Saturday, March 31, 2007
I took a drive on Friday, through at least three states that have laws requiring drivers to use headsets while talking on their cell phones. These states have adopted such laws to ensure that drivers are not distracted by the use of cell phones while driving. Helpful? Doubtful. Intrusive? Absolutely.
And, thank Christ these laws have been enacted. If it weren't for the hands free laws, then at least ten drivers may have had to hold the phone against their ear with their shoulders so as to be able to tune the television set on their dashboards.
Really, what kind of a moron watches television while they are driving?
Wait, I know. The ones that I saw on I-95 on Friday morning.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
is interesting, really. It is the bluest of the Blue States, notwithstanding years of Republican governors. "What the hell," people said, "throw the Republicans a bone." It didn't rightly matter, because the legislature, also known as the General Court, was solidly Democrat (which is to say, solidly socialist, or worse). The nickname, "Taxachusetts" was fairly won, and we, the taxpayers, suffered under a heavy burden. Then, when the voters of Massachusetts voted for a tax rollback, the General Court said "Fuck off!" to the hoi polloi. And taxes, they will be going up, now that His Excellency, the Governor of Massachusetts, Deval Patrick, is in the corner office.
This fuckwit, whose campaign slogan was "Together We Can", has met the Peter Principle head on, and lost. He was incompetent in the Clinton Administration, hopeless at Coca Cola, worse at Ameriquest, and now, he brings his diversity hire brand of management to the Commonwealth, a state with a $27,000 million+ budget.
The man, lovingly known as Coupe Deval (due to his choice of a Cadillac as his company car), has been MIA mentally, and his efforts to regain the initiative have been sorely inadequate.
So, I began thinking, as I complain about the government of Massachusetts, that Delta is ready when I am.
I also noted three things:
First, the ubiquitous "Together We Can" bumper stickers have all gone. In fact, over the last week, I have seen more "Viva Bush" bumper stickers than Deval Patrick bumper stickers.
Second, the weather. If I hear one more idiot (are you listening, Mr. Former Vice President?) complain about the weather, I will scream. It is fucking New England. The weather is supposed to be cold and unpredictable. If you don't like it, pack a bag and get the hell out. We don't need less global warming, we need more global warming. I want Boston to be a sub-tropical climate. Think Miami, with winding streets, a great history, and Canadian women in bikinis. And the polar ice caps? Fuck 'em. I live on a hill, so I will finally get that waterfront property I have wanted.
Finally, as I was driving to an appointment, and I stopped right at the crosswalk, I was accosted by a crazy old woman, crossing (with impunity) against the light, ten feet out of the crosswalk, screaming that I almost hit her. I rolled down the window, and politely said, "Try the crosswalk next time, honey." Fucking pedestrians. As I have noted in the past, we should all get one free one.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Monday, March 19, 2007
On a British Airways flight from Delhi to London, an Economy Class passenger turned tits up, and was upgraded, mid-flight, to First Class. Said one First Class passenger, "I sit in First so that I don't have to be with the hoi polloi. And here I am, sitting next to an Economy Class passenger. It is just too much to bear. Stewardess, please bring me another whisky."
Apparently, airplane food kills ten people a year, and the corpses are stored in a variety of places, including the First Class cabin. (Fortunately, the airlines are not allowed to add insult to injury by placing the corpses in the galley.)
The problem, for the rest of the paying First Class passengers, was not so much the corpse (which mercifully did not engage in any banal conversation with her seatmate), but the corpse's daughter, who spent the remainder of the flight "...wailing in grief." You would think that she would have the common decency to keep her yap shut, and to mourn in peace.
As far as I am concerned, this was a ploy on the part of the mother and daughter to get a free upgrade. And, it works every time.
Frankly, they should have wrapped the body in one of those flimsy blankets and put her in an overhead bin. (Which, by the way, is another reason not to use one of those flimsy blankets when you fly.)
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Senator Charles Schumer (D-NY) has called upon Attorney General Alberto Gonzales to resign because he has trampled on the civil rights of terrorists (and those suspected of terrorism), and because he has been a very political Attorney General.* He sought, and got, information using (legal) security letters, which are (legal) special warrants obtained without judicial approval. And, which are totally legal.
Senator Schumer also noted that Gonzales had opined that water-boarding and The Red Hot Chilli Peppers were approved methods of interrogation; and, therefore, that he had no regard for the civil rights of terror suspects. Yikes.
It is not like he tapped the phones of leaders, and tried to put people in compromising situations, so that they would get divorced and lose credibility with their followers. No, that would have been liberal icon, Robert Kennedy (who waged a brutal campaign against the Reverend Martin Luther King).
Maybe Gonzales should resign because, by Democrat standards, he is a piker.
Now, I am not one to want a more intrusive government. Hell, the government is already putting its tentacles in every aspect of my daily life. But, frankly, I am not concerned in the least that the government, in an effort to stop another 9/11, gets information on sweaty, smelly people who are a visible risk to the safety and security of this great nation.
I can only imagine the uproar if something like that happened here in the United States, and the outrage of the people when they learned that the Attorney General (or law enforcement in general) had not used every tool at their disposal to unearth these plots.
So, to Attorney General Alberto Gonzales, I tip my hat. Job well done.
*Duh! The AG is appointed by the president, and is, as such, a political appointment. Sort of like appointing your brother as AG.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Last night, I was sitting on the couch, watching Rocky IV. This is, in my humble opinion, the second-best of the Rocky Series (followed by Rocky III, Rocky Balboa, Rocky II, and the abyssmal Rocky V).
In the film, one gets the beauty of The Hardest Working Man in Show Business (performing "Living in America"), as well as some great training scenes.
I am reminded of a story told by Speaker of the House, Tip O'Neill, who had visited President Reagan, in hospital, following the assassination attempt. O'Neill said that Reagan looked so frail in the hospital bed, and he placed his hand on the President's arm. He remarked that Reagan's arms were like steel cables, and he asked how he had gotten so strong. The President replied, "From splitting wood." O'Neill said later that he tried splitting wood, and it was no easy task. That if the President, then in his 70s, could do it, we had nothing to worry about in terms of his strength.
Anyway, a commercial comes on, and I was both appalled, and laughing.
It seems that three lovelies are sunbathing on the rooftop of an apartment building. One of them looks up, and sees that the water tank on top of the building is about to burst.
Thinking quickly, she reaches into her handbag and pulls out a super-absorbent tampon, which she flings at the now rupturing tank, soaking up the water and saving the day.
Now, this is so wrong on so many different levels. First, is there ever that much liquid? And, if so, I don't want to know about it. What if this chick goes swimming in a pool? Will it all be sucked into her hoochie? What happens to her when 50,000 gallons of water gets absorbed into her tampon? Will she explode?
Second, what in the hell are the network folks thinking when they run this ad during a manly film like Rocky IV? Maybe Steel Magnolias. Are the men watching Rocky IV so whipped that they want to know about this product so that they can buy them for their women?
And third, what about other uses for this product? Will ExxonMobil put a box on all of their supertankers (in the event of another Prince William Sound debacle)? Leaky basement? Don't call Boston Basements, just buy a box of tampons.
Let us simply say that I did not need to see that; nor, did I need to know about it. Really.
Saturday, March 03, 2007
Now we learn that the fuckwitted former Veep (and Oscar-winning fathead) uses more energy per annum than some small African countries, all the while hectoring the working men and women of the United States about becoming "carbon neutral." The Tennessee Center for Policy Research notes that the Honourable Al Gore's Belle Meade Mansion uses more energy than the average American uses in a year.
What an assbag.
In fact, I think that using the descriptive "assbag" might be unkind to assbags everywhere.
Really, what does this guy know about science, or global warming. He was a career politician, now he is an actor (in the same way that, say, Brad Pitt is an actor). I am amazed that some people, no, a lot of people, think that once an actor wins an Oscar, their word on their character's subject becomes gospel.
Last I checked, Gore had mediocre grades in college, dropped out of graduate school with poor grades, and was a journalist in Viet Nam. No where in his CV did I see any mention that he was a climatologist (or a cosmotologist). His theories have been criticised here, and in the Jury Pool.
The point is, why do we think that actors, or politicians, know more about a topic than, say, scientists, just because they played a role in a movie. What, are we stupid?
Wait, don't answer that.
As I sit here, in 6 degree (feels like 17 below) Massachusetts, I think to myself that I could use a little global warming right about now.
I note, as an aside, that the picture above was taken from the International Space Station, using the Leica Ego-Cam. It photographs the ego of the person, really. Most people look like ants, or in the case of John Edwards, a gerbil. But Algore, he is huge. Even the Great Wall of China doesn't show up like this.
Now, if they had used the Talent-Cam....
Friday, March 02, 2007
New York City has, in a symbolic gesture, banned the use of the "...most offensive word in the English language."
This means, among other things, that showing the excellent movie, Pulp Fiction, is now strictly proscribed.
David Allan Coe can not perform his great song, "If That A'int Country" in NYC. ("Trying like the devil to find the lord/Working like a nigger for my room and board.")
Elvis Costello can not perform "Oliver's Army" in the Big Apple. ("One more widow/One less white nigger.")
Randy Newman is screwed if he wants to play "Rednecks." ("Gathering them up/from miles around./Keeping the niggers down.")
Senator Robert Byrd (D-KKK) is banned, too. It seems that the Klan tends to use the "most offensive word in the English language" on a rather frequent basis; and, in the not-so-distant past, the good senator used that word, without a bit of remorse...and not a shred of complaint from the media.
What a joke. A symbolic ban on a word, just to make people feel better.
On one level, it is funny, that people are so caught up in things that they get offended by a word that is so overused that it has lost all pejorative meaning.
On another plane, it is outright discrimination against the very people who claim to be offended by the frequent use of the word. I hear it on a near daily basis, used as a greeting (e.g., "What's up, my nigga?").
On another, it is a clear violation of the First Amendment of the Constitution of the United States of America. Maybe the idiots in New York City should give it a read. Then, listen to some David Allan Coe, Elvis Costello, and Randy Newman.
Ed. Note: Reading this post in the City of New York, and its Burroughs, may cause you to be subjected to symbolic punishment, to the fullest extent of the law.
Sometimes, words or phrases have different meanings in different situations.
Having a "hard-on" for someone is a hell of a lot different than "having a hard on." And in sailing, it is good to be "hard on the wind."
(Fun Fact: A friend of mine, whose parents were members of the San Diego Yacht Club, had Hard On painted on the side of his Laser. When he was hard on the wind, and the craft was heeled over, you could read The Wind on the bottom. He unveiled it at a big SDYC regatta, and his mother was none too amused.)
In the transportation business, "dropping your load" has a different meaning than it does in the adult film industry.
Plumbing has stopcocks and ballcocks.
Lipton has its tea bags, so do men.
A dying person screaming, "Oh, Jesus, I'm coming" is indicative of that person's religious bent. A woman screaming, "Oh, Jesus, I'm coming" has different implications. In either event, it's a beautiful thing.
When racing a sailboat, it is wise to "skirt the Genny." If you try to do that to Virginia, she might knock the shit out of you.
Words are beautiful things.