Strongly Worded Letter

What's Next In That Crazy Country?

One of the great mysteries of the United States, at least to me,  is why you can't pump your own gasoline in Oregon. That's right, when you drive south from my house and cross the bridge from Vancouver, Washington into Portland, Oregon then all of a sudden you are in 1958 when you pull into a service station. I half expect to see girls on roller skates serving milkshakes while I watch the guy fill my tank. Come to think of it, that is not the worse idea ever.

I don't know when the great state of Oregon will put all those attendants out of work and repeal that law but I do know it is the end of a era on Prince Edward Island in eastern Canada this month.

Yes, for the first time since 1973 you can now buy a can of beer in that province. And soft drinks in a can for the first time since 1984.

Prince Edward Island was way ahead of the coming environmental awareness movement when they banned aluminum cans all those decade ago in favor of only refillable glass bottles. Here's why, so says former premier Pat Binns, "A pop bottle is refilled on average 17 times. You can imagine the energy that saves compared to filling a can in Montreal, driving it all the way to P.E.I., putting it through recycling and back into the mainstream again. Environmentally, glass is much better product than a can that has been used once."

The Niagra Falls Review in Ontario, Canada, where I read the story, also points out that "silica, the raw ingredient in glass, is one of the most plentiful and readily available substances on Earth. Aluminum, on the other hand, is a very expensive metal extracted from bauxite at enormous environmental cost."


I know it seems unlikely but I found the news interesting.

It's Hard Out There For A Pimp

(Click to enlarge) I don't know this guy and can certainly not recommend him for dating but one of my readers, Dana, does. And I do give him credit for being pro-active in this sometimes difficult dating world. Here is more about his plan from this unnamed dude's MySpace page:

"About me:
Why I am doing this? I've tried the 'tried-and-true-ways' to meet someone and figured I'd network and offer a financial incentive for people to refer their female friends to me.

How does this work? Well, just mail me a note about your friend/relative with a link to their picture (or their myspace page) and I'll do the rest. Or you can invite me to have coffee (preferably in L.A., although I will be in SF May 10-12) with the two of you. If I date your friend for at least 6 months, the $600 is yours.

Wanna contact me directly and date me yourself? After 6 months, the $600 GOES TO A CHARITY OF YOUR CHOICE.

Why $600? The IRS is giving out $600 Economic Stimulus Payments -- I'm rolling mine into a Romantic Stimulus Payment.

Almost 38 y.o. (looks 27), 5’7, Jewish (non-practicing), has a Tom Cruise+Jason Schwartzman-ish look, trim, business owner, very creative, very funny, college grad, East Coast-y, well-dressed, well-read, reasonably neat, into film, comedy, cooking and baking, good stories, obscure rock bands, photography, books, L.A. resident looking for a LTR.

Who I'd like to meet:
Female (20’s- 40’s), any height, any religion, non-smoker, LA or SF area resident (or willing to visit often/consider relocating), indoorsy (i.e. museums as opposed to mountains), warm, affectionate, an Abby to my Ira (hey, I just rented it). Someone who likes guys like me."

What do you think, ladies? Interested? Is this ballsy or desperate? Will it work?

NSFW: Warning! Female Nudity In Today's Post*

If you thought yesterday's post about a guy selling chainsaws one day and singing on tour with Boston was hard to believe, your head is going to explode today.

Here is a 1995 painting entitled Benefits Supervisor Sleeping by an artist named Lucian Freud. If you are a modern art aficionado then perhaps you are familiar with his work. I was not until yesterday.

That was when StronglyWordedLetter.com reader Rob sent me the story of  Mr. Freud's painting being sold at Christie's auction house in New York. Before I tell you for how much, gaze again at the beauty above (of then-38-year-old Sue Tilley who was, yes, a benefits supervisor) and fix a number in your mind that you would consider a fair price for the work.

The painting actually set a record for the highest price ever paid for a work by a living artist. It went for $33.64 million dollars. **

Maybe the buyer just loves, er, larger women. Wouldn't a newsstand copy of Udders magazine be cheaper?

As an investment it sure seems like a risky bet to me but then no one liked Andy Warhol's celebrity silkscreens back when he made them and one of them from 1966, seen here, just sold at this same auction for $32.5 million.      

* I apologize to the 85% of you who saw the heading of today's post and had higher hopes. I know that particular nudity was not what you were breathlessly anticipating.

** Not a misprint. Thirty three million, six hundred forty thousand dollars, plus commission. 

 

"You Don't Need To Be A Weatherman...

.....to know which way the wind blows."

Yesterday my brother sent me this photo of a flooded intersection about five miles from where he works in Maryland (that's one of those states you might not have heard of but but trust me, it's real). On a normal week this would make the national news but right now it might not make the top ten weather emergencies in progress.

Seriously, what's the deal? Flooding yesterday in a South African town left more than a thousand families homeless.

There have been more than 100 tornadoes in the Midwest in the last two weeks, killing about two dozen.

The last week of April saw thousands of acres of Southern California blackened by wildfires. This week the same is happening in central Florida.

This month's cyclone in Burma may have claimed 100,000 lives.

Yesterday's 7.9 earthquake in southwest China, the worst in more than thirty years, caused at least 15,000 deaths and counting.

There have been several shark attacks, some fatal, all in the last two weeks at beaches as far flung as Mexico, California, Florida and Australia.

That kid David Archeletta made it to the top three on this season's American Idol.

See what I mean? Disaster after disaster. Is it just me or does it seem like somehow they can't all be coincidentally happening at about the same time? Like they are related in some way I can't see? The Earth is fighting back or something?  Anyone? Beuller? Beuller? Al Gore? Anyone?

Ding Fries Are Done, Ding Fries Are Done

My pal Marty and I went into Jack-in-The-Box the other day to pick up some lunch. We were going to just use the drive through lane but since I wanted sauce for my chicken strips, and we know I am zero for all in that happening at the pickup window, we decided we'd best go in instead.

It was during the busy lunchtime rush so we found ourselves standing for several minutes near the counter waiting for our food to be ready. It wasn't long before one of us commented on the beep beep beep coming from the kitchen. Beep beep beep. Over and over again. Beep beep beep. 

I don't know from what device the beep was emanating but either the signal was being ignored or as soon as one machine was turned off and reset another must have started up.  Beep beep beep.  Minute after long painful minute. It really couldn't have been more annoying.   

I got to thinking about all the other beeps I have noticed lately. At the gas station the pump beeps when you insert your credit card, beeps when it is time to select a nozzle, beeps when you are through pumping.

I had a rental car last week while traveling for work. It beeped if you started the car before your seat belt was on, even in park. it beeped if you turned the car off but didn't remove the key. Kill me.

We have a cool bonus refrigerator drawer built into our kitchen island. When the regular fridge is full it is awesome to use the little one to store sodas or bulky items. Trouble is, as soon as you open it and for the duration it is open, beep beep beep.

When did the world decide that there wasn't enough noise in our lives? And who chose that loud, shrill, piercing tone as the standard? There must be a hundred softer, more pleasant sounds that could have been used instead. In many cases, a flashing light would be preferable instead of the noisy beep.

Who's with me?    

       

Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

Do you recognize the woman on the left in this recent news photograph? That's Deborah Jeane Palfrey, recently convicted   of running a Washington call-girl ring. You may have heard her referred to by her media nickname, the D.C. Madam.

The woman on the right in the picture is Deborah's mom. She was in the news last week  too when she found her daughter's body swinging from a nylon rope in her Florida home. It is unusual that suicide notes are released to the public, but she left three.

The first was for whoever found her body:

The second (on the other side of the above Do Not Revive note) was to her mother:

And the third was to her sister Bobbie (Click on each to enlarge):

If you've got  both the time and the interest, do yourself a Google search on "Palfrey murder" and see how the blogosphere has exploded with theories as to why, despite the medical examiner's certainly, this was not a suicide but a murder. Some even suggest the notes are forged, citing "evidence" like this:

Why would her note say, "I cannot live the next 6-8 years behind bars for what both you and I have come to regard as this 'modern day lynching,' only to come out of prison in my late 50s a broken, penniless and very much alone woman."  They point out that most legal analysts expected her prison sentence, scheduled to be handed down July 24, to be more in the two-to-three year range and that she also stood to make millions to write a book in which she named the names of her famous D.C. clients.

Unrelated Editor's Note: One of you will post the 3,000th reader comment on this blog today since going live seven months ago. Thanks to you and everyone else who chooses to make this daily visit interactive.

 

Yeah, But It's Cheaper Than Renting....

After a bummer post about a dead guy on Saturday and a bummer post about a dead horse on Sunday it is time to definitely lighten up on today's blog.

According to Forbes, a Mr. Mukesh Ambani is the richest citizen of India and is building what could be the world's largest and costliest home with a price tag nearing two billion dollars. Two. Billion. Dollars. For a house.

When the Ambani residence is finished in January, completing a four-year process, it will be 550 feet high with 4,000,000 square feet of interior space. Say it with me: Four million square feet. It will be a 60 story skyscraper, but with "just" 27 stories of livable space, in downtown Mumbai.

While a hotel or condominium has a common layout, replicated on every floor, and uses the same materials throughout the building, the Ambanis' home has no two alike in either plans or materials used.

Atop six stories of parking lots, the living quarters begin at a lobby with nine elevators, as well as several storage rooms and lounges. Down dual stairways with silver-covered railings is a large ballroom with 80 per cent of its ceiling covered in crystal chandeliers.There's also a four-story vertical garden and three rooftop helicopter pads. For when your dinner guests all arrive at once, I guess.

Health club. Check. Swimming Pool. Check. One floor dedicated to auto maintenance with a full service garage. Check. 50 seat movie theater. Duh. 

The report said that Ambanis plan to use the residence occasionally for corporate entertainment also and they want its interiors to have a "distinctly Indian" look and feel.

The top floors of entertaining space, where Ambani plans to host business guests (or just relax) offer panoramic views of the Arabian Sea...

Sounds all right if you like that sort of thing, I guess....

Patient Dies

Patient Dies

That was the headline on a news wire service story in the print edition of yesterday's Seattle Post- Intelligencer. It is not the kind of headline that would guarantee I would keep reading but I am glad I took the time. Please join me and you'll see why.


"Denied transplant over pot use: A musician who was denied a liver transplant because he used medical marijuana with medical approval under Washington state law to ease the symptoms of advance hepatitis C died Thursday.

The death of Timothy Garon, 56, at Bailey-Boushay House, an intensive-care nursing center, was confirmed to the Associated Press by his lawyer and a spokeswoman for Virginia Mason Medical Center, which operates Bailey-Boushay.

Garon died a week after his doctor told him a University of Washington Medical Center committee had again denied him a spot on the liver transplant list because of his use of marijuana."


Okay, everybody still with me? The way that deal works, and this is the case in many other states as well, is that you are automatically denied a place on the organ transplant list if you have taken any non-prescription drugs in the past six months. Or taken the one prescription drug that your doctor gives you that is singled out above all others by the U.S. Government as being more dangerous than the rest.

Oh, but you are welcome to re-apply if you are "clean" for six months though, if you are still alive.

When I am running things (I'll get back to you with a date) there will be this new law on the books in my state:

No level of government gets to decide what a doctor can and can not prescribe to his patients.
   

Shop Around

I've never met most of my regular blog readers, am email pals with a few, but appreciate all of you. Nicole is one who has often tipped me off to fascinating topics that she thinks might be worth sharing.

So, welcome to GroceryLists.org. Here's Bill Keaggy:

"In 1997, I picked up a discarded grocery list at a St. Louis supermarket. I found it to be a fascinating glimpse into a stranger's life and decided to pick them up whenever I found one. In 2000, I posted my collection of about 40 lists to the web. By 2004, when the New York Times Magazine profiled me and this collection, I had about 500. In early 2006 I started working on a book about these lost lists and by the time it was published in May 2007, there were 1,600 lists on the site (with thousands more yet to be scanned and posted).

The book, 'Milk Eggs Vodka: Grocery Lists Lost and Found', features about 200 of the best: The funniest, the weirdest, the saddest, the strangest, the unhealthiest and more. Simply put, it is a strange, fascinating and hilarious look at other peoples' discarded grocery lists. Published by HOW Books, it's hardcover, 240 pages, full-color — a beautiful compilation of shopping habits, spelling quirks and good fun. Learn more about the book at www.milkeggsvodka.com."

"List #1261: Hmmm. Considering this is New Year's Eve, I'd say this person has a pretty damn awesome night lined up, even if they are going solo and doing a little math on the side."

"List #1648: Nice. Self-directed sarcasm, bad dogs. Keeping it real. And very alone."




"List 1114: All I need to tell you is that this list was found in West Virginia. It's like the joke writes itself!"

Click here for hundreds more of other people's shopping lists! And thanks, Nicole!

Watch This

The conversation never actually happened but through the years some have reported that authors F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ernest Hemingway had this exchange:

Fitzgerald: "The rich are different than you and me."
Hemingway: "Yes, they have more money."

Of course rich is relative. I know people who would mock my bank book but to others I would be considered very wealthy just by having two cows.

To the former group, here's a new item for sale you may want to get on the waiting list for. To the latter, I'm sorry you have to see this, as you sit surfing the internet on your free government laptop in your dirt hut in the Congo.


Here are the details from the Wall Street Journal.

"A $300,000 watch? Luxury. A $300,000 watch that doesn’t tell time — and that sells out? Pure genius.

Swiss watchmaker Romain Jerome just launched the Day&Night watch. The watch won’t tell you what time it is. That’s so yesterday. But it does tell you whether it’s day or night — helpful, I guess, for billionaire types who can’t afford windows.

As the company’s Web site boasts: 'With no display for the hours, minutes or seconds, the Day&Night offers a new way of measuring time, splitting the universe of time into two fundamentally opposing sections: day versus night.'

What’s most impressive about the Day&Night is its complexity, given its absolute uselessness. The watch features two tourbillons — devices that overcome the ill effects of earth’s gravity on a watch’s accuracy — connected by a differential mechanism. Instead of hands, the watch has a 'contemplative tourbillon operation whereby the ‘Day’ tourbillon operates for 12 hours to symbolize working life, while the ‘Night’ tourbillon takes over afterward to represent an individual’s private time.'

Like other Romain Jerome watches, the watch is made in part with steel salvaged from the sunken Titanic, along with material from the shipyard where it was built. That sounds creepy to me, but maybe today’s buyers prefer morbid metals.

The company’s chief executive, Yvan Arpa, cited statistical studies to explain how the watch better reflects the time-philosophy of today’s wealthy.

'When you ask people what is the ultimate luxury, 80 percent answer ‘time’. Then when you look at other studies, 67 percent don’t look at their watch to tell what time it is,' he told Reuters.

He added that anyone can buy a watch that tells time — only a truly discerning customer can buy one that doesn’t.

And here’s the best part: The watch sold out within 48 hours of its launch."
   

What? What? What? Seriously, What?

JustPetStrollers.Com is just one of many sites representing businesses that sell, well, pet strollers.

From the site: "Highest-quality pet strollers available, sold & serviced by pet stroller professionals.  Beware of cheap look-alike products.  We've sold over 8,000 pet strollers, and we won't offer anything but name brand products in which we trust our own pets!"

"April '08 Customer Raves:  'This has been the BEST purchase I have made in a very long time."   'The pets love it.'  'This is the way all online shopping should be!'" 

"'GREAT product at an incredible price. I researched for weeks and found yours was the lowest price.'   'Couldn't be happier.'   'The pet stroller is just fantastic.'"

Okay, I know I ask a lot of my readers. But I really need you to step up today and tell me why you would need to take your pet for a "walk" in a pet stroller. Isn't at least half the reason we take our dogs out so that they can get exercise too?

Maybe if you are homeless and don't want your dog to have to walk all day in extreme weather then it make sense.  I'm pretty sure they haven't sold over 8000 strollers on just this one site from people who have dogs that can't walk either.  So what is the deal?

You Be The Judge

My dear friend Rose, when she is not busy looking for a man and looking for a job, still amazingly finds the time to send me 100,000 word emails about the most curious aspects of her life.   

I got this one a few days ago and did not even ask her permission to share it with you because a) she's a blogger too so knows that ones life informs ones blog so nearly everything one comes across is fair game and b)  she is too busy writing the next 100,000 word email to have time to read anything I might post anyway.

Don't worry, I cut it down by 99% but I think you'll still get the gist. I know if Rose were reading this she would be very interesting in your comments too. Okay, deep breath and settle in.....


"Hi. I'm flummoxed. This may be something that takes a collective of brains to work out, because it's a conundrum of assumptions, laws, vanity and lack of common sense.

So:  A guy has parked a Range Rover in a 'compact' space.  Said space is immediately to the left of what looks like an acceptable, available space.  The Range Rover is so hulkingly large that I can't see that its tires are very nearly in the next space, and that it's parked at a slight angle.  I know, park somewhere else, put a note from YouParkLikeAnAsshole.com on it and go about my day, right?

Problem:  I can't get out of my car from the driver's side. I know this because I try to open the door, gently. My mirror lightly touches his passenger side door, because that's kind of what happens in that situation.

Another problem: Due to the angle at which the Range Rover is parked, I can't back out without rubbing my mirror against the paint job.  I only realize this after attempting to back out verrrrrry slowly, and stopping the second I realize what's happening.  I verrrrrry slowly pull up to the front of the space and resign myself to climbing out of the passenger side.

As it happens, the guy and his (presumably) girlfriend show up just then.  'Oh, sorry,' he says, obviously not meaning it.  'It was the only space.'

'Did you try downstairs?' I ask. 

Despite the literally dozens of signs around the parking lot mentioning the underground parking, he had been unaware of the existence of such a thing.  Of course.

'Hey, you scratched my car.'

(Ed: skip, skip, skip, angst, tears, and talk of insurance companies here)

So, I'm waiting.  I'm sure that if a claim is filed, I'll be at fault.  Here's the question:  Why?  I pulled into a space, realized it was not the right space for me, tried to extricate myself, and was unable to do so without touching a huge-ass truck parked in a space meant for a compact car.  Yes, I misjudged the situation, because when I'm coming up to a space in a parking lot, I can't pause time, fly several yards into the air, see the problem and avoid the situation entirely. 

But isn't he at least as much at fault for creating the situation in the first place?  Did it not occur to him that when he parked his huge-ass truck in a compact space, the mirror or door of any car parked next to him -- even if it was all the way to the other side of the adjacent space (also a compact spot) -- was going to touch the front passenger door?  Does he really expect to drive and park a huge-ass truck around L.A. without getting the occasional scratch?  Am I supposed to park elsewhere because he's just too damn important to find another spot, or does he think that the laws of physics don't apply to Range Rovers?   And what's up with his girlfriend?  'Cause if it were me, I would've dumped him at "not [his] problem".

Yeah.  I'm kinda stumped.  You got anything?"

I'm Just Sayin'

I know it can't possibly matter to anyone else and you have already wasted your time by clicking on today's post but I just gotta dash off a couple of weakly worded letters.

Dear Bill Maher,

     I couldn't be a bigger fan of your Real Time show on HBO.  I look forward to it Friday nights like it was free Hot Wings. You tell it like it is and even when you are wrong I appreciate your perspective, intelligence and passion.
     It's such a small thing and I hesitate to even call it to your attention but on more than one occasion I have heard you describe someone in the news with a difficult task ahead as having a "long road to hoe."  This past week's show you used the expression to describe Senator McCain's task as he tried to court conservatives yet still distance himself from President Bush. 
     Unfortunately, nobody hoes a road. The term comes from the farm and it is a long row of crops in front of the farmer that represents the difficult task ahead. Interestingly, The Oxford English Dictionary dates it back to 1835 and gives Davy Crockett credit for the first published usage.

Continued success,

Dear Senator McCain.

Congratulations on your party's presumptive nomination for the office of President  of the United States. You should be very proud of the way you campaigned and, obviously, connected with millions of American voters.
     I know you have given thousands of speeches over the past two years and the sheer volume of details you must keep straight in each appearance, especially under the glare of the media, would make  it easy to not be conscious of pronouncing every word just so.
     But more than once I have heard you use the word heighth instead of the intended height. Just this week, in your speech to veterans in Kansas City, you characterized  a "quick troop withdrawal from Iraq" (as) "the heighth of irresponsibility."
     With the next few months of campaigning you still face before November the last thing you need is your Democratic opponents being able to make fun of your version of President's Bush's pet word nookyular.

All the best to you, Sir, and God Bless America.

P.S. Hey,  did your friend Davy Crockett really come up with that "long row to hoe" thing when you guys were still rolling together?

Note to readers: The reason these are weakly, not strongly, worded letters is that the topics are too insignificant to actually print and mail. I just write them to make myself feel like I have addressed them and then I can move on with my life. There is something wrong with me that I have to do this.

 

 

    
 

Please Explain

I had something completely different planned for today but while cleaning up my desktop (not, that is not a euphemism and if it were, it would be a damned poor one) I came across this photo that I must have saved.

I think I remember why. I guess I had heard they were together and realized what a ridiculous thing that was but when I saw it with my own eyes - I mean, the proof that they even know each other - I must have blocked it out until now.

It's been, what, six months or so since Matter met Anti-Matter? For the benefit of my dad, and anyone else who does not recognize these two by sight, the happy couple is:

In the Light corner, beautiful 20 year old actress Evan Rachel Wood, best known for her roles in the independent film Thirteen and last year's mainstream hit Across The Universe.   

In the dark corner, brutally ugly 39 year old musician Marilyn Manson, famous for his outrageous horror themed stage shows and hit albums like Antichrist Superstar and  Mechanical Animals. He is notorious for his heavy drug and alcohol abuse and was previously engaged to actress Rose McGowan and divorced from burlesque star Dita Von Teese.

These aren't two celebrities who were snapped standing together at a party. They live together. She lies down with him. They are "in love."

Look, we've all seen couples that seem unlikely to the outside world. We can't know what is really going on here. They could be the new Paul Newman and  Joanne Woodward  for all we know. But what is your theory? Daddy issues? Good girl/rebellious phase? Junkie/Pusher? Please discuss.

No Way!!!

Uh...this can't be real, can it? A few more long shots would certainly make it more convincing, but still....What do you think?

I can't get my dog Atomic to remember where the doggie door is yet someone was able to teach this elephant to paint like this?

"All Right. Embalming. First I Position The Body On Blocks..."

"First things first. Suiting up. As you can see from the pictures of me, we wear lots of protective gear. The picture doesn't even show the full extent of it. We also have surgical masks that we usually wear to protect our mouths and noses. The suit is essential. Blood, embalming fluid, and other assorted liquids get everywhere. And believe me, the times that I don't wear the face shield are the times that I splash blood on my face (do that once and you definitely wear the face shield for the next embalming).

All right. Embalming. First I position the body on blocks. The head rests on a concave head block. The feet are elevated on a body block. We typically put a body block under the butt and one under the shoulders, as well. The arms get propped up on blocks so that they are crossed on their chest or belly..."

That's an excerpt from an article called My Life As A Mortician written by a  funeral director here in the Pacific Northwest named Annie Forrester.

That's just one of the festive features in the new issue of Girls And Corpses magazine! I'll give you a moment to mentally confirm that today is April 2nd and not the first so this must be real.

Other highlights include an interview with comedian Mr. Deadguy  ("He's Mr. Rogers for maggots") who also sings a song called, It's Always Saturday When You're Dead in his act.   

Want a photo shoot that pushes the legal limits of blood, sex, and gore? Then you want the Satanic Sluts.  Or an artist whose images are all of torture. They call that piece No Pain, No Painting.

Music fan? How about the interview/photo shoot with Mistress Gen, a former organ transplant coordinator whose band's live show included  crucifixions, branding , sewing lips shut and more.  They're called the Genitorturers. And I thought the Wiggles were crazy with those wacky primary color sweaters!

You get the idea. The Lighter Side of Torture, the Wheel Of Misfortune, an article on Cutters, and advice from Dr. Necco Feelya are all included in this issue too.

No please.

WHTHEF?

Are you like me? Before you mutter, "I sure the heck hope not!" let me reveal what I am talking about.

Out on the highway do you drive yourself crazy trying to decipher the meanings of other people's personalized license plates? Or are you able to see it and immediately dismiss it as not being worth another thought?  Or have you never been stumped by one? I am Choice #1, crazy.

Fortunately, most plates are fairly revelatory. See this one and you instantly  peg the car's owner as a LAB LOVeR. Either the guy is really into that breed of dog or it's Chemical Ali's ride and he's talking about a different kind of lab. Oh, wait, see the paw prints on the license plate frame? So it's settled.


But then you get behind SNOPHLK. That's when the palpitations begin. How long is this one going to take me to figure out? Okay, okay, it's not ShOPoHoLic. Is it  SNOw PacK something - no there's an H and an L. Could it be SNOoP HuLK? That makes no sense at all.  You check it backwards...is it KilL with HarPOoNS? Of course it isn't. Now my whole day is ruined. No matter what else I'm supposed to be thinking about this is what I'll really be trying to figure out. Grrrr.....

   
Here we go again. AMESTRK? Is it A  ME (or MEan) STReaK? Then the driver is a jackass. Maybe  AMy'S  TRuCK?  Well, it's not a truck, it's an SUV, but maybe? I doubt it.  What if it is one of those vanity plates that only has meaning for the owner? What if they are the initials of someones kids or pets or something? Then  no amount of brainpower and logic will ever crack the code. This is why this is such a dangerous game. This is why I shouldn't play. Or maybe I just suck at it and both of these plates will be  child's play, sorry, CHDSPLY, to you.
   

Dig Deeper!

Here's the opening paragraph of a story I read in the USA Today newspaper Friday:

BAGHDAD -  "The body of a Chaldean Catholic archbishop was found in a shallow grave in northern Iraq on Thursday, two weeks after he was kidnapped by gunman in one of the most dramatic attacks against the country's small Christian community..."

Looks like business  as usual to me.  Nope, not talking about the continuing violence in Iraq or the misery it means for its people. I'm talking about yet the latest example of the bad guys being potentially foiled by trying to get away with burying the victim in a shallow grave.

Seriously, what is that deal? Why go to all the effort to kidnap and then kill a dude only to wimp out on the follow through. I know six feet is a lot of dirt to shovel but  if you leave the archbishop in three inches of soil then you're not fooling anyone.

A quick Google News search for the term shallow grave displayed example after example from the last month alone of killers continuing to be lazy when it really counts.

DETROIT — "Police are investigating the discovery of two bodies found in a vacant field on the city's west side. The bodies were found behind a home Friday afternoon. One body was found in a shallow grave and another was under a mattress..."

MEXICO CITY - "The remains of 33 people were found in a shallow grave on an abandoned property in the border town of Ciudad Juarez.  Authorities believe the mass burial to be linked to the city's violent drug trade..."

Philippines - "The body of a man thought to be Indonesian bomb expert Dulmatin, one of those behind the Bali bombings, was recovered from a shallow grave in the island of Tawi-tawi, said Major General Ben Dolorfino..."

Biddaddaba, Australia - "The skeletal remains of a man found in the Gold Coast hinterland had lain buried in a shallow grave for more than six months..."

Look, people, didn't your daddy ever tell you that if it's worth doing, it's worth doing right? Put in the extra effort and keep digging. What's another hour to button everything up at the end of  the day? In the long run, you'll sleep better.

 

Go Speed Racer, Go!!

I'm not asking this question for me because why would I need to know it? No, not me at all, not even a little bit. But let's say someone needed to know the answer to something to prepare for, say, traffic court. Please advise.

In your considered opinion, when does the speed limit on a roadside sign actually take effect?  Is it....when you can first see the sign?

Or is it........the first instant that the numbers can be realistically read?



Or maybe.......does that speed limit take effect only when the driver passes the sign? 

What say you? I'll be sure to tell my friend.

Avril Lavigne Was Right

Are some things more complicated than they need to be? I say yes.

I was in the Bad Place recently and had occasion to check in to a hotel - I honestly don't remember which one - and for the point of this post it doesn't matter.

The customer service I received at the front desk was particularly crappy. The fellow on the other side of the counter never even made eye contact with me, much less greeted me verbally. He just reached his hand over the desk to receive my I.D. and credit card and then he went to work.

And by "went to work" I mean he started typing. And typing. And typing. His eyes cast downward at some screen I couldn't see, his fingers were flying over the keyboard in front of him. 

After about a full minute of typing, I thought I might say something but didn't want him to screw up, lose his place, and have to start over.  So I just waited.

Another minute went by and I started to get really fascinated as to what he must be doing. Was all of that data entry really for my one little reservation? Or did he have to move every guest in the hotel down one room in order to accommodate my arrival?

Now, because I've got nothing but time, my mind starts to wander as I think of all the things he might be doing. Refinancing his house? Translating all four Lord Of The Rings books into Latin? Playing online 3D Star Trek chess with Leonard Nimoy?   
   
Finally, I did speak up. "How's it going?"

"Fine."

"Sure is a lot of typing."

"I'll be with you in just a moment," he said, still not looking at me even one time for a split second.

"I wonder if the computer has really made checking in hotel guests any faster," I mused, apparently to myself. "I remember back in the old days when they would take down your information on a 3X5 card and just put it in a box. It took about a tenth as much time as this." 

I really wasn't trying to be confrontational or sarcastic but I just couldn't reconcile the amount of time I was standing in his lobby with my idea of how long it should reasonably take to input my information. I was just one guy, one night, one key. I wasn't traveling with a circus with multiple special requests to only stay in rooms that faced east, or making demands on how many floors needed to be between the Bearded Lady and the Strong Man, or asking where we could let the tigers out to go pee. 

So what gives? Why so much typing? Any hoteliers reading this today?

Whoo Hoo?

This will seem like splitting hairs to most readers but I am just not comfortable with Washington Mutual Bank's energetic new advertising campaign, which they spell Whoo Hoo.

Why? I am a Woo Hoo man myself. Until I saw this sign on my local branch last week I didn't remember ever seeing it spelled with an H in there before.

Was it just an error? A typo? I wondered so went straight home and Googled both spellings. Surprise!  Woo Hoo returned 381,000 results. Whoo Hoo? Try 793,000 hits!!!! So it looks like my people are in the minority.

Some interesting sidebars turned up in my investigation. Whoohoo.co.uk  is a British dialect translator. For instance, if you are  from Yorkshire you can now convert your email into Cockney.  There is also a feature to translate your note into Ali G speak!   

Children's music superstars  The Wiggles have an album named  Whoo Hoo! Wiggly Gremlins! 

One the other side, Woo Hoo is a 1959 rockabilly hit from a band called the Rock-A-Teens as well as a popular cover (Remember Kill Bill?) by the Japanese girl group The 5.6.7.8s.

More importantly, the great Homer Simpson has weighed in on this sudden until-now-unbeknownst -to-anyone controversy. And if it's good enough for Homie, it's good enough for me!

Move Along. There Is Nothing To See Here

Complaining about traffic is usually about as effective as complaining about the weather. It is so far out of our hands that I don't know why we would waste our own time with it, much less others.  But I have to get something off my chest today.

About once every six to eight weeks a small group of people in my business in Seattle get together for dinner. It's nice. There is lots of industry gossip, observations, and exchanging of ideas in a friendly, non-competitive  manner.  Smart, creative people whose company I really enjoy. 

Yesterday was the latest meeting and we agreed on a restaurant for dinner in Issaquah, a Seattle suburb on Lake Washington, about 15 miles east of the city. (Two unrelated notes: Issaquah comes from the Indian word for snake and the town has  become slightly famous in the last few years due to spawning the rock band Modest Mouse.)   

I am pretty diligent about being on time so I left with plenty of time to get there, even allowing for rush hour traffic. When I merged from Route 518 onto the 405 I was dismayed to see nothing but tail lights. I mean, it was a parking lot, if cars in a parking lot were actually moving, albeit at only about ten miles per hour.

Speed limit 55, actual speed 10.

For twenty solid minutes. Moving but very slow. 20 minutes at 10 mph means less than five miles in that time on the 405. Eventually I saw the cars ahead of me starting to break away from the pack but I couldn't see why.   In another minute I finally was in position to be able to see what had caused the quagmire. I saw something so shocking, so unusual, so mind bending that I now understood why the other drivers had not been able to zip on by. There was ... wait for it .... a car parked on the shoulder of the highway.

Not a police car with a radar gun showing out of the window.

Not an ambulance loading Britney Spears in on a gurney.

Not a fire truck hosing down a fiery, crashed alien spacecraft.

Not a vehicle with a tire being changed.

Not even a vehicle with its hazard lights on.

Not a vehicle even with a person in it. And it was on a well-lit shoulder, safely parked several feet off the lanes of travel.

Just a car. Much Like the ones driver after driver was pedaling at 10 miles per hour to have a look and then immediately flooring it up to 60 as they passed it.

There was nothing in the road. There was no need for a backup. I understand seeing the whole road and defensively driving and anticipating potential danger but if you can not effectively evaluate a situation like this one as you pass by without having to practically stop on the highway then you should not be driving on them. Word is bond.   

            

What A Deal!!!

I had an auto tire mishap the other day and stopped by my friendly neighborhood Les Schwab Tire Store to have it repaired. Unfortunately, a nail had ruined the  tire so it couldn't be fixed and I had to order a new tire that took a freakin' week to get here from Pennsylvania but that's not the point of this entry.

While in the store I saw this placard advertising the current Les Schwab  sales promotion in effect: Buy  some new tires and get some free beef. Huh? Yep. Buy two and get $7.50 worth of cow. Buy four and get $15.00 worth. Again, huh?

How do you suppose that meeting went?

"Guys, we've got to move some more tires. Whaddya got?

"Well, we could offer a free giveaway with purchase. "

"Great idea! How about meat?"

"Makes sense to me.  Let's do it."


Here's what the company website has to say, 

"It's that time again. FREE BEEF with the tires you buy!

A "thank you" to the farmers and ranchers of the West, and a way to show our gratitude to you, our customer. Party pack, or fresh from the freezer. Buy some tires, get some beef. It's a big extra at no extra charge. While your (sic) there, ask about Les Schwab's easy-pay credit, including 90 days same as cash.

Sudden Service, Supermarket Selection, On-the-spot Warranties, and right now FREE BEEF.

You'll find it at Les Schwab. Ask about it."

I did. I asked. The guy beyond the counter didn't know a thing about the farmers or the ranchers. Still seems weird to me.