Greetings from Albuquerque
Is that the only name or word in our language that has 3 u's in it? I need to know these things. Alas... as you can see we've covered some serious ground in these 2 days. It means we haven't had a lot of picture stops... in fact... we've had precisely none. But that will change tomarrow. I planned it this way. I wanted to leave time tomarrow to hit some of the cool sites in Arizona... like the big crater... the so-called Land of Fire and Ice... stuff that will be a big hit for the boys. We aren't planning on being at Williams until late tomarrow night anyway... so we're good.
Of course... most of the day was once again spent on concrete roads. I swear I'm pissing blood. But at least after we hit New Mexico we had stuff to look at. Man is it gorgeous out here. We drove just south of a storm front for a good 80 miles out here... you could see the whole thing. Lots of lightening... lots of rain... just like cloud curtains slithering down to earth... stunning.
We don't have that back east boys. Big Sky Country has already made the impression that I knew it would.
The down side off course is that constant 30mph wind from the southwest. God does that suck. A well.. at least its not hot. It only got up to 102 today.. but it felt a damn site cooler than what 102 feels like at home. 102 back there will kill you. This wasn't a big deal. The wind was more irritating than the heat.
Now to make things more interesting... I'm camping next to a modern day Virgil Earp. White hair... handlebar mustache... walks around carryin' a mil spec 1911 cocked and locked in a korea era leather holster (I have one just like it). Way cool. Told me he drove down from Alaska.
He spat and said... "Fuckin' Canada. Gas was $7.45 there. God Damned Commie fuckers. All to pay for insurance cards that they can carry around and not get healthcare with. Then he spat again... and said, "That fuckin' spook president of ours... he wants that same shit. (Pats the 1911) Well I got something for him if he does."
Oh... by the way...
Wanna feel old?
Today was Elkan's second birthday. Celebrated on the road with his favorite toys and favorite food. He's even getting to swim here at the campground. Big stuff y'all.
I'm gonna sign off. Time for a shower and cigar. Big day tomarrow. Big damned day.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Thursday, July 09, 2009
Greetings from Wal-Mart
Those of you unfamiliar with the RV lifestyle will no doubt find this odd... but tonight I'm blogging from a parking lot just west of Oklahoma City. See Wally World has a company policy that allows RVs to stay overnight in the parking lots of their stores.
Hey... its convenient... and free.
Its been a good day... in spite of the fact that people from Mexico think Oklahoma's roads suck. I mean they're 1 step up from Meeechigan's pathetic system. I'll probably piss blood from the beating we took on these "roads" today.
I swear anyone who advocates concrete interstates should be beaten within an inch of their lives.
Anyway... highlight of the day was definately driving down the road with the family singing American Pie at the top of their lungs.
Yes.
We're dorks.
We'll be somewhere in New Mexico the next time I blog I reckon. I'll start providing some pictures when we have something worth taking a photo of.
Those of you unfamiliar with the RV lifestyle will no doubt find this odd... but tonight I'm blogging from a parking lot just west of Oklahoma City. See Wally World has a company policy that allows RVs to stay overnight in the parking lots of their stores.
Hey... its convenient... and free.
Its been a good day... in spite of the fact that people from Mexico think Oklahoma's roads suck. I mean they're 1 step up from Meeechigan's pathetic system. I'll probably piss blood from the beating we took on these "roads" today.
I swear anyone who advocates concrete interstates should be beaten within an inch of their lives.
Anyway... highlight of the day was definately driving down the road with the family singing American Pie at the top of their lungs.
Yes.
We're dorks.
We'll be somewhere in New Mexico the next time I blog I reckon. I'll start providing some pictures when we have something worth taking a photo of.
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Nothing to Show for It
* Taipei 101 is the worlds tallest completed building. It cost 1.8 billion to build. We could've built 388 of them.
* Wembley Stadium is the most expensive stadium ever built. It cost 1.5 billion. We could've built 466 of them.
* The new Cowboys Stadium in Texas costs 1 billion. We could've put 14 of them in each and every state of the union.
* Burg Al Arab is the third tallest hotel building in the world and worlds only 7-Star hotel. We could've built 1,076 of them and spread them all over the interstate system of America. There would be 21 of them in Iowa alone.
* Boston's Big Dig cost 14 billion. We reproduced it in the 50 largest cities in America.
* CERN... the scientific marvel... cost 6 billion. We could've built 116 of them.
TARP I and TARP II combined add up to 700 billion dollars in government expense. Now... 700 billion is a big number. Its so big in fact that its hard for the average human to grasp. They hear 700 billion but their brain just classifies that as a really big number. If you'd said 600 million their brain would've done the same thing. There's no difference without scale.
With that in mind... I want to show you some scale.
Here are some construction projects... and examples of what we could've done with that 700 billion.
* Taipei 101 is the worlds tallest completed building. It cost 1.8 billion to build. We could've built 388 of them. 
* Wembley Stadium is the most expensive stadium ever built. It cost 1.5 billion. We could've built 466 of them. 
* The new Cowboys Stadium in Texas costs 1 billion. We could've put 14 of them in each and every state of the union. 
* Burg Al Arab is the third tallest hotel building in the world and worlds only 7-Star hotel. We could've built 1,076 of them and spread them all over the interstate system of America. There would be 21 of them in Iowa alone.
* Boston's Big Dig cost 14 billion. We reproduced it in the 50 largest cities in America.
* CERN... the scientific marvel... cost 6 billion. We could've built 116 of them.* NASA requested 3.6 billion to send men to the Moon and then on to Mars. That is one half of one percent of the cost of the TARP program. Sorry... no picture of this program. We couldn't afford to do it.
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Epic Journey
I do not throw the word "epic" around lightly. So when I say we are on the verge of heading out on such a trip... you may trust that hyperbole has not paid a visit.
We sit at T minus 33 hours.
At 6:30am Thursday morning we roll for the Grand Canyon. 1556 miles. 26 hours driving time. Its been decades since I've seen it. My wife has never seen it. My boys have never seen it. Hell... now that I think of it... they've never been west of Dallas. I fully expect New Mexico to rock their world.
I'm not allowing myself the luxury of a massive itinerary. Its to long a trip for that. I have to stay focused. We're going to the Canyon. After that... who knows. We may head over to Lake Havasu and check out London Bridge... and on the way home I mean to stop in Colorado Springs and check out the Tesla Museum. Monument Valley would obviously be worth a look if its at all possible... but all of that has to wait. For now its the Canyon.
I know I suck at posting pictures and updates from these trips... but I promise to do better this time. I've tested my phone and its working well as a wireless modem. We're all set. Look forward to some ridiculous pictures.
I don't know if you've ever been on an RV trip... but I'll do everything I can to help ya feel like you're coming along on this one.
So... to give you the particulars... we'll be heading out from Nashville west on I-40 all the way to Arizona. All but the last 54 miles will be on I-40. We'll be in our 2005 Itasca Suncruiser. Same RV as the one in the picture up there. Its got the GM 8.1 litre and fully loaded down gets about 7.5mpg. Its got 2 slide outs and all the comforts of home. Every whistle and bell you can imagine is there. Just finished the shake-down trip this weekend and learned I need tires. I've made arrangements to get her shod tomorrow.
The rig sleeps 6. Couch makes a queen bed... dinette makes a bed... and Julie and I get the bedroom. If you count Elkan's crib it sleeps 7. We usually don't worry with the dinette. The rig has Corian counter tops and stainless steel appliances in the fully functional kitchen. Its got more storage than most European kitchens. No offense Spacebunny. We can store several weeks worth of food. Hard to imagine in an RV. The rig has a huge shower in a huge bathroom. Two people can use it... maybe three.
So I've got a CB... I've got redundant heat.. both gas and electric. I've got an Onan generator that puts out 50amps. I've got dual power fridge... gas and electric. The water heater is the only system that is not redundant. I've got a backup camera... nav system...everything a man needs. No seriously... this thing is so loaded it has a remote automatic awning that monitors the wind direction and speed and will close itself if it gets to rough outside.
Of course it has to have that awning. I mean.. we can't be playing Wii on the outdoor entertainment center in the rain now can we? Yes. Yes. This is camping. Wii on an LCD screen... outside. I dare say even Vox could camp like this. And don't tell me we're not roughing it. We're only talking about a 27 inch screen here. It makes that little tennis ball very hard to see.
Oh... and in motion satellite. There is something very satisfying driving down the interstate at 70mph with excellent satellite reception. Oh... and did I mention it has a humidor?
All right boys... more updates as necessary.
I do not throw the word "epic" around lightly. So when I say we are on the verge of heading out on such a trip... you may trust that hyperbole has not paid a visit.We sit at T minus 33 hours.
At 6:30am Thursday morning we roll for the Grand Canyon. 1556 miles. 26 hours driving time. Its been decades since I've seen it. My wife has never seen it. My boys have never seen it. Hell... now that I think of it... they've never been west of Dallas. I fully expect New Mexico to rock their world.
I'm not allowing myself the luxury of a massive itinerary. Its to long a trip for that. I have to stay focused. We're going to the Canyon. After that... who knows. We may head over to Lake Havasu and check out London Bridge... and on the way home I mean to stop in Colorado Springs and check out the Tesla Museum. Monument Valley would obviously be worth a look if its at all possible... but all of that has to wait. For now its the Canyon.
I know I suck at posting pictures and updates from these trips... but I promise to do better this time. I've tested my phone and its working well as a wireless modem. We're all set. Look forward to some ridiculous pictures.
I don't know if you've ever been on an RV trip... but I'll do everything I can to help ya feel like you're coming along on this one.
So... to give you the particulars... we'll be heading out from Nashville west on I-40 all the way to Arizona. All but the last 54 miles will be on I-40. We'll be in our 2005 Itasca Suncruiser. Same RV as the one in the picture up there. Its got the GM 8.1 litre and fully loaded down gets about 7.5mpg. Its got 2 slide outs and all the comforts of home. Every whistle and bell you can imagine is there. Just finished the shake-down trip this weekend and learned I need tires. I've made arrangements to get her shod tomorrow.
The rig sleeps 6. Couch makes a queen bed... dinette makes a bed... and Julie and I get the bedroom. If you count Elkan's crib it sleeps 7. We usually don't worry with the dinette. The rig has Corian counter tops and stainless steel appliances in the fully functional kitchen. Its got more storage than most European kitchens. No offense Spacebunny. We can store several weeks worth of food. Hard to imagine in an RV. The rig has a huge shower in a huge bathroom. Two people can use it... maybe three.
So I've got a CB... I've got redundant heat.. both gas and electric. I've got an Onan generator that puts out 50amps. I've got dual power fridge... gas and electric. The water heater is the only system that is not redundant. I've got a backup camera... nav system...everything a man needs. No seriously... this thing is so loaded it has a remote automatic awning that monitors the wind direction and speed and will close itself if it gets to rough outside.
Of course it has to have that awning. I mean.. we can't be playing Wii on the outdoor entertainment center in the rain now can we? Yes. Yes. This is camping. Wii on an LCD screen... outside. I dare say even Vox could camp like this. And don't tell me we're not roughing it. We're only talking about a 27 inch screen here. It makes that little tennis ball very hard to see.
Oh... and in motion satellite. There is something very satisfying driving down the interstate at 70mph with excellent satellite reception. Oh... and did I mention it has a humidor?
All right boys... more updates as necessary.
Monday, July 06, 2009
What We Know and What We Don't
***UPDADTED***
Ok... the bloggerblaster ain't gonna turn into TMZ... but I will update you on the situation so far.
* The police have still not declared this a murder-suicide.
* They are very concerned about the length of time between the discovery of the bodies and 911 call. It took 40 minutes.
* There is reason to believe that evidence was moved around in the room before the police arrived on the scene. But the police are adamand that the bodies were not moved.
* The chick was arrested for DUI.. and purchased the firearm found on the scene less than 12 hours later from a private individual who didn't realize she was under 21.
* 5 shots total fired. 3 at greater than 3 feet hit McNair. 1 up close to his temple. 1 to her temple with the weapon flush against her head.
Now do keep in mind... this is not CSI. This is the real world.. and here in the real world they really can't tell you what caliber weapon killed someone if they don't find the cartridge and read the stamp on the bottom of it. Also... remember... Ballistic information is entirely fictional.
Anyway.. its entirely possible that this was a murder suicide. I would just caution you all to remember that this girl had probably never shot a weapon before... and she scored 5 hits in 5 shots... including 1 head shot at greater than 3 feet... and she did this in such a manner that a world class athlete that was known to go heels didn't so much as touch his own weapon.
It doesn't smell right folks. It really doesn't smell right.
***
Police have finally reported that the weapon recovered under the girl's body was a semi-automatic. They've also stated that McNair was shot 2 times in the chest... and 1 time in each temple. One of the temple shots was from a distance.
Yeah... a rookie did this. Right.
***UPDADTED***
Ok... the bloggerblaster ain't gonna turn into TMZ... but I will update you on the situation so far.
* The police have still not declared this a murder-suicide.
* They are very concerned about the length of time between the discovery of the bodies and 911 call. It took 40 minutes.
* There is reason to believe that evidence was moved around in the room before the police arrived on the scene. But the police are adamand that the bodies were not moved.
* The chick was arrested for DUI.. and purchased the firearm found on the scene less than 12 hours later from a private individual who didn't realize she was under 21.
* 5 shots total fired. 3 at greater than 3 feet hit McNair. 1 up close to his temple. 1 to her temple with the weapon flush against her head.
Now do keep in mind... this is not CSI. This is the real world.. and here in the real world they really can't tell you what caliber weapon killed someone if they don't find the cartridge and read the stamp on the bottom of it. Also... remember... Ballistic information is entirely fictional.
Anyway.. its entirely possible that this was a murder suicide. I would just caution you all to remember that this girl had probably never shot a weapon before... and she scored 5 hits in 5 shots... including 1 head shot at greater than 3 feet... and she did this in such a manner that a world class athlete that was known to go heels didn't so much as touch his own weapon.
It doesn't smell right folks. It really doesn't smell right.
***
Police have finally reported that the weapon recovered under the girl's body was a semi-automatic. They've also stated that McNair was shot 2 times in the chest... and 1 time in each temple. One of the temple shots was from a distance.
Yeah... a rookie did this. Right.
Chickens and Eggs
Here's a question... Which came first Christianity or Judaism?
The Hebrew trace their religion all the way back to Abraham. So on the surface the answer is obvious... But does piety begin with that paterfamilias?
What of Noah? What of Noah's sons? Where they not both pius? If one calls those pius men from Abraham onward Hewbrew... and from Christ on Christian... what does one call those who came before Abraham?
Noah was not circumcised. He didn't avoid certain foods. Nor is there any record of him honoring a particular sabbath or another. He kept no feasts... and yet there can be no doubt that he was a man of God.
Piety existed before the Law given to Moses. It existed in men who were described as such not for keeping any laws, but for their love of the Lord and their treatment of others. Therefore I should say that if one were to describe these men as Christian, in fact if not in name, then one wouldn't be far from the truth.
Christianity is not an Abrahamic Religion. Its far more ancient than that.
Here's a question... Which came first Christianity or Judaism?
The Hebrew trace their religion all the way back to Abraham. So on the surface the answer is obvious... But does piety begin with that paterfamilias?
What of Noah? What of Noah's sons? Where they not both pius? If one calls those pius men from Abraham onward Hewbrew... and from Christ on Christian... what does one call those who came before Abraham?
Noah was not circumcised. He didn't avoid certain foods. Nor is there any record of him honoring a particular sabbath or another. He kept no feasts... and yet there can be no doubt that he was a man of God.
Piety existed before the Law given to Moses. It existed in men who were described as such not for keeping any laws, but for their love of the Lord and their treatment of others. Therefore I should say that if one were to describe these men as Christian, in fact if not in name, then one wouldn't be far from the truth.
Christianity is not an Abrahamic Religion. Its far more ancient than that.
Saturday, July 04, 2009
On the Death of a Warrior
Steve McNair was not my hero. He was not my favorite player on the Titans teams he lead. But he did lead them. He was the undisputed leader of a football team in a way that most quarterbacks will never be.
I don't know the details. I'm not even in Nashville right now. I'll povide some links to more thoughtful reaction from those who knew the man. Right now...
Right now I'm gonna drink.
Steve McNair was not my hero. He was not my favorite player on the Titans teams he lead. But he did lead them. He was the undisputed leader of a football team in a way that most quarterbacks will never be.
I don't know the details. I'm not even in Nashville right now. I'll povide some links to more thoughtful reaction from those who knew the man. Right now...
Right now I'm gonna drink.
Friday, July 03, 2009
Daddy Blogging
I've said if before but if we'd known what kind of pure entertainment value there is in having kids... we would've done it sooner. Now... all you serious intellectual bloggers can turn your noses up because I'm about to tell a story or two about my boys.
So the other day Jeb comes walking down stairs with his hand over his eye. He's not really crying... but he's obviously hurting pretty bad.
"Daddy... Daddy... Eli stabbed me in the eye with his red sword... and it hurts so bad I lost my jay."
...
Don't get me wrong. I'm certain that Eli didn't stab Jeb in the eye deliberately. Not that he wouldn't under the right circumstances but the child just doesn't have that kind of deadly skill... yet. After determining that no real damage had been done I had some questions...
"Well... we were sword fighting... and I went like this! chish chishh shwoosh! Then Eli went swish! and he stabbed me in the eye and I lost my jay."
...
"You lost your Jay?"
"Yeah... I lost my Jay."
...
"So now you're just... Eb?"
"Yeah... I'm just Eb. I lost my J."
I've said if before but if we'd known what kind of pure entertainment value there is in having kids... we would've done it sooner. Now... all you serious intellectual bloggers can turn your noses up because I'm about to tell a story or two about my boys.
So the other day Jeb comes walking down stairs with his hand over his eye. He's not really crying... but he's obviously hurting pretty bad.
"Daddy... Daddy... Eli stabbed me in the eye with his red sword... and it hurts so bad I lost my jay."
...
Don't get me wrong. I'm certain that Eli didn't stab Jeb in the eye deliberately. Not that he wouldn't under the right circumstances but the child just doesn't have that kind of deadly skill... yet. After determining that no real damage had been done I had some questions...
"Well... we were sword fighting... and I went like this! chish chishh shwoosh! Then Eli went swish! and he stabbed me in the eye and I lost my jay."
...
"You lost your Jay?"
"Yeah... I lost my Jay."
...
"So now you're just... Eb?"
"Yeah... I'm just Eb. I lost my J."
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Suggestion, Cognitive Dissonance, and a Trip to Lourdes
Professor Hale offered this comment in the ghost thread:
"I think you have to be suggestible in nature to see such things. Kind of like why only Catholics see Mary, only UFO nuts see them, and only Pentacostals see and cast out demons everywhere."
I'm not one to let an opportunity like this pass. So I have a question for you. Have you ever heard the name Emile Zola? Its no shame that you probably haven't. Indeed its a credit to mankind that his name has largely been forgotten.
Now... why bring him up here?
See... Emile was a famous novelist in the 1890s... and he was a world class prick. He was a thorough prick though. He had a reputation for meticulous research and he was revered among the elites of the day... but again... he was a prick. He was the kind of prick that would ask a christian how someone could believe in God in an age of telegraphs and steam engines.
Emile had a lot in common with Richard Dawkins. But come... let's hear more of his story.
Now ol' Emile had a particular hatred for Lourdes and the claims of miracles that happened there. So much so that he famously announced that he was going to write a scathing novel debunking them... and in 1896... he traveled there to research his project.
I'm not at all certain if you know about what happened at Lourdes but to make a long story short... its a place of Christian Pilgrimage where folks came to pray and repent. There also were frequent healings in the baths there.
So on his way to Lourdes Emile met a girl with a trifecta of afflictions. She had tuberculosis in both lungs... Lupus... and leg ulcerations. Her name was Marie Lemarchande. Zola became quite close to her and also befriended some local medical doctors when they arrived at Lourdes. In fact... when Marie went into the baths one of the doctors, Dr Bossiarree, who was president of the medical bureau, was standing next to him.
Imagine their surprise when Marie came out of the baths completely healed. Bossiarree was amazed. He said, "Behold Monsieur Zola! The case of your dreams!" But Zola turned away. He refused to look at her... and claimed she was still ugly to him.
As if it was not enough... God forced Zola to witness at least one more healing in Lourdes...
And yet when his novel came out... he claimed neither healing actually happened. In his novel "Lourdes" he claimed that the healings were just the result of suggestion and an atmosphere of hysteria... and that neither had lasting effects. He wrote that, in spite of the fact that he remained in close contact with Marie for 16 years after the trip and knew she was permanently healed.
Bossiarree confronted Emile Zola about the false claims... and his reply was... "Its my art. I can say what I want to say."
He had come to Lourdes claiming to only want to see a cut finger dipped in the water and healed. While there he'd seen at least two bona fide miracles that were documented by medical professionals. Yet still... he refused to see... and knowingly lied in his novel.
And that Professor Hale... is all I have to say about Suggestion.
Professor Hale offered this comment in the ghost thread:
"I think you have to be suggestible in nature to see such things. Kind of like why only Catholics see Mary, only UFO nuts see them, and only Pentacostals see and cast out demons everywhere."
I'm not one to let an opportunity like this pass. So I have a question for you. Have you ever heard the name Emile Zola? Its no shame that you probably haven't. Indeed its a credit to mankind that his name has largely been forgotten.
Now... why bring him up here?
See... Emile was a famous novelist in the 1890s... and he was a world class prick. He was a thorough prick though. He had a reputation for meticulous research and he was revered among the elites of the day... but again... he was a prick. He was the kind of prick that would ask a christian how someone could believe in God in an age of telegraphs and steam engines.
Emile had a lot in common with Richard Dawkins. But come... let's hear more of his story.
Now ol' Emile had a particular hatred for Lourdes and the claims of miracles that happened there. So much so that he famously announced that he was going to write a scathing novel debunking them... and in 1896... he traveled there to research his project.
I'm not at all certain if you know about what happened at Lourdes but to make a long story short... its a place of Christian Pilgrimage where folks came to pray and repent. There also were frequent healings in the baths there.
So on his way to Lourdes Emile met a girl with a trifecta of afflictions. She had tuberculosis in both lungs... Lupus... and leg ulcerations. Her name was Marie Lemarchande. Zola became quite close to her and also befriended some local medical doctors when they arrived at Lourdes. In fact... when Marie went into the baths one of the doctors, Dr Bossiarree, who was president of the medical bureau, was standing next to him.
Imagine their surprise when Marie came out of the baths completely healed. Bossiarree was amazed. He said, "Behold Monsieur Zola! The case of your dreams!" But Zola turned away. He refused to look at her... and claimed she was still ugly to him.
As if it was not enough... God forced Zola to witness at least one more healing in Lourdes...
And yet when his novel came out... he claimed neither healing actually happened. In his novel "Lourdes" he claimed that the healings were just the result of suggestion and an atmosphere of hysteria... and that neither had lasting effects. He wrote that, in spite of the fact that he remained in close contact with Marie for 16 years after the trip and knew she was permanently healed.
Bossiarree confronted Emile Zola about the false claims... and his reply was... "Its my art. I can say what I want to say."
He had come to Lourdes claiming to only want to see a cut finger dipped in the water and healed. While there he'd seen at least two bona fide miracles that were documented by medical professionals. Yet still... he refused to see... and knowingly lied in his novel.
And that Professor Hale... is all I have to say about Suggestion.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Two Up and Rollin'
Time for an update. JAC and I are still out with the girls. Spent all day yesterday letting them wander around the Biltmore... then it was back up to the Blue Ridge Parkway for more ridin'. We made a buzz through Little Switzerland and thought about some far off friends... but there was no room at the inn. No worries. Its the South. If they don't have a room... they find you one. And they did.
Time for an update. JAC and I are still out with the girls. Spent all day yesterday letting them wander around the Biltmore... then it was back up to the Blue Ridge Parkway for more ridin'. We made a buzz through Little Switzerland and thought about some far off friends... but there was no room at the inn. No worries. Its the South. If they don't have a room... they find you one. And they did.We ain't much interested in comin' home yet. So we ain't gonna.
More updates over at JAC's. Hit the link to Threeway on the sidebar.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Blue Ridge Bound
Well we're gettin' a late start... and as usual its my own damned fault. Still... a late start is better than no start at all. 5 days in the mountains. We'll be riding the Dragon and the Blue Ridge Parkway. We may even find our way to Mayberry and visit Floyd's Barbershop.
Y'all be good.
You may expect nightly updates.
Well we're gettin' a late start... and as usual its my own damned fault. Still... a late start is better than no start at all. 5 days in the mountains. We'll be riding the Dragon and the Blue Ridge Parkway. We may even find our way to Mayberry and visit Floyd's Barbershop.
Y'all be good.
You may expect nightly updates.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Aspen 20 - Ground Speed Check
*** I did not write this. To my knowledge the author is anonymous. ***
There were a lot of things we couldn't do in an SR-71 Blackbird (The Air Force/NASA super fast, highest flying reconnaissance jet, nicknamed, "The Sled"), but we were the fastest guys on the block and loved reminding our fellow aviators of this fact. People often asked us if, because of this fact, it was fun to fly the jet. Fun would not be the first word I would use to describe flying this plane - intense, maybe, even cerebral. But there was one day in our Sled experience when we would have to say that it was pure fun to be the fastest guys out there, at least for a moment.
It occurred when Walt and I were flying our final training sortie. We needed 100 hours in the jet to complete our training and attain Mission Ready status. Somewhere over Colorado we had passed the century mark. We had made the turn in Arizona and the jet was performing flawlessly. My gauges were wired in the front seat and we were starting to feel pretty good about ourselves, not only because we would soon be flying real missions but because we had gained a great deal of confidence in the plane in the past ten months. Ripping across the barren deserts 80,000 feet below us, I could already see the coast of California from the Arizona border.
I was, finally, after many humbling months of simulators and study, ahead of the jet. I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for Walter in the back seat. There he was, with no really good view of the incredible sights before us, tasked with monitoring four different radios. This was good practice for him for when we began flying real missions, when a priority transmission from headquarters could be vital. It had been difficult, too, for me to relinquish control of the radios, as during my entire flying career I had controlled my own transmissions. But it was part of the division of duties in this plane and I had adjusted to it. I still insisted on talking on the radio while we were on the ground, however. Walt was so good at many things, but he couldn't match my expertise at sounding smooth on the radios, a skill that had been honed sharply with years in fighter squadrons where the slightest radio miscue was grounds for beheading. He understood that and allowed me that luxury.
Just to get a sense of what Walt had to contend with, I pulled the radio toggle switches and monitored the frequencies along with him. The predominant radio chatter was from Los Angeles Center, far below us, controlling daily traffic in their sector. While they had us on their scope (albeit briefly), we were in uncontrolled airspace and normally would not talk to them unless we needed to descend into their airspace. We listened as the shaky voice of a lone Cessna pilot who asked Center for a read-out of his ground speed. Center replied: “November Charlie 175, I'm showing you at ninety knots on the ground.” Now the thing to understand about Center controllers was that whether they were talking to a rookie pilot in a Cessna or to Air Force One, they always spoke in the exact same, calm, deep, professional tone that made one feel important. I referred to it as the "Houston Center voice." I have always felt that after years of seeing documentaries on this country's space program and listening to the calm and distinct voice of the Houston controllers, that all other controllers since then wanted to sound like that and that they basically did. And it didn't matter what sector of the country we would be flying in, it always seemed like the same guy was talking. Over the years that tone of voice had become somewhat of a comforting sound to pilots everywhere. Conversely, over the years, pilots always wanted to ensure that, when transmitting, they sounded like Chuck Yeager, or at least like John Wayne. Better to die than sound bad on the radios.
Just moments after the Cessna's inquiry, a Twin Beech piped up on frequency, in a rather superior tone, asking for his ground speed in Beech. “I have you at one hundred and twenty-five knots of ground speed.” Boy, I thought, the Beechcraft really must think he is dazzling his Cessna brethren. Then out of the blue, a navy F-18 pilot out of NAS Lemoore came up on frequency. You knew right away it was a Navy jock because he sounded very cool on the radios. “Center, Dusty 52 ground speed check.” Before Center could reply, I'm thinking to myself, hey, Dusty 52 has a ground speed indicator in that million-dollar cockpit, so why is he asking Center for a read-out? Then I got it, ol' Dusty here is making sure that every bug smasher from Mount Whitney to the Mojave knows what true speed is. He's the fastest dude in the valley today, and he just wants everyone to know how much fun he is having in his new Hornet.
And the reply, always with that same, calm, voice, with more distinct alliteration than emotion: “Dusty 52, Center, we have you at 620 on the ground.” And I thought to myself, is this a ripe situation, or what? As my hand instinctively reached for the mic button, I had to remind myself that Walt was in control of the radios. Still, I thought, it must be done - in mere seconds we'll be out of the sector and the opportunity will be lost. That Hornet must die, and die now. I thought about all of our Sim training and how important it was that we developed well as a crew and knew that to jump in on the radios now would destroy the integrity of all that we had worked toward becoming. I was torn. Somewhere, 13 miles above Arizona, there was a pilot screaming inside his space helmet. Then, I heard it - the click of the mic button from the back seat. That was the very moment that I knew Walter and I had become a crew. Very professionally, and with no emotion, Walter spoke: “Los Angeles Center, Aspen 20, can you give us a ground speed check?”
There was no hesitation, and the replay came as if was an everyday request. “Aspen 20, I show you at one thousand eight hundred and forty-two knots, across the ground.” I think it was the forty-two knots that I liked the best, so accurate and proud was Center to deliver that information without hesitation, and you just knew he was smiling. But the precise point at which I knew that Walt and I were going to be really good friends for a long time was when he keyed the mic once again to say, in his most fighter-pilot-like voice: “Ah, Center, much thanks, we're showing closer to nineteen hundred on the money.” For a moment Walter was a god. And we finally heard a little crack in the armor of the Houston Center voice, when L.A. came back with, “Roger that Aspen. Your equipment is probably more accurate than ours. You boys have a good one.”
It all had lasted for just moments, but in that short, memorable sprint across the southwest, the Navy had been flamed, all mortal airplanes on freq were forced to bow before the King of Speed, and more importantly, Walter and I had crossed the threshold of being a crew. A fine day's work. We never heard another transmission on that frequency all the way to the coast. For just one day, it truly was fun being the fastest guys out there.
*** I did not write this. To my knowledge the author is anonymous. ***
There were a lot of things we couldn't do in an SR-71 Blackbird (The Air Force/NASA super fast, highest flying reconnaissance jet, nicknamed, "The Sled"), but we were the fastest guys on the block and loved reminding our fellow aviators of this fact. People often asked us if, because of this fact, it was fun to fly the jet. Fun would not be the first word I would use to describe flying this plane - intense, maybe, even cerebral. But there was one day in our Sled experience when we would have to say that it was pure fun to be the fastest guys out there, at least for a moment.
It occurred when Walt and I were flying our final training sortie. We needed 100 hours in the jet to complete our training and attain Mission Ready status. Somewhere over Colorado we had passed the century mark. We had made the turn in Arizona and the jet was performing flawlessly. My gauges were wired in the front seat and we were starting to feel pretty good about ourselves, not only because we would soon be flying real missions but because we had gained a great deal of confidence in the plane in the past ten months. Ripping across the barren deserts 80,000 feet below us, I could already see the coast of California from the Arizona border.
I was, finally, after many humbling months of simulators and study, ahead of the jet. I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for Walter in the back seat. There he was, with no really good view of the incredible sights before us, tasked with monitoring four different radios. This was good practice for him for when we began flying real missions, when a priority transmission from headquarters could be vital. It had been difficult, too, for me to relinquish control of the radios, as during my entire flying career I had controlled my own transmissions. But it was part of the division of duties in this plane and I had adjusted to it. I still insisted on talking on the radio while we were on the ground, however. Walt was so good at many things, but he couldn't match my expertise at sounding smooth on the radios, a skill that had been honed sharply with years in fighter squadrons where the slightest radio miscue was grounds for beheading. He understood that and allowed me that luxury.
Just to get a sense of what Walt had to contend with, I pulled the radio toggle switches and monitored the frequencies along with him. The predominant radio chatter was from Los Angeles Center, far below us, controlling daily traffic in their sector. While they had us on their scope (albeit briefly), we were in uncontrolled airspace and normally would not talk to them unless we needed to descend into their airspace. We listened as the shaky voice of a lone Cessna pilot who asked Center for a read-out of his ground speed. Center replied: “November Charlie 175, I'm showing you at ninety knots on the ground.” Now the thing to understand about Center controllers was that whether they were talking to a rookie pilot in a Cessna or to Air Force One, they always spoke in the exact same, calm, deep, professional tone that made one feel important. I referred to it as the "Houston Center voice." I have always felt that after years of seeing documentaries on this country's space program and listening to the calm and distinct voice of the Houston controllers, that all other controllers since then wanted to sound like that and that they basically did. And it didn't matter what sector of the country we would be flying in, it always seemed like the same guy was talking. Over the years that tone of voice had become somewhat of a comforting sound to pilots everywhere. Conversely, over the years, pilots always wanted to ensure that, when transmitting, they sounded like Chuck Yeager, or at least like John Wayne. Better to die than sound bad on the radios.
Just moments after the Cessna's inquiry, a Twin Beech piped up on frequency, in a rather superior tone, asking for his ground speed in Beech. “I have you at one hundred and twenty-five knots of ground speed.” Boy, I thought, the Beechcraft really must think he is dazzling his Cessna brethren. Then out of the blue, a navy F-18 pilot out of NAS Lemoore came up on frequency. You knew right away it was a Navy jock because he sounded very cool on the radios. “Center, Dusty 52 ground speed check.” Before Center could reply, I'm thinking to myself, hey, Dusty 52 has a ground speed indicator in that million-dollar cockpit, so why is he asking Center for a read-out? Then I got it, ol' Dusty here is making sure that every bug smasher from Mount Whitney to the Mojave knows what true speed is. He's the fastest dude in the valley today, and he just wants everyone to know how much fun he is having in his new Hornet.
And the reply, always with that same, calm, voice, with more distinct alliteration than emotion: “Dusty 52, Center, we have you at 620 on the ground.” And I thought to myself, is this a ripe situation, or what? As my hand instinctively reached for the mic button, I had to remind myself that Walt was in control of the radios. Still, I thought, it must be done - in mere seconds we'll be out of the sector and the opportunity will be lost. That Hornet must die, and die now. I thought about all of our Sim training and how important it was that we developed well as a crew and knew that to jump in on the radios now would destroy the integrity of all that we had worked toward becoming. I was torn. Somewhere, 13 miles above Arizona, there was a pilot screaming inside his space helmet. Then, I heard it - the click of the mic button from the back seat. That was the very moment that I knew Walter and I had become a crew. Very professionally, and with no emotion, Walter spoke: “Los Angeles Center, Aspen 20, can you give us a ground speed check?”
There was no hesitation, and the replay came as if was an everyday request. “Aspen 20, I show you at one thousand eight hundred and forty-two knots, across the ground.” I think it was the forty-two knots that I liked the best, so accurate and proud was Center to deliver that information without hesitation, and you just knew he was smiling. But the precise point at which I knew that Walt and I were going to be really good friends for a long time was when he keyed the mic once again to say, in his most fighter-pilot-like voice: “Ah, Center, much thanks, we're showing closer to nineteen hundred on the money.” For a moment Walter was a god. And we finally heard a little crack in the armor of the Houston Center voice, when L.A. came back with, “Roger that Aspen. Your equipment is probably more accurate than ours. You boys have a good one.”
It all had lasted for just moments, but in that short, memorable sprint across the southwest, the Navy had been flamed, all mortal airplanes on freq were forced to bow before the King of Speed, and more importantly, Walter and I had crossed the threshold of being a crew. A fine day's work. We never heard another transmission on that frequency all the way to the coast. For just one day, it truly was fun being the fastest guys out there.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Doom
I just thought I would brighten your day a bit. Have a look at this little graph from the St Louis branch of the our very own Fed.
I don't have time to explain this in full... as JAC and I are busy prepping for a big ride with the girls.
However... it don't take a genius to figure what it says.
Heep bad juju mon. Spirits... day in der... talk talk.
I just thought I would brighten your day a bit. Have a look at this little graph from the St Louis branch of the our very own Fed.
I don't have time to explain this in full... as JAC and I are busy prepping for a big ride with the girls.However... it don't take a genius to figure what it says.
Heep bad juju mon. Spirits... day in der... talk talk.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Tinkering with Attitudes
If you can imagine... I have been teaching Vacation Bible School classes. Me.
If you're horrified and ya know it clap your hands.
Ok good... done now? You in the back... Sarah... you can stop clapping now. And bring me a beer.
Anway so I'm Recreation Leader. Thus... I am responsible for games and such. We've played human scale foosball... dodgeball with socks instead of balls... and I keep promising them we're going to field strip AR-15s but I am a few short so that will have to wait till next year.
Well... it so happens that I have a 4th and 5th grade class that only has 10 kids in it... and one of them hasn't seen his daddy in years. His ol' man is off in Iraq ya see. I do believe we all know the critical nature of these years when it comes to boys.
The effect is predictable. The kid acts out all the time. Not malevolently, but he just always acts like he thinks he's Spongebob Squarepants or something. He's extremely insecure... he has to win every game or he literally runs off and cries and will try to hide from everyone. If you said to yourself... "He's way to old for that." Congratulations. You get a cookie.
Clearly I have some work to do.
I started today. After class today with them.. I sat them all down and I gave them the fairness speech. Now I don't know if you've ever gotten the fairness speech or not... but think of the modern concept of fairness... now wad it up and throw it away. That's pretty much the speech.
It goes something like this...
"Ok guys... listen... The other kids are probly to young for this... but you're old enough now that you need someone to tell you. Ya know what the Bible is? Ya know what we use it for? It tells us about ourselves, about God, and about how to live our lives. Now... I want you to think about something... "fairness" isn't really in there. In the Bible, the words, "fair" or "fairness" are only used to describe God or God's judgment or business dealings. Life is not fair. Life's outcomes aren't fair. Human justice is not fair. Only God's justice is fair. You're not always going to win. Sometimes people are going to be better than you are... and sometimes people who aren't better than you are... will cheat... and they will win. Cheaters do win sometimes. You know it. I know it. Everyone knows it.
So what are you gonna do? You can get upset and be unhappy because its not 'fair'... but what have you gotten out of it? Nothing. You're just mad and you've wasted a bunch of time being upset about something you can't change.
Accept that life isn't fair. Instead of worrying about how much of something someone else got... appreciate what you have."
When I was finished I had some very skeptical kids on my hands... so I asked them if they believed me. One of the boys actually looked up and said he wasn't sure yet. Can't blame him. There was a 16-year-old girl that had been helping me that thought I was full of crap to.
Thankfully there was an old lady that had been listening in... and she had my back big time.
And tomorrow... tomorrow its time for the Ecclesiastes talk.
Vacation Bible School... they are so busy teaching kids that God loves them... they ignore the practical matters. Yes... yes God's love is a practical matter. But for crying out loud when that is all you say to them... eventually they tune you out dammit! One doesn't think much about the words coming out of a parrots mouth... its simply impressive that it can speak at all.
If you can imagine... I have been teaching Vacation Bible School classes. Me.
If you're horrified and ya know it clap your hands.
Ok good... done now? You in the back... Sarah... you can stop clapping now. And bring me a beer.
Anway so I'm Recreation Leader. Thus... I am responsible for games and such. We've played human scale foosball... dodgeball with socks instead of balls... and I keep promising them we're going to field strip AR-15s but I am a few short so that will have to wait till next year.
Well... it so happens that I have a 4th and 5th grade class that only has 10 kids in it... and one of them hasn't seen his daddy in years. His ol' man is off in Iraq ya see. I do believe we all know the critical nature of these years when it comes to boys.
The effect is predictable. The kid acts out all the time. Not malevolently, but he just always acts like he thinks he's Spongebob Squarepants or something. He's extremely insecure... he has to win every game or he literally runs off and cries and will try to hide from everyone. If you said to yourself... "He's way to old for that." Congratulations. You get a cookie.
Clearly I have some work to do.
I started today. After class today with them.. I sat them all down and I gave them the fairness speech. Now I don't know if you've ever gotten the fairness speech or not... but think of the modern concept of fairness... now wad it up and throw it away. That's pretty much the speech.
It goes something like this...
"Ok guys... listen... The other kids are probly to young for this... but you're old enough now that you need someone to tell you. Ya know what the Bible is? Ya know what we use it for? It tells us about ourselves, about God, and about how to live our lives. Now... I want you to think about something... "fairness" isn't really in there. In the Bible, the words, "fair" or "fairness" are only used to describe God or God's judgment or business dealings. Life is not fair. Life's outcomes aren't fair. Human justice is not fair. Only God's justice is fair. You're not always going to win. Sometimes people are going to be better than you are... and sometimes people who aren't better than you are... will cheat... and they will win. Cheaters do win sometimes. You know it. I know it. Everyone knows it.
So what are you gonna do? You can get upset and be unhappy because its not 'fair'... but what have you gotten out of it? Nothing. You're just mad and you've wasted a bunch of time being upset about something you can't change.
Accept that life isn't fair. Instead of worrying about how much of something someone else got... appreciate what you have."
When I was finished I had some very skeptical kids on my hands... so I asked them if they believed me. One of the boys actually looked up and said he wasn't sure yet. Can't blame him. There was a 16-year-old girl that had been helping me that thought I was full of crap to.
Thankfully there was an old lady that had been listening in... and she had my back big time.
And tomorrow... tomorrow its time for the Ecclesiastes talk.
Vacation Bible School... they are so busy teaching kids that God loves them... they ignore the practical matters. Yes... yes God's love is a practical matter. But for crying out loud when that is all you say to them... eventually they tune you out dammit! One doesn't think much about the words coming out of a parrots mouth... its simply impressive that it can speak at all.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Elections Don't Matter
Right now... a group of unelected bureaucrats have proposed a rule change that would literally effect millions of people throughout the country. No one voted for these men. They are not part of the political process... and yet... they are proposing a rule change that will basically ban the most popular knives in America today.
I thought the proposal was just an Internet rumor.
I was wrong.
Specifically its the US Customs... attempting to ban the importation of all folding knives that can be opened with one hand. Everyone complains about judges legislating from the bench. We better start worrying about bureaucrats legislating from the cubical.
Right now... a group of unelected bureaucrats have proposed a rule change that would literally effect millions of people throughout the country. No one voted for these men. They are not part of the political process... and yet... they are proposing a rule change that will basically ban the most popular knives in America today.
I thought the proposal was just an Internet rumor.
I was wrong.
Specifically its the US Customs... attempting to ban the importation of all folding knives that can be opened with one hand. Everyone complains about judges legislating from the bench. We better start worrying about bureaucrats legislating from the cubical.
Monday, June 15, 2009
JQP Update
Got an email from our hiker today. Its been a haywire week... and its a tale I have no interest in sharing here. He can tell it if he decides to. Right now all ya need know is... he's in Denver for a while... and he's good. He'll post an update on his blog when he gets time but he's pretty busy right now.
Got an email from our hiker today. Its been a haywire week... and its a tale I have no interest in sharing here. He can tell it if he decides to. Right now all ya need know is... he's in Denver for a while... and he's good. He'll post an update on his blog when he gets time but he's pretty busy right now.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Prayers for the Traveller
I ain't overly sentimental... nor could I reasonably described sensitive. I do find myself worried tonight though... about a fella I've never met.
JQP is somewhere between St Louis and Denver... hitch-hiking his way south-east. Now... I know times are tough on almost everyone... but I don't know how many people can rightly claim to need your prayers more than him. If you happen to know of some folks... no worries... pray for both. Prayer ain't expensive and God has the time to listen.
JQP's blog is over here. I've tried to convince him to put up a tip jar so folks could help him out but the stuborn S.O.B. won't have none of it.
Well... I can't say much else I don't reckon. If ya know anyway to help... then help.
Dammit.
I ain't overly sentimental... nor could I reasonably described sensitive. I do find myself worried tonight though... about a fella I've never met.
JQP is somewhere between St Louis and Denver... hitch-hiking his way south-east. Now... I know times are tough on almost everyone... but I don't know how many people can rightly claim to need your prayers more than him. If you happen to know of some folks... no worries... pray for both. Prayer ain't expensive and God has the time to listen.
JQP's blog is over here. I've tried to convince him to put up a tip jar so folks could help him out but the stuborn S.O.B. won't have none of it.
Well... I can't say much else I don't reckon. If ya know anyway to help... then help.
Dammit.
Friday, June 12, 2009
ATF
Think of this as motivation... if you think you might want to stop by for the ATF tonight... maybe this post will convince you to join us.
Have a gander at this picture of some Cricket Girls from Panama.
guess I should fill in the blanks...
The plan right now is as follows...
A: Modelo... then Bookers.
T: Some glorious cigar.. undecided.
F: Steyr .40. Various AR-15s.
You're welcome.
So..
Whatcha drinkin? Whatcha smokin'? Whatcha carryin'? And who ya havin' all that fun with? Those are the rules... Let's roll!
Think of this as motivation... if you think you might want to stop by for the ATF tonight... maybe this post will convince you to join us.
Have a gander at this picture of some Cricket Girls from Panama.
Now... expatriating doesn't quite seem so bad now does it?
Oh? I
guess I should fill in the blanks...The plan right now is as follows...
A: Modelo... then Bookers.
T: Some glorious cigar.. undecided.
F: Steyr .40. Various AR-15s.
You're welcome.
So..
Whatcha drinkin? Whatcha smokin'? Whatcha carryin'? And who ya havin' all that fun with? Those are the rules... Let's roll!
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Soccer is Gay
No seriously. I'm trying to think of an american professional athlete that would walk around in tight shorts, a pink shirt, and a flower in his hair.
Its no wonder the Germans are continually trying to take over Europe.
And what is this crap about "comfortable with your sexuality". Does that mean you know you're a faggot and therefore you don't mind if everyone else knows to? That's about all I can come up with.
Have fun boys.
No seriously. I'm trying to think of an american professional athlete that would walk around in tight shorts, a pink shirt, and a flower in his hair.
Its no wonder the Germans are continually trying to take over Europe.
And what is this crap about "comfortable with your sexuality". Does that mean you know you're a faggot and therefore you don't mind if everyone else knows to? That's about all I can come up with.
Have fun boys.
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
A Son's First Firearm
I know this is late... but you wouldn't believe how much I've had to wrestle with the horror of actually having to post this on the web.
I mean... have the manly arts been so desecrated and ignored that men actually have to search the internet for this? One day... will dads really go to yahoo answers and type "When should I get my kid his first gun?"
Maybe we're already there... I mean the subject certainly evidences the assumption... but its a hard one for a guy like me to come grips with. Ah well.. fact is... I've been asked... and cain't nobody be much blamed for the situation... least of all them what need to know. It ain't like they're the ones that neglected their responsibilities. They're trying to make up for some other no account good for nuthin's past sins.
Well... hell... its already late... I reckon I should get on with it and stop ramblin'.
First things first.. ain't no hard fast age where your boy will wake up and be ready for their first firearm. Its like respect. Its something that has to be earned. Once its been earned... it's given.
Your kid has to show responsibility. One thing I could ask is... could you give your kid 20 bucks.. tell them to walk to the store a get some milk? Would he give you the correct change when he got back?
If the answers are yes and yes then he's probably ready.
Personality is another thing to consider though. Do you have a dare devil on your hands? Does he understand actions and consequences? Can he reasonably access risk? I mean if you continually have to explain why he shouldn't ride his bike off the roof of the barn... it probly ain't quite time yet.
And does he have a mean streak? Does the kid take a little to much pleasure in causing harm? You have to watch this stuff.
But lets say in your mind you're confident that the boy is responsible and has earned the right to own his first firearm... He's probably 8 or 9... maybe 7... maybe 11. Ya never know... but regardless... ya want to start with something in 22lr. A ruger 10/22 is a great option... though semi-auto isn't the traditional choice. A Taurus Model 62 LAR in .22lr is a great choice to... especially if the boy already has a Red Rider BB gun. Still... tradition says single shot rifle.
Just remember... there are long talks that have to be had. Gun safety is perhaps the most cherished of the Manly Arts. Treat it as such. Teach him to clean and care for the weapon. Make sure every single time he fires it... he takes the time to clean it. Talk to him about how important it is to never put a weapon up dirty. Cherish that time together... cleaning the weapons you've just shot. There is no way to over-estimate how important those things are to a boy.
I know this is late... but you wouldn't believe how much I've had to wrestle with the horror of actually having to post this on the web.
I mean... have the manly arts been so desecrated and ignored that men actually have to search the internet for this? One day... will dads really go to yahoo answers and type "When should I get my kid his first gun?"
Maybe we're already there... I mean the subject certainly evidences the assumption... but its a hard one for a guy like me to come grips with. Ah well.. fact is... I've been asked... and cain't nobody be much blamed for the situation... least of all them what need to know. It ain't like they're the ones that neglected their responsibilities. They're trying to make up for some other no account good for nuthin's past sins.
Well... hell... its already late... I reckon I should get on with it and stop ramblin'.
First things first.. ain't no hard fast age where your boy will wake up and be ready for their first firearm. Its like respect. Its something that has to be earned. Once its been earned... it's given.
Your kid has to show responsibility. One thing I could ask is... could you give your kid 20 bucks.. tell them to walk to the store a get some milk? Would he give you the correct change when he got back?
If the answers are yes and yes then he's probably ready.
Personality is another thing to consider though. Do you have a dare devil on your hands? Does he understand actions and consequences? Can he reasonably access risk? I mean if you continually have to explain why he shouldn't ride his bike off the roof of the barn... it probly ain't quite time yet.
And does he have a mean streak? Does the kid take a little to much pleasure in causing harm? You have to watch this stuff.
But lets say in your mind you're confident that the boy is responsible and has earned the right to own his first firearm... He's probably 8 or 9... maybe 7... maybe 11. Ya never know... but regardless... ya want to start with something in 22lr. A ruger 10/22 is a great option... though semi-auto isn't the traditional choice. A Taurus Model 62 LAR in .22lr is a great choice to... especially if the boy already has a Red Rider BB gun. Still... tradition says single shot rifle.
Just remember... there are long talks that have to be had. Gun safety is perhaps the most cherished of the Manly Arts. Treat it as such. Teach him to clean and care for the weapon. Make sure every single time he fires it... he takes the time to clean it. Talk to him about how important it is to never put a weapon up dirty. Cherish that time together... cleaning the weapons you've just shot. There is no way to over-estimate how important those things are to a boy.
Monday, June 08, 2009
Wierd Tool Bleg
umm... can someone tell me what the hell this is?
Its some kind of tool for God knows what. If this crew don't know... no one does.
umm... can someone tell me what the hell this is?
Its some kind of tool for God knows what. If this crew don't know... no one does.
Welldigger bought an old timer's tool box and this thing was in there amonst all manner of other arcane devices both ancient and mystifying. This is one of the few we simply could not divine.
Friday, June 05, 2009
ATF Returns!
A: Modelo Especial... Wild Turkey Russell's Reserve... a White Russian for DrWho
T: Onyx. Next best thing to ganja.
F: Custom.. hand fitted.. one-off 1911... S&W M&P15... Glock .45 for DrWho. Jeb has a Daisy lever action Red Rider BB gun.
Just out of the pool... Its a tough life y'all. It really is.
A: Modelo Especial... Wild Turkey Russell's Reserve... a White Russian for DrWho
T: Onyx. Next best thing to ganja.
F: Custom.. hand fitted.. one-off 1911... S&W M&P15... Glock .45 for DrWho. Jeb has a Daisy lever action Red Rider BB gun.
Just out of the pool... Its a tough life y'all. It really is.
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
Kids and Guns
A post on a boys first gun has been requested and I am in the process of cooking one up. Until its finished... I think it would be wise to point you to a previous and related post.
This is an older link that relates to firearms and kids and safety.
Enjoy.
A post on a boys first gun has been requested and I am in the process of cooking one up. Until its finished... I think it would be wise to point you to a previous and related post.
This is an older link that relates to firearms and kids and safety.
Enjoy.
The Trainwreck of Academic Science
Science has historically been practiced by rebels. From Galileo to Copernicus to Newton to Pascal to Tesla... the great leaps have come from single-minded geniuses unwilling to accept the norms of their day. They were characters... individualistic and often larger than life... with bizarre quirks and steel trap minds that were highly susceptible to both wander and obsession.
Today... we screen for these brilliant minds. One of the most well funded systems society has created was designed specifically to sift through our young to find these people. We have whole professions devoted to identifying them. And once they are found...
They are labeled and all the exceptional qualities are promptly drugged out of them.
There is no question people... if Albert Einstein were born in America today... unless he was home schooled he would've spent his whole childhood in a drug induced stupor. He would've been labeled a problem child, fallen into the drug culture, and probably would've spent his life in jail. The exact same thing would happen to Nikola Tesla.
We have created a system that destroys the truly exceptional. It drives them out. The best and the brightest figure the game out extremely early... and play it. They do just enough to get by in school because getting by is all they need to do. They may harbor grand dreams of a liberating university experience where they can finally be challenged... but those dreams go up in smoke with English Lit 101. They haven't been on campus for more than a few weeks when they realize they have another 4 years of what amounts to high school before they can even begin to do anything even remotely resembling research... and two more years after that before things actually get interesting.
They probably try to stick it out for a couple years though. It takes that long for the grind of the hoop jumping to wear them down... at least usually. In the end its the same though... they go off and find something else to do.
Of course... the simple fact that academia have rejected them doesn't mean that they give up their interests... nor does it mean they are incapable of achievement. After all... Micheal Faraday had no formal education. Ah... but...
But. But is a very small word... disproportionately foreboding.
In the world of Faraday science was not monopolized by a university system. A college degree was not an admission slip. And as I stated earlier... the slip is based more on once ability to jump through hoops than any scientific talent. Combine this with the fact that there are way to many people going to college to begin with.
What you end up with is a dual edged sword which both weed's out the exceptional, and leaves those few that remain starving for attention... often drown out by the millions of idiots who happened to have a talent for hoop jumping... but suck at science.
In the end... I'm not at all certain one could've designed a better system to insure mediocre science. Almost from birth it weeds out the undesirables and either destroys them completely or molds them into mediocre drones... and as they progress... each level of the system filters out more and more of them until what's left are only the purest and most well-heeled... guaranteed to never stir up trouble to take reckless risks.
No Rebels Allowed.
Trouble is... the willingness to stir up trouble is one of the most essential attributes of a brilliant scientist.
Science has historically been practiced by rebels. From Galileo to Copernicus to Newton to Pascal to Tesla... the great leaps have come from single-minded geniuses unwilling to accept the norms of their day. They were characters... individualistic and often larger than life... with bizarre quirks and steel trap minds that were highly susceptible to both wander and obsession.
Today... we screen for these brilliant minds. One of the most well funded systems society has created was designed specifically to sift through our young to find these people. We have whole professions devoted to identifying them. And once they are found...
They are labeled and all the exceptional qualities are promptly drugged out of them.
There is no question people... if Albert Einstein were born in America today... unless he was home schooled he would've spent his whole childhood in a drug induced stupor. He would've been labeled a problem child, fallen into the drug culture, and probably would've spent his life in jail. The exact same thing would happen to Nikola Tesla.
We have created a system that destroys the truly exceptional. It drives them out. The best and the brightest figure the game out extremely early... and play it. They do just enough to get by in school because getting by is all they need to do. They may harbor grand dreams of a liberating university experience where they can finally be challenged... but those dreams go up in smoke with English Lit 101. They haven't been on campus for more than a few weeks when they realize they have another 4 years of what amounts to high school before they can even begin to do anything even remotely resembling research... and two more years after that before things actually get interesting.
They probably try to stick it out for a couple years though. It takes that long for the grind of the hoop jumping to wear them down... at least usually. In the end its the same though... they go off and find something else to do.
Of course... the simple fact that academia have rejected them doesn't mean that they give up their interests... nor does it mean they are incapable of achievement. After all... Micheal Faraday had no formal education. Ah... but...
But. But is a very small word... disproportionately foreboding.
In the world of Faraday science was not monopolized by a university system. A college degree was not an admission slip. And as I stated earlier... the slip is based more on once ability to jump through hoops than any scientific talent. Combine this with the fact that there are way to many people going to college to begin with.
What you end up with is a dual edged sword which both weed's out the exceptional, and leaves those few that remain starving for attention... often drown out by the millions of idiots who happened to have a talent for hoop jumping... but suck at science.
In the end... I'm not at all certain one could've designed a better system to insure mediocre science. Almost from birth it weeds out the undesirables and either destroys them completely or molds them into mediocre drones... and as they progress... each level of the system filters out more and more of them until what's left are only the purest and most well-heeled... guaranteed to never stir up trouble to take reckless risks.
No Rebels Allowed.
Trouble is... the willingness to stir up trouble is one of the most essential attributes of a brilliant scientist.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
The Wisdom of Insurance
We're told repeatedly that its entirely irresponsible to not buy insurance. Well... one of the things we do... well... apart from the drinking and smoking... is challenge that which others take for granted. So lets get to it.
A commonly accepted rule of thumb is... the average person has a 1 in 16 chance of being in a car accident in any given year. Now... Obviously is far more complicated than that... but lets just take it at face value otherwise we end up lost in minutia.
So... how much does that accident cost you? It may cost you a few hundered dollars... or it may cost you hundereds of thousands depending on the injuries and lawyers involved... but the greater the cost of the wreck... the lower the odds of it happening.
We give insurance companies thousands of dollars each year... and we've done so our whole lives. How much have we actually gotten back though? I can only speak for myself... I've filed 1 claim in my whole life.
1.
It was for a repair that cost roughly 5000 bucks. Not a very good return on my money.
Ya know what this is? Its bloody gambling. We're spending all this money... betting that we're going to hit the big one and need it. I want you to think about this...
We spend 300... 400... sometimes up to 2000 bucks a year on a insuring a single vehicle... and we actually have 3 or 4 of them. Over 20 years someone might pay as much as $40,000 bucks... and odds are he will only have been in 1 accident which may not even have resulted in a claim. Theft doesn't even factor in because the odds of having your car stolen is something like 1 in 150.
Fact is if you'd saved all that money you'd be able to afford to pay for any repair yourself... plus you'd be earning the interest off the investment... instead of giving it to a company to invest for itself.
Its a bloody scam.
When you play the lottery... you give someone money... betting effectively that you'll win and get some back.
When you buy insurance you're give a company money... betting effectively that you'll lose and have a car wreck... and be covered.
The money doesnt' work out though. If insurance wasn't more expensive than necessary by its very nature... the company's wouldn't make money. A responsible individual would be better off saving enough money to pay for an accident himself.
Ah.. but what about the big one? What about the every looming lawsuit?
May I suggest that without the lure of the deep pocketed insurance agencies the lawsuits would be far more rare? Don't get me wrong... they're already rare. The odds of you being in an accident and being sued for over 50 grand are extremely low. Not like winning the lotter low... but extremely low none the less... and if the blood sucking lawyers had no hope of pulling hundreds of thousands out of wealthy insurance companies they wouldn't be so trigger happy. I mean what are they going to get from little ol' you? The people suing you couldn't afford to pay them and they wouldn't get enough from you in the settlement to justify their time.
Ya know now that I think about it... I think I prefer casino gambling to our insurance system... after all... cops don't throw you in jail for not going to Vegas.
We're told repeatedly that its entirely irresponsible to not buy insurance. Well... one of the things we do... well... apart from the drinking and smoking... is challenge that which others take for granted. So lets get to it.
A commonly accepted rule of thumb is... the average person has a 1 in 16 chance of being in a car accident in any given year. Now... Obviously is far more complicated than that... but lets just take it at face value otherwise we end up lost in minutia.
So... how much does that accident cost you? It may cost you a few hundered dollars... or it may cost you hundereds of thousands depending on the injuries and lawyers involved... but the greater the cost of the wreck... the lower the odds of it happening.
We give insurance companies thousands of dollars each year... and we've done so our whole lives. How much have we actually gotten back though? I can only speak for myself... I've filed 1 claim in my whole life.
1.
It was for a repair that cost roughly 5000 bucks. Not a very good return on my money.
Ya know what this is? Its bloody gambling. We're spending all this money... betting that we're going to hit the big one and need it. I want you to think about this...
We spend 300... 400... sometimes up to 2000 bucks a year on a insuring a single vehicle... and we actually have 3 or 4 of them. Over 20 years someone might pay as much as $40,000 bucks... and odds are he will only have been in 1 accident which may not even have resulted in a claim. Theft doesn't even factor in because the odds of having your car stolen is something like 1 in 150.
Fact is if you'd saved all that money you'd be able to afford to pay for any repair yourself... plus you'd be earning the interest off the investment... instead of giving it to a company to invest for itself.
Its a bloody scam.
When you play the lottery... you give someone money... betting effectively that you'll win and get some back.
When you buy insurance you're give a company money... betting effectively that you'll lose and have a car wreck... and be covered.
The money doesnt' work out though. If insurance wasn't more expensive than necessary by its very nature... the company's wouldn't make money. A responsible individual would be better off saving enough money to pay for an accident himself.
Ah.. but what about the big one? What about the every looming lawsuit?
May I suggest that without the lure of the deep pocketed insurance agencies the lawsuits would be far more rare? Don't get me wrong... they're already rare. The odds of you being in an accident and being sued for over 50 grand are extremely low. Not like winning the lotter low... but extremely low none the less... and if the blood sucking lawyers had no hope of pulling hundreds of thousands out of wealthy insurance companies they wouldn't be so trigger happy. I mean what are they going to get from little ol' you? The people suing you couldn't afford to pay them and they wouldn't get enough from you in the settlement to justify their time.
Ya know now that I think about it... I think I prefer casino gambling to our insurance system... after all... cops don't throw you in jail for not going to Vegas.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Biker Gang Democracy
We were sittin' on a rock wall at this unbelievable overlook on Highway 28 in North Carolina when Irony road up on a Harley Roadking. The Irony in question turned out to be a big bald dude named Train Wreck... who apparently was the President of the Enforcers of Orlando.
Now... Obviously biker gangs have fallen a long way if they've resorted to electing presidents... but that's a discussion for another day. Train Wreck turned out to be a well spoken, polite, and down right useful fellow. Turns out he and his ol' lady were out for a ride, and were following a path laid out in a book called Motorcycle Adventures.
Bikers.... following tourist books?
Really?
Like I said... biker gangs ain't what they used to be.
Anyway he told us they were going to see a waterfall that you could ride under. Which sounded pretty cool to us... and we had no idea where we were going... so we figured we'd try to find it.
Turns out we beat ol' Train Wreck there. Even after taking a wrong turn and stopping for a lengthy Carolina Barbecue. Ah well.. I tell ya... its not an adventure until ya get directions from some cat named Train Wreck... even if he was a "president".
We were sittin' on a rock wall at this unbelievable overlook on Highway 28 in North Carolina when Irony road up on a Harley Roadking. The Irony in question turned out to be a big bald dude named Train Wreck... who apparently was the President of the Enforcers of Orlando.
Now... Obviously biker gangs have fallen a long way if they've resorted to electing presidents... but that's a discussion for another day. Train Wreck turned out to be a well spoken, polite, and down right useful fellow. Turns out he and his ol' lady were out for a ride, and were following a path laid out in a book called Motorcycle Adventures.
Bikers.... following tourist books?
Really?
Like I said... biker gangs ain't what they used to be.
Anyway he told us they were going to see a waterfall that you could ride under. Which sounded pretty cool to us... and we had no idea where we were going... so we figured we'd try to find it.
Turns out we beat ol' Train Wreck there. Even after taking a wrong turn and stopping for a lengthy Carolina Barbecue. Ah well.. I tell ya... its not an adventure until ya get directions from some cat named Train Wreck... even if he was a "president".
Fed Admits to Losing 9 Trillion Dollars
This is among the most amusing videos I've seen in some time.
Pay particular attention to the exchange 3 minutes into the video.
Senator: So what I'm asking you is, if your agency has extended 9 trillion dollars in credit, which by the way works out to about 30 thousand dollars for every man, woman, and child in the country, I'd like to know, if you're not responsible for investigating that... who is?"
Inspector General (complete with deer in the headlights look): no... umm.. well... we... actually... have responsibility for the Federal Reserves programs and operations... audits...to conduct audits and investigations in that area... in terms of who's responsibile for investigating... umm... would you mind repeating the question one more time?
After the senator repeats the question 3 times... she finally admits that she not able to respond to the question and has no idea who would be. At that point... the hearings should've been adjurned... and at that point... all three branches of government should've gotten together and completely dismantled the Fed.
If you looked at your banker and asked him where 9 trillion dollars of your money went... and he gave you that answer... you'd probably shoot him... and rightly so. Firing them seems pretty damned merciful at this point.
This is among the most amusing videos I've seen in some time.
Pay particular attention to the exchange 3 minutes into the video.
Senator: So what I'm asking you is, if your agency has extended 9 trillion dollars in credit, which by the way works out to about 30 thousand dollars for every man, woman, and child in the country, I'd like to know, if you're not responsible for investigating that... who is?"
Inspector General (complete with deer in the headlights look): no... umm.. well... we... actually... have responsibility for the Federal Reserves programs and operations... audits...to conduct audits and investigations in that area... in terms of who's responsibile for investigating... umm... would you mind repeating the question one more time?
After the senator repeats the question 3 times... she finally admits that she not able to respond to the question and has no idea who would be. At that point... the hearings should've been adjurned... and at that point... all three branches of government should've gotten together and completely dismantled the Fed.
If you looked at your banker and asked him where 9 trillion dollars of your money went... and he gave you that answer... you'd probably shoot him... and rightly so. Firing them seems pretty damned merciful at this point.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Motorcycle Saftey Rules
1) ATGAT: All the gear. All the time. That's a full face helmet, motorcycle specific gloves, motorcycle specific boots, motorcycle specific jacket and motorcycle specific pants. An adendum to this is your preflight check. Always give your motorcycle a walk around before you ride. Check the tire pressure... lights... everything. Its a ritual that is of great importance.
2) Ride like you're invisible. You can never assume the driver of a car sees you. They will look right at you and pull out anyway... then claim they never saw you.
3) Make yourself conspicuous. Hi Vis yellow is dorky... but it also works. Ride with your brights on. Add more lights to your bike.
4) ATGAT
5) At any given time... God should be able to stop time and give you a pop quiz. If He asked you the color and type of each and every car around you, you should always be able to tell Him. You should be able to describe the drivers in your immediate vicinity in detail.
6) Every time the road goes blind... you slow down. That means hill tops... blind corners... you should ride like there probably is a monster in the road just over the hill waiting to crush you... because there might be.
7) ATGAT
8) Its safer to pass than to be passed.
9) Brakes are not your first option in accident avoidence. The throttle is.
10) ATGAT
11) When in doubt lean harder and give it more gas. The bike will almost be more capable than you think it is. Lowside washouts are extremely rare.
12) Lowside = walk away. High side = ambulance ride.
13) ATGAT
14) Avoid gravel if you can but If you hit gravel or dirt in the road... change nothing. Trust the bike. 99 times out of 100 it will save you. Don't brake. Don't swerve. Roll straight through it and trust the bike.
15) Don't be an idiot. Don't take chances. If you want to test your limits... go to a track day event.
16) ATGAT
1) ATGAT: All the gear. All the time. That's a full face helmet, motorcycle specific gloves, motorcycle specific boots, motorcycle specific jacket and motorcycle specific pants. An adendum to this is your preflight check. Always give your motorcycle a walk around before you ride. Check the tire pressure... lights... everything. Its a ritual that is of great importance.
2) Ride like you're invisible. You can never assume the driver of a car sees you. They will look right at you and pull out anyway... then claim they never saw you.
3) Make yourself conspicuous. Hi Vis yellow is dorky... but it also works. Ride with your brights on. Add more lights to your bike.
4) ATGAT
5) At any given time... God should be able to stop time and give you a pop quiz. If He asked you the color and type of each and every car around you, you should always be able to tell Him. You should be able to describe the drivers in your immediate vicinity in detail.
6) Every time the road goes blind... you slow down. That means hill tops... blind corners... you should ride like there probably is a monster in the road just over the hill waiting to crush you... because there might be.
7) ATGAT
8) Its safer to pass than to be passed.
9) Brakes are not your first option in accident avoidence. The throttle is.
10) ATGAT
11) When in doubt lean harder and give it more gas. The bike will almost be more capable than you think it is. Lowside washouts are extremely rare.
12) Lowside = walk away. High side = ambulance ride.
13) ATGAT
14) Avoid gravel if you can but If you hit gravel or dirt in the road... change nothing. Trust the bike. 99 times out of 100 it will save you. Don't brake. Don't swerve. Roll straight through it and trust the bike.
15) Don't be an idiot. Don't take chances. If you want to test your limits... go to a track day event.
16) ATGAT
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Ceremonies and Old White Men
The trip began as so many do... blasting up I-40 at reasonable if not legal speeds. The new RT and I were not yet close friends... more like co-workers... at least at this early stage. That would all change.
After fighting our way through Nashville things loosened up and I had time to experiment with her farkles. With the touch of a button her automatic windshield rotates up to the perfect position. While moving at 80mph on an interstate... I feel no wind blast... and instead have a mild pressure from behind... like a strong tail wind. God those krout engineers are amazing.
After a scenic tour of the UT campus and downtown Knoxville... complete with a view of the Body Farm, we hit 129 south and made for the Tail.
The trip began as so many do... blasting up I-40 at reasonable if not legal speeds. The new RT and I were not yet close friends... more like co-workers... at least at this early stage. That would all change.After fighting our way through Nashville things loosened up and I had time to experiment with her farkles. With the touch of a button her automatic windshield rotates up to the perfect position. While moving at 80mph on an interstate... I feel no wind blast... and instead have a mild pressure from behind... like a strong tail wind. God those krout engineers are amazing.
On the interstate the is an subtle seperation between the rider and the road. Because of the tail wind effect... and the electric smooth motor... and the magicly effective suspension... one gets the feeling he's flying. Weightlessness is the only way I know how to describe it. A backrest of pure wind supports you... and the corbin seat below is pure Heaven. I made knoxville in no time.
I met JAC off the by pass and we grabbed some eats while we formulated our plan of attack. We decided we'd slay the Dragon first... bed down in Robinsville and then roll for Savannah the next day. Well... we were partly right.
After a scenic tour of the UT campus and downtown Knoxville... complete with a view of the Body Farm, we hit 129 south and made for the Tail.Now I've blogged about the Dragon extensively. No reason to repeat it all here. Suffice it to say that it still has 318 curves in 11 miles... and they are all still banked perfectly.
Before long we found ourselves in Robinsville... eating country cookin' like you may never have seen. The fine lady actually went so far as to take a huge ham steak and throw it on the grill like a damned ribeye and grill it for me. That's livin' boys.
Now JAC has blogged well on the second day of the trip... you can read it here.
Friday... now Friday was the day... maybe the best day I've ever spend on asphault. I'm about out of time... I'll add more to the post later... until then... just more pictures.
Wow... check out that rock face..
Hey... is that a water fall over there?
Nice!
Hey... lets ride under it!
Mountain Road Rules
After spending a few days riding in the mountains I've decided to share some wisdom. I've come up with some basic things to remember. Pay attention.
1) You may be driving the speed limit... you may be being ultra careful... that doesn't mean you're driving safely. Statisticly speaking serious motorcycle accidents always involve another vehicle... and that vehicle always has more than two wheels.
2) Motorcycles were not considered when speed limits were pulled out of the air.
3) Your safe speed and a motorcycle's safe speed are completely unrelated.
4) Well riden motorcycles often double the posted limit on curves. If it says 20... we go 40. That doesn't mean we're driving crazy. It doesn't even mean we're particularly trying hard. We're just riding. We're perfectly in control. You're the problem.
5) Let me repeat that. You are the problem.
6) No street legal car can keep up with a well ridden motorcycle. I don't care what you have. I don't care if its a Corvette z-06 or a Lotus or a Vanquish. A good rider on a modern bike will blow you away. That doesn't mean you're not a good driver or your car isn't fast.
7) Do not be insulted when motorcycles pass you.
8) If you drive in your own little world... oblivious to the traffic jam you're causing behind you... motorcycles will start passing you illegally... and the longer you keep it up... the greater the chances they are going to be willing to take. Like it or not... that's your fault. Because...
9) Driving safely means not being an asshole.
So to sum up...
10) If a motorcycle pulls up behind you on a twisty mountain road.... pull the hell over and let him go.
We spent countless hours behind idiot cagers tooling along at 5 and 10mph on these roads. The fury that creates is akin to what you would feel if you were on the interstate and two morons were driving side by side 20mph below the speed limit.
Hrm... How about one more rule...
11) Cagers suck.
After spending a few days riding in the mountains I've decided to share some wisdom. I've come up with some basic things to remember. Pay attention.
1) You may be driving the speed limit... you may be being ultra careful... that doesn't mean you're driving safely. Statisticly speaking serious motorcycle accidents always involve another vehicle... and that vehicle always has more than two wheels.
2) Motorcycles were not considered when speed limits were pulled out of the air.
3) Your safe speed and a motorcycle's safe speed are completely unrelated.
4) Well riden motorcycles often double the posted limit on curves. If it says 20... we go 40. That doesn't mean we're driving crazy. It doesn't even mean we're particularly trying hard. We're just riding. We're perfectly in control. You're the problem.
5) Let me repeat that. You are the problem.
6) No street legal car can keep up with a well ridden motorcycle. I don't care what you have. I don't care if its a Corvette z-06 or a Lotus or a Vanquish. A good rider on a modern bike will blow you away. That doesn't mean you're not a good driver or your car isn't fast.
7) Do not be insulted when motorcycles pass you.
8) If you drive in your own little world... oblivious to the traffic jam you're causing behind you... motorcycles will start passing you illegally... and the longer you keep it up... the greater the chances they are going to be willing to take. Like it or not... that's your fault. Because...
9) Driving safely means not being an asshole.
So to sum up...
10) If a motorcycle pulls up behind you on a twisty mountain road.... pull the hell over and let him go.
We spent countless hours behind idiot cagers tooling along at 5 and 10mph on these roads. The fury that creates is akin to what you would feel if you were on the interstate and two morons were driving side by side 20mph below the speed limit.
Hrm... How about one more rule...
11) Cagers suck.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Bless Their Little Hearts
Inocently strolling about the world wide web today... and lo and behold... I am accosted! Some scientists in New York have found the Missing Link! I'll be damned. We now have solid irrefutible proof that we descend from Monkeys. We have fossil evidence of a "transitional" species.
They couldnt' possibly wrong though. I mean its not like they've been wrong about this before or anything.
If you'd like to read about the hoax... I mean... missing link... you can read about it here. Oh... I suppose you may want to know why I think its a hoax. Well... note how much was paid for the "fossil".
Inocently strolling about the world wide web today... and lo and behold... I am accosted! Some scientists in New York have found the Missing Link! I'll be damned. We now have solid irrefutible proof that we descend from Monkeys. We have fossil evidence of a "transitional" species.
They couldnt' possibly wrong though. I mean its not like they've been wrong about this before or anything.
If you'd like to read about the hoax... I mean... missing link... you can read about it here. Oh... I suppose you may want to know why I think its a hoax. Well... note how much was paid for the "fossil".
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Eight Belles Part II
As Johnny Cash once sang... I'm a very worried man.
If you've been under a rock the last couple weeks you are probably un-aware... but otherwise surely you know that yet another promising filly will run with the boys in a triple crown race. Just two weeks ago Rachael Alexandra won the Kentucky Oaks by 20 lengths.
Now you have to understand... that doesn't mean she wasn't trying. She's special. She knows one speed... GOOOOO! Before the Oaks she frequently fought her training riders. She simply has to run. Deep down inside... she has a burning desire to run flat out... and she will run... until she dies.
Just like Eight Belles in last year's Derby. She was would beat Big Brown or die trying. We all saw how that ended.
Now... on just two weeks rest... Rachael Alexandra will trot out against the boys.
The media crush has been unbelievable. Bo-Rail has shunned the Derby winner to ride her. That's something that has never happened before. She's the only horse anyone is talking about.
Now keep that media glare in mind when you consider this... there is a towering mountain evidence that clearly states the folly of running a filly in amongst a group of males. The pheromones skyrocket... and it clearly freaks the girls out.
So...
What happens when the whole world is watching... and the famous and glamorous Rachael Alexandra is put down on the track after she ran herself to death trying to catch the bursting Mine That Bird?
I'm very worried. I'm very very worried.
As Johnny Cash once sang... I'm a very worried man.
If you've been under a rock the last couple weeks you are probably un-aware... but otherwise surely you know that yet another promising filly will run with the boys in a triple crown race. Just two weeks ago Rachael Alexandra won the Kentucky Oaks by 20 lengths.
Now you have to understand... that doesn't mean she wasn't trying. She's special. She knows one speed... GOOOOO! Before the Oaks she frequently fought her training riders. She simply has to run. Deep down inside... she has a burning desire to run flat out... and she will run... until she dies.
Just like Eight Belles in last year's Derby. She was would beat Big Brown or die trying. We all saw how that ended.
Now... on just two weeks rest... Rachael Alexandra will trot out against the boys.
The media crush has been unbelievable. Bo-Rail has shunned the Derby winner to ride her. That's something that has never happened before. She's the only horse anyone is talking about.
Now keep that media glare in mind when you consider this... there is a towering mountain evidence that clearly states the folly of running a filly in amongst a group of males. The pheromones skyrocket... and it clearly freaks the girls out.
So...
What happens when the whole world is watching... and the famous and glamorous Rachael Alexandra is put down on the track after she ran herself to death trying to catch the bursting Mine That Bird?
I'm very worried. I'm very very worried.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Ode To Carlos Torano
On a breezy overcast day I found myself strolling the streets of the Ancient City. A familiar urge was bubbling up from the darker places of my soul when I happened upon a great convenience... one of the few benefits urban society has to offer.
I had found a purveyor of combustible delicacies the likes of which a rural man can only peruse on the modern miracle we call the World Wide Web. A tiny shop to be sure... but appropriately... the vast majority of it was taken up by a massive humidor which was filled to the brim with the names of all my beloved friends... Romeo y Julieta.... that most famously awesome duo... and over there was their neighbor Mr Padron. And off in the corner sulking all alone was Excalibur itself. The mind whirled... choices... choices and decisions of terrible consequence. What to do?
One may find it hard to believe but the moments in that humidor were the most stressful I've experienced in many days... At last though... as one must... a girded up my loins and sought out the fine manager. She kindly provided me with 2 boxes of matches and threw in a complimentary cutter for good measure. God bless her... for I feared I should have to profane my tasty acquisitions with butane...
Butane... that most profane of fumes... who's fire is fit only for cigarettes and small felines. Any who see fit to expose fine tobacco to such a rude fire should be relegated to the pillory... if not the Iron Maiden herself. The thought crossed my mind... you know they have one of those here.
At any rate... Cigar smoking is like prayer. One must assign time to it. Serious prayer is not for the spur of the moment.... its not something one just fits in to their busy schedule. One sets aside time to do it properly. Cigars are the same way.
Often I choose my particular cigars based on the time I have available to experience them. Today my judgement lead me to the under appreciated Mr Torano... an Exodus 1959 label... dark and dangerous. It positively wreaked of cocoa. It took several matches to wake it up... not entirely because the fretful tobaccoist kept the humidor at something like 98% humidity. The ocean breeze didn't simplify things at all... but alas we don't complain... even if the lighting was the second most stressful event in the last several days.
I would tell you that I don't have the words to describe the glorious taste... but that would be a pathetic triumvirate of falsehood, cliche, and misjustice.
The cigar is... tobacco colored. Its dark and dusky... its powerful and complex. Its a taste that changes rapidly and makes you think. Its earthy... and yet there are fruits... its smooth... with a proper bite at the finish. Ahh.. Mr Torano... A man of less impressive breeding would've given in to his temptations, extinguished the fiery delight, and eaten it whole.
I was strong... and stuffed that wretched desire and chained it down deep where it belongs.
It was a fine smoke friends... and I sincerely hope you get to have one yourself. As for me... fret not... for I have two more offerings to tide me.
On a breezy overcast day I found myself strolling the streets of the Ancient City. A familiar urge was bubbling up from the darker places of my soul when I happened upon a great convenience... one of the few benefits urban society has to offer.
I had found a purveyor of combustible delicacies the likes of which a rural man can only peruse on the modern miracle we call the World Wide Web. A tiny shop to be sure... but appropriately... the vast majority of it was taken up by a massive humidor which was filled to the brim with the names of all my beloved friends... Romeo y Julieta.... that most famously awesome duo... and over there was their neighbor Mr Padron. And off in the corner sulking all alone was Excalibur itself. The mind whirled... choices... choices and decisions of terrible consequence. What to do?
One may find it hard to believe but the moments in that humidor were the most stressful I've experienced in many days... At last though... as one must... a girded up my loins and sought out the fine manager. She kindly provided me with 2 boxes of matches and threw in a complimentary cutter for good measure. God bless her... for I feared I should have to profane my tasty acquisitions with butane...
Butane... that most profane of fumes... who's fire is fit only for cigarettes and small felines. Any who see fit to expose fine tobacco to such a rude fire should be relegated to the pillory... if not the Iron Maiden herself. The thought crossed my mind... you know they have one of those here.
At any rate... Cigar smoking is like prayer. One must assign time to it. Serious prayer is not for the spur of the moment.... its not something one just fits in to their busy schedule. One sets aside time to do it properly. Cigars are the same way.
Often I choose my particular cigars based on the time I have available to experience them. Today my judgement lead me to the under appreciated Mr Torano... an Exodus 1959 label... dark and dangerous. It positively wreaked of cocoa. It took several matches to wake it up... not entirely because the fretful tobaccoist kept the humidor at something like 98% humidity. The ocean breeze didn't simplify things at all... but alas we don't complain... even if the lighting was the second most stressful event in the last several days.
I would tell you that I don't have the words to describe the glorious taste... but that would be a pathetic triumvirate of falsehood, cliche, and misjustice.
The cigar is... tobacco colored. Its dark and dusky... its powerful and complex. Its a taste that changes rapidly and makes you think. Its earthy... and yet there are fruits... its smooth... with a proper bite at the finish. Ahh.. Mr Torano... A man of less impressive breeding would've given in to his temptations, extinguished the fiery delight, and eaten it whole.
I was strong... and stuffed that wretched desire and chained it down deep where it belongs.
It was a fine smoke friends... and I sincerely hope you get to have one yourself. As for me... fret not... for I have two more offerings to tide me.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Tales for the Hammock
It is my sincerest hope that this particular visti to my blog finds you well. If you are not surfing the web from a hammock with a tastey beverage in your hand... then by all means take the time to rememdy that situation.
As for us... well... you can see we're doing well. The boys are pirates at heart. Just like their father. And thus whenever we find ourselves at the beach they'll spend literally hours just standing in water letting the waves pound them... and giggling while the sand rushes out from underneath their feet.
Its definately a bit of a stretch to call this camping.... I mean... a 40 foot RV with solid surface counters with more square feet than the average new yorker's apartment can't really be called roughing it.
Now for those wondering its mid-80s around here... but the sun is beating down like Mjolnir itself.
We'll be doing some of the touristy stuff later on in the week. For those of you that don't know St Augustine is considered the oldest city in America. The first Mass was held here. Also... the real Ripley's Believe it or Not Museum is here. The ones you see elsewhere are just copies. The real stuff is on display here.
Of course... something's stay constant even on vacation. For example someone is still always laying traps for daddy.
Well anway... as you can see we're havin' a big time. Hope y'all are to.
And to finish a thought for once...
No... it ain't exactly camping...
But's damned sure vacation.
We'll see ya around.
Thursday, May 07, 2009
Hooked
Well.. Uncle Welldigger took my boys fishin' today. Eli caught a blue gill and a large mouth bass. Not to damned bad for a 4-year-old.
Worms and bobbers for them what are interested. Fish probly would've eaten bare hooks if we'd been ornery enough to throw 'em in there.
Tough to be a day in the sun with your boys castin' a line. Not impossible mind you... but tough.
In related news... we're rollin' out for St Augustine, FL tomarrow. I'll be bloggin' from the RV of course.
Y'all enjoy your week at work.
Well.. Uncle Welldigger took my boys fishin' today. Eli caught a blue gill and a large mouth bass. Not to damned bad for a 4-year-old.
Worms and bobbers for them what are interested. Fish probly would've eaten bare hooks if we'd been ornery enough to throw 'em in there.
Tough to be a day in the sun with your boys castin' a line. Not impossible mind you... but tough.
In related news... we're rollin' out for St Augustine, FL tomarrow. I'll be bloggin' from the RV of course.
Y'all enjoy your week at work.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
Island of Freedom
For the second time in as many weeks... someone was perusing my library... and remarked about a collection I happen to have. Apparently it seems odd that the works of John Donne (pronounced dun for them what don't already know) should reside upon my shelf amongst the 100 Greatest Books Ever Written... at least according to the Franklin Library.
I've never bothered to defend the man... as I know quite well that those who lampoon him are at least familiar with him.
Me?
I don't much think there is any reason at all to debate the issue... The man constructed a line so powerful it improved the standing of an entire language.
"Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee."
Well? Where did you think Hemingway got it?
For the second time in as many weeks... someone was perusing my library... and remarked about a collection I happen to have. Apparently it seems odd that the works of John Donne (pronounced dun for them what don't already know) should reside upon my shelf amongst the 100 Greatest Books Ever Written... at least according to the Franklin Library.
I've never bothered to defend the man... as I know quite well that those who lampoon him are at least familiar with him.
Me?
I don't much think there is any reason at all to debate the issue... The man constructed a line so powerful it improved the standing of an entire language.
"Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee."
Well? Where did you think Hemingway got it?
Monday, May 04, 2009
Sunday, May 03, 2009
Dreams Really Do Come True
Behold.
I am now the owner of a BMW R1150 RT. Its hard to believe that after all these years I am finally the owner of a BMW. As my elder brother so wisely stated... "its about damned time... you've only been talking about them for 10 years."
Of course he's exaggerating. Neither of us were riding motorcycles 10 years ago. Like most Americans who've never ridden a motorcycle... we liked Harleys.
See... its only after you learn something about motorcycles that you finally realize how badly Harley sucks. And it wasn't until about 2004 when I really started appreciating these BMW's. The engineering is ridiculous. I could go on and on... but the best way to put it is... this is best bike out there for the long distance riding that JAC and I do.
And I would be greatly remiss if I didn't point out that it was my beloved and beautiful wife that convinced me to buy it. Pay attention there boys. I didn't convince her. I didn't do it in spite of her. She actively persuaded me. There were less expensive bikes. There were other options. She was adamant that I get this one... because she knew this is the one I really loved.
Now if you'll excuse me... I'm going to go sit on it... and watch the power windshield go up and down.
Behold.I am now the owner of a BMW R1150 RT. Its hard to believe that after all these years I am finally the owner of a BMW. As my elder brother so wisely stated... "its about damned time... you've only been talking about them for 10 years."
Of course he's exaggerating. Neither of us were riding motorcycles 10 years ago. Like most Americans who've never ridden a motorcycle... we liked Harleys.
See... its only after you learn something about motorcycles that you finally realize how badly Harley sucks. And it wasn't until about 2004 when I really started appreciating these BMW's. The engineering is ridiculous. I could go on and on... but the best way to put it is... this is best bike out there for the long distance riding that JAC and I do.
And I would be greatly remiss if I didn't point out that it was my beloved and beautiful wife that convinced me to buy it. Pay attention there boys. I didn't convince her. I didn't do it in spite of her. She actively persuaded me. There were less expensive bikes. There were other options. She was adamant that I get this one... because she knew this is the one I really loved.
Now if you'll excuse me... I'm going to go sit on it... and watch the power windshield go up and down.
Saturday, May 02, 2009
From the Master's Hand
“And now he stands beneath the rose escarpment above the flash and glare of the magnesium and the whirring film of celluloid immortality. This is the moment, the peak, the pinnacle; after this, all is ebb.” - William Faulkner, May 1962; Louisville, Kentucky
In years gone by Sports Illustrated sent William Faulkner to the Derby to write about it for them. Such a shame we get nothing of the sort these days. An old timer recalls driving Faulkner around to Lexington the week prior to the Derby to visit the farms. Ol' Bill fell asleep on the way back... but near Bardstone the old timer swears Faulkner woke with a start...
"I'd never mistake that smell! There's distillery around here! Close!"
He didn't say if they stopped or not.
“And now he stands beneath the rose escarpment above the flash and glare of the magnesium and the whirring film of celluloid immortality. This is the moment, the peak, the pinnacle; after this, all is ebb.” - William Faulkner, May 1962; Louisville, Kentucky
In years gone by Sports Illustrated sent William Faulkner to the Derby to write about it for them. Such a shame we get nothing of the sort these days. An old timer recalls driving Faulkner around to Lexington the week prior to the Derby to visit the farms. Ol' Bill fell asleep on the way back... but near Bardstone the old timer swears Faulkner woke with a start...
"I'd never mistake that smell! There's distillery around here! Close!"
He didn't say if they stopped or not.
The Pick:
The heart says Freisian Fire...
The head says Musket Man.
***UPDATE***
And now you know... if you watched... why the Derby is still... and always will be... the Most Exciting Two-Minutes in Sports. Mine That Bird. The damned track announcer didn't even know who that horse was that ran off and left the field. 9500 dollar horse.... ate their asses alive. I've seen it all.
The heart says Freisian Fire...
The head says Musket Man.
***UPDATE***
And now you know... if you watched... why the Derby is still... and always will be... the Most Exciting Two-Minutes in Sports. Mine That Bird. The damned track announcer didn't even know who that horse was that ran off and left the field. 9500 dollar horse.... ate their asses alive. I've seen it all.
Derby
Well... I know I usually hype it more... I know I usually break down the contenders... but I've been distracted this year.
IWantRevenge was the horse folks... he really was... but he broke his ankle and he's been pulled. That leaves it open for Pioneer of the Nile. If he makes the transition to dirt... he'll tear this field up. If he doesn't... its Musket Man. All the speed is inside.... and Pinoneer has been working REALLY really well.
I believe he's the horse to get it done.
Well... I know I usually hype it more... I know I usually break down the contenders... but I've been distracted this year.
IWantRevenge was the horse folks... he really was... but he broke his ankle and he's been pulled. That leaves it open for Pioneer of the Nile. If he makes the transition to dirt... he'll tear this field up. If he doesn't... its Musket Man. All the speed is inside.... and Pinoneer has been working REALLY really well.
I believe he's the horse to get it done.
Friday, May 01, 2009
Bug Out Bikes
I know I know... took me long enough.
Well I've had a couple request for a utility motorcycle post. Apparently folks are thinking two-wheeled transportation may be a good option should the proverbial excrement meet the oscillatory cooling device. Fair enough. But why? And what type of bike would work well?
Well... look... you don't need a Goldwing folks. You may as well ride around in a civic as one of those things. What you want is called a "dual-sport". Its a bike that's very capable. You can ride it offroad or on. In general they are light, quick, and get great gas mileage. They tend to be simple and bullet-proof reliable.
Here are two options to seriously consider:
Kawasaki KLR 250: Simple. Reliable. 100mpg. You don't need cartridge forks and a ultra modern suspension. You need a bike that's good on gravel and good on trails. This is the one. They can be had cheap, and the seat heights are manageable. The bike in not indestructible... but as a matter of practicality... you can treat it like it is.
Honda Ruckus: Its small... its insanely reliable. It gets 100mpg... and its an automatic. You can carry stuff through the muck and mud. You can go places no one else can. You can raise all manner of hell in the Wal-mart parking lot. Just looking at it gives me evil thoughts. The best thing about the Ruckus is the fact that it has a huge support system. Lots of bag options and such... and you absolutely must be able to carry stuff.Now... all of the jap manufacturers make something comparable to the KLR... so if you want a Yahama or a Suzuki or a Honda... they are out there. You can ramp up the displacement to 650 if you want but you'll be giving up a lot of mileage and you'll be getting a less capable motorcycle in my opinion. You need to think small and light.
These bikes can be had for less than 2000 dollars... probably for something closer to 1500... you'll not find a more useful tool for that amount of money.
And for crying out loud... stay away from chinese shit. The bikes are not reliable and parts are not particularly available. Buy Jap.
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