take back your morning. Take back your ritual. Whether it's a morning cup of coffee, a walk at lunch, a cigarette after dinner, or watching the sun lower itself to bed on Wednesdays, don't let the ritual routinize.
Personally I have a moment. One moment everyday that alleviates my stress. One point where everything that has built up and grayed another dozen hairs gets released. It's a moment of pure freedom. I fight gravity and win, if only for a second, and in that moment I'm literally flying.
There's a small ramp where the bike path I take climbs to the sidewalk as the street goes over the I-10. It's the kind of spot with a wide line of sight and plenty of time to get up to cruising speed. Everyday I hit that ramp in top gear and go airborne. My moment lets me forget everything that's happened that day and everything that might happen that night and focus, ever so briefly, on not dying upon returning to earth.
My point is, it's important that we all have our moment, our ritual. Having that space that we can step into gives us the freedom to evaluate things from a different perspective. When I'm soaring, weightless, over the concrete I'm not concerned with the day that just occurred nor am I thinking about the approaching evening - my only thought is on sticking that landing, and maybe how you would describe the taste of cotton candy.
Personally I have a moment. One moment everyday that alleviates my stress. One point where everything that has built up and grayed another dozen hairs gets released. It's a moment of pure freedom. I fight gravity and win, if only for a second, and in that moment I'm literally flying.
There's a small ramp where the bike path I take climbs to the sidewalk as the street goes over the I-10. It's the kind of spot with a wide line of sight and plenty of time to get up to cruising speed. Everyday I hit that ramp in top gear and go airborne. My moment lets me forget everything that's happened that day and everything that might happen that night and focus, ever so briefly, on not dying upon returning to earth.
My point is, it's important that we all have our moment, our ritual. Having that space that we can step into gives us the freedom to evaluate things from a different perspective. When I'm soaring, weightless, over the concrete I'm not concerned with the day that just occurred nor am I thinking about the approaching evening - my only thought is on sticking that landing, and maybe how you would describe the taste of cotton candy.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
reality
So where did you think you would be twenty years ago? If your life is anywhere close to where you thought it would be, then congratulations you are either incredibly focused and single-minded or some kind of sorcerer. "Having a job" or "being happy" don't count, you don't get points for being a vague and smart-alecky preteen. Five years ago you probably had a better grasp on where you'd be standing today, maybe even ten years ago. But, unless you're over forty, twenty years ago is probably a stretch. Why? Because thinking in the abstract is hard. Especially for young minds where the ability to think abstractly about a solution or outcome are limited at best. (The prefrontal cortex doesn't really start developing until 15 or 16 and doesn't finish developing until 24 or 25 - yes, most of us have passed our cognitive prime. High-five you guys!)
And guess what - for some of us it's still nearly impossible. Look at me, I've talked about 'when this is finished then...' or 'once I've done this I will...' with virtually no detectable progress towards anything that can reasonably be called a goal. The thing is, time has a way of catching up to someone that's always putting stuff off and I think that moment for me might have been last weekend. It's so easy to talk about things when all your projects will take *years*, and suddenly those years have passed and the moment of The Next Step is upon us. I think Next Step's are a necessary part of growing up and experiencing life and accordingly each Step becomes harder and harder to make as networks are built, comfort levels discovered, and priorities get re...prioritized. Sometimes Steps can be put off for more school or a new job or a stable relationship, but school finishes, jobs get monotonous (unless it's a career, in which case you might be done with Steps!), and relationships end (or take their own Step).
In the end I think it's about priorities, what's important to a person will determine their next step. Whether it's career, family, travel, location, people, culture, or something else entirely, these are the things that make it hard to know where we'll be in five years and nearly impossible to know where we'll be in twenty. These are all the things that are affected by the abstraction of time that make life a pain. Oh, but also worth living. Den-what?!
And guess what - for some of us it's still nearly impossible. Look at me, I've talked about 'when this is finished then...' or 'once I've done this I will...' with virtually no detectable progress towards anything that can reasonably be called a goal. The thing is, time has a way of catching up to someone that's always putting stuff off and I think that moment for me might have been last weekend. It's so easy to talk about things when all your projects will take *years*, and suddenly those years have passed and the moment of The Next Step is upon us. I think Next Step's are a necessary part of growing up and experiencing life and accordingly each Step becomes harder and harder to make as networks are built, comfort levels discovered, and priorities get re...prioritized. Sometimes Steps can be put off for more school or a new job or a stable relationship, but school finishes, jobs get monotonous (unless it's a career, in which case you might be done with Steps!), and relationships end (or take their own Step).
In the end I think it's about priorities, what's important to a person will determine their next step. Whether it's career, family, travel, location, people, culture, or something else entirely, these are the things that make it hard to know where we'll be in five years and nearly impossible to know where we'll be in twenty. These are all the things that are affected by the abstraction of time that make life a pain. Oh, but also worth living. Den-what?!
Monday, August 31, 2009
truth
Anti-tobacco
Are there still people out there that don't understand smoking is bad for them? And if so, what legislation will possibly make people quit now? This "War on Smokers" has to be called on account of lunacy. The anti-smoking groups have been awarded billions, their commercials continue to ruin good TV, and I'm pretty sure they've succeeded in getting the word out - tobacco companies want their customers to keep smoking so they can continue making money. We get it. Feel free to stop with the self-righteous, antagonistic bullshit anytime now.
I have an idea. Let's look at some numbers, because, ya know, numbers don't lie! They say every cigarette takes 11 minutes off the smoker's life. Wanna know what that amounts to over a lifetime? At a pack a day, that's 55 days a year, over 40 years it's 6.1 years and over 50 years (smoking from 18-68, a pack/day mind you) 7.63 years. So with the modern world's current life expectancy around 75 or so, you get to start smoking a pack a day at 18 and die at 68 from your habit (on which you will have spent over $100,000). That is, figuring a rough average of $6/pack -- currently cigarettes are $9/pack here in Phoenix. Roughly 40% of that is taxes which means someone starting smoking today and smoking for 50 years will spend at least $164,250 of which $65,700 will go back to the state in the form of taxes. And that's just taxes from cigarettes, they'll also be paying income taxes (and potentially property taxes) to the state as well.
Also on The Truth site, you'll find such nuggets as, "In 2006, over 5 million people around the world died from tobacco products." and "Cigarettes kill over 50 people an hour." Oh no! That sounds terrible, and it is. But actually looking at the numbers reveals something else. First a note; the anti-smoking camp is very, very precise...until they start making stuff up. For example, they can tell you how much nicotine is in different smokeless tobaccos down to the hundredth of a milligram, but when we're talking about human lives it becomes "over 5 million" and "over 50". So what do those numbers add up to? Well cigarettes, at 50 deaths per day, cause 438,000 deaths over the course of a year. So other tobacco products account for 4,562,000. What other tobacco products cause that much death? That's a whole order of magnitude greater than the damage cigarettes do! If that's the case, then cigarettes seem to be the least lethal of all tobacco products!
Look, I understand that there aren't many people out there that enjoy the smell of smoke in the air or on clothes or on skin, but this is getting silly. Sticking $3 worth of taxes on every pack is a great way to increase the state's revenue stream(haha, you wacky smokers can't quit so we're going to bleed you dry!) but this holier-than-smoker attitude is only serving to ostracize and alienate a part of the population that already has trouble dealing with stress (or doesn't have trouble...I can't decide). In the end, if the "Truthers" actually gave a shit and wanted to help smokers, they would use some of the millions they were given and spend it on research for quitting aides or a cancer cure. But that's not their interest. Their interest is making "Big Tobacco" look bad and thinking of the children.
God help us if cancer ever overtakes heart disease as the leading cause of death. We'll never hear the end of it.
Are there still people out there that don't understand smoking is bad for them? And if so, what legislation will possibly make people quit now? This "War on Smokers" has to be called on account of lunacy. The anti-smoking groups have been awarded billions, their commercials continue to ruin good TV, and I'm pretty sure they've succeeded in getting the word out - tobacco companies want their customers to keep smoking so they can continue making money. We get it. Feel free to stop with the self-righteous, antagonistic bullshit anytime now.
I have an idea. Let's look at some numbers, because, ya know, numbers don't lie! They say every cigarette takes 11 minutes off the smoker's life. Wanna know what that amounts to over a lifetime? At a pack a day, that's 55 days a year, over 40 years it's 6.1 years and over 50 years (smoking from 18-68, a pack/day mind you) 7.63 years. So with the modern world's current life expectancy around 75 or so, you get to start smoking a pack a day at 18 and die at 68 from your habit (on which you will have spent over $100,000). That is, figuring a rough average of $6/pack -- currently cigarettes are $9/pack here in Phoenix. Roughly 40% of that is taxes which means someone starting smoking today and smoking for 50 years will spend at least $164,250 of which $65,700 will go back to the state in the form of taxes. And that's just taxes from cigarettes, they'll also be paying income taxes (and potentially property taxes) to the state as well.
Also on The Truth site, you'll find such nuggets as, "In 2006, over 5 million people around the world died from tobacco products." and "Cigarettes kill over 50 people an hour." Oh no! That sounds terrible, and it is. But actually looking at the numbers reveals something else. First a note; the anti-smoking camp is very, very precise...until they start making stuff up. For example, they can tell you how much nicotine is in different smokeless tobaccos down to the hundredth of a milligram, but when we're talking about human lives it becomes "over 5 million" and "over 50". So what do those numbers add up to? Well cigarettes, at 50 deaths per day, cause 438,000 deaths over the course of a year. So other tobacco products account for 4,562,000. What other tobacco products cause that much death? That's a whole order of magnitude greater than the damage cigarettes do! If that's the case, then cigarettes seem to be the least lethal of all tobacco products!
Look, I understand that there aren't many people out there that enjoy the smell of smoke in the air or on clothes or on skin, but this is getting silly. Sticking $3 worth of taxes on every pack is a great way to increase the state's revenue stream(haha, you wacky smokers can't quit so we're going to bleed you dry!) but this holier-than-smoker attitude is only serving to ostracize and alienate a part of the population that already has trouble dealing with stress (or doesn't have trouble...I can't decide). In the end, if the "Truthers" actually gave a shit and wanted to help smokers, they would use some of the millions they were given and spend it on research for quitting aides or a cancer cure. But that's not their interest. Their interest is making "Big Tobacco" look bad and thinking of the children.
God help us if cancer ever overtakes heart disease as the leading cause of death. We'll never hear the end of it.
Monday, August 24, 2009
apparel appeal
Ah, it's that time of the year again. Classes around the country are being called back into session. You can always spot the freshmen; they're the ones showing up to 7:40 am classes dressed like they're going to a movie premier. This will last MAYBE through the first week, after which they'll figure out they don't need to be half an hour early and that it's a lot harder to go to bed at a reasonable hour when you share 120 square feet with another human being that - TURN THAT GOD DAMN STEREO DOWN - is either a vampire or insomniac. Hell, after my first week I realized I didn't even need to GO to morning classes, much less get dressed before noon.
As I said, it is the beginning of classes and that means it is the beginning of the end. My final class. Ever. It's likely to be the hardest of my classes and I will likely have to do actual work, but after this I move to Denver so I'm willing to put in my time.
As I said, it is the beginning of classes and that means it is the beginning of the end. My final class. Ever. It's likely to be the hardest of my classes and I will likely have to do actual work, but after this I move to Denver so I'm willing to put in my time.
Monday, August 17, 2009
debriefing
First of all a big Thank You to the team that helped make Operation: Scott and Mary Go Skiing a success - or at least, phase ONE a success. Phase two is a little out of our hands. For those of you not privy to the finer details of the operation, allow me to elaborate.
Many years ago, as I was blissfully swishing, swooshing, and tumbling ski boots over goggles down the Alaskan slopes, it occurred to me it had been a long time since I had so thoroughly enjoyed myself. Maybe it was the company I was fortunate enough to keep or the cranial hemorrhaging suffered from a complete lack of balance or my unusual proximity to the Arctic Circle, but I hadn't been skiing in several years and I realized just how much I missed the activity. My parents had spent their mid 20s as ski bums in Park City, Vail, and other parts of Colorado and Utah and, from the wistful tones of their voices and faraway looks in their eyes - well, let's just say, I totally ruined that, haha! That day though I had so much fun and, as a broke twenty year-old college undergrad I realized what I had to do. Riding an Alaskan lift back to the top for another run, I promised I would send my parents on one more ski trip. Someday.
There was more than one problem with this plan. You might remember, for example, that I was a broke college student with my only steady source of income being my parents and a student job that paid $6.25/hr. Not a problem; they still had a dog, a horse, and a seventeen year old daughter at home to tend to. I amended my promise to, "When they no longer have those responsibilities, I will send them on a ski trip" and the quiet, unspoken thought that followed was, "please let [my little sister] grow up in the next few years". Fast forward six years to early spring of 2009 - my sister still isn't grown up (really, very immature) but she's at least moved out to the east coast and is no longer a physical and mental burden on my poor parents, the horse is still around, but all he needs is a bale of hay and he's good for a day or two and we have neighbors that are happy to help, and the dog, the dog finally passed. At 17 years old she was deaf, blind, and suffered from vertigo - if you could ignore how sad it was, it was pretty funny watching her navigate around by bumping off the walls/furniture/strategically placed boots. She was still happy though and not in any noticeable pain, until one day she was, and the next day wasn't any better, and the third day they made the tough decision that no parents or pet owners ever want to make. And with that Tootsie was laid to rest. Seventeen years spent being the smallest pup of the litter. Seventeen years spent making parents and kids/teens/young adults laugh. Seventeen years of non-stop barking at shadows. And seventeen years of being the perfect height to jump up and nail Dad in the junk. Never fail. That dog would jump, extend both front legs with purpose, and drill the family jewels. And, never fail, Dad would collapse onto a chair muttering something about the dog (and his testes) not being long for this world.
Now that the dog had finally stopped fighting the good fight, I had to fulfill my promise. As luck would have it their anniversary was coming up in a little more than three months and I was no longer an unemployed college kid (now I'm a tech grunt with a steady source of income, limited expenses, and student loans sitting in deferment!) The plan was twofold; first, I emailed their brothers and sisters asking for volunteers and donations. The donations would go towards buying gift certificates towards airfare, hotel stay, rental car, and lift tickets. The volunteers entered in Part Two where I gathered pictures of my parents skiing from relatives and my Mom (under the guise of doing a web project), photoshopped them into one picture, which ended up looking like my Mom was running Dad off the mountain. Then I blew the picture up into an 6' x 3' poster, numbered all 24 pages of the poster, and mailed 3 or 4 pages to each of the volunteers who then sent the packet to my parents. So, during the week of their anniversary my parents received three or four seemingly random pages with no distinguishable features printed on the front and a random number on the back. Slowly they filled in the puzzle until at last they received the final pages from me with a Visa gift card and a voucher good on American Airlines.
Special thanks to Grandma for not ruining the surprise with your love of ruining surprises...I mean, your incessant talking...I mean, talking. And special thanks to my Mom for not buying a similar trip as a present for yourself. In the three months leading up to this there were no fewer than a dozen phone calls in which my mother excitedly discussed the prospect of skiing again. Nostalgically she would recount the time that her and Ellen had skied The Upper Rim or something or the time it snowed a whole lot and their car could barely make it to the parking lot ¡LOL! I developed a sneaking suspicion that she knew about the whole Operation and was just enjoying the sound of grinding teeth on the other end of the line. To her credit though she didn't purchase her own trip and I didn't have to remove my hair with my own hands and shout expletives into a pillow all while pretending to be happy to hear that they'd get to go skiing again. No, instead we get this:
full-size image
Yes, that is my Mom putting bunny ears on a picture of my Dad - and now we know where my sister gets her maturity.
Many years ago, as I was blissfully swishing, swooshing, and tumbling ski boots over goggles down the Alaskan slopes, it occurred to me it had been a long time since I had so thoroughly enjoyed myself. Maybe it was the company I was fortunate enough to keep or the cranial hemorrhaging suffered from a complete lack of balance or my unusual proximity to the Arctic Circle, but I hadn't been skiing in several years and I realized just how much I missed the activity. My parents had spent their mid 20s as ski bums in Park City, Vail, and other parts of Colorado and Utah and, from the wistful tones of their voices and faraway looks in their eyes - well, let's just say, I totally ruined that, haha! That day though I had so much fun and, as a broke twenty year-old college undergrad I realized what I had to do. Riding an Alaskan lift back to the top for another run, I promised I would send my parents on one more ski trip. Someday.
There was more than one problem with this plan. You might remember, for example, that I was a broke college student with my only steady source of income being my parents and a student job that paid $6.25/hr. Not a problem; they still had a dog, a horse, and a seventeen year old daughter at home to tend to. I amended my promise to, "When they no longer have those responsibilities, I will send them on a ski trip" and the quiet, unspoken thought that followed was, "please let [my little sister] grow up in the next few years". Fast forward six years to early spring of 2009 - my sister still isn't grown up (really, very immature) but she's at least moved out to the east coast and is no longer a physical and mental burden on my poor parents, the horse is still around, but all he needs is a bale of hay and he's good for a day or two and we have neighbors that are happy to help, and the dog, the dog finally passed. At 17 years old she was deaf, blind, and suffered from vertigo - if you could ignore how sad it was, it was pretty funny watching her navigate around by bumping off the walls/furniture/strategically placed boots. She was still happy though and not in any noticeable pain, until one day she was, and the next day wasn't any better, and the third day they made the tough decision that no parents or pet owners ever want to make. And with that Tootsie was laid to rest. Seventeen years spent being the smallest pup of the litter. Seventeen years spent making parents and kids/teens/young adults laugh. Seventeen years of non-stop barking at shadows. And seventeen years of being the perfect height to jump up and nail Dad in the junk. Never fail. That dog would jump, extend both front legs with purpose, and drill the family jewels. And, never fail, Dad would collapse onto a chair muttering something about the dog (and his testes) not being long for this world.
Now that the dog had finally stopped fighting the good fight, I had to fulfill my promise. As luck would have it their anniversary was coming up in a little more than three months and I was no longer an unemployed college kid (now I'm a tech grunt with a steady source of income, limited expenses, and student loans sitting in deferment!) The plan was twofold; first, I emailed their brothers and sisters asking for volunteers and donations. The donations would go towards buying gift certificates towards airfare, hotel stay, rental car, and lift tickets. The volunteers entered in Part Two where I gathered pictures of my parents skiing from relatives and my Mom (under the guise of doing a web project), photoshopped them into one picture, which ended up looking like my Mom was running Dad off the mountain. Then I blew the picture up into an 6' x 3' poster, numbered all 24 pages of the poster, and mailed 3 or 4 pages to each of the volunteers who then sent the packet to my parents. So, during the week of their anniversary my parents received three or four seemingly random pages with no distinguishable features printed on the front and a random number on the back. Slowly they filled in the puzzle until at last they received the final pages from me with a Visa gift card and a voucher good on American Airlines.
Special thanks to Grandma for not ruining the surprise with your love of ruining surprises...I mean, your incessant talking...I mean, talking. And special thanks to my Mom for not buying a similar trip as a present for yourself. In the three months leading up to this there were no fewer than a dozen phone calls in which my mother excitedly discussed the prospect of skiing again. Nostalgically she would recount the time that her and Ellen had skied The Upper Rim or something or the time it snowed a whole lot and their car could barely make it to the parking lot ¡LOL! I developed a sneaking suspicion that she knew about the whole Operation and was just enjoying the sound of grinding teeth on the other end of the line. To her credit though she didn't purchase her own trip and I didn't have to remove my hair with my own hands and shout expletives into a pillow all while pretending to be happy to hear that they'd get to go skiing again. No, instead we get this:
full-size image
Yes, that is my Mom putting bunny ears on a picture of my Dad - and now we know where my sister gets her maturity.
Monday, August 10, 2009
specialists
The longer I'm at my job the more and more I'm convinced that anyone could do it. It requires no special training; only patience, curiosity, and the ability to suppress your homicidal instincts. The last part is especially easy when your as mellow and easy-going as I am. We'll be in a meeting and my boss will make a comment along the lines of "Our specialist will get in touch with your coordinator and make sure everything is working together properly" and suddenly people are looking at me and saying things like, "Right?"
My mind struggles to figure out who I am in this scenario...I'm certainly no coordinator, I'm merely a tech grunt. Am I...am I the specialist? Holy crap, she did mean me, me the specialist, when did this happen? How did this happen? Did I get a raise too? No? What about a new title? Nu-huh? Ok, how would you like this "specialist" to proceed? Contact the coordinator, work with the director, fulfill all their requests, and make sure their conference goes off without a hitch? No problem. By five o'clock you say? Easier done than said.
I think any field that requires a "specialist" to interpret things into lay terms is pretty suspect. Specialists and consultants fall into the charlatan category when it comes to job knowledge and amount of work done - think of them as the op-ed author in your local paper. They talk a good game, but largely they're grasping at straws and making up technical jargon that they'll cite as "industry speak". When it comes to work actually getting done or getting things to actually function properly, you can rest assured the specialists and consultants will be far removed from the action, but always at the ready to swoop in and take credit for what the proletariat has accomplished. When in doubt, remember this graph:
My mind struggles to figure out who I am in this scenario...I'm certainly no coordinator, I'm merely a tech grunt. Am I...am I the specialist? Holy crap, she did mean me, me the specialist, when did this happen? How did this happen? Did I get a raise too? No? What about a new title? Nu-huh? Ok, how would you like this "specialist" to proceed? Contact the coordinator, work with the director, fulfill all their requests, and make sure their conference goes off without a hitch? No problem. By five o'clock you say? Easier done than said.
I think any field that requires a "specialist" to interpret things into lay terms is pretty suspect. Specialists and consultants fall into the charlatan category when it comes to job knowledge and amount of work done - think of them as the op-ed author in your local paper. They talk a good game, but largely they're grasping at straws and making up technical jargon that they'll cite as "industry speak". When it comes to work actually getting done or getting things to actually function properly, you can rest assured the specialists and consultants will be far removed from the action, but always at the ready to swoop in and take credit for what the proletariat has accomplished. When in doubt, remember this graph:
Monday, August 3, 2009
Constants Pt. 2
A shuffling sound in the room triggered something, a primal response, a wave of fear and anxiety rushed over him. He was the protector after all. Slowly and calmly he opened an eye. She was tugging at the bottom of her sports bra with one hand and in the other held...running shoes. Crap, he thought. It was too early for this nonsense, he had just gone to bed a couple hours ago after thanklessly patrolling the living room and keeping it free from invaders. Besides, it was cold and wet outside. He could smell it. No, this was not a morning for running, this was a morning for lying curled up with ones favorite chew toy or stretched across floor getting a tummy rub. He closed his eye and tucked his head down into his pillow hoping she wouldn't notice.
The door closed with a click behind her and he found himself wondering if maybe he should have gone with her. He had anointed himself her personal bodyguard and he wondered if he was negligent in his duties by wanting a couple extra hours of sleep. The thought wouldn't leave him. He tried changing positions, stand up, circle, circle, circle, change directions, circle, circle, flop, close eyes. Nope. He was awake now and really wishing he had gone with. Maybe he could find solace next to Jason - she called him Jay or Jason (he just thought of him as His Pal). He'd either get yelled at for being on the bed or be ignored, but a warm body might be a nice comfort. He hopped up and, as stealthy as he could, stretched across the remaining part of the bed. It was easily large enough for the both of them, but his long, slender frame took up considerably more than half of the space. Jason adjusted himself and he felt one of his paws and toenails make contact with his back. Uh oh, he thought, this will not end well. He continued to adjust himself and his nail continued to dig into his back until, finally, a muffled "Hmph, huh, wha" was heard and what followed next was as predictable as the sunrise. "Dammit dog, get DOWN". Fine, he thought sullenly, I didn't want to be up there anyway, but you'll notice you're all by yourself. And for emphasis, he barked.
He paced his way into the living room, back into the bedroom, checked the bathroom, and meandered his way into the kitchen. He stopped here to take in the smells; last night's baked mostaccioli still hung in the air like a heavy mist and the sweet smell of wine cut through like a single ray of light through a thundercloud. He looked up at the hanging basket where they kept the peaches and bananas, and their scents reached down and tickled his nose with a pleasant odor that begged him to poke one out for breakfast. He'd had peaches before, when she was making fruit salad or had an extra slice from a morning snack she'd slip it to him when Jason wasn't looking. He liked the sweet, tangy juice, but he was already in the doghouse for clawing Jay so he thought better of sneaking any fruit. He hadn't had bananas before, at least, he didn't think he'd ever had bananas before. He remembered once how she had told Jason, "you're not supposed to eat them when they're still crispy" and he'd mumbled something about being left to eat his not-yet-rotten bananas in peace. The kitchen was nothing but temptation and he decided to evacuate before he submitted to the voices in the trash can telling him to tip it over.
He found himself in the living room again, there weren't many other places for an anxious cerberus to go, collapsed in front of the door and woefully stared up at the handle. Maybe he could will her back. She had left her phone, maybe she'd come back for it and see him eagerly waiting for her. She'd retrieve his leash from the top of the fridge and maybe grab a tennis ball from the closet and he'd play keep away. He was good at luring them in before snatching the ball up and running off. They were gullible like that, but she had a quicker first step and would occasionally pounce on him before ripping the ball away. He always did like a challenge. His Pal was content to serve as interference, standing in her way while he hid behind, or sometimes actively teaming up and tossing him the ball while she chased after. He closed his eyes and felt himself begin to dream of games of keep away and chasing after the Australian Shepherd that was always at the park.
The door closed with a click behind her and he found himself wondering if maybe he should have gone with her. He had anointed himself her personal bodyguard and he wondered if he was negligent in his duties by wanting a couple extra hours of sleep. The thought wouldn't leave him. He tried changing positions, stand up, circle, circle, circle, change directions, circle, circle, flop, close eyes. Nope. He was awake now and really wishing he had gone with. Maybe he could find solace next to Jason - she called him Jay or Jason (he just thought of him as His Pal). He'd either get yelled at for being on the bed or be ignored, but a warm body might be a nice comfort. He hopped up and, as stealthy as he could, stretched across the remaining part of the bed. It was easily large enough for the both of them, but his long, slender frame took up considerably more than half of the space. Jason adjusted himself and he felt one of his paws and toenails make contact with his back. Uh oh, he thought, this will not end well. He continued to adjust himself and his nail continued to dig into his back until, finally, a muffled "Hmph, huh, wha" was heard and what followed next was as predictable as the sunrise. "Dammit dog, get DOWN". Fine, he thought sullenly, I didn't want to be up there anyway, but you'll notice you're all by yourself. And for emphasis, he barked.
He paced his way into the living room, back into the bedroom, checked the bathroom, and meandered his way into the kitchen. He stopped here to take in the smells; last night's baked mostaccioli still hung in the air like a heavy mist and the sweet smell of wine cut through like a single ray of light through a thundercloud. He looked up at the hanging basket where they kept the peaches and bananas, and their scents reached down and tickled his nose with a pleasant odor that begged him to poke one out for breakfast. He'd had peaches before, when she was making fruit salad or had an extra slice from a morning snack she'd slip it to him when Jason wasn't looking. He liked the sweet, tangy juice, but he was already in the doghouse for clawing Jay so he thought better of sneaking any fruit. He hadn't had bananas before, at least, he didn't think he'd ever had bananas before. He remembered once how she had told Jason, "you're not supposed to eat them when they're still crispy" and he'd mumbled something about being left to eat his not-yet-rotten bananas in peace. The kitchen was nothing but temptation and he decided to evacuate before he submitted to the voices in the trash can telling him to tip it over.
He found himself in the living room again, there weren't many other places for an anxious cerberus to go, collapsed in front of the door and woefully stared up at the handle. Maybe he could will her back. She had left her phone, maybe she'd come back for it and see him eagerly waiting for her. She'd retrieve his leash from the top of the fridge and maybe grab a tennis ball from the closet and he'd play keep away. He was good at luring them in before snatching the ball up and running off. They were gullible like that, but she had a quicker first step and would occasionally pounce on him before ripping the ball away. He always did like a challenge. His Pal was content to serve as interference, standing in her way while he hid behind, or sometimes actively teaming up and tossing him the ball while she chased after. He closed his eyes and felt himself begin to dream of games of keep away and chasing after the Australian Shepherd that was always at the park.
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