Squalor Can Kill

Ever since we had the furnace fixed a couple of weeks ago, we've been smelling wisps of natural gas just as we walk in the front door, which is just off the kitchen. Today, I finally called the gas company. They sent a man out who identified a leak in the furnace and then turned off the gas. We called a plumber, and he came and replaced the leaky part. Our lives were saved!
We probably should have called awhile ago, but I just worried I'd be embarrassed that the guy would wave his gas sensing wand around and discover a dead squirrel or something under the refrigerator.
We recently got an estimate to replace the furnace with a much more efficient one. It was really expensive. Apparently what we're going to do instead is replace this furnace, piece by piece, and end up with the same inefficient furnace we already have, but at an even higher price.

The other night, I swiped my Safeway card at the Fred Meyer (Kroger's) store. After I canceled and started over, the terminal said, "Thank you, loyal customer." I felt like such a fake.
Speaking of which, I know a man who is a Mormon and a chiropractor. I bet he wears a toupee.

Evil Creatures Flying Through The Night Sky

The postal service has retreated in the face of fierce opposition and will reinstate the Santa program in North Pole. That's good for customer relations at the USPS (motto: We hate our customers and their relations) and good for the economy of North Pole, but I do worry a little. Christmas has been pretty well co-opted by Wal-Mart and Santa is just a stooge in their marketing plan. We used to attend a church where the pastor said that you could rearrange the letters (or phonemes, at least) of Santa Claus to spell Satan's Claw. Do you want to live in a world where Satan's Claw is coming down your chimney?
Well, maybe better that than the world imagined in the Star Trek movie that came out last year. I just saw the thrilling special-effects laden DVD. I had to wonder though, why, if the (spoiler alert) Romulans had to kill 25 years, one at a time, before they could kill Spock, they didn't just sail over to to Romulus and save their planet themselves. It's possible I missed something obvious. I felt sort of that way at the end of The Usual Suspects. It seemed to me that the big twist at the end didn't make any sense at all, but apparently I'm wrong because according to the users at IMDB, responding to a criticism of the movie:
"I love this movie. Whadda you do for a living, sell shoes? Cooka-yayah-o"

In the fell clutch of circumstance

We just saw a commercial for a new movie called Invictus. I told
Ellie, our cute little lap dog who was on my lap getting her belly
rubbed, "That's a poem."
Then, "Oh, you poor thing, you don't know any poems, or even any words
that rhyme."
So, I was feeling sorry for her empty little life, when she leaned way
over and started licking herself.
Sent from my iPhone

Going Rogue

Sarah Palin is sort of old news up here. We fell in love with her honesty in the face of our elected officials' corruption, and her ability to reach across party lines to achieve sensible goals. We were proud when she was nominated to run for VP, and disappointed at how strident she became.
So, yeah, we watched her on Oprah, but what is really stimulating conversations and consternation up here is the Post Office's decision to no longer accept letters addressed to Santa, and to no longer allow the town of North Pole, AK to have its own postmark.
The postal spokesman said it was a matter of efficiency. Apparently we weren't losing customers fast enough; we're going to start chasing them away.

"Rémuage

Yesterday I finished installing pulls and knobs on the cabinets and drawers. It went pretty well, by my, admittedly low, standards. Only one of the drawers looks like it tried to escape, but was caught after being riddled with holes. After a hard day of home improving, I was drifting, wraith-like (the fattest wraith ever) into the arms of Morpheus, when we were startled by the sounds of steam and water coming from the basement. Okay, here's the question; I was off for 5 days, why would the furnace go out at bedtime on the night before I have to go back to work? And just as the plumber's rates jumped from time and a half, to double time?
I did go back to work today, and it was cold. Those madcaps at Harry and David are at it again sending fruit up here now that it's winter. I spent the day all, "Um, I have a package of nice crisp oranges for you."

I Know What You Really Want

I've been off for the last few days doing home "improvement" projects. They turned out to be home "status quo" projects, because although, so far, the kitchen cabinet knob project is going well, the replacing the bathroom light switch project was sort of a net step backwards since we ended up with the same switch (status quo ante) just not wired as well as it had been.
So, I don't have much to report (until I screw up (instead of in) a knob. To keep you busy until then, check out a site that's practically guaranteed to make you feel better.

Traditions Being Shanghaied

I've been carrying my phone through the store, on continuous re-aisle
looking for Karen. I just found her. She's buying so-called Christmas
decorations, which I am beginning to think are a plot by Chinese
athiests to get money from Americans.

Sent from my iPhone

Once I Was In A Hot Tub In Palm Springs, With Stars And Swaying Palm Trees Above Me When I Read in USA Today That It Was -30 In Anchorage

That was probably the best moment in that vacation. Yesterday was a holiday, and I have Friday and Saturday off this week, so I signed up for leave today, to get a 5 day weekend. This morning I got a text message from a carrier who didn't take today off. He had about three times as much mail as a normal day to deliver, plus, we had a brief, wet, intense snowfall yesterday making for extremely slick conditions.
MMM, sweet.

I saw one of my customers today. He was on his way home from the
hospital after having his foot amputated. I told him, like I tell my
Mary-Kay-selling friend, "If you want people to take your health
issues seriously, you can't look
great.
He did look great; I told him he was the coolest person I know because
he's like a round peg leg in a square world.

Sent from my iPhone

No Records Were Harmed In The Making Of This Blog

With mere days to spare before smashing a record for the latest
snowfall ever, we woke up this morning to a world of whiteness. Or to
put it another way, snow.
By the way, what is the deal with Sarah Palin? Why is she trying to
turn Reagan's "big tent" into a freak show?

Sent from my iPhone

Shh...

The eerily pleasant weather continues. Someone told me today that we had cheated winter. That's good, but I hope winter doesn't find out.

There is Nothing New Under the Sun, Or, I Can Only Give This Recession A C

Them that's got shall get
Them that's not shall lose
So the Bible said and it still is news

According to a newly published book, this recession was brought about like all recessions because we thought we were smarter than the people that came before us, and, as recessions go, it's about average. Like us.

Unsettling News

Still no snow. It's eerie and uncanny, which, I guess, made it perfect for Halloween.

I entered a cartoon contest at the New Yorker, and apparently signed up for an e-mail update from the magazine. There was an article this week about using robots to help people recover from strokes and to help socialize autistic children. Some are unsettled by this because they think, for example, maybe autistic children should be socializing with people. Also, "Patients don’t want to be entirely subservient to the robot..."
I guess they want to preserve "the same illusion of freedom we all have."

And Another Thing, If It's A Jet, Why Does It Have A Propeller?

Is nothing sacred?
At the end of the House at Pooh Corner, there's an affecting scene where it appears that Christopher Robin is growing up and leaving Pooh behind. Luckily, the Disney company has stepped in to destroy the poignancy and restore Pooh to his contented stout self. Or perhaps they represent the near triumph of Godless Capitalism.
Oh, and speaking of Puff-the-Magic-Dragon-like endings, how's this for poignancy?

Yesterday, for the first time this season, i rode my heavy winter bike
with its wide knobby tires. There was a stiff head wind and with all
the eating I've done lately I presented a large cross section. A very
large, very cross section.

Sent from my iPhone

Ganging Aft Agley. Again

The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men,
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy

My scheme to eat less this week, was a well laid plan. Very well laid, like an egg, a scrambled egg. Karen's birthday was yesterday, and we went out to eat last night, and tonight. And for a couple of days before that I was celebrating Karen's birthday, alone, in the dark with bowls of ice cream.

The Machine is the Machine

Also this month in Wired magazine, an article about Demand Media, a company that spews videos onto the internet based on an algorithm that makes the "process ... automatic, random, and endless"
It's robots making videos to be found by search engines. Once they can eliminate people entirely, the middle man, so to speak, the process will be perfected. The singularity creeps closer, documented on Youtube. Or it would have been, if not for the whole singularity thing.

"You Can Sit Here in the Waiting Room, or You Can Wait Here in the Sitting Room"

We watched The Proposal last night. It's probably predictable to say it was trite.

We Are the Machine

A while back I heard about an algae that flapped its little tail in response to light. Ingenious scientists were planning to turn that motion into simple machines. All well and good.
This month, though, Wired magazine has an article about taking the gene that causes the algae to move, inserting it into viruses and inserting the viruses into specific brain cells. Ostensibly, combined with implanted LEDs they can cure Parkinson's or depression. The lame can walk and the blind surf the web. Fine, but just you wait until Monsanto patents it. They'll probably start by curing people's aversion to genetically modified food, and it will all end up with people shambling down the streets eating each other.

Some Ideas Have Consequences

Judging by the movies that Netflix is sending me, at one time, I must have had the idea that I was interested in old movies.
This morning after weighing myself, I decided to eat less. So far, it hasn't made any difference in my weight.

Okay, neither of those interested me either, so take a look here for some fascinating statistics.

I Can Feel Them Tightening Up

I'm pretty frustrated that I haven't been able to lose these last few pounds I put on last year, and it's not just me; even my relaxed fit jeans are starting to get tense.

Say, What Time Is It?

Last night I was watching an ad for iPhones through the viewfinder of
my iPhone's camera. Or, as Corinne said, "Time to get a life."

Sent from my iPhone

No Happy Endings

There are no happy endings, because there are no endings at all. I've finished listening to the iTunes U lectures from Stanford about the Punic Wars. North African worshipers of Baal, who can be identified with the Roman god Saturn (father of Jupiter) fought the Romans who they considered insufficiently devout in their related religions. Eventually the Romans prevailed and then fell in their turn. Now we are engaged in a great struggle against devout killers from North Africa who consider us insufficiently devout.

Sorry if these are sophomoric observations. I say, I'm sorry, but really if I achieved sophomoric status, I'm doing well; these were freshman lectures.

Today at the post office, I began to argue with my supervisor about being forced to carry a third bundle of mail instead of working the mail into two bundles. It's faster to carry two bundles, but it does take a few minutes to work them together. Eventually I apologized for bringing it up, "I'm sorry," I told her, "I was disoriented by a blinding flash of the obvious." It can happen.

I'm Just Sayin'...

The other day I brought some mail out to an OB-GYN on my route. He said it wasn't very good. Like every baby he delivered was a big success.

Of Course, There's Bad News, Too

Karen is even more lucid and ambulatory today than she was yesterday, and at about 11am FedEx showed up with a brand new working iPhone for me.
Since life couldn't be better, it can only get worse.

News From the Hospital

Karen is home from her day surgery, and it's the same day, so big success. She's up around and lucid, so all in all, a triumph compared to last year.
On the other hand, I've been a little distraught because my iPhone has been getting more and more erratic. It's been starting to click icons before my finger reaches the phone, and today while I waited for Karen it began to click icons when I wasn't even reaching towards the phone. I was watching a movie and it started rewinding it, and when I tried to reach Apple support, it started calling random numbers and composing an e-mail to my sister. It would have been a confusing letter, too, because it was using a Lewis Carroll poem for the body. "A fact so dread, he faintly said, extinguishes all hope."
Not all hope, though. Apple says they'll send me a new phone tomorrow.
Oh, yeah, this was a post about Karen. She's fine.

All the Leaves Are Gone, and the Sky is Gray

But it's been warmer than normal, and no snow. I've been sort of hoping for some snow since once it falls, Karen won't still be telling me that we have so much left to do in the yard, at least till spring. Finally, we'll be able to turn our attention to all the things that aren't being done in the house.
Tomorrow she's having day surgery.

Or, As Homer Simpson Would Say, MMM, Fatty Trimmings

I've been daydreaming about hamburgers, burned on the outside, rare in the middle with a fried egg topper. According to the New York Times, that's not a menu, it's a suicide note. By the way, if you don't want to click on the link and read the whole article, here's a salient quote:

...confidential grinding logs and other Cargill records show that the hamburgers were made from a mix of slaughterhouse trimmings and a mash-like product derived from scraps that were ground together at a plant in Wisconsin. The ingredients came from slaughterhouses in Nebraska, Texas and Uruguay, and from a South Dakota company that processes fatty trimmings and treats them with ammonia to kill bacteria.

By the way, does the Nobel Peace Prize mean anything anymore? Well, not much since Yasser Arafat (“Peace for us means the destruction of Israel. We are preparing for an all-out war, a war which will last for generations.”) got it, and then Al Gore for his massive hot air on global warming. But at least Al Gore had done something when he invented the internet. If the President got it for making speeches about peace, then using Walt Kelly's logic, a lot of us should be in the running next year.

Stupidly, I Aspired to Cliches, Wordplay and Nonsense

Chandler: Hey Joey, where do Dutch people come from? Joey: Uh... well the Pennsylvania Dutch come from Pennsylvania. Chandler: And the other Dutch come from somewhere near the Netherlands right? Joey: Nice try, see the Netherlands is this make believe place where Peter Pan and Tinkerbell come from.

The other night that there was a story on the news about health care in the Netherlands, a place where insurance companies compete on service. If only it was a real place.

Theatre of the absurd: "characters caught in hopeless situations forced to do repetitive or meaningless actions; dialogue full of clichés, wordplay, and nonsense"

A couple of days ago, while I was putting mail in mailboxes, over and over for the 32nd year, I was listening to my police scanner. There was a story about a headless, limbless torso that had been found in a business park here. I aspired to absurdity, and said that it might be suicide. Apparently, there's a thin line between absurdity and stupidity, judging by the response I got. It turned out that the body which was found on a roof was a moose, although suicide hasn't been ruled out.

Let Me Look Into This

A spokesman for Solid Waste Services expects it will take time for people to get used to the new system. As expected, there was some grumbling last year."It's a big change, more for some people than others," she said. "Within a couple of weeks, those calls went way down."

Apparently, if you don't call every week, you must be happy with the system.

In much more interesting news, at least to me, as you'll see, I took a personality test this weekend. It was sort of on a whim, but it turns out I have a recognized personality type. They call it, The Investigator, but, in reading the description, I realized they call it that only because "pathologically self-absorbed weenie" was already taken.

I May Drop Her a Line

Grammar Girl's (her link is right over there-->) episode today was about how to write a complaint letter. She doesn't specifically say not to compare the recipients to monkeys, but you can tell it's not what she would do. It might have helped if it had come a couple of days ago, but probably not. Her point was that you couldn't "get to yes" as easily if you were rude, which is fine, but monopolies don't get to yes, they tell you what yes is, and that you're going to like it. So, we'll bring you junk, SWS will haul it away, and all we need from you is your money.

A friend of mine told me recently that he suspected I wasn't above changing the facts if I thought it would make a better story. I was surprised to hear him say that since we've known each other more than twenty five years. At least, I was surprised to hear him say it now. I'm not saying it's true, mind you. Oscar Wilde has some aphorisms on that, buried in a long essay which apparently was the philosophical basis for the new movie The Invention of Lying. I couldn't say it better myself... or could I?

A Small Thorn In The Garden Of Persephone

I've been listening to an iTunes U lecture series from Stanford about Hannibal. Today, in the middle of the lecture, it stopped playing through my bluetooth headset. I tried starting over and the intro would play, but then, silence. We had just gotten to a thrilling point in the first Punic War. Please, if you know, don't tell me how it turns out; I'm still planning on listening to the end.
I mean, I can guess, since looking around, I don't see any Punics, but no spoilers please.

In other news, after my two posts about the new garbage collection system, I saw that the e-mail I had received from them suggested I reply if I didn't want to receive any more e-mails from them. In my reply, I excerpted quite a bit from the blog about the recycling cult and the Bandar-log. So, it was embarrassing the next morning to have to call and ask what day pick up would be. It should have been embarrassing for them, since in their e-mail they said that some people's schedule would stay the same and others would change, and they didn't say who was who. On the other hand, they didn't compare me to a bunch of monkeys (at least not where I could hear them).
By the way, we got two garbage cans so in T9 you could say we got dual service.

Health Care Reform: Still All Mirrors, No Smoke

I heard Sens Baucus and Rockefeller debating a public option for health insurance. The debate seemed like it was headed somewhere useful when they agreed that insurance companies needed to have their feet held to the fire. It turned out, though, that they were using that as a metaphor.

There's Good News. No, Wait, It's a Mistake

Just as I finished that last post, the crews were out in our alley delivering our expensive new garbage cans. I went out to see where we had to oh so carefully put them so their expensive new trucks could pick them up (the garbage men will only get out of the truck now to leave you a note explaining why they won't pick up your garbage).
It was pretty good news because the worry had been that we'd have to put the garbage cans in front of our houses instead of the alley, which in the winter, especially given Anchorage's wretched snow plowing will be very difficult to do.
Actually, the crews weren't delivering the cans, they were picking them up out of the alley where they'd put them by mistake so they could put them in front of the houses.

When Will They Ever Learn, When Will They Ever Learn?~ Pete Seeger

I was sort of irritable today, which was odd, now that I see it in type since my supervisor gave me a little coin this morning that said, "Keep Up The Good Work". I was irritable, but it wasn't until I got an e-mail from Solid Waste Services that I became irritated. It's not enough that I have to join their little recycling cult, but now I'm going to get messages from them just like the monkeys in the Jungle Book; "We are great. We are free. We are wonderful. We are the most wonderful people in all the jungle! We all say so, and so it must be true.."
So, I was testy, when one of my customers said, "How are you?" You'd think she'd know by now; I'm irritable. So, I explained that I was ticked about the recycling. She was too. And then I explained that I was irritated by the new traffic circle they just put up in our neighborhood that's supposed to calm traffic, but is enraging every driver that makes it through. Why, why does everything the municipality does make my life harder? She said she didn't like the new mayor, and I said that was fine, if it made her feel better, I'd hate him too, but I especially hated the smarmy former mayor who is now our smarmy Senator. Just then, someone drove by and yelled out the window, "Hello, beautiful people!"
She said, "That's Don Young's campaign manager."
I said, "I hate Don Young."

I Never Wanted To Have To Tell You This

Because it would mean that I've completely run out of ideas for a post.
So, here are a couple of things I heard recently,

Tom Waits singing, "I've got the clouds but not the sky." which pretty much sums life up most of the time.

Sandra Tsing-loh said her brother is getting marred for the second time late in life, and he and his bride are registering at Wells Fargo.

No wait, I didn't completely run out because I've been saving this, for when I really run out of ideas: I've got a gardener that sings roots music.
Here's a preview of tomorrow's post.

The Powell's Doctrine

Colin Powell has espoused a military doctrine that demands that certain conditions be met before committing US troops, and if they are to be used, then they should be used overwhelmingly not unlike Forrest's "firstest with the mostest".
Karen has quietly been filling a box with books to send to Sarah; last night the doorbell rang, and there was a mailman on our porch with a box of books from Sarah. Sort of a Powell's doctrine first strike.
Ostensibly these were books that could go to Title Wave, but Title Wave has taken a very judgmental tone lately about used books being dropped off at a used book store. I loaded up my bike trailer last weekend and rode over there (up that steep hill by West High for those of you that have spent some time here [with a load of books in the trailer, don't forget]) only to hear, "We're not a donation center, you know."
I was sort of irritated (and sweaty) and while I was wandering around the store, I found a book I wanted that was only $1.50. But then I went online with my iPhone and found it free on Google's Book Reader. That kind of snottiness only really works when you've got a monopoly. That's what I tell my customers, rudely.

That's a 10-4, Dido

I've been listening to iTunes U lectures from Stanford (strangely,
Smith doesn't have any) about Plato, Socrates, Vergil and Hannibal.
They insist that citizens take an interest in the life of the
community. Following this Socratic precept, I've installed a police
scanner on my iPhone.
Here's a question for the ages gleaned from my new attention to the
polis; why would a woman fake being unconscious on a public restroom
floor?

In Like a Polar Bear

Yesterday, on the calendar, and in practice, it was summer. Today we woke up to fall. The snow, which hitherto had remained only in our memories had moved half way down the mountains, and the leaves had begun to move down to the ground helped by a cold wind. The snow level is 2000 feet, which means that just a scant half mile from the top of our heads, it's snowing.
Oh, and I have a cold. I think it's just a regular cold, and not a swine cold. Maybe it's a bovine cold, because I plan to milk it for whatever it's worth.

I Just Don't Know What to Think Anymore

Sir Thomas More:[to Will Roper] Now, listen, Will. Two years ago you were a passionate churchman. Now you're a passionate Lutheran. We must just pray that when your head's finished turning, your face is to the front again.~From a Man For All Seasons

I just read an article in The Atlantic Monthly about health care. It seemed reasonable and comported exactly with my own experience. Oh, and it was kind of discouraging that we will ever achieve meaningful health care reform since the insurance companies, hospitals, doctors, and drug companies are so well rewarded under the current system, and so well entrenched politically. In fact, the current reform effort, if you believe this writer, (and I do, this week) can be summarized by this quote:

Like its predecessors, the Obama administration treats additional government funding as a solution to unaffordable health care, rather than its cause.

I just found out today that the war in Sri Lanka, now on indefinite
hiatus, was between Hindus and Bhuddists. Doesn't that seem odd like a
war between PETA and Greenpeace, or between Quakers and Shakers?

Sent from my iPhone

We've been having a little bit of Indian Summer up here, and not in
some quasi-racist way, but in a subtropical, subcontinental, in the
60's during the day way.
Sent from my iPhone

"Nobody Ever Wakes Up and Says 'Today is a Good Day for a Colonoscopy'"

I can sense this day slipping away from me, so I watched a video from iTunes U called, I'll Stop Procrastinating Tomorrow. I really think it helped me commit to doing those chores some time.

Mission Creep

Okay, I found a To-Do List that met all my criteria (free) and I put some items into it, but then we had to go to the hospital to have some routine blood work. As we left that, it occurred to Karen that she had some other pre-op stuff to do there before they re-implant her intrathecal pump (and only the pump) next month. A quick three hours later we were climbing back into our car and heading home.
Right now we're eating lunch and then we have some shopping to do, but then I've got a ton of little chores I'm going to get started on this weekend.

If I Tweeted, This Would Be One of Those

I've been up for almost two hours now on my day off. I have tons of little chores to accomplish. So far I've spent all my time since before I got out of bed searching Apple's App Store for the perfect To-Do List App. Oh, and blogging. Anyway, I've got a lot to do, so I have to get back to the App store.

As Ritualized as Japanese Theater, Noh What I Mean?

Okay, this is the last post about my dog bite, unless I think of something else to say about it. I just wanted to point out that getting bitten by a dog is as choreographed as any ballet, or I should say as scripted as a play,
Dog's Owner: They're alright.
Mailman: Ow
Dog's Owner: They've never done that before.
To paraphrase Katt Williams, "Every time? Every time."

If You're Reading This You Must Be Alive

But you won't always be.
My dog bite is healing, I guess. Here's a link to the latest picture of it. Now you can see where the teeth from the bottom jaw hit on my arm. The owner told me today that they've put the dog on restriction. I thought that was a cutesy term for quarantine, but no, animal control has never called them.

Okay, we all know this, why don't we just do it?
And to recap yesterday's post, irritating unwanted paper should be delivered to a mailbox by a mailman, and everyone should have a dog for house cleaning.
Except today I was bitten by a dog on my route. At least it was a real bite, and I could feel more manly and less frock-wearing-and-parasol-waving than I did when I was attacked by a cat.
If you're interested, it looks like this.

The Garbage Men of Stockholm

In the course of complaining about something (more on this, I bet) to my assemblywoman, I mentioned that we were being forced into the inconvenient and very expensive mandatory recycling program by Anchorage's Solid Waste Services. She wrote to SWS, who responded in part, "Many of our Phase I customers complained loudly about the expense and inconvenience of the automated program before we started, but now really like the system."

Did you know that in the Soviet Union, there were no phone books? Telephone numbers were given out on a need to know basis. In contrast, at the dawn of the Internet Age, the mantra was "Information wants to be free. Om" Okay most of that was that we all wanted to steal music. Like St Paul said, "All things are lawful, but not all things are expedient. Francis Schaefer said that among his students this freedom was misinterpreted as license. Just now, you need to know that keeping my hands on the keyboard is introducing a tone of reasonableness and civility that was missing earlier today when I was talking about this. Then, my hands were waving in the air. Sure, the First Amendment guarantees freedom of the press, but here, this freedom is running amok and littering because everyone in this town with a printing press is lobbing phone books into my yard, and I'm sick of it. And planning on being even sicker of it, when I have to start dealing with expensive and mandatory garbage men. I suggested to my assemblywoman an opt-in requirement but the SWS guy besides positing that soon I'd love being held hostage by garbage men, said that the phone book company goons would mount a legal challenge, so there was nothing we could do. Because if a lawyer throws a phone book at you, it's fine, but just you try it, and they'll throw the book at you, so to speak.

More health news, for the only mildly squeamish. Yesterday Karen called me at work and told me that her tubing had popped apart and was spurting blood. I told her that she should call the home health people in charge of her pump since their office is right at the end of our street. She did and they came and fixed it all up. When I got home, she had changed clothes and their was no sign of any problem. Because Bernie had followed her around licking up all the blood.

An' Here I Sit So Patiently Waiting To Find Out What Price You Have To Pay To Get Out Of Going Through All These Things Twice.~Bob Dylan

For a long time after Karen's day surgery last year and its subsequent hospitalizations, infections, injuries, indignities, and what have you, she wouldn't let anyone come near her with anything sharper than a spoon. But now she's scheduled to have her pump reimplanted next month. I'm surprised they can even do a surgery with a spork.

In other news, does anyone else find it ironic that I can't find my GPS, even using my iPhone to help look for it?

How Much Cargo Do You Have In There?

Last Christmas Leah gave me a pair of pants with a lot of pockets. They had the waist that I'd been wearing, but wasn't quite able to fit into anymore. This morning I finally squeezed into them for the first time. I must say that although the label says "Cargo Fit", it might as well have said, "Wide Load".

Chain Reaction

We went for a bike ride today. It's practically the first, and probably the last, of the season. One rider was so much faster than the rest of us that I might as well have been on a stationery bike. That's right, I could have been doing bike writing.

Crossing The Futility Boundary

Wired Magazine has an article this month about the placebo response. It has become harder and harder for drug companies to prove their drugs are better than placebos. Drug trials that fail that test are said to have crossed the "futility boundary". Which is such a great phrase that it could be a post all by itself.
Anyway, the placebo response is real, and research indicates that even inert drugs can act as a "catalyst for ... the body's 'endogenous health care system.'" if the patient believes they will help. Drug company's advertising has been so effective that just taking a pill, any pill, can trigger the release of endorphins and dopamine, making the patient feel better. Or, meet the Republican health care plan. Along with squinting for vision care and a piece of string and a door knob for do it yourself dentistry.

In other news, the Onion is reporting on the Postal Service's offer to buy out its employees.

Maybe I Just Like Cursing The Dark

The energy rater that I wrote about yesterday said that if we insulated the house as he recommended, we could heat it with a candle.

As Posts Go, This One Is Only Fair

We had an energy rater at our house yesterday. We got two stars which is more than I gave Hart's War, but still it wasn't very impressive for a Hart's home. We were 62% efficient, about what I assume the post office is. He gave us suggestions to improve our energy efficiency. Some of them weren't very big, but even one thing can make a difference. For example, a joke about a Greek scholar who could read in the Basement, wouldn't even make sense. He made some suggestions about insulation that would cost a lot, but would pay off in the long run. I told him that at my age, the long run was whether or not I made it to the In Plain Sight season premiere.

We went to the fair on Sunday. I tried to include something from each major food group, fried, frozen, dipped and spicy. I moderated my eating somewhat; I only had a medium ice cream cone. On the way out though, I was like a toddler in a shopping cart with both arms out. I found myself at the gate holding a corn dog and an ear of corn. It turns out that being rated the best corn dog is an ambiguous compliment. Yes, Dean's Corn Dogs may have better batter (a tasty tongue twister ) than the others but it had the same insipid hot dog. The world is crying out for a corn dog that doesn't disappoint. Or just fried batter, that would be good.

I'm Not Saying I Couldn't Be Bought

Perhaps you've heard that postal employees are being offered incentives to retire, but that doesn't apply to letter carriers. Still, it's obvious they want to lower their head count. Apparently I'm still working only out of spite.
Which is a pity because when I got home from work today I discovered that the Johnsons had bought us a high-def TV so now I really have no reason to leave the house

The Lives of Others: Spoiler Alert

I watched the Lives of Others tonight; a sad, claustrophobia-inducing movie about the German Democratic Republic before the wall fell down. One of the characters, weary of his life, and with his career ended, becomes a mailman.

If Nixon Taught Us Nothing Else, The Coverup Is Worse Than The Crime

It turns out that even if you feed a tiger before giving him a ride in your car, he still may attack and kill somebody, at least according to the dream I had last night. I see now in the clear light of day that I should have just let him eat the body, since it was my trying to hide the remains and kill each new witness that made the whole thing spiral out of control.

That was an example of the kind of dream that Zoloft users have. Last night Ambre was telling me that new research shows that nocebos are as powerful as placebos and that whatever we expect to happen with a medication is what happens. I said, "I don't know if that's true, Zoloft has really helped me a lot. Oh no, maybe it's just because I expected it to help! Help! Help! I'm going to keep believing it so just drop it, please!"
So, see, things can spiral out of control even without a tiger.

Maybe This is True For Faithless Vulcan Fianceés, But Not For Me

Spock: After a time, you may find that having is not so pleasing a thing, after all, as wanting. It is not logical, but it is often true.
~Amok Time
Sent from my iPhone

The other night I had to reboot my Logitech 550 Harmony remote control. I felt kind of helpless for awhile until it began to work properly again. I realized then that we had no chance of winning in Afghanistan. During the cold war, the Soviets and the Americans threatened to bomb each other back to the stone age. But if one side is already living there, what can you threaten them with?

Even so, I want to tell you that I really looked forward to getting an iPhone, and then to getting a bluetooth stereo headset, and pace Mr. Spock, I really love them. Today before I fell asleep in Karen's doctor's office I was able to post an ad on Craigslist. I understand that people won't be necessary in a post singularity universe, and that evolutionary pressures on machines mean they won't have to love us like we love them, but man, I really love my iPhone.

Of course, once the phone breaks or disappoints I'll probably have to write another post titled "Spock Was Right, He Always Is" and man the barricades against the machine overlords, but until then...

How Long Has This Been Going On?

Eighteen years if you can believe Beloit College. They have just released their annual mindset list. This year what is so surprising isn't what incoming college freshman don't know, but what I didn't know; apparently there has been blue jello for the last eighteen years, and I'm just finding out.
I'd probably know about it if they'd used Bill Cosby as their spokesman.

Eight Years Later, Another Jewel in the Diadem of Democracy

"Another jewel in the diadem of democracy," was originally S. J. Pereleman's take on India, although the Indians were nothing like this.

Me and Fergie, We're Like That

I'm so three thousand and eight
You so two thousand and late
I got that boom boom boom
That future boom boom boom
~from Boom Boom Pow by the Black Eyed Peas

Now that I have an iPhone, I'm all boom boom pow except, I'm not sure even my phone respects me since it keeps beating me at checkers.

Soooo-ie Bono

According to Bloomberg, each member of Congress now has approximately six health industry lobbyists joining them at the trough. Being unclean, pigs don't get much play in the Bible, but they do show up occasionally, and then, just as quickly disappear.

Of Course, I Know

...but for our other readers, just who is Pat?

Cui Bono

Blah, blah, blah, I sat down to write a funny post about health care reform, but it turns out that the monster insurance companies, the demagogic politicians, the so-called conservative talk radio Goebbels, and our own Sarah Palin who, since failing in her run for vp, has apparently set her sights on leading a rabble of lemmings, have sucked the humor right out of my keyboard.
Every other industrialized country has a single payer system that costs less than ours and provides much better outcomes by any measure.
We should ask ourselves who benefits from scuttling the attempts at reform?

I Look Like I Had More Than Just One More Piece of Cake

This is the Pauline Year, celebrating two thousand years since the birth of the Apostle Paul. Near the end of his life, he said, "For I am already being poured out like a drink offering, and the time has come for my departure. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race..."
I expected to be at the end of my career just now, but instead I believe I'll have another piece of Cake;
The fans get up and they get out of town.
The arena is empty except for one man,
Still driving and striving as fast as he can.
The sun has gone down and the moon has come up,
And long ago somebody left with the cup.

Muting Feature on iPhones

My sister left yesterday and today I waddled back into work. I got there early enough to show off my new iPhone. I told the people in the break room how I'd tried to get it in July, and then on August third, but that now that I had it I was finally cool. Everyone was speechless.

Whoa is Me

My sister has been in town for the last few days, so, of course, I've been off my diet again. Today I was talking smack about some of Oprah's fat guests who couldn't eat broccoli without cheese. Then I realized I better get off my high horse before I crushed it like a bug.

I dreamed I met Satan last night. He was kind of a jerk.
In real life, last night I was telling one of Leah's friends about being attacked by a cat. She just laughed at (not with) me. Too late I noticed her t-shirt.
Speaking of Catzilla, I was back in Woodside East (I felt like Stephen Sondheim's mailman) yesterday delivering mail. The scary cat's owners have put up a mailbox. I like to think that I've helped to make the world a little safer.

Zombie Insurance: Premiums are Cheap, But Try to Collect When Someone Is Eating Your Head

"...one great way to make money is to keep them on the roster, collect their large premiums, and then deny them the care they need when the time comes."


I know that as a conservative, I'm supposed to oppose the public plan for health insurance, but can I still hate the private health insurance companies? Yes.

Let It Beep

I think you should do this, now.

I'm Like the People in the Microsoft Ad; I'm Not Cool Enough to Buy an iPhone

So, it turns out that when they say we're eligible for a subsidized iPhone on August 5th, they don't mean around then, they mean August 5th. So, even though I wasn't able to buy the phone, I have started to buy apps for it. No rules can stop me from buying apps for a phone I don't have and can't get.
Instead of a phone, I went to DMV and renewed my driver's license. It was a little disappointing because when my current license expires, coincidentally also on August 5th, I'll be eligible to retire. My plan had always been to let my license expire because once I retire why would I ever want to drive? It wasn't a very good plan, I see now. And other plans of that caliber have ensured that I won't be able to retire then anyway. Or possibly ever.
In other news, Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad has called on the authorities to treat their political prisoners with "Islamic mercy."
To which the Iranian political prisoners screamed, "No-o-o, anything but that!"

"I hope to God I'm talkin' metaphorically Hope that I'm talkin' allegorically "~Edwyn Collins

I know you're supposed to sit on your furniture, but there's some risk, hopefully only metaphorical, that with the recent addition of one more couch, our furniture will be crushing us.
To quote Smokey Robinson, "Take a good look at my face," because even though we just spent money we don't have on a couch we didn't need, I'm about to cut my (metaphorical) nose off and go buy a new iPhone.

“People hate me because I am a multifaceted, talented, wealthy, internationally famous genius.” ~Jerry Lewis

Oh, that's why.

This morning, NPR ran a story about a French cashier who blogged about her tedious dead end job. The blog became so popular that she turned it into two best -selling books. What can you expect from a country that made Jerry Lewis a commander in the Legion of Honor?

In the meantime, my blog about my tedious dead end job has essentially become a Woozle hunt a la Winnie the Pooh, as my counter goes up every time I check to see if anyone is reading.

If It's Wednesday, I Must Be Advertising Priority Flat Rate Shipping

The Postal Service gave us T-shirts to wear on Wednesdays to advertise Priority Flat Rate Shipping. Up till now, none of my customers have asked me about it. Today, though, several did. I think this is the first time they could read it all, now that the shirt has been fully inflated.

If a President Said It, Then It Must Be True

Eisenhower said once, "Things are more like they are now than they ever were before." But just barely, as this reference to Roosevelt points out.
So, I went back to work today, and things are a lot like then, now. I do have a new appreciation for what geese go through in order to produce foie gras.

Note to TSA; This is a Comment on the Size of an RV's Gas Tank

A couple of days ago, we took the RV over to Costco and filled it with gas before taking it back. It was like attending an Al Qaeda fundraiser.
Last night, Sarah and Sean went back to Boston. We were up in Glen Alps yesterday, and a man pointed out a dot that he claimed was a moose. He said, "You can never see too many moose." But last night as we were driving to the airport, we saw one inside the fence that is there to protect the runways from moose. So, maybe you could see one too many. Now, Sunday morning, it's begun to rain. This almost never happens in real life, at least, not my real life. That is, that it would be sunny, if smoky, all week when we had guests, and then rain after they left.

So, We'll Go No More A RoVing

We're back home from our RV trip to Denali and Fairbanks. Shepherding the leviathan as it pitched and rolled, was at first just ghastly. I was one of those cartoon drivers holding on to the steering wheel with my feet flying out behind me as I was flung around corners and up hills. Later though, I achieved the Zen complacency that comes from overconfidence. No, I did get better as I went along. Last night we lounged in our RV living room. I felt so relaxed, I told the them that when were driving home, no one outside would know if I just stayed in my baggy pajamas, especially if I kept the curtains closed.
Yesterday we took a cruise on the Riverboat Discovery. One of the high points of that trip has always been the Wedding of the Chena and Tanana Rivers. The clear Chena joins the silty Tanana and something better than both of them emerges. E Pluribus Unum. Except that so much silt has built up that the boat can no longer make it into the Tanana. So now, it's more like nature saying, "Good fences make good neighbors."
I don't want to give the wrong impression here. Mostly while Sarah and her Sean went off to look at Alaskan stuff, Karen and I stayed in the air conditioned motor home and read and slept. I did a book a day, powered almost entirely by Corn Nuts and cashews.

American Gothic Couple Does Laundry and Checks E-Mail

A couple of days ago we were in Talkeetna for the Moose Dropping Festival. While we were there it was, you know, festive, but some people always ruin it for everybody by getting high and violent, and then drowning. We saw a lot of people with lots of tattoos. I think tattooed people must be the most resistant to the idea of change and growth. No one who ever imagined that they could learn something new, would want to be permanently marked with the old.
Now we're in Fairbanks at an RV park. We're sitting on the porch at the office, watching the world go by, and waiting for our laundry to dry. The temperature in the shade here is near earth normal, but a few steps away it is swearing.

Hello Kitty

I was right yesterday when I said it was hot; we set a record for that date of 80°. Today it's like living in a chimney since it's still hot, but the air is full of smoke since this long stretch of sunny weather has led to fire danger levels of "Inferno". In fact, this afternoon there was a forest fire just a few blocks from here. Today I was tempted to cut off service to anyone who didn't have a sprinkler on their lawn.
I was wrong yesterday when I said I was clawed by a dog. Apparently there is a dangerous cat that lives in that condo. I'm just saying he must be like a saber-tooth cat. That claw looked like an antler. A few people pointed out that it would have to have been an unusually tall and thin dog to reach up and through the slot. I don't want to beat this to death but the cat is locked in the garage, while their pit bull is in the house.

Let The Change Begin With Me, Or At Least For Me

It's been unbelievably hot here. Last night as we were culling mail, one of the other carriers said, "I don't want to complain," I asked her, "Then what are you doing here?"
Today I was delivering mail on another route. I lifted up the flap on a mail slot (using the mail, and not my hand, as I was trained, to avoid being bitten by a dog) and a dog's claw shot out and punctured my hand. My thumb instantly began to swell. I looked like Sissy Hankshaw's mailman. I tried to call my supervisor, but my phone wasn't working. In a way, that was a relief, since I haven't been able to get any of Sarah Palin's tweets. I got the phone restarted, and told my supervisor I was heading to the walk-in clinic right next to the route I was delivering. She said she'd meet me there with the sheaf of forms they'd need to fill out. For some reason, though, they don't take federal comp claims.
They called ahead to a clinic just down the road a mile or so, and they did take federal comp claims, but when we got there with our file cabinet of papers, they said they took comp claims, but not hands. They did clean the blood off and then called across the street to another clinic who said, "Sure, send him over." There, they said that they didn't know who would have said that since they don't take federal comp claims. A doctor came wandering by, and said that it was his clinic, and he'd see me ( that was the only way he was going to get mail today since he lives on my route). But first he had to go get some lunch. The reception staff, said that he'd see me when he got back, but if what I wanted was a tetanus shot, I'd have to go somewhere else since they didn't stock vaccines.
Dejected, and abandoned at that point by my supervisor who had some reports to print out, I drove my mail truck to the hospital. By then the swelling had gone down, and the puncture was visible only with a microscope. The medical assistant pretended to clean the area I said was wounded, but I got a real tetanus shot and a bandaid.
Maybe it's time for no-fault health insurance reform.

A woman on my route said, "What a dorky hat," when she saw me the other day. She explained that by being direct, she avoided misunderstandings, which avoided hurt feelings, and thus she was a "peacemonger".
She asked about the postal holiday schedule, and I began to explain that I was working my day off, Thursday, because that was some people's holiday. That led me into explaining carrier's scheduling generally. Frankly, it was a bigger exposition than Chicago in 1915, and she pretended to fall asleep so as not to hurt my feelings.

The Dingo Days of Summer

I'm still trying to develop an Aussie swagger to go with my new sun bonnet, but the effort has been vitiated by my saying things like vitiate. I've said quotidian so many time of late that it's become an everyday thing.

What Did She Say? Just a Minute, and Then Another Minute, and Another Minute,

So, the other day, when I was styling down the street with the Aussie swagger of, I don't know, say, Kanga, I was sort of snickering to myself about the way Sarah misspoke recently. She said that as long as we lived in Alaska she could come up here for interminable trips, when she obviously meant innumerable trips.

I wore my new Aussie Sun Hat to deliver mail today. I figured it would give me an air of rugged Aussie panache like Russell Crowe, or Quigley down under. I'm afraid the effect was more like a margarine ad, or as one customer helpfully pointed out, a raisin box.

Health Care in Lake Woebegone

Congressman John Boehner said yesterday that if you like the Postal Service you'll like government run health care. Ouch. On the other hand, Congressman Rangel says the plan is to give everyone more than a fair shake.

Everything's Bigger in Alaska

I inadvertently walked by a mirror this morning, oh, the horror. It seems I may have developed one of those muffin top things. If so, it's like from a Costco muffin. Mmm, Costco muffins, I could go for a few a of those right now.

"Stop It, You're Freaking Me Out"~Jerry Seinfeld

Interesting facts according to posts on a real blog, Freakonomics:

States that have repealed mandatory helmet laws have experienced an uptick in the availability of transplant organs.

Health insurance companies hedge their bets by investing in tobacco companies.

While you are napping, eating or watching a movie on that flight to LAX, you should know the plane you are flying is cruising along at the ratty edge of its capabilities.

“We took a wrong turn when doctors stopped being doctors and became businessmen."

You Love The Red Sox, But Have They Ever Loved You Back?

I started to take what turned out to be an interminable Wired Magazine survey. Before I gave up, I had to give them some personal information such as the year I was born. Apparently according to Wired, I'm just too old to really matter since my year of birth was included in the "or before" tab.

Another Risky Medical Decision

Just going to the doctor can be risky:

Just Like Johnny B. Goode

I have had a couple of bicycle mishaps lately, but now I'm making the transition from the ridiculously dangerous to the merely ridiculous. I've been going for short rides after work. Even though Wayne, at WeBikeAlaska always says to never venture out on a bike without a spare tube and a pump, I've been thinking "I don't have to worry, because these are really short rides." Of course most accidents happen close to home (when I told my neighbor she should wear a helmet because most accidents happen close to home, she said we should live in a better neighborhood).
Yesterday in the Russian Jack Park, near Boniface, I heard a sound, "just like ringing a bell."
It turns out that's the sound made by a latex tube exploding. According to Google Maps
I carried my bike about 1.7 miles home.
Today, though, we rode to the top of Crooked Tree Street, which, again, according to Google Maps is 800 feet above sea level. That isn't that impressive, but half those 800 feet seem to come in the last 800 feet.

New Hires and Amnesiacs

We got a lecture the other day about productivity. I'm sure it would have been more effective if she had been talking to new hires or Tom Hanks.

The morning started well. I looked at the clock, it said 6:09 which would be the same if you spun it 180 degrees. I pictured it spinning lazily away and thought what a good time that would be to get up, but the spinning made me drowsy, so I dozed back off. I have my reasons for being sleepy, I guess, what with the sun blaring through the windows all night. In Greenland, suicides go up in the summer. The speculation is that people are just exhausted from lack of sleep. Living without darkness isn't all skittles and beer you know. There's also midnight golf.

As is so often the case nowadays, there was approximately no mail today. I suppose summer and the recession are partly to blame, but I think they're just accelerating trends as people move their communications away from paper and into electrons. I had time on my hands to chat as I went down the street. "My, you're early," I heard. I told people about the mail volumes. "We need more people to write letters. Go ahead, I can wait."

A slow day gave me time to ruminate. As they would almost have to, my thoughts turned to cud. I wonder if it tastes good to cows. I can't brush after every meal; I'd hate to have to eat after every meal, although if you look at my waistline, it looks like that's exactly what I do.

On the way back to the post office this afternoon, there were some kids standing in the middle of the street advertising a car wash, to support the Hemlock Society, I suppose.

By the way, if you're not sick of myself, check out Grammar Girl episode number 172.

I spent half the day wearing my bluetooth before I realized I didn't have my phone with me. I expected to have a clever thought about that, but no, it turns out I'm the kind of guy who wears a bluetooth headset without a phone.

"He's a Menace!"

The other day, one of my customers was out killing dandelions. I asked him if he didn't admire them for being plucky little survivors. Unfortunately, all people hear is the part about plucking. I bet Albert Schweitzer didn't have that kind of problem.
Also, I bet when he was trying to save the world, he didn't cause so many problems. Yesterday was the Anchorage Tour de Cure to raise money for diabetes research. I had signed up to ride the 100K route. At the starting point, the man said to gather around, so I gathered myself over there, and then stood around waiting for something to happen. Meanwhile, everyone else in the parking lot kept getting ready. The man said, "Go," and they went. I still had to pump up my tires, put on my shoes, and everything else you do to get ready to "Go!" By the time I "Went!" I was all alone in the parking lot with the sound of crickets playing in my head.
It was a beautiful day for a ride, or a run, or walk with a stroller or dogs, and the trails were busy. I was bustling along, but at about mile 27 I came around a corner doing about 20 miles per hour when I plowed right into a runner, lifting him off his feet and throwing him into the bushes I slammed into the asphalt, cracking my helmet. A lot of other things happened, and then the runner and I were alone again waiting for an ambulance to come and get him. Although I was wearing spandex bike shorts, it looked like I was wearing a pair of pulsating pants on my legs because of all the mosquitoes. It also looked like I had tied a wool sweater around my head. Luckily the mosquitoes were sucking up all the blood that might otherwise have attracted the two bears that had been reported near there. A lot of people went by while we waited, including two members of my so-called team. They asked if I was okay. I said I was because that's what guys say. As they rode away, I heard one say, "Was that David?" (there might have been a question because of the blue sweater). The other guy said, "Yeah, but he said he's okay."
The ambulance finally showed up, driving right down the trail. They had their flashing lights on. I guess they weren't sure if an enormous vehicle on a bike trail would draw enough attention. They put the runner in the back to assess him out of mosquito range. One of the EMT's asked if I was okay. I told him I wasn't sure. I'd hit my head and I had a headache. He said that they'd look at me next, and then they drove away.
I decided my Tour was finished, and started to ride back to Eagle River, 27 miles away. A few minutes later, a friend (my hero, Rich) called to see how the ride was going. I told him, and he met me and drove me back to get my car.
I called around trying to find out how the runner was, but HIPAA and human cussedness kept me from finding out. I did leave my name and phone number with the fire department who said they'd give it to the hospital, to give to him, but he hasn't called yet.
As usual, I'm fine, but Rich's friend's first comment when she heard about my accident was, "He's a menace."
I'm starting to think maybe she's right. I enjoy biking, but is it really fair to everybody else for me to keep on, leaving a wake of broken glass and ribs? I don't know.

"Just What You Want to Be, You'll Be In The End"~ Justin Hayward

Some people say that biology is destiny. I don't know if that's true, although I guess I'm more likely to eat a cow, than a cow is to eat me. Stratfor's take on the world is that geography is destiny. They seem to know what they're talking about, so even though I know astrology is fake, I still think it's possible to be born under a bad sign, like one that says "Welcome to Somalia"

Smiling Faces

My supervisor says I don't smile enough. I don't want to be like the Dutch Muslims that rioted because a cartoonist said they were violent, but I'm still irritated when she says it.
I heard on the radio the other day that one of my customers won a prestigious national award. I bet he's feeling all superior like he's a better math teacher than the rest of us.

Going For the Green, and Keeping It

There was an ad in the paper today for Bell's, a hoity-toity nursery where snooty people get their begonias. We rushed out to get ours, or maybe they were petunias, but they were sold out of the cheap ones, if they'd ever had them. Probably just as well, since I consider buying flowers akin to burying money in the ground, except, if you have a map, you might be able to get your greenbacks back.

You Know Who You Are

So, are you going to click on the link over there and join the Hardly Davidsons on the Tour de Cure or not?!

Man, I Hope He Has Measles

A family moved onto my route recently with a barking dog. They assured me that it was friendly. I never listen to people when they tell me that. As far as I'm concerned, that's like wind chimes, just an irritating noise to let you know that air is moving. One day the dog did get loose, and although he was clearly out of control, he didn't seem particularly aggressive. But today, there was a big orange sign that said "Animal Under Quarantine".

No Comment

Fine, no one comments on this blog, but at least I don't have these readers.

A Day in the Life

I received a package in the mail today from a friend in Seattle. I had stayed with him and his family earlier this month when I was down there. There was a pair of socks that I guess I must have left there. They had given me the socks in the first place, so as I think about it, I'm not sure if they are giving me socks again, or back.
Which is not at all what I meant to be talking about. The package also included The Cyclists Yellow Pages. There was a listing for trail maps of Anchorage that I had never seen before which includes slideshows of various local trails.
Here's the site, and here's the trail I ride the most since it's the closest to our house. Mile 3.67 in the slide show is where we get on from here, about 6 blocks from our house.
Incidentally, today might be known as the Day of the Long Noses. After 2008, the year without a summer, we've had weeks of warm clear days this spring. Today the mosquitos were out, out for blood.

I'm Typing as Fast as I Can

A seventy year long study of Harvard students shows that happiness and longevity depend on friendships. My friend was telling me the other day that he only had two friends, and I was thinking "What a braggart."
It's probably just as well that as a misanthrope I'm going to die earlier than I would have. It turns out if I don't, I'm going to have to age without the benefit of a skeleton. According to research I stumbled across looking for the story about those brainy ants, serotonin carries messages back and forth from people's intestines to their skeletons (those voices in your head may, in fact, be coming from your skull). An excess of serotonin (as may happen with the use of SSRI's like Zoloft) tells the skeleton to stop replacing itself with new bone. Which I suppose would be depressing if I wasn't taking Zoloft. Of course, if I wasn't then I wouldn't have to worry about it. My life, brought to you by Catch 22.

Natural Law

Ants are in the news again, for making good decisions with essentially no brains. I've had occasion recently to watch ants, and while they obviously have good publicists, what they need is a lawyer. Their behavior is indistinguishable from iRobot's Roomba. They appear to wander in circles, with strange stops and changes of direction. They're both attracted to filth, and they both inexplicably refuse to enter the bait traps I've set up. The Roomba, at least, doesn't wave its feelers disparagingly at me each time it goes by the trap.

Universally Remote

While I was waiting at a stop sign today, I was thinking about how marvelously complicated the world is. The trees are green here now, which is kind of amazing and how a doctor told us that Karen's, and I suppose everyone's, kidney has six different functions. And the brain itself, wow. How could all this arise spontaneously from nothing? But then I remembered reading recently that the brain was a kludge, just new stuff piled precariously on top of older stuff, so that we have a shark's olfactory lobes mixed with monkey reasoning. I think I read that, and didn't dream it, although I did dream last night that I was adrift inside a piano, but when a dog started barking at us, I realized we were close enough to get to shore, so you can see; the brain is mysterious.
Then I thought, if God didn't create the universe, where did it come from and why does it exist at all, and how could you describe, or even think about a universe in a state of non-existence?
So, anyway, the universe and I are expanding. I can get into my bike clothes only because they're spandex, but they make me look really bad, because, um, they're spandex.

Like Sheep to a Slaughter, Or At Least To An Intricately Planned Heist That Goes Wrong

On Thursday, my bike is going in for a follow-up visit after the accident. It appears it was slightly more scathed than it first appeared. The crank is bent, and a bike mechanic said that the frame might be bent as well. I've been so heavy that I'm afraid that it's not so much bent as swaybacked.

The punch line in Sally Forth today was, "People change, Hil. So do their medications."
Technology tries to keep up, though. When the internet was new, long before Netflix, there was a site that attempted to recommend movies based on your ratings of other movies. No matter what I rated, they always recommended Land Before Time IV. I was fascinated by the specificity of that. I'd never rated, or even seen, LBT 1-3, so why they would assume familiarity with the franchise? Anyway, time's marched on; I'm happily medicated, but Netflix must discern something seething underneath my placid, almost ovine, exterior. They've created a whole category of recommendations for me called Violent Crime Films.

Found and Lost

Yesterday, Karen found her missing bridge. Just a scant four thousand dollars too late to matter. This morning, I noticed (and this might explain why I was dropped from our Fireweed 200 team) that try as I might, I couldn't find my ribs.

He's Not Heavy, He's My Alter Ego

I'm reading a book, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. It's about an overweight nerd. The author drops a lot of references to overweight nerd literature, and I'm horrified to realize how many of them I recognize.

Schrödinger's Vet Bills

Last night, I was trying to explain the Schrödinger's Cat thought experiment to Leah. I got confused and started sputtering a little, especially when I got to the Many Worlds interpretation. All I know is, Schrödinger seems like a really irresponsible pet owner.

Today, Ellie had to go to the vet. She was dehydrated, like some anorexic rock star. She had to have an IV drip approximately $476.00 into her leg. Two weeks ago, Bernie had to have two IV's; they shaved his front legs like a poodle. Yesterday he had his stitches removed, and along with them, any chance of my retiring. I am heavily insured, so I'm starting to feel like Moses. I'll get a glimpse of the promised land, but only the next generation will get to go into my inheritance.

Apparently, I'm Right Again.

The data show that, judged by virtually every metric, the Portuguese decriminalization framework has been a resounding success. Within this success lie self-evident lessons that should guide drug policy debates around the world.

Do They Call It BlueTooth Because It Makes You Sad?

I got a call from a kind of new age vampire. They didn't kill me, they just sucked all of the serotonin out of my blood.
Anyway, whatever, this morning I'm thinking about those twits on Fox again. From the short, almost unintelligible, inhuman squeals, of the sound bites I hear, they're blaming unions for the state of the economy. Yes, that's right, union members with their CDO's and CDS's and multimillion dollar paychecks.

"Until this moment, Senator, I think I never really gauged your cruelty or your recklessness." When McCarthy tried to continue his attack, Welch angrily interrupted, "Let us not assassinate this lad further, senator. You have done enough. Have you no sense of decency?"

So, Were You Wearing a Helmet?

When people ask me if I was wearing a helmet when I was hit by a car a couple of weeks ago, I've been saying, "Duh".
Today I realized that would probably be my answer either way.
I went out this evening to put my new tires and tubes on my bike. Tomorrow I think I'll walk to work. That'll be easier than carrying the bike the work.

I ran into a former customer of mine recently. She was walking through the neighborhood with a hand held computer with GPS. The Census Bureau had hired her to work in a program to locate every address in America. The job ended earlier than expected because the computer was so much faster than the human workers they hired ten years ago for the last census. I suppose as humans become increasingly irrelevant to the economy, they will eventually just send out robots to count lap tops. Here's what I mean.
Here are a couple of other videos that you are supposed to have seen already "Unless You're a Loser or Old or Something".
Ok, Here it Goes and
Chad Vader

This Happened to Me, It Really Did

I was at Costco this afternoon. The young lady that was bagging up my groceries was talking to the cashier about training as a pugilist. She said that hitting the heavy bag was good practice, but her trainer told her that it was important to spar with people, too, so she'd know what it felt like to hit a human body.
Just then, she looked up at me and said, "Do you wanna box?"

I'm Back. Did You Miss Me?

I went to Seattle last Friday for a wake for my brother in law on Saturday. We laughed, we cried,we ate too much. I stayed on for a few extra days. I had a good time. I know I did because on the airplane ride home this morning, the button popped off my pants. Apparently, the cabin wasn't the only thing being pressurized.

Who You Going To Brag To About That

It's been sunny here, which means warm afternoons. Nights are cold, though. This morning I left early, thinking I could have a little ride before work. I had insufficiently bundled up and I ended up just riding straight to the post office. I went in the break room to hang out until we could start working, and the talk turned to what a colossal jerk Sean Hannity is. You know that guy on Fox News on the Sean Hannity show, nee Hannity and Colmes. Colmes apparently got tired of being cast as the Washington Generals.
Somebody said that Keith Olderman, of MSNBC had challenged Hannity about waterboarding to stop just talking, and walk the walk, or the plank, or something. I said that Keith Olderman was a jerk, too. The other guy said, "No, he's smart, you couldn't win an argument with him."
I said, "Big deal, I can't win an argument with my wife, either." For that matter, even the dogs are sort of intransigent about some things. Actually, the dog deserves a post of his own. We're about $2000 into dog health care since Monday. I don't want to get all into it, but for the health of your pancreas, the vet recommends changing your diet if you eat a lot of red meat and the neighbor's decomposing garbage.
Anyway, by the time I started delivering mail today, it had warmed up so I was wearing my uniform shorts. Now, for the purposes of this post, you'll have to imagine someone said, "Nice legs!" I turned my ankle daintily and looked down at them, "Oh, these old things?"
It was a beautiful day for a ride after work, but I didn't really have time for that. Especially after wasting so much time sitting on the curb shaking.

Always Wear Your Helmet

I had a pretty fun post scheduled for this afternoon. I was racing home to type it because I've got a lot to do before I go to Seattle on Friday. It was mostly driven (ha ha) out of my head when I was hit by a car on my bike. My bike is mostly fine according to the REI bike mechanic who sold it to me, who is a neighbor and also a witness to the accident. Apparently, like a lot of out of control bikers, I didn't signal and turned in front of a car. He slammed on his brakes, saving my life, but not his windshield which was destroyed. I'm fine, as far as I can tell.
If I remember the rest of the post, I may post it later.

Trivia Victory Was Within Reach

In fact, the winners were sitting at the next table.
Frustratingly, we knew the answer to the final, for the money, question, (Bob Fossse) but so did the people who had scored the highest tonight. They answered it correctly, and the pot, and our interest reset to near zero.

But Wait,

I first started having insomnia in the '50's. Back then, though, they just called it fussiness. Last night I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. Eventually, I turned on the TV. There is a lot of stuff for sale in the small hours to desperate people.. A lot of wonderful stuff if you can believe their claims.
I'm not sure you can, however. That could just be cynicism brought on by the fact that we have been lied to a lot for a long time. WMD, hedge fund risks, Watergate, Monica-gate, whatever the next -gate was. Maybe President Clinton was giving us a glimpse at the truth when he speculated about the meaning of, "is". Maybe.
Anyway, things are not what we've been told and I'm beginning to think that The Matrix is a documentary.

Maybe I Should Read the Whole Article Before I Talk About It.

The headline in today's paper said that the bad economy Outside was starting to have a Ripple effect in Alaska. I think people are just making excuses; when times are hard here, people have always turned to Ripple.
Even though they sound related, I don't think there's a connection between that, and what I'm calling Liver's Remorse. According to the Atlantic, people not only procrastinate doing things they don't enjoy, they put off doing fun stuff, too. Then they regret not doing the work, and the play. At the end of the day, every day, they feel bad about the choices they made. They're saying that life is hard, and despair is the only option. Okay, I made up that last part. Sorry.
The economy is bad. To stimulate it the government is spending money it doesn't have. A lot of it is imported from China. I imagine in the future, the Chinese will come to our capitol to see their capital. It could be a quick trip. Money is fungible, if you're in Washington, once you've seen the yuan, you can see the Mall.
Perhaps it's also related to the economy in Anchorage, or the budget legerdemain pulled by our new boy Senator before he rode his scooter out of town, but this year the Municipality has used the "melt in place" method of snow removal. Or maybe it's a spiritual thing, God put it there, let Him pick it up. So far, it appears he put it there for a Good reason.

Help Us... Oh, Never Mind

We continue to lose at trivia. The MC took pity on us last night; as we handed in the slip of paper with our answers, he told us, "That's wrong."
"Don't worry, we've got plenty more where that came from."

Racing to the Punch Line

I think I'm going to be on a relay team in the Fireweed. One member is faster than I am going up and down hills, and the other is faster going up. They're both faster on level ground, so basically I'm the team mascot. I just hope the big bobble head doesn't make it hard to breathe.

I just hope you thought that was funny, or funny and sad, because apparently "a successful joke implies insight, and insight, especially if it's pithy and self-explanatory, is the basic currency of a high-speed information economy."

Those Wacky Existentialists

On my route, there's a sign in a window. It's behind a curtain, so it can only be read from the outside. It says, "No Exit".
It made me feel like Sartre's mailman.*

*Je senti comme le facteur de Sartre.

Getting Mad, Then Going Mad

We were talking about rage killings. I don't get it. Who's got that kind of energy? I can barely sustain a sulk. Compared to beating someone for so long it's like smiling versus frowning; it just takes so much more effort.
Then they told me that Criminal Minds on CBS is sort of predictable because the suspect always turns out to be a white male between 25-40. So there you go, another opportunity squandered. By now, if I get involved with the police it will probably be because I'm getting very close to fitting the profile of a guy who shuffles off in his bedroom slippers and can't remember how to get home. Luckily, I don't have any bedroom slippers, but I'm just one ill-conceived Father's Day present away from dementia.
By the way, doesn't Dementia sound like a great name for a retirement home cover band?

I Train Year 'Round

Today one of my customers was complaining about the slow pace of breakup this year. "I know, I'm just so ready for winter to be over," I said.
"I've been irritated for months," she said.
"Beginner," I thought.

Easter morning scene. 2009

The Nexus Of Philology and Philately

If an envelope says "Do Not Bend" and we shred it, is there a moment during the shredding process where the paper is bent before tearing?
Do you know, by the way, that a working poet might receive as little as $15. for a poem?
That's why I didn't bother to ever submit this anywhere, I didn't want to be insulted, or offered too little money for it, but mostly I didn't want to be insulted.
You can send e-mail in instants
and it doesn't cost a dime.
It can cover a vast distance
in very little time.

So now even philatelists,
who love to see the postage,
have become real fatalists
using e-mail for the mostage.

So is there any reason
to use the Service Postal?
Is this their final season,
or at least almostal?

To us it isn't given
to pierce the future's veil.
You'll have to keep on livin'
to see how, "You've got mail."

I Do Know That Trivia Is From The Latin For Three Roads

At the junction of three roads, the Romans would build an inn. People meeting there would engage in small or "three road" talk. This is an example of the kind of knowledge rolling around in my head that is apparently too trivial for even a bar contest about trivia.

Oops, Not Subtle Enough

We had an election today here in Anchorage. Karen said the school district's budget is so large because when the Superintendent whines and complains, the current board buys her whatever she wants. "Man, I get that", I shouldn't have said.
Now I'm at a bar playing trivia with Leah. She brought me in as a ringer. It turns out the central feature of rings: empty space.

Don't Bother Looking Both Ways; You'll See This One Coming a Mile Away

Every day, he says, some of us get dressed, kiss our families goodbye, walk out the door and get run over by cement trucks.

I don't understand why a country that can convince us that they put a man on the moon can't find these cement trucks and stop them.
That reminds me of one of my favorite riddles from when I was a kid:
Mike: What's black and white and read all over and full of concrete?
Ike: I don't know, what?
Mike: A newspaper, I just put the concrete in to make it harder.

That reminds me of some other hoary old jokes.
Take the spoon out of the bowl.
You have a broken finger.
I'm smuggling wheelbarrows.
Don't be silly, I have three friends in the car.
And, finally, my mom's favorite joke, I don't care what it's been, I want to know what it is now.

Yesterday, I tried to think of a post that would be more interesting than "Look at me, look at me." I thought I was on to something at the end of the day when I launched into a pretty funny rant at work, but really, it was so jargon-filled and specific to the post office that I didn't think it would translate well.
Today, I decided to link to this. If you don't believe me when I talk about debt, maybe you'll believe somebody who fools people for a living.

Another Health Care Post

I know I've written about medicine and health care ad nauseam, but I just thought of that line.

Medicine You Can Shake a Stick At

All last fall I raged here about the poor health care Karen got while she was in (and out, and in) the hospital. Now, judging by the care Karen's friend isn't getting in a Las Vegas hospital, it appears Karen might have gotten the best care available in the Western world.
Maybe it's time to go back to the tried and true care our ancestors used.

What a Coincidence, Our Logo is an Eagle

I'm not trying to minimize how bad a bowler the president is, but we make the Special Olympics look like Mensa.
I was telling a co-worker today that our management's decisions have been so perverse lately that I was beginning to pick out things I wanted to buy during our going out of business liquidation sale. He said he thought that they could mismanage it, but that they wouldn't be able to kill it. He said "It's like the Eagle's song, 'They can stab it with their steely knives, but they just can't kill the beast.'"
Very encouraging, I guess, although the line about checking out (you can never leave) made me skeptical about any early retirement plans.

Life Goes On

Saturday afternoon, Anchorage got a light dusting of ash from Mt. Redoubt. It wasn't enough to really cause any damage or even inconvenience (unless you were trying to fly in or out). It did make the snow look kind of dingy and used, but the snow often looks like that this time of year. This morning we had a few inches of new snow and the world looked bright again. I'm sure there's a sermon in there somewhere about joy coming in the morning, the quality of mercy (raining down from heaven) or that God's compassion is renewed every day. In any event, there's new snow and we can resume our sleigh ride into the open maw of whatever awaits us. As the Beatles put it so poignantly, "Ob-la-di, ob-la-da,"

This Is Just So Crazy It Might Work

Letting the patients run the asylum doesn't work because we have never really tried letting the patients run the asylum. When you think about it, the incentives in a normal mental institution are all wrong. Keeping the people crazy is job security for the staff.
But I didn't come here to talk about real asylums, I want to talk about figurative asylums. Have they ever done longitudinal studies of giving workers more latitude? Do employees who are trusted to make decisions make better decisions than managers who don't know how to do the job in the first place?
While mail volumes and revenues are declining, postal managers are focusing on rearranging Managed Service Points. If you think of the Postal Service as a giant ship that takes a while to change course, like, say, the Titanic, then you could think of the MSP's as deck chairs.

Going With the Floe, Visiting Youth in Asia

Coincidentally, I was just talking about this, with Sarah. She wanted to know why she was paying so much for Medicare. I told her that it was insurance for health care in old age, but that here in Anchorage, no doctors would see Medicare patients so it was essentially a euthanasia program for people on their 65th birthday. "Oh, like the Eskimos used to do with ice bergs," she said.
Yeah, except they didn't have to pay for the ice berg.

Psst, Buddy

In case of a projected ashfall on Anchorage, the postal service and the NALC supposedly set up a buddy system to quickly alert the carriers to return to the post office. I don't think they did, though because nobody signed up to be my buddy.

Stream of Consciousness Outlook, Moderate to Severe Turbidity

Apparently there was panic in the stores last night when the volcano erupted. It was like a scene from Alas Babylon. I slept through it.
When I woke up, the news was that the president had made another joke. Two weeks ago, the buzz was that he had to lighten up. Now that he has, he's making light of people's suffering. I'd say he couldn't catch a break, but he must have caught a few; he is president.
Today at the post office they had us defer mail in order to be on and off the streets without overtime. They said it was because of ashfall, but I don't believe them. If that was the concern, they'd have had us take all the mail since the ash wasn't supposed to (and didn't) hit here today. I think it's because we're hemorrhaging red ink, perhaps from the 11¢ airmail stamp.
Yesterday at Costco I realized yet another way I've squandered this life and ruined my chances in the one to come. They had a book on display called Replay. The protagonist keeps dying and being reborn as his 18 year old self. Because of his knowledge of sports and stocks, he's able to become fabulously wealthy. Since I can't remember who is the current world champion anything, better yet, the ones from 35 years ago. I'd be completely helpless trying to parlay my knowledge of the world since 1972 into a fortune. About like I did this time through.

Dance, Druid, Dance. Then You Can Take a Shower, or Brush Your Teeth.

Today, the first day of spring, was a day of extremes. Okay, not extreme like cage fighting, or anything, but still, it was only slightly above zero when I went to work this morning, but by this afternoon when I rode over to the pharmacy (for the third time for one prescription) it was a lovely spring day. Well, that might be an extreme way of putting it since the snow berms on the streets are still about 4 feet high and the yards are still completely covered in snow, but it was warmer.
Also today, the bathroom remodel is completed for all practical purposes. If you want to park a clown car, or something impractical you'll have to wait, and there's still a little trim work that will probably never be finished.

Living in the Land of Milk and Honey. Not Really.

I'm not sure we appreciate how lucky we are to live in a place where metaphors are just figures of speech. You're supposed to buy stocks when there's blood in the streets. Things, schools maybe, are "from hell", and situations are defused.
I was listening to a news story recently. An Afghan man was saying that Americans don't respect their culture or religion. Later in the story they interviewed a 12 year old boy who had been stopped from exploding his suicide vest, but still planned on killing himself to kill non-Muslims.
Okay, this post is a little on the nose, but I went for a nice ride on the bike trail after work today. It was really pretty and the trail was great, but it's not always easy to turn that into a grumbly post.

Everett Dirksen is Gone, Long Live Everett Dirksen

Everett Dirksen is widely believed to have said, "A billion here, a billion there, and pretty soon you're talking about real money." He probably never said exactly that, and of course, now it seems hopelessly thrifty.
Autres temps, autres moeurs.

A Blog of Biblical Proportions

A couple of weeks ago, we almost went to church for the first time in months, but Karen's tubing came apart, and there was blood everywhere, and by the time we got everything back together, the moment had passed. The dogs kept sniffing the bloody nightgown, and then eying us, as if they were they thinking, "Mmmm, that smells delicious, and there's probably more inside those two."

Last week was "Spring Forward, Miss Church," week. This morning, though, we made it, and it was a revelation, if you don't mind that little bit of churchy vocab. First there was a 15 minute skit, that included a flashback, but then, according to the pastor, the largest proportion of the Psalms is lamentations, which he defined as complaints. So, he's saying that this blog isn't just a series of disjointed grumbling, but an actual cri du coeur, a lament, if you will.
He put the structure of a lamentation on the overhead, and then invited the congregation to write their own with the paper he'd provided. We had to leave before we could do that. I don't want to complain, but Karen's pain was out of control. I don't want to complain, I want to lament.

This is True, My Daughter is a Beauty Ambassador

Emily Dickinson said in one of her poems that truth and beauty are the same thing. Of course, having said that, she starts right away talking about dying; man, what is her problem? She's like the first post-gothic goth poet. I bet she painted her nails black. Which, surprisingly, brings me back to my point, that beauty itself involves a lot of artifice. That being so, we shouldn't expect the stark truth to have stand there in it's nakedness.
So, this morning's post contained two true stories, but neither one was especially interesting as presented. Of course I gained weight. It's true, but after watching TV for fifty years, that's what we might have expected. You might have, anyway. I was shocked and disappointed.
A man lighting a cigarette and blowing up his house was dealt with far more interestingly in Sometimes a Great Notion by Ken Kesey. In his version the mailman is just pushing a letter through the slot as Leland decides not to kill himself and lights a cigarette. The house is destroyed, the mailman blown across the yard, and Leland and the letter miraculously survive. What timing, the letter invites him to come home. And he needs a new place to stay.

Health Updates

...and the results are in.
After paying close attention to my diet, and exercising this week, I gained three pounds.

Smoking Carries Health Risks

Fire department Battalion Chief Bridget Bushue said the explosion apparently occurred as the injured man was lighting a cigarette in the garage of the home in the 7700 block of Island Drive. Investigators later picked up a natural gas leak in the home.

Maybe It's Baby Fat

This week I've tried to go for at least a short bike ride every day after work. It occurred to me that if I didn't lose my Christmas weight pretty soon, it was just going to be weight.

Not Keeping It In Perspective, and Then, Keeping It in Perspective, and Then, Not Keeping It In Perspective

I was going to show you the formula that Wired Magazine says destroyed our economy, but it just got too complicated, which might have been the problem in the first place. From there, the plan was to segue into a discussion of a possible formula to use at work. Last summer, as you may remember, our routes were "adjusted", perhaps by a chiropractor on crack cocaine. Now they're all, "We eliminated 3 routes, we should be saving time, why's all this mail piling up?"
Anyhoo, I had planned to talk about irritations (almost infinite, and expanding) at work, and the chances that I'd ever get my route caught up (infinitesimal and shrinking) but when I got home, I found something that put it all in perspective. Ellie has lost her pink ball, which means the world to her...
Except the phone rang, I got up and walked around while I was talking and I found her ball, so yeah, good for her, the post office sucks.

I See I've Been Wasting My Time

Man, that's true, and it's been going on awhile. All is vanity. But the proximate cause of this post, is an e-mail I just got that without admitting it's a fake, starts out by saying "True or not..."
Here I've been laboring to make these posts plausible, and now it turns out, I needn't have bothered.
Don't order pizza before you read this, at least if you live on my route:
You have to take job satisfaction where you can find it. Starting with my day off on Saturday, the managers at our station have been deferring mail on my route to cap overtime. Today, for the first time in years, I've actually deferred more mail than I'm delivering. Yay, me.
I'd hoped job satisfaction would be more, um satisfying.

Of Course, If You're Really Old, There's Not That Much Future To Fear

As an old, old man, Trout would be asked by Dr. Thor Lembrig the Secretary-General of the United Nations, if he feared the future. He would give this reply:
"Mr. Secretary-General, it is the past which scares the bejesus out of me."~from Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut

I don't want to spoil anyone's fun, but I just don't think rape is entertaining. That makes it almost impossible to watch Criminal Minds on CBS, or at least it did this week. While Karen watched it, I went back and surfed around on the computer. iTunes (which I see now is impossible to start a sentence with) has a section called "Essentials". In that section besides genres, and artists, they also have the seminal tracks by year. In no time at all, I was back in junior high.

If Starship Troopers Wasn't the Worst Movie Ever Made, Then Easy Rider Might Have Been a Contender

It's so exciting to get a comment on this blog that I feel bad taking issue with it, but I don't think that The Atlantic writer was recommending communal living instead of home ownership. I think that the gulag and Easy Rider (such a smug, preachy movie that I'm sure the hippies on the commune choked on their own self satisfaction) should have put paid to that notion. Ananias and Sapphira are always with us. There is also evidence that a nation of homeowners has social benefits. Here's a link to a completely unbiased report put together by the REALTORs
Our own American version of communal wealth sharing is, of course, Social Security. Here I need to mention something blindingly obvious; normally the spotlight on this blog is focused so tightly on my self pity that ants standing nearby might burst into flame. But for just a moment I'm broadening the beam slightly to mention that my sister's husband of many years passed away this weekend after a long, painful wasting away. Leah saw them when she was in Seattle last month, and thought he was in good spirits and amazingly sharp, but finally, as something will be for all of us, the disease was too much.
Social Security's web site, or more likely, Social Security itself, is too complicated for the uninitiated to understand. It appears, though, that people that are sixty years old can collect a survivor benefit, but not until they have been sixty for at least a month. I'm not trying to arouse outrage here, or even change the system, but doesn't that seem like an awfully specific and puzzling requirement?

Put Down This Blog and Pick Up a Book

Oh great, now I'm not just celebrating fifty years of nation destroying home ownership, but apparently I'm also contributing to the death of literature:

The democracy of the new medium is a good thing, of course, but like our democratic society itself, the Internet tends to encourage amateurism and atomization. It is hard to see how a writer like Johnson could arise in a future when writing is something done casually, in brief blog bursts in one's spare time. And it may not be long before the kind of professional confidence and expertise that Johnson cultivated over a lifetime of paid work will appear as regrettably obsolete as books and newspapers themselves.-Adam Kirsch writing in Slate Magazine

Yesterday the builder brought by the shower door and the toilet. He didn't install them because he assumed I wasn't through painting.
It turns out, though, that once again we're doing and celebrating exactly the wrong thing. According to an article in the Atlantic, it's home ownership that has brought this country to its knees. Renters can more nimbly respond to economic changes, and high levels of home ownership have resulted in long commutes, a barren suburban culture, SUV's and pollution. All this could be remedied, the author says, if the government would eliminate tax preferences for home ownership. As it is, it almost never makes financial sense to buy anyway, according to this calculator.
All well and good, I suppose. I wasn't planning on selling this house until I retired and what with the whole country brought to its knees thing, I won't be doing that anytime soon.
In the meantime, I probably won't be getting an HDTV anytime soon, either. Karen and I were assaulted by the unavoidable display at Costco the other day. The guy on TV had acne, and it was pretty disgusting. NPR did a story about it today About the problem make-up artists have, not about how aggressively Costco is pushing TV's at us. They said that in the early days of television, they softened aging actresses crow's feet by putting gauze over the camera lens. Honestly, now they just need to put it on the actors' faces. This isn't a problem on our TV which basically just presents us with dialogue over a Rorschach test.

Cheddar is Also Orange

When considering a bad paint job, I don't want to minimize the importance of surface preparation. But a truly bad paint job will also include bad color choice, bad technique, and the forgetting to wipe up spills, or at least mine will, judging by the bathroom I just painted.
But then I went for a bike ride this afternoon, and noticed how God's sun spilled orange light onto the snow, and how it changed color as the sun set. I realized how ephemeral this life is, and how unimportant the paint in the bathroom is. And how cheesy this post would be.

Now I'm Just Killing Time, But Please Note, Not Myself

I should be back painting the bathroom, but I really, really hate painting, so now I'm just killing time. I applied for life insurance recently and was denied the best possible rate because I take Zoloft. So, if I was still jumpy and suicidal, no problem. But, serene and mellow: a higher risk. Wait, what? You're saying I'm not serene and mellow? Why you little....

Now It's Personal

We're grocery shopping while we wait for the primer to dry in the bathroom. They say that surface prep is 90% of a good paint job. I didn't do very much prepping so we'll see what percent it is of a bad job.
When we were at Costco they had a two sink vanity with a granite top for less than we paid for just our new top. Another way to look at it is that it's also cheaper than what we paid for just our new vanity. Karen always wanted the Costco one, but it's been out of stock for years; until we special ordered our new ones.
I get that the universe is taunting me, but why? And what do we make of a cosmos that's so childish? I mean that's not exactly Noel Coward. It's not even as clever as that old one about being afraid of Christmas, being a Noel coward.

Life's a Journey, Anway You Want It

I suppose life is a journey, although the only reason I mention it is that I was just at iTunes and I have a Journey song stuck in my head. Life's a journey, but you should be, here, now.
You should be here now, you could help me paint the bathroom. Karen and I are going to go buy the paint in a few minutes. She watches a lot of HGTV, so she knows which colors go together (and which ones won't go together even if it means missing the prom completely). It's a theoretical knowledge since she's color blind. I can recognize colors, but I don't like to play favorites. So, once again to Bob Dylan:

We always did feel the same,
We just saw it from a different point of view,
Tangled up in blue

You Can See This

A couple of days ago I put up a post titled, "Too Bad You Can't See This". In an ironic twist, a few minutes later, I decided it wasn't even up to the low standards I've already set, and I took it back down. It's too bad, but you can't see it.
On Monday, we had a drain guy here to clean out our drains. It seemed like a good time to tackle the slow drains in the bathroom (we have two sinks there) that's being remodeled since the contractor called to say he was in Skwenta butchering a moose he'd just killed. The original sinks and vanities were gone, so there are just two stubs sticking out of the wall. They use the same model the Postal Service does, you pays your money and you takes your chances. He was here, and billed, for three hours, but his snake just went in the pipe for one sink and came peeking out the other. Apparently there was some kind of clog in the main line.

When Salsa is Illegal, Only Terrorists Will Have Salsa

Last night we joined our friends Rich and Barb at the Sahara restaurant. It features Middle Eastern foods such as "Nights in Beirut", a delicious dessert. Karen's meal came with a sauce so hot that I said that the if you enjoyed that, the only logical next step would be to strap on a dynamite vest.
Barb said, "A gateway salsa."

Today's the day we're not having a big party to celebrate moving into this house 50 years ago.
More later if I think of it.
Otherwise, Happy Valentine's Day.

Why Fly to Stockholm When You Can Be Held Hostage Right Here.

I'm going to take a break from my usual practice of complaining about the post office and doctors, and for a change I'm going to complain about airlines, specifically airlines flying to Alaska. Leah is traveling next week, and she wanted to buy a ticket. The airlines charge almost six times as much per mile for travel in the so-called continental US as for travel to and from Alaska. One possibility might be that jet fuel costs more up here, but that's not it since a state investigation found that Anchorage gas prices are the highest in the nation because the two refineries up here sell jet fuel below cost to be competitive and subsidize that by gouging Alaska drivers.
Maybe you think it's because it's more expensive to fly north because you're always going up, but then the return flight down the map should be free. I'm beginning to think it's because airlines are run by venal accountants who know exactly what our choices are.

Shooting Fish In A Barrel Would Be A Lot Harder If The Fish Had Guns

Our supervisor read us a letter today from the Postmaster about cost cutting occasioned by the recession and the associated, and unprecedented, drop in mail volume. While he read it, we stood in front of our new and worthless cases.

You Can Call Me Al

Even though I watched a video this afternoon that claimed that Muslims are all fanatics, and a rebuttal that essentially consisted of "Nuh uh, death to Israel", I just made reservations at a restaurant called Sahara. Who's intolerant now?

We're In Pretty Deep, Grab Your Shovel

Here's a link to a chart that shows how much things have changed in the last eight years. Americans used to save about 2.3% of their income, and were derided for their spendthrift ways. Now we save about .6% and we're told we're not spending enough.
(Extremely) gross federal debt was 58% of GDP and now it's 67.5%, and we're about to borrow another trillion dollars.
Even if I remodel all my bathrooms every day, and at my age, I really can't hold it that long, it would take, according to Google, a really long time to stimulate the economy enough to pay back all that borrowing. And do we want to live in a world with a bunch of testy old men grimacing and crossing their legs?

Do You Remember the Sub-Prime Mortgage Crisis?

I don't know nothin' bout nothin' at all.

Still, I thought our current economic crisis was brought about because so much money was loaned to so many people that had no chance of ever paying it back, and that this easy access to credit drove house prices up until the people that never could pay the money back, never did. I guess I don't understand how piling a trillion dollars (that's a 1, with a lot of zeroes after it)* more debt onto this (foreclosed) house of cards will make things better.

*A little research reveals that in America a trillion has twelve zeroes, but in hide-bound England which is much more leery about letting the noveau riche into society, a trillion has eighteen zeroes. Keep dreaming, Bill Gates

Patriotism is the Last Refuge of Spendthrifts

So, in the last six weeks, we've had to buy new snowtires and a new washing machine. Now we're putting small business men to work remodeling our bathroom. I can only do so much by myself, but based on our activity, the economy should be more than stimulated, it should be tingling. Chris Matthews would be thrilled to interview us.

Deconstructing American Idol

Yesterday it was cold and breezy. As the day went on, I gradually added layers of clothing including my no-fog face mask. By the end of the day, I looked like Darth Vader and the Michelin Man's love child. I was going around saying stuff like, "Luke, I'm your father...don't forget to rotate your tires." By the way, I know they're both men. I assume they would have met at the the Clone Bars.

According to new research, ignorance is bliss. People who are of average skill or above are fairly accurate at judging their own abilities. People with no skill lack the capacity to even know how bad they are. I don't know if this is related, but for one reason (or, pathetically more likely) another, I think this is a really cool blog.

Tiger Woods Doesn't Endorse Toilets

I've been in the market for a new toilet. Apparently the Maelstrom measure of toilets, or at least some toilets, is measured in ability to flush golf balls. I hate golf as much as the next man, and I've had my share of digestive upsets, but I'm not sure how relevant golf balls are to flushing. I know Oreck used to advertise that their vacuums could pick up a bowling ball. Their competitors said that was an irrelevant measure. Now, if you had a toilet that could flush bowling balls, then you'd have something.
We also just bought a new medicine cabinet. It's so plain that even Jane couldn't bring herself to use it.