In general, I think reality shows suck.
If I want 'reality' I can turn off the TV and have my fill of it. If I want to watch someone else's low-budget production, I can go to youtube.com, where people might at least be clever, if not professional. If I want to watch people backstabbing each other for a career opportunity, I can hang out with corporate people.
There are more entertaining ways to watch people verbally snipe at each other. Sitcoms are full of it. The Golden Girls, for example, sniped at each other relentlessly. But you knew they were actors playing roles, and who brilliantly delivered clever, funny lines written by excellent writers.
We all watched radio take its downhill slide when its production budget dropped to nil. 'Talk Radio' was dirt-cheap. People were delighted to phone in and talk trash, argue politics, or tell people their point of view for free. Instead of hearing great tunes, we heard garbage. Painful.
When TV networks flooded the airwaves with trash that made Jerry Springer's guests look good, the pain got worse. It was not a proud moment for TV. I'm sure many producers rejoiced at the thought of not having to pay for a full complement of talented actors and writers. When a new show called Survivor appeared, I rejoiced that we had Tivo and we didn't have to watch anything we didn't want to. Namely, Survivor.
I don't claim to be a total purist. I watched some of the Gordon Ramsey cooking competitions where wannabe head chefs practically spit venom at each other. I stopped watching when the same old theme got too obvious. They established a contestant as the villain early on, and kept them in the competition for entertainment value. Fool me once... (you know the rest).
Lately, I'm being won back. Some shows have shifted from the 'everybody-against-everybody-else' premise. I watched a Food Network Star contest where everybody was nice to each other, and supportive. Tonight I'm looking forward to Flipping the Block on HGTV. Same reason. Sure they all want to win, but that's no need to stomp the others.
It's a theme I hope carries over to 'real' reality. We're all stuck in the same boat. Do you want your fellow sailors to work with you or against you?
Sunday, August 31, 2014
Saturday, August 30, 2014
Wondering Whether Weather is Fixable
I had a lovely chat with Mom last night. We didn't fix the world, or the troublesome weather, but we made some progress in both.
We're very concerned that the tax dollars we 'little people' have to pay (google Leona Helmsley if you forgot the reference) are getting sucked out of this country and squandered in other countries faster that you can say, "Infrastructure."
Things are so broken right here in the U.S.A. Children aren't getting fed properly, health care isn't very caring, and we have cities collapsing from within. Water mains, dams, gas lines, and electrical lines are as old as me... and in even worse shape. Roads develop car-eating potholes faster than money can be found to fix them.
One of those potholes tried to eat my car just the other day. After my jarred bones settled back into their approximate places, I started wondering. "Why, if they don't fix the road, can't they at least put up a sign? Perhaps a linear drawing of a pit, with jagged, toothlike edges? And a mini-cooper falling into it?"
The weather has done a real number on everything this year, not just the roads. There's so much excess rain where Mom lives that crops and lawns have root-rot. They haven't even recovered from the last series of floods. When Mom has the arthritis in her hands checked out, she's pretty sure the Doc will find rust.
In contrast, we're in a severe drought here in California. It's so bad that people who run the water while brushing their teeth could face some pretty stiff punishment. ("What are you in for, Jim?" "Excessive brushing, with intent to rinse. My dentist ratted me out.")
Mom and I decided that it would be great to catch all that Midwestern rainwater before it hits the ground, and funnel it into gigantic tubs mounted on 18-wheelers. The whole convoy would drive out to California and fill our empty reservoirs. Perfect!
The trouble is, how much water would still be in the tubs when they got here? By the time the trucks hit a few of those giant, car-eating potholes, probably not much.
So, it's back to the drawing board for Mom and me. Maybe we'll solve the world next week.
We're very concerned that the tax dollars we 'little people' have to pay (google Leona Helmsley if you forgot the reference) are getting sucked out of this country and squandered in other countries faster that you can say, "Infrastructure."
Things are so broken right here in the U.S.A. Children aren't getting fed properly, health care isn't very caring, and we have cities collapsing from within. Water mains, dams, gas lines, and electrical lines are as old as me... and in even worse shape. Roads develop car-eating potholes faster than money can be found to fix them.
One of those potholes tried to eat my car just the other day. After my jarred bones settled back into their approximate places, I started wondering. "Why, if they don't fix the road, can't they at least put up a sign? Perhaps a linear drawing of a pit, with jagged, toothlike edges? And a mini-cooper falling into it?"
The weather has done a real number on everything this year, not just the roads. There's so much excess rain where Mom lives that crops and lawns have root-rot. They haven't even recovered from the last series of floods. When Mom has the arthritis in her hands checked out, she's pretty sure the Doc will find rust.
In contrast, we're in a severe drought here in California. It's so bad that people who run the water while brushing their teeth could face some pretty stiff punishment. ("What are you in for, Jim?" "Excessive brushing, with intent to rinse. My dentist ratted me out.")
Mom and I decided that it would be great to catch all that Midwestern rainwater before it hits the ground, and funnel it into gigantic tubs mounted on 18-wheelers. The whole convoy would drive out to California and fill our empty reservoirs. Perfect!
The trouble is, how much water would still be in the tubs when they got here? By the time the trucks hit a few of those giant, car-eating potholes, probably not much.
So, it's back to the drawing board for Mom and me. Maybe we'll solve the world next week.
Friday, August 29, 2014
No Sugar Tonight
Previously, I suggested my Aunt Liz was being sued by Big Sugar for starting rumors that sugar was bad for you, since her only cited source was 'they.' Don't worry. There is no Aunt Liz. I created her to illustrate my pet peeve; people who say, "They say..."
That said, Liz was right. Sugar is bad for you, as 'they,' 'the food people' can verify.
Noted food person, Dr. Robert Lustig, has called sugar a poison. In his book, "Fat Chance: The Hidden Truth About Sugar, Obesity and Disease." he suggests that, sugar- and fructose-laden processed foods have warnings, just as tobacco and alcohol do. He stated, "We don't have to ban sugar. But the food industry cannot be given carte blanche."
'They' said in an article in The Guardian that the diabetes epidemic affects 350 million people. 'They' suspect Western fast food has caused the increased number of cases.
A food/fitness person (Steve Kamb, of www.nerdfitness.com) explains the chemistry. This is an excerpt from his blog:
So Auntie is off the hook for this batch of 'they says.' Mind you, I'm still cross with her. Telling a fat person that sugar is bad for them is like calling them fat AND stupid. Perhaps it's just as well that we're no longer speaking.
That said, Liz was right. Sugar is bad for you, as 'they,' 'the food people' can verify.
Noted food person, Dr. Robert Lustig, has called sugar a poison. In his book, "Fat Chance: The Hidden Truth About Sugar, Obesity and Disease." he suggests that, sugar- and fructose-laden processed foods have warnings, just as tobacco and alcohol do. He stated, "We don't have to ban sugar. But the food industry cannot be given carte blanche."
'They' said in an article in The Guardian that the diabetes epidemic affects 350 million people. 'They' suspect Western fast food has caused the increased number of cases.
A food/fitness person (Steve Kamb, of www.nerdfitness.com) explains the chemistry. This is an excerpt from his blog:
"When your pancreas detects a rush of sugar, it releases a hormone called insulin to deal with all of that excess sugar.
Insulin helps regulate that level of sugar in our blood; the more sugar in the blood stream, the more insulin is released. Insulin helps store all of this glucose in the liver and muscles as glycogen and in fat cells (aka adipocytes stored as triglycerides).
Now, oftentimes our body struggles to get that balance right (with us putting way too much sugar in our system very quickly). TOO much insulin is released, which ultimately results in our blood sugar dropping below normal levels.
This is called hypoglycemia, essentially a sugar crash: Our bodies respond by telling us: WE WANT SUGAR. So we cram sugar down our throats and the process starts again."Other 'food people' claim that Americans consumed, on average, 22 teaspoons of sugar a day. They say it should be 6 teaspoons for women, and 9 for men on average. (Hint to Aunt Liz... It was the American Heart Association in a published statement in 2009.)
So Auntie is off the hook for this batch of 'they says.' Mind you, I'm still cross with her. Telling a fat person that sugar is bad for them is like calling them fat AND stupid. Perhaps it's just as well that we're no longer speaking.
Thursday, August 28, 2014
Doing Without
One can't help but notice that we have to 'do without' a lot more these days. Costs are soaring and incomes aren't... sometimes incomes shrink. It seems like the only people doing well are doing it on Wall Street.
Wall Street wields an enormous amount of power. The wealthiest corporations control most of the world. They, in turn, answer to their major shareholders. Those shareholders, a.k.a the 1%, demand corporate profits. Their livelihood depends on it. Corporations have to make profits, and set correct expectations about the amount of the profits.
It's all about the stocks. CEOs' high salaries are 'chicken feed' in comparison to their stock options. Lesser employees' salaries are chicken feed in comparison to the CEO. At the bottom of the ladder, salaries might literally be chicken feed. (It depends where manufacturing has been outsourced.)
You see, to keep stock prices high, corporations have to do whatever it takes to make those numbers. They'll lay people off, cut entire divisions of the company, and move manufacturing overseas. They'll lower safety and quality standards. They'll realign, merge, and redefine.
People who have been around awhile might sense a problem here. Corporations can only cut so deep before there's nothing left to cut. Outrageous laws, tax dodges, cover-ups, churning, and bluffing can only go so far before that big ol' bubble pops. And when it does, guess who is left holding the bag? Hint: Check your mirror.
What can we peons do? We're just trying to keep going. We sit helplessly as the cost of everything rises. Businesses pass increased costs to their customer. At the end of the day, we're at the end. Nobody's left to pass the cost on to. If you want to live somewhere, eat, and... well... survive, you need to decide what to do without.
I think we should do without Wall Street. Clearly we can't afford it. Those parasites are just too damned expensive.
Wall Street wields an enormous amount of power. The wealthiest corporations control most of the world. They, in turn, answer to their major shareholders. Those shareholders, a.k.a the 1%, demand corporate profits. Their livelihood depends on it. Corporations have to make profits, and set correct expectations about the amount of the profits.
It's all about the stocks. CEOs' high salaries are 'chicken feed' in comparison to their stock options. Lesser employees' salaries are chicken feed in comparison to the CEO. At the bottom of the ladder, salaries might literally be chicken feed. (It depends where manufacturing has been outsourced.)
You see, to keep stock prices high, corporations have to do whatever it takes to make those numbers. They'll lay people off, cut entire divisions of the company, and move manufacturing overseas. They'll lower safety and quality standards. They'll realign, merge, and redefine.
People who have been around awhile might sense a problem here. Corporations can only cut so deep before there's nothing left to cut. Outrageous laws, tax dodges, cover-ups, churning, and bluffing can only go so far before that big ol' bubble pops. And when it does, guess who is left holding the bag? Hint: Check your mirror.
What can we peons do? We're just trying to keep going. We sit helplessly as the cost of everything rises. Businesses pass increased costs to their customer. At the end of the day, we're at the end. Nobody's left to pass the cost on to. If you want to live somewhere, eat, and... well... survive, you need to decide what to do without.
I think we should do without Wall Street. Clearly we can't afford it. Those parasites are just too damned expensive.
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
Repair? Replace? Rejoice?
Appliance-wise this house needs a 'new everything.' Most of our appliances are old. I don't know whether to fret, rejoice that they've lasted this long, replace them, or take bets on which one conks out first.
If I'm taking bets, the 'favorite' is the air conditioner. It quit last fall during the final hot spell. We should have replaced it then instead of applying a bandage. It just seemed stupid for its warranty to expire while it sat idle for 6 months, so we decided to wait. This spring it still worked,and the old rustbucket still keeps the place cool, though not very efficiently.
Speaking of rust, the dishwasher's bottom rack has it. I work around it by not putting dishes in the rusted corner. The unit has already outlasted its life expectancy. Should I invest $100 to replace the rack, or save the $100 to apply to a new unit? I can't decide.
Our refrigerator's icemaker was problematic from Day One, so we don't use it. I wish we had all the freezer space the useless icemaker occupies, and didn't have to sacrifice another shelf for ice cube trays. I wish the gasket around the 'fridge door wasn't scarily hot to the touch. I wish we had a different 'fridge, but this one keeps our food cold. It stays.
Last up are the washer and dryer. Like the A/C, these were new with the house. If they were kids they'd be halfway through college, and at far less expense than real kids. I just hope the little rascals make it to graduation, because when we replace them we also have to replace the damaged floor underneath them (our floors are a 'whole 'nother blog.')
Appliances aren't built to last. It's called 'planned obsolescence.' It's considered good marketing practice to build products that people need to replace regularly. The practice is not illegal. It's not considered evil except by, you know, customers. But we don't count, it is the shareholders that the companies need to please. (Also a 'whole 'nother blog.')
It can be computer boards that burn out (and cost more than a new appliance), irresistable new features, or discontinued support ("We don't sell water-filter cartridges for refrigerators that old! As for those vacuum cleaner bags you asked about, try the museum.")
Have manufacturers sped up the failure rate? Or were quality standards tossed overboard when we shipped our manufacturing jobs to China? Either way, consumers lose. Without the manufacturing jobs, less of us can afford to replace our appliances and they break down faster that ever. (Oh noes! Sounds like another blog!)
So upon reflection, I'll rejoice that our appliances have lasted this long, and won't replace them until they break beyond repair. Good thing. Getting new appliances bought and installed takes lots of time, and I don't have it; too many blogs to write!
If I'm taking bets, the 'favorite' is the air conditioner. It quit last fall during the final hot spell. We should have replaced it then instead of applying a bandage. It just seemed stupid for its warranty to expire while it sat idle for 6 months, so we decided to wait. This spring it still worked,and the old rustbucket still keeps the place cool, though not very efficiently.
Speaking of rust, the dishwasher's bottom rack has it. I work around it by not putting dishes in the rusted corner. The unit has already outlasted its life expectancy. Should I invest $100 to replace the rack, or save the $100 to apply to a new unit? I can't decide.
Our refrigerator's icemaker was problematic from Day One, so we don't use it. I wish we had all the freezer space the useless icemaker occupies, and didn't have to sacrifice another shelf for ice cube trays. I wish the gasket around the 'fridge door wasn't scarily hot to the touch. I wish we had a different 'fridge, but this one keeps our food cold. It stays.
Last up are the washer and dryer. Like the A/C, these were new with the house. If they were kids they'd be halfway through college, and at far less expense than real kids. I just hope the little rascals make it to graduation, because when we replace them we also have to replace the damaged floor underneath them (our floors are a 'whole 'nother blog.')
Appliances aren't built to last. It's called 'planned obsolescence.' It's considered good marketing practice to build products that people need to replace regularly. The practice is not illegal. It's not considered evil except by, you know, customers. But we don't count, it is the shareholders that the companies need to please. (Also a 'whole 'nother blog.')
It can be computer boards that burn out (and cost more than a new appliance), irresistable new features, or discontinued support ("We don't sell water-filter cartridges for refrigerators that old! As for those vacuum cleaner bags you asked about, try the museum.")
Have manufacturers sped up the failure rate? Or were quality standards tossed overboard when we shipped our manufacturing jobs to China? Either way, consumers lose. Without the manufacturing jobs, less of us can afford to replace our appliances and they break down faster that ever. (Oh noes! Sounds like another blog!)
So upon reflection, I'll rejoice that our appliances have lasted this long, and won't replace them until they break beyond repair. Good thing. Getting new appliances bought and installed takes lots of time, and I don't have it; too many blogs to write!
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
'They' Say a Lot of Things
The phrase, "They say..." is irritating. It is also insidious, potentially destructive, and possibly untrue. It's an evil person's way of spreading harmful and inaccurate gossip while trying to dodge accountability. ("I didn't say it. They did.")
Unfortunately, it's also how old fogies who don't remember where they heard something repeat what they've heard. They learned it in the olden days of Hollywood gossip columns. "A little bird told me that Studly Jones is keeping company with Vera Vamp while Mrs. Jones is off getting some work done." (At least there was a source named... the little bird a.k.a. stool pigeon.)
Whatever the source, it's become common practice to attribute information to "they." Maybe instead of being irritated I should train people to stop doing it. Or maybe not. Next time Aunt Liz calls with her long list of "they say's" this could happen:
Aunt Liz - "They say sugar is bad for you."
Me ------- "Who is 'they?' and how did 'they' happen to tell you?"
Aunt Liz - "You know, the 'Food People'. It was in the newspaper."
Me ------- "Which paper? When? Who are these 'Food People?'"
Aunt Liz - (miffed) "Do you remember every name you read and where you read it?"
Me ------- "Nope. But I look it up and cite the source if I repeat it."
Aunt Liz - "I never liked you and you're out of the will."
The following day:
Hubby - "Look, Dear. The sugar company filed suit against your Aunt Liz."
Me ---- "Don't worry, the Food People will defend her."
Hubby - "They aren't mentioned. This lawsuit will wipe her out."
Me ----- "Oh well. We were out of the will anyway."
Maybe that's why 'they' say to leave well enough alone.
Unfortunately, it's also how old fogies who don't remember where they heard something repeat what they've heard. They learned it in the olden days of Hollywood gossip columns. "A little bird told me that Studly Jones is keeping company with Vera Vamp while Mrs. Jones is off getting some work done." (At least there was a source named... the little bird a.k.a. stool pigeon.)
Whatever the source, it's become common practice to attribute information to "they." Maybe instead of being irritated I should train people to stop doing it. Or maybe not. Next time Aunt Liz calls with her long list of "they say's" this could happen:
Aunt Liz - "They say sugar is bad for you."
Me ------- "Who is 'they?' and how did 'they' happen to tell you?"
Aunt Liz - "You know, the 'Food People'. It was in the newspaper."
Me ------- "Which paper? When? Who are these 'Food People?'"
Aunt Liz - (miffed) "Do you remember every name you read and where you read it?"
Me ------- "Nope. But I look it up and cite the source if I repeat it."
Aunt Liz - "I never liked you and you're out of the will."
The following day:
Hubby - "Look, Dear. The sugar company filed suit against your Aunt Liz."
Me ---- "Don't worry, the Food People will defend her."
Hubby - "They aren't mentioned. This lawsuit will wipe her out."
Me ----- "Oh well. We were out of the will anyway."
Maybe that's why 'they' say to leave well enough alone.
Monday, August 25, 2014
Whole Lotta Shakin'
'I feel the earth move under my feet' as I 'shake rattle and roll.'
Yep, we had an earthquake. Please don't think from my first sentence that I'm treating a disaster facetiously. It's how I deal with panic. I run through a mental medley of songs that could apply to earthquakes when I'm in one. Instead of running in a circle screaming, "AaAAAaaAaaA!" I'm moving in time to the music, toward the exit.
At 3:26 on Sunday morning (according to my old 'close enough' clock radio) I got to the second verse of, "I Feel The Earth Move," and the motion stopped. Nothing fell, nothing broke. Cancel the panic, soothe the cats, go back to bed. All we lost was sleep, because one doesn't go back to sleep after an earthquake. One relives the frightening moment.
After the initial jolt all I felt was rolling motions. The bed rocked me back and forth the way I wish massage chairs could do. I'd have enjoyed it except that's not possible when you worry that another jolt might bring the roof down on your head as the gas line snaps and everything ignites. I jumped out of the 'massage bed' in case 'the sky came tumbling down.'
The pictures and stories from the Napa Valley area are pretty frightening. A '6' in a populated area is no joke and I am extremely grateful for building codes. I've seen pictures of places that have no building codes, and I'm reminded why it's good to live here.
Speaking of reminding, I'm also reminded that our earthquake preparedness is as old as the house and needs many updates. I need to get to work on (what I call) the 3 S's:
Secure your stuff - Brace the furniture, arrange stuff such that things don't fall on you
Save your doggone soul - How fast can you get out? Can you grab essentials on the way out?
Stockpile supplies - Food? Water? Meds? Batteries? Clothes?
It's definitely time for us to 'get our S's in gear,' because this whole metropolitan area contains fault lines. Here by the Bay, 'rock and roll is here to stay.'
Yep, we had an earthquake. Please don't think from my first sentence that I'm treating a disaster facetiously. It's how I deal with panic. I run through a mental medley of songs that could apply to earthquakes when I'm in one. Instead of running in a circle screaming, "AaAAAaaAaaA!" I'm moving in time to the music, toward the exit.
At 3:26 on Sunday morning (according to my old 'close enough' clock radio) I got to the second verse of, "I Feel The Earth Move," and the motion stopped. Nothing fell, nothing broke. Cancel the panic, soothe the cats, go back to bed. All we lost was sleep, because one doesn't go back to sleep after an earthquake. One relives the frightening moment.
After the initial jolt all I felt was rolling motions. The bed rocked me back and forth the way I wish massage chairs could do. I'd have enjoyed it except that's not possible when you worry that another jolt might bring the roof down on your head as the gas line snaps and everything ignites. I jumped out of the 'massage bed' in case 'the sky came tumbling down.'
The pictures and stories from the Napa Valley area are pretty frightening. A '6' in a populated area is no joke and I am extremely grateful for building codes. I've seen pictures of places that have no building codes, and I'm reminded why it's good to live here.
Speaking of reminding, I'm also reminded that our earthquake preparedness is as old as the house and needs many updates. I need to get to work on (what I call) the 3 S's:
Secure your stuff - Brace the furniture, arrange stuff such that things don't fall on you
Save your doggone soul - How fast can you get out? Can you grab essentials on the way out?
Stockpile supplies - Food? Water? Meds? Batteries? Clothes?
It's definitely time for us to 'get our S's in gear,' because this whole metropolitan area contains fault lines. Here by the Bay, 'rock and roll is here to stay.'
Sunday, August 24, 2014
Who's Lacking Charm?
Doctor #12 premiered last night, and my reaction is "disappointment." There were some clever moments. The nightshirt chase scene was fun, and a clear message to the viewers that there would still be action scenes with the doctor participating. There was also a funny bit about the new Doctor's eyebrows.
I've always liked Madame Vastra, Jenny, and Strax, and felt they helped the episode along. It was unfortunate that the episode needed help. I feel like Capaldi is a strong actor, but they didn't give him the right script to prove it. He came off as a charmless, arrogant ass. Whatever else The Doctor is, he needs to be charming.
They played the dinosaur card again, usually a crowd-pleaser, but when they killed her off I didn't think, "Ohhh, that mean villain!" I thought, "I don't like watching this." Missy and the franken-monsters didn't blow me away either. I guess weeping angels are a hard act to follow.
After 8 months of angst, wondering if I could like this doctor, the last thing I wanted to see on the screen was the same angst from the companion and the doctor. The 'Impossible Girl' was downgraded to a lovesick ninny. I suppose they need to establish the new doctor as 'the bright one' so they re-rolled the genius-girl into the stupid girl.
When Rory and Amy's daughter changed to River Song, the writers nailed it. River looked in the mirror and owned it. "Mature," she said, perfectly satisfied. That would have been a better way to go this time too.
Will I still watch the show? Sure, but I'll prefer the re-runs. Am I still going to replace our front door with a Tardis-blue one? Not anymore. I'm not even buying more T-shirts.
I've always liked Madame Vastra, Jenny, and Strax, and felt they helped the episode along. It was unfortunate that the episode needed help. I feel like Capaldi is a strong actor, but they didn't give him the right script to prove it. He came off as a charmless, arrogant ass. Whatever else The Doctor is, he needs to be charming.
They played the dinosaur card again, usually a crowd-pleaser, but when they killed her off I didn't think, "Ohhh, that mean villain!" I thought, "I don't like watching this." Missy and the franken-monsters didn't blow me away either. I guess weeping angels are a hard act to follow.
After 8 months of angst, wondering if I could like this doctor, the last thing I wanted to see on the screen was the same angst from the companion and the doctor. The 'Impossible Girl' was downgraded to a lovesick ninny. I suppose they need to establish the new doctor as 'the bright one' so they re-rolled the genius-girl into the stupid girl.
When Rory and Amy's daughter changed to River Song, the writers nailed it. River looked in the mirror and owned it. "Mature," she said, perfectly satisfied. That would have been a better way to go this time too.
Will I still watch the show? Sure, but I'll prefer the re-runs. Am I still going to replace our front door with a Tardis-blue one? Not anymore. I'm not even buying more T-shirts.
Saturday, August 23, 2014
Finally a Doctor in the House
'Dr. Who' finally premieres tonight. I am so afraid that I won't like it, which will cause my husband to ban me from the house. He's very into it, looking forward to it, and has enjoyed every bit of hype leading up to this moment. Because of this, I really hope it's good.
In my opinion, BBC took way too long a break from this mega-hit before starting a new season, and I really, really don't like that. When Disney did that with 'Once Upon a Time,' they lost me. I'll still watch it if convenient, but I'm no longer in my chair for the opening credits, and I never will be.
Back to the doctor. This doctor is older, and they're taking out all the romantic interest vis-Ã -vis companions. Well, ok. Historically, companions have been everything from buddies to daughterly to annoyingly bossy. However, the romantic attractions added a lot to the episodes of the 10th and 11th doctors. We old ladies 'likes us our tasteful love stories.'
Since there are many ways to weave a romance into an episode, I'm sure they'll think of something. I might have to let go of the doctor as the romantic lead. We'll see.
I also liked the action scenes of the 'younger' doctors. The underlying theme of "Run!" made things very exciting. As an older person whose fastest move is a brisk waddle, I should rejoice that the hero will have to think his way out of tight corners instead of sprinting away. Again, we'll see.
One can never get enough of the Tardis, the concept of time travel, and the juxtaposition of cleverly-conceived new villains (e.g. Weeping Angels) among the old stand-bys like the Daleks and Cyborgs, so I'm sure to be pleasantly surprised in that regard.
There's enough of a loyal following to keep this show going for years, whether I am among them or not. I just really hope I am. I'll let you know tomorrow.
In my opinion, BBC took way too long a break from this mega-hit before starting a new season, and I really, really don't like that. When Disney did that with 'Once Upon a Time,' they lost me. I'll still watch it if convenient, but I'm no longer in my chair for the opening credits, and I never will be.
Back to the doctor. This doctor is older, and they're taking out all the romantic interest vis-Ã -vis companions. Well, ok. Historically, companions have been everything from buddies to daughterly to annoyingly bossy. However, the romantic attractions added a lot to the episodes of the 10th and 11th doctors. We old ladies 'likes us our tasteful love stories.'
Since there are many ways to weave a romance into an episode, I'm sure they'll think of something. I might have to let go of the doctor as the romantic lead. We'll see.
I also liked the action scenes of the 'younger' doctors. The underlying theme of "Run!" made things very exciting. As an older person whose fastest move is a brisk waddle, I should rejoice that the hero will have to think his way out of tight corners instead of sprinting away. Again, we'll see.
One can never get enough of the Tardis, the concept of time travel, and the juxtaposition of cleverly-conceived new villains (e.g. Weeping Angels) among the old stand-bys like the Daleks and Cyborgs, so I'm sure to be pleasantly surprised in that regard.
There's enough of a loyal following to keep this show going for years, whether I am among them or not. I just really hope I am. I'll let you know tomorrow.
Friday, August 22, 2014
Help! Police!
On the way home from grocery-buying,
there it was. A paramilitary-looking vehicle driving down Main Street
clearly marked "(Our City's Name) Police." It was black,
kind of a cross between a tank and a truck. I've read that this is
happening all over the USA, but it still hits you hard when it's your
own hometown.
For pity's sake! We don't need this
kind of firepower. Weapons of war belong a war zone, and last time I
checked, this wasn't one. This isn't even a Ferguson, it's a
bedroom community for techie types. Like any city, there are
homeless, there are gangs, and there are drugs. However, these are
overwhelmingly outnumbered by hardworking people trying to get by.
Maybe these weapons and tanks
are to fight gangs, but that's a problem. Gangs don't live together
in gang clubhouses with signs on the door reading "NØ
PØlice alØwd." They live among the rest of us. "Taking them out" with
tank-like vehicles is like killing fleas with dynamite. We wanted the
fleas gone, but did you have to take the house with it?
It's no consolation that we are
respectable, older taxpayers, long-time homeowners, and
non-troublemakers. That still doesn't mean a thing if you are in the
wrong place at the wrong time. That wrong place could be anywhere,
including one's own home. Yep, SWAT teams have been known to raid the
wrong address, and people have died.
Regardless of my opinions, military
gear has made its way to police departments here, and everywhere. I
can see the future now. There will be a knock at the door...
Me ------------- "Who's there?"
Voice ---------- "Hi, Ma'am. I'm Officer Jones, selling tickets
to the policeman's ball.”
Me ------------- (Seeing policeman in full body armor) "Eep! We'll take 2!"
Officer Jones - "Only 2?"
Me ------------- (Notices MRAP parked in front of house) "Did I say 2? I meant 4!"
Officer Jones - "Great! Should be a good time, Huh?"
Me ------------- "Sure! My checkbook's in my purse. I'll keep my hands in plain sight."
Officer Jones - "Always a good idea."
Me ------------- "There you go. Sorry the writing is a little shaky."
Officer Jones - "No problem. (Talks
into radio) This one's good. Proceed down the block."Thursday, August 21, 2014
Starting Over with a Blank Campus
It never goes away. It's irrational, embarrassing, laughable. Every 'back-to-school' season, I'm that retired horse who used to pull the firetruck. When the bell rings, I'm ready to go. I have 'back-to-school fever.' (I hear my lovely mother-in-law laughing out loud. She taught grade school. When she hears a school bell she runs in the other direction!)
I'm talking about college here. Being in college was awesome. One could gather and discuss issues with intelligent people who had wildly divergent points of view. There were visiting speakers, special events, concerts, sports (play or watch), dances, clubs, rallies, or just chillin' at the student union. Whatever you wanted was right there on-campus.
One learns how to be on one's own, but with safety nets. In the dorm I just had to worry about classes, and managing a schedule. Out of a dorm and into a co-op I learned that bathrooms and kitchens don't clean themselves. In off-campus apartments, I learned 'Ramen Noodle 101' and the importance of rent, utility payments, and location.
Even more important was that you got a new, fresh start every year. You met a whole new batch of people, went to all new classes in your economically-updated wardrobe. You had new books, new challenges, a new place to live. There was an inexhaustible supply of kids your own age to play with, all renewable yearly.
That's something you really miss once you're out of school. It's like you got to play musical chairs for 4 years, and the music suddenly stopped. Whatever chair you landed in, get used to it, because you can't change it next semester. It's someone else's turn now. If you do change chairs, you have to find another chair yourself, and provide your own music.
Do I want a fun new year of independence, new friends, new areas to explore, and new opportunities? Yes! But college only provides that when you're about 19, so if I want my own back-to-school moment, I'll have to create it myself. I should go buy some office supplies, add some economical updates to my wardrobe, do something different with the house, and find someplace new to hang out.
Being 19 is overrated anyway. Too much angst and uncertainty. Now that I'm older and wiser, I hope I can convert my back-to-school energy into something more tangible. Like maybe learning a language, writing a book, doing some artwork. You know... that stuff I should have been doing in college!
I'm talking about college here. Being in college was awesome. One could gather and discuss issues with intelligent people who had wildly divergent points of view. There were visiting speakers, special events, concerts, sports (play or watch), dances, clubs, rallies, or just chillin' at the student union. Whatever you wanted was right there on-campus.
One learns how to be on one's own, but with safety nets. In the dorm I just had to worry about classes, and managing a schedule. Out of a dorm and into a co-op I learned that bathrooms and kitchens don't clean themselves. In off-campus apartments, I learned 'Ramen Noodle 101' and the importance of rent, utility payments, and location.
Even more important was that you got a new, fresh start every year. You met a whole new batch of people, went to all new classes in your economically-updated wardrobe. You had new books, new challenges, a new place to live. There was an inexhaustible supply of kids your own age to play with, all renewable yearly.
That's something you really miss once you're out of school. It's like you got to play musical chairs for 4 years, and the music suddenly stopped. Whatever chair you landed in, get used to it, because you can't change it next semester. It's someone else's turn now. If you do change chairs, you have to find another chair yourself, and provide your own music.
Do I want a fun new year of independence, new friends, new areas to explore, and new opportunities? Yes! But college only provides that when you're about 19, so if I want my own back-to-school moment, I'll have to create it myself. I should go buy some office supplies, add some economical updates to my wardrobe, do something different with the house, and find someplace new to hang out.
Being 19 is overrated anyway. Too much angst and uncertainty. Now that I'm older and wiser, I hope I can convert my back-to-school energy into something more tangible. Like maybe learning a language, writing a book, doing some artwork. You know... that stuff I should have been doing in college!
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
Catch Up on Catch Phrases
American English is amazing. Every year new expressions, catch phrases and meanings emerge to hopelessly confuse anybody who is either learning the language or doesn't keep up. The media of the day drives the catch phrases and expressions. New phrases and words pop up almost overnight and suddenly everybody's using them.
When I was little, "rat fink" was big. Gay could still mean happy, and those hep-cat Beatniks were like, crazy, man. They were neat-o and nifty-keen. Then suddenly everybody wanted to be in the 'in crowd.'
The 60's were a gas, really boss. We were wiggin' out to our favorite combos. If you had the bread to buy a brew you no longer needed a church key. Fab! Laugh-in socked it to me, baby. The hippies were out of site, groovy, and far out, not to be confused with their unhip cousins, out of state, gravy, and farm out... unless you were ironically hip before your time.
In the early 70's the word "streak" became the most frequently-used verb in the country. It was copasetic, man. I can give you the skinney on the 70s because I boogied with the best of em. It was cool beans if you made the scene at the disco. Negatory? Bummer. Smooth move, ex-lax.
Dude, like, fer shure when we were "80's women" we pedicured our grotty beach feet so we could take them to those rad shoe stores in The Valley. Totally. I could give you all the 411. Neon parachute pants were schweet, airheads, but where was the beef? Whatever...
In the 90s, nerdy was cool and acronyms ruled. FYI we all used AOL, but it went DOA PDQ, so don't go there. I had to CYA on the QT if it was "my bad," dawg. Everybody was chillin' with the hotties, Yo.. If you said "what a kill!" in the 90s, you'd get, "Say what?" (It used to mean 'extremely humorous,' but that was so-ooo two decades ago. What's up with that?)
U millenial peeps r all about texting. Considering u use a number keypad to do it, i c u went 4 shortcuts. I no, rite? IMHO leetspeak is cray-cray complicated. Maybe I'm just a derp, but YOLO, so don't spend it all texting. Try some IRL.
Meanings change too. Cool and hot mean the same thing, expecially if they are spelled kewl and hawt. 'High' used to mean alcohol. If someone says that something is 'sick' or 'bad' you have to check the source. It might be a 'high' compliment.
Sorry if this blog went on too long. Please don't TL; DR it.
When I was little, "rat fink" was big. Gay could still mean happy, and those hep-cat Beatniks were like, crazy, man. They were neat-o and nifty-keen. Then suddenly everybody wanted to be in the 'in crowd.'
The 60's were a gas, really boss. We were wiggin' out to our favorite combos. If you had the bread to buy a brew you no longer needed a church key. Fab! Laugh-in socked it to me, baby. The hippies were out of site, groovy, and far out, not to be confused with their unhip cousins, out of state, gravy, and farm out... unless you were ironically hip before your time.
In the early 70's the word "streak" became the most frequently-used verb in the country. It was copasetic, man. I can give you the skinney on the 70s because I boogied with the best of em. It was cool beans if you made the scene at the disco. Negatory? Bummer. Smooth move, ex-lax.
Dude, like, fer shure when we were "80's women" we pedicured our grotty beach feet so we could take them to those rad shoe stores in The Valley. Totally. I could give you all the 411. Neon parachute pants were schweet, airheads, but where was the beef? Whatever...
In the 90s, nerdy was cool and acronyms ruled. FYI we all used AOL, but it went DOA PDQ, so don't go there. I had to CYA on the QT if it was "my bad," dawg. Everybody was chillin' with the hotties, Yo.. If you said "what a kill!" in the 90s, you'd get, "Say what?" (It used to mean 'extremely humorous,' but that was so-ooo two decades ago. What's up with that?)
U millenial peeps r all about texting. Considering u use a number keypad to do it, i c u went 4 shortcuts. I no, rite? IMHO leetspeak is cray-cray complicated. Maybe I'm just a derp, but YOLO, so don't spend it all texting. Try some IRL.
Meanings change too. Cool and hot mean the same thing, expecially if they are spelled kewl and hawt. 'High' used to mean alcohol. If someone says that something is 'sick' or 'bad' you have to check the source. It might be a 'high' compliment.
Sorry if this blog went on too long. Please don't TL; DR it.
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
Time Travel Taste Trigger
Ever notice how a taste or smell can bring back a memory? I just had a root beer that took me back 52 years.
Jim and Katie Swenson and their kids were our neighbors and friends back in the day. They always thought of fun stuff to do. On Halloween they dressed in spooky costumes to answer the door. They went to a tulip festival and brought back wooden shoes for us! We kids were hooked on dinosuars so the families took a trip to a museum that displayed dinosaur bones.
Jim was a traveling salesman for a large company. He liked to cover his territory in comfort, so he had a big car. That was when big cars were BIG and seat belts weren't around yet. The bench seat in front easily held three adults; 4 small kids and a mom managed to fit in back.
One hot summer night Katie popped over and said, "We need to cool off. Grab the kids. We're going to A&W for root beer! So we piled into Jim's car, kids all in jammies, and drove across town to the root beer stand, singing to the tune of "Froggie Went A-Courtin:"
Children in pajamas they did go; Uh huh, uh huh!
Children in pajamas they did go; Uh huh!
Children in pajamas they did go; To the root beer stand for the midnight show!
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh!
Molly Mouse was the waitress girl; Uh huh, uh huh!
Molly Mouse was the waitress girl; Uh huh!
Molly Mouse was the waitress girl; She set Steve Swenson in a whirl!
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh!
By then we dissolved into giggles. It was a great time, and a great summer treat.
Take this advice from someone older and wiser. Enjoy those fun, silly moments, and create as many of them as you can. Sadly, the Swensons have passed away, except for Katie, who is still a dear family friend. We don't have any neighbors like the Swensons these days, but I still enjoy memories of the originals when I take a sip of time-travel root beer.
There's a frat song that goes, "In Heaven there is no beer," but it's not quite true. There's root beer, at an A&W drive-in where singing is encouraged. I just hope jammies are in the dress code.
Jim and Katie Swenson and their kids were our neighbors and friends back in the day. They always thought of fun stuff to do. On Halloween they dressed in spooky costumes to answer the door. They went to a tulip festival and brought back wooden shoes for us! We kids were hooked on dinosuars so the families took a trip to a museum that displayed dinosaur bones.
Jim was a traveling salesman for a large company. He liked to cover his territory in comfort, so he had a big car. That was when big cars were BIG and seat belts weren't around yet. The bench seat in front easily held three adults; 4 small kids and a mom managed to fit in back.
One hot summer night Katie popped over and said, "We need to cool off. Grab the kids. We're going to A&W for root beer! So we piled into Jim's car, kids all in jammies, and drove across town to the root beer stand, singing to the tune of "Froggie Went A-Courtin:"
Children in pajamas they did go; Uh huh, uh huh!
Children in pajamas they did go; Uh huh!
Children in pajamas they did go; To the root beer stand for the midnight show!
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh!
Molly Mouse was the waitress girl; Uh huh, uh huh!
Molly Mouse was the waitress girl; Uh huh!
Molly Mouse was the waitress girl; She set Steve Swenson in a whirl!
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh!
By then we dissolved into giggles. It was a great time, and a great summer treat.
Take this advice from someone older and wiser. Enjoy those fun, silly moments, and create as many of them as you can. Sadly, the Swensons have passed away, except for Katie, who is still a dear family friend. We don't have any neighbors like the Swensons these days, but I still enjoy memories of the originals when I take a sip of time-travel root beer.
There's a frat song that goes, "In Heaven there is no beer," but it's not quite true. There's root beer, at an A&W drive-in where singing is encouraged. I just hope jammies are in the dress code.
Sunday, August 17, 2014
Food for Bought
Great-grandpa raised and butchered his own livestock, and grew crops to feed them. Grandma raised chickens and grew vegetables. Grandpa fished, and brought home his catch pan-ready. My uncle hunted game, and he and my aunt turned it into dinner. In her girlhood Mom milked cows, churned butter and gathered eggs.
Me? I've spent most of my life getting scolded for having it so good. These days I wish I could go back in time and scold right back. "Whose fault is that?" my imaginary self would remind them. "You knew how to create food, yet you didn't teach me?" But that's not fair. Who knew how things would turn out?
In their world it made sense to prepare the kids for a good job that would pay real cash. Producing food is great, but that won't buy you a kitchen to cook it in. Food producers had to scale up. There were more mouths to feed. The days of the hunter-gatherer and the self-sustaining farmer were gone. Farmers needed to go big or go get a job.
So I never learned jack about chickens, fishing, or dressing game. All my hunter-gatherer skills involve a grocery store. I'm good at it, too. I can find and decipher expiration date glyphs, I know when branding is BS, and when there's a good reason something costs more. I know the going prices for all the items we consume, so I can spot bargains.
I hope that for me, there will always be the grocery store. The best I can do about food production is grow zucchini. Nice, but it's not 3 squares on the table 365 days a year. Raising chickens and goats? If I'd started when I was younger I could probably still do it, I'd have the right muscles developed, and the knowledge and experience. But not now.
The time is coming when Americans will need my grandparents' survival skills. For many it's already here. The obvious problem is that paychecks are shrinking, adequate-paying jobs are scarce, yet people still need to eat. It's time to take a step back and become more self-sustaining. It can be done because back in the day, everybody did it.
If I had any young people among my imaginary readers, I would advise them to find a place where there's room to grow... food. A place where nobody will stop them from raising chickens or goats. Maybe it hasn't come to that quite yet, but please keep it in mind.
Meanwhile, I'm off to my hunting grounds to stalk the wily bargains lurking among the produce and meat sections. With luck I can bag enough to sustain us for yet another week.
Me? I've spent most of my life getting scolded for having it so good. These days I wish I could go back in time and scold right back. "Whose fault is that?" my imaginary self would remind them. "You knew how to create food, yet you didn't teach me?" But that's not fair. Who knew how things would turn out?
In their world it made sense to prepare the kids for a good job that would pay real cash. Producing food is great, but that won't buy you a kitchen to cook it in. Food producers had to scale up. There were more mouths to feed. The days of the hunter-gatherer and the self-sustaining farmer were gone. Farmers needed to go big or go get a job.
So I never learned jack about chickens, fishing, or dressing game. All my hunter-gatherer skills involve a grocery store. I'm good at it, too. I can find and decipher expiration date glyphs, I know when branding is BS, and when there's a good reason something costs more. I know the going prices for all the items we consume, so I can spot bargains.
I hope that for me, there will always be the grocery store. The best I can do about food production is grow zucchini. Nice, but it's not 3 squares on the table 365 days a year. Raising chickens and goats? If I'd started when I was younger I could probably still do it, I'd have the right muscles developed, and the knowledge and experience. But not now.
The time is coming when Americans will need my grandparents' survival skills. For many it's already here. The obvious problem is that paychecks are shrinking, adequate-paying jobs are scarce, yet people still need to eat. It's time to take a step back and become more self-sustaining. It can be done because back in the day, everybody did it.
If I had any young people among my imaginary readers, I would advise them to find a place where there's room to grow... food. A place where nobody will stop them from raising chickens or goats. Maybe it hasn't come to that quite yet, but please keep it in mind.
Meanwhile, I'm off to my hunting grounds to stalk the wily bargains lurking among the produce and meat sections. With luck I can bag enough to sustain us for yet another week.
Saturday, August 16, 2014
Tanks for the Clean Water
Seems reasonable that, with so many houses built in deserts, on islands, or just anywhere off the grid, somebody would come up with a way to direct clean wastewater to places it was needed... such as the garden.
You know the water I'm talking about. The water that's the wrong temperature. The water you run until it's hot enough to scald Fido's water dish clean; then you run it until it's cool enough to refill the dish. Then there's that icewater that comes out of the shower nozzle until water from your water heater makes its way through the plumbing.
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "It's called a HOT water heater, isn't it?" And yes, it is called that. Incorrectly. Those appliances are to heat water. If it's already hot, who needs a heater? However, that's what many call it. Common usage makes it right. I don't like it, but what do I know? After all, I started a sentence with "and" in this very paragraph. And that's not right either.
Getting back into the water, my first thought was a toggle switch labeled 'garden' and 'waste' for drains. When the water reaches the right temperature for lathering, rinsing, or whatever, simply toggle from 'garden' to 'waste.' Nice in theory. In practice... epic fail. Who's going to remember to 'toggle' before they've even had their morning shower? ("Honey, why do our tomatoes taste like shampoo?")
Nor am I sure how the water would find its way to the garden. A colorful system of tubes, funnels, and buckets ("Mouse Trap™" meets "Dr. Seuss") leading to a holding tank? Somehow that sounds bad for resale value. Plus, an outdoor tank is an open invitation to mosquitos; so the tank might have to be in your den. ("Your computer is set up, Mr. Fenwick. I'll just put the modem here on your holding tank. Hey, do I smell shampoo?")
Clearly retro-fitting a solution is impractical and expensive. Houses should just be built differently. Why aren't they? Why are water heaters the farthest possible distance from everyplace you need hot water? Why can't houses process their own wastewater so all of it is garden-ready? (A shampoo-n-poo eradicator?)
We'll continue to juggle buckets and conserve where we can. Water heaters are already changing from tanks to tankless, though I imagine they'll still be placed at the farthest possible distance from the shower. The drought will eventually end, and my interest in water will only be as a refreshing beverage. From my "cold water cooler."
You know the water I'm talking about. The water that's the wrong temperature. The water you run until it's hot enough to scald Fido's water dish clean; then you run it until it's cool enough to refill the dish. Then there's that icewater that comes out of the shower nozzle until water from your water heater makes its way through the plumbing.
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "It's called a HOT water heater, isn't it?" And yes, it is called that. Incorrectly. Those appliances are to heat water. If it's already hot, who needs a heater? However, that's what many call it. Common usage makes it right. I don't like it, but what do I know? After all, I started a sentence with "and" in this very paragraph. And that's not right either.
Getting back into the water, my first thought was a toggle switch labeled 'garden' and 'waste' for drains. When the water reaches the right temperature for lathering, rinsing, or whatever, simply toggle from 'garden' to 'waste.' Nice in theory. In practice... epic fail. Who's going to remember to 'toggle' before they've even had their morning shower? ("Honey, why do our tomatoes taste like shampoo?")
Nor am I sure how the water would find its way to the garden. A colorful system of tubes, funnels, and buckets ("Mouse Trap™" meets "Dr. Seuss") leading to a holding tank? Somehow that sounds bad for resale value. Plus, an outdoor tank is an open invitation to mosquitos; so the tank might have to be in your den. ("Your computer is set up, Mr. Fenwick. I'll just put the modem here on your holding tank. Hey, do I smell shampoo?")
Clearly retro-fitting a solution is impractical and expensive. Houses should just be built differently. Why aren't they? Why are water heaters the farthest possible distance from everyplace you need hot water? Why can't houses process their own wastewater so all of it is garden-ready? (A shampoo-n-poo eradicator?)
We'll continue to juggle buckets and conserve where we can. Water heaters are already changing from tanks to tankless, though I imagine they'll still be placed at the farthest possible distance from the shower. The drought will eventually end, and my interest in water will only be as a refreshing beverage. From my "cold water cooler."
Friday, August 15, 2014
Pest Control
I'm not good at getting rid of unwanted pests. Just ask the ant colonies in every room of our house. But at least I can spray those. There is no spray to keep pests from walking up to one's door and expecting one to answer their knock or ring.
Usually I just don't answer, no matter how obvious it is that we're home. If they look like they are potential scoundrels looking for places to rob, I'll yell through the door that we don't open our door to strangers. Then I watch them leave through the peephole, poised to press the alarm keypad's 'panic' button if they don't.
Needless to say, this seriously interrupts whatever I was trying to do... such as finish today's blog. So here I am brainstorming how to get rid of these unwanted pests.
A science-y solution would be fun. Would I want a force-field barrier around our property line that prevents all life-forms from crossing? You bet I would! The trouble with this idea, besides it not existing, is that something would inevitably stop working. The 'off' switch would be the worst. We couldn't even get our mail.
Oboy, no bills! Plus, the bank couldn't get in to evict us when we didn't pay the mortgage. Then again, the plumber couldn't get in to fix a broken toilet. And which cat would we eat first when we ran out of groceries? I guess we should rule out the force field.
Maybe I could channel my inner Wile E Coyote, and order a catapult from Acme. Think of the fun. It might look like a porch, but the spring-loaded mechanism flings unwanted visitors away. What wouldn't be fun is a prison term for flinging a Jehova's witness into the hedge.("Twenty to life? But there weren't even thorns!")
A mean-looking dog might be off-putting, but I'd still be interrupted mid-blog because Fido wanted walksies. Once outside with Fido, there's no door between me and all those salesmen, door-to-door fundraisers, real estate salespeople, and campaigning politicians, only a wagging dog. Bad idea.
There's clearly only one thing to do. I have to train these ants. It's perfect. People like the mail carrier or the UPS guy will be there and gone before the little rascals can swarm. Only the ones that stand there ringing and knocking will be targeted.
Now all I have to do is find an online course in ant training. I wonder if Acme offers one...?
Usually I just don't answer, no matter how obvious it is that we're home. If they look like they are potential scoundrels looking for places to rob, I'll yell through the door that we don't open our door to strangers. Then I watch them leave through the peephole, poised to press the alarm keypad's 'panic' button if they don't.
Needless to say, this seriously interrupts whatever I was trying to do... such as finish today's blog. So here I am brainstorming how to get rid of these unwanted pests.
A science-y solution would be fun. Would I want a force-field barrier around our property line that prevents all life-forms from crossing? You bet I would! The trouble with this idea, besides it not existing, is that something would inevitably stop working. The 'off' switch would be the worst. We couldn't even get our mail.
Oboy, no bills! Plus, the bank couldn't get in to evict us when we didn't pay the mortgage. Then again, the plumber couldn't get in to fix a broken toilet. And which cat would we eat first when we ran out of groceries? I guess we should rule out the force field.
Maybe I could channel my inner Wile E Coyote, and order a catapult from Acme. Think of the fun. It might look like a porch, but the spring-loaded mechanism flings unwanted visitors away. What wouldn't be fun is a prison term for flinging a Jehova's witness into the hedge.("Twenty to life? But there weren't even thorns!")
A mean-looking dog might be off-putting, but I'd still be interrupted mid-blog because Fido wanted walksies. Once outside with Fido, there's no door between me and all those salesmen, door-to-door fundraisers, real estate salespeople, and campaigning politicians, only a wagging dog. Bad idea.
There's clearly only one thing to do. I have to train these ants. It's perfect. People like the mail carrier or the UPS guy will be there and gone before the little rascals can swarm. Only the ones that stand there ringing and knocking will be targeted.
Now all I have to do is find an online course in ant training. I wonder if Acme offers one...?
Thursday, August 14, 2014
Steep Learning Curve Ahead
I'm not sure how I went from a Silicon Valley techie to technically challenged senior. I can still build a web page from scratch. I could even write a shell script if you let me look up a few things. But suddenly, I can't figure out how to shut off my computer.
It probably started with "Vista," the operating system that Microsoft inflicted on us back in the day. It had many problems 'underneath the hood.' So when my old XP machine died, we doubled down on a new XP machine instead of upgrading to Vista. The new XP machine worked too well. There was no reason to upgrade until this year when XP support ended.
The gap widened with tablets. Tablets were tempting, just not for my lifestyle. Lightweight was good, but they coupled the inconvenience of a small display with a device too big for pockets and purses. They depended on connectivity that wasn't guaranteed to be there. More important to me, they couldn't handle World of Warcraft, whereas a good laptop could.
Then there was the whole privacy/security issue with mobile computing. Both clouds and WIFI descended on the marketplace before there was protection enough for those who used them. No problem for a kid whose biggest secret is his 'crush' on a girl named Madison. Yes, problem for people doing online banking and credit card purchases.
I thought people were crazy to use 'cloud' storage. Why would anyone hand over control of their personal data and information to profit-seekers and privacy-disrespecters? WIFI, though awesome, also lacked security. So I steered clear of these innovations until 'later.'
There you have it. While I was serene in my little desktop bubble, the industry evolved to serve the people who were buying stuff. People who didn't have the time and the room for long sit-downs in front of their deskside machines. People with 2 jobs, no TV, and only a hand-sized display from which to view the internet.
Naturally user interfaces changed to work with smaller displays. Anyone used to a phone or tablet will have no difficulty. They can sit down to a desktop system and start right in. That's one small step for them, but one giant problem for me. (Note previous column.)
So I have a choice.
It probably started with "Vista," the operating system that Microsoft inflicted on us back in the day. It had many problems 'underneath the hood.' So when my old XP machine died, we doubled down on a new XP machine instead of upgrading to Vista. The new XP machine worked too well. There was no reason to upgrade until this year when XP support ended.
The gap widened with tablets. Tablets were tempting, just not for my lifestyle. Lightweight was good, but they coupled the inconvenience of a small display with a device too big for pockets and purses. They depended on connectivity that wasn't guaranteed to be there. More important to me, they couldn't handle World of Warcraft, whereas a good laptop could.
Then there was the whole privacy/security issue with mobile computing. Both clouds and WIFI descended on the marketplace before there was protection enough for those who used them. No problem for a kid whose biggest secret is his 'crush' on a girl named Madison. Yes, problem for people doing online banking and credit card purchases.
I thought people were crazy to use 'cloud' storage. Why would anyone hand over control of their personal data and information to profit-seekers and privacy-disrespecters? WIFI, though awesome, also lacked security. So I steered clear of these innovations until 'later.'
There you have it. While I was serene in my little desktop bubble, the industry evolved to serve the people who were buying stuff. People who didn't have the time and the room for long sit-downs in front of their deskside machines. People with 2 jobs, no TV, and only a hand-sized display from which to view the internet.
Naturally user interfaces changed to work with smaller displays. Anyone used to a phone or tablet will have no difficulty. They can sit down to a desktop system and start right in. That's one small step for them, but one giant problem for me. (Note previous column.)
So I have a choice.
- I can learn how to use the system via extensive online research and exploration.
- I can be a technology-hating old fart, forwarding rants to all my old-fart friends who agree with me, until we're convinced that we are right and the world is wrong.
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
Not Phoning it In
(This is the first of a 2-part blog describing my descent into the realms of the technically clueless.)
I didn't start out clueless. Back in the day I worked at Silicon Valley's biggest companies. Hubby still does, and we have all the toys to prove it. It's just that I don't know how to play with them nowadays.
I think I took a wrong turn somewhere between cell phones and Albuquerque. I hate cellular phones because I hate all phones. Nobody has the right to interrupt if I'm busy. It used to be a pleasure to get out, away from the phone. "Oh, did I miss your call? Sorry (not!), I was out all day!" I wouldn't give up my non-interrupt zone. Cell phones were for emergencies only.
So while everybody else mastered bluetooth, texted, made cat videos, downloaded and uploaded media, and learned apps, my cellular phone was standing by for emergencies. Through this era I felt smug... SMUG! that these idiots were getting slapped with outrageous bills just so they could listen to tin-ny music, web-surf, or watch movies on a postage-stamp-sized screen.
Speaking of size, it also annoyed me that cell phones bristled with buttons and hotspots. I know they need to put them someplace, but it's tough for old fingers to hold a phone without muting the volume, firing up 2 apps, taking pictures up your own nostrils, and accidently returning a call to a scammer who wants my SSN. (Like I'd know how to delete 'missed calls?')
Now everyone but me knows how to make those sweepy gestures that control their phones. I still squint at the initial display wishing that a menu would appear with an list of functions I understand. (Spoiler alert... it doesn't happen.) Why do they put all the useless crap I don't want in such prominent places?
My number, alas, is up. My old 'emergency-only' dumbphone finally bit the dust, and my new one is way too smart for me. Hubby has dropped hints that it is time to lose the land line. I'll have to start using the cell phone.
Now if I can just find a 'young person' to show me how to answer the damned thing.
I didn't start out clueless. Back in the day I worked at Silicon Valley's biggest companies. Hubby still does, and we have all the toys to prove it. It's just that I don't know how to play with them nowadays.
I think I took a wrong turn somewhere between cell phones and Albuquerque. I hate cellular phones because I hate all phones. Nobody has the right to interrupt if I'm busy. It used to be a pleasure to get out, away from the phone. "Oh, did I miss your call? Sorry (not!), I was out all day!" I wouldn't give up my non-interrupt zone. Cell phones were for emergencies only.
So while everybody else mastered bluetooth, texted, made cat videos, downloaded and uploaded media, and learned apps, my cellular phone was standing by for emergencies. Through this era I felt smug... SMUG! that these idiots were getting slapped with outrageous bills just so they could listen to tin-ny music, web-surf, or watch movies on a postage-stamp-sized screen.
Speaking of size, it also annoyed me that cell phones bristled with buttons and hotspots. I know they need to put them someplace, but it's tough for old fingers to hold a phone without muting the volume, firing up 2 apps, taking pictures up your own nostrils, and accidently returning a call to a scammer who wants my SSN. (Like I'd know how to delete 'missed calls?')
Now everyone but me knows how to make those sweepy gestures that control their phones. I still squint at the initial display wishing that a menu would appear with an list of functions I understand. (Spoiler alert... it doesn't happen.) Why do they put all the useless crap I don't want in such prominent places?
My number, alas, is up. My old 'emergency-only' dumbphone finally bit the dust, and my new one is way too smart for me. Hubby has dropped hints that it is time to lose the land line. I'll have to start using the cell phone.
Now if I can just find a 'young person' to show me how to answer the damned thing.
Sunday, August 10, 2014
Age Old Problems
Hello, businesses. Are your customers aging? Oh noes! Your clientele will die off! What's a business to do?
Sometimes nothing. We all grow older, there will always be new seniors. If you redefine your senior-savvy business to appeal to a young crowd, you'll lose your current customers. Then you're in competition with younger, hipper entrepreneurs. They'll out-hip you, and good luck resuscitating that cash cow you slaughtered. (Just ask Penneys. I still haven't gone back.)
That's not to say you shouldn't keep up. Just keep up more slowly. Keep making reading glasses, just make the frames more modern. Keep the Early Bird Special, just call it the Rush Hour Special... and make it with chicken instead of beef. If your store's decor appeals to 70-year-olds, redecorate to appeal to 50-year-olds.
Everybody wants a piece of the youth market. Back in the day, that might have been wise. Now? Don't be too sure. Young people are broke. By the time they make their student loan payment and update their phones, do you really think they can afford to spend big money at your upscale bar?
As a new senior, I am concerned. Businesses that used to cater to people like me no longer do. Some places went away completely, others made their brand unappealing to me in their quest for the fountain of youth. The place I feel it the most is the tech industry.
Just as I'm staying home more, mobility has become the holy grail. I don't mind that people 'on the go' are finally getting some love. It's just that everything stopped happening for stay-at-home machines. No improvements, and extra steps everyplace to get past OS features that home machines share with mobile machines.
Windows 8, made to support the mobile crowd, made no sense on a desktop. I sat at my desk looking at a jumbo monitor while I clicked frantically on a suddenly-useless mouse. That, at least, has been resolved. Windows 8.1 arrived. Good thing. They'd hate it if I hobbled up to Redmond brandishing my cane and mouse-clicking protests in morse code.
So businesses everywhere, especially tech... please don't forget the new seniors. You'll be one sooner than you think. Make sure your online experience will still be ergonomic, visible, and easy to use. You'll thank yourself when you're older and wiser.
Sometimes nothing. We all grow older, there will always be new seniors. If you redefine your senior-savvy business to appeal to a young crowd, you'll lose your current customers. Then you're in competition with younger, hipper entrepreneurs. They'll out-hip you, and good luck resuscitating that cash cow you slaughtered. (Just ask Penneys. I still haven't gone back.)
That's not to say you shouldn't keep up. Just keep up more slowly. Keep making reading glasses, just make the frames more modern. Keep the Early Bird Special, just call it the Rush Hour Special... and make it with chicken instead of beef. If your store's decor appeals to 70-year-olds, redecorate to appeal to 50-year-olds.
Everybody wants a piece of the youth market. Back in the day, that might have been wise. Now? Don't be too sure. Young people are broke. By the time they make their student loan payment and update their phones, do you really think they can afford to spend big money at your upscale bar?
As a new senior, I am concerned. Businesses that used to cater to people like me no longer do. Some places went away completely, others made their brand unappealing to me in their quest for the fountain of youth. The place I feel it the most is the tech industry.
Just as I'm staying home more, mobility has become the holy grail. I don't mind that people 'on the go' are finally getting some love. It's just that everything stopped happening for stay-at-home machines. No improvements, and extra steps everyplace to get past OS features that home machines share with mobile machines.
Windows 8, made to support the mobile crowd, made no sense on a desktop. I sat at my desk looking at a jumbo monitor while I clicked frantically on a suddenly-useless mouse. That, at least, has been resolved. Windows 8.1 arrived. Good thing. They'd hate it if I hobbled up to Redmond brandishing my cane and mouse-clicking protests in morse code.
So businesses everywhere, especially tech... please don't forget the new seniors. You'll be one sooner than you think. Make sure your online experience will still be ergonomic, visible, and easy to use. You'll thank yourself when you're older and wiser.
Friday, August 8, 2014
Health Careless
There's no doubt about it, I've been blessed with awesome grandmas. The one that's still around just told a rehab facility where they could put their randomly administered drugs, their patient mix-ups, their diapers, and their weekends off. Then she hopped into the getaway car and went home! I am impressed.
By way of background, Grandma is in her 90s and her heart is weak. She had what's called a 'silent heart attack' a couple weeks back and went to the hospital. Hospitals don't like to have patients hanging around until they are well enough to go home, so they boot them into rehab facilities.
This was by no means the worst care facility in the area. According to reviews, it's among the best. Some very nice people work there. But like all of these places, they work the numbers. Every 'body-in-a-bed' is 'money-in-the-bank.' If their health care was half as good as their bean-counting, we'd all be better off.
Did I mention that Grandma has great insurance above and beyond Medicare? When she shows up for care, the air rings with the sound of 'cha-chings.' Facilities are far more delighted to have her than she is to be there, which is no surprise. It costs a lot. There's no place to be except in a bed unless it's your turn for physical therapy or hygiene. The less employees to pay, the better, so there's not somebody available to help you whenever you need the toilet. Welcome to diapers.
Anyway, Grandma's plan was to stay at this place until she was capable of getting dressed, and getting from bed to walker to bathroom to kitchen to living room to bed (rinse-repeat) on her own. (You know, the stuff you need to do on your own. She has help with cooking, cleaning, and bathing in her own home, so that wasn't an issue.)
Grandma hit her goal 2 days ago. Imagine her surprise when... not only did they not release her, they planned to keep her there for months. Sorry, rehab place, Grandma wasn't having any of that. She got on her figurative high horse and rode it home. I'm so proud of her.
I wish more people could "just say no" to the abomination that our health-care system has become. It's a real pleasure to know the one who did.
By way of background, Grandma is in her 90s and her heart is weak. She had what's called a 'silent heart attack' a couple weeks back and went to the hospital. Hospitals don't like to have patients hanging around until they are well enough to go home, so they boot them into rehab facilities.
This was by no means the worst care facility in the area. According to reviews, it's among the best. Some very nice people work there. But like all of these places, they work the numbers. Every 'body-in-a-bed' is 'money-in-the-bank.' If their health care was half as good as their bean-counting, we'd all be better off.
Did I mention that Grandma has great insurance above and beyond Medicare? When she shows up for care, the air rings with the sound of 'cha-chings.' Facilities are far more delighted to have her than she is to be there, which is no surprise. It costs a lot. There's no place to be except in a bed unless it's your turn for physical therapy or hygiene. The less employees to pay, the better, so there's not somebody available to help you whenever you need the toilet. Welcome to diapers.
Anyway, Grandma's plan was to stay at this place until she was capable of getting dressed, and getting from bed to walker to bathroom to kitchen to living room to bed (rinse-repeat) on her own. (You know, the stuff you need to do on your own. She has help with cooking, cleaning, and bathing in her own home, so that wasn't an issue.)
Grandma hit her goal 2 days ago. Imagine her surprise when... not only did they not release her, they planned to keep her there for months. Sorry, rehab place, Grandma wasn't having any of that. She got on her figurative high horse and rode it home. I'm so proud of her.
I wish more people could "just say no" to the abomination that our health-care system has become. It's a real pleasure to know the one who did.
Thursday, August 7, 2014
Crowd(ed) Funding
Crowd(ed) Funding
Last June my friend, Freddi, was very excited about her great idea for a crowdfunded project. "I could do so much with ten thousand dollars, and once my work catches on, the sky is the limit!" I enthusiastically wished her well.
If you are online and reading this, you probably know all about 'Kickstarter' and the many other crowdfunding sites. But in case you have been hiding in a fallout shelter since 'W' got elected, here's how they work:
1. Money is needed for a project
2. The project is "pitched" on a crowdfunding site
3. People see the pitch and pledge small amounts toward the goal
4. If goal is reached in 30 days, the project can proceed
Two weeks later Freddi called. "My project goes up on the site tomorrow. Keep an eye out."
They don't make it easy to find the project you promised to fund. That's on purpose. By the time you navigate to it you've seen many other projects and ideas that you love. You're there, your credit card number is registered. Why not give a clever entreprenuer a break?
Freddi's project was definitely lost in the crowd. The pitch was underwhelming, the concept was poorly explained, the pledge reward tiers made no sense. I loyally pledged, but was not surprised when the project failed. Neither was Freddi.
"When I saw those other projects, I knew I was in trouble," she confided. "They all had compelling messages, adorable rewards, and the demos! I'm trying again, and this time I'm getting help!"
The next pitch was awesome, and Freddi got her ten thousand. "So now you're off to complete that project?" I asked over congratulatory drinks.
"Well, not exactly. By the time the crowdfunding site got their cut, and I paid off the copywriter, the designer, the demo-maker and the fulfillment house, I didn't have enough cash left for the project; and now," she said, chugging her drink, "I have to send regular progress reports to all my donors."
Freddi might have to crowdfund another project just to pay for this one. But at least she'll know how!
Last June my friend, Freddi, was very excited about her great idea for a crowdfunded project. "I could do so much with ten thousand dollars, and once my work catches on, the sky is the limit!" I enthusiastically wished her well.
If you are online and reading this, you probably know all about 'Kickstarter' and the many other crowdfunding sites. But in case you have been hiding in a fallout shelter since 'W' got elected, here's how they work:
1. Money is needed for a project
2. The project is "pitched" on a crowdfunding site
3. People see the pitch and pledge small amounts toward the goal
4. If goal is reached in 30 days, the project can proceed
Two weeks later Freddi called. "My project goes up on the site tomorrow. Keep an eye out."
They don't make it easy to find the project you promised to fund. That's on purpose. By the time you navigate to it you've seen many other projects and ideas that you love. You're there, your credit card number is registered. Why not give a clever entreprenuer a break?
Freddi's project was definitely lost in the crowd. The pitch was underwhelming, the concept was poorly explained, the pledge reward tiers made no sense. I loyally pledged, but was not surprised when the project failed. Neither was Freddi.
"When I saw those other projects, I knew I was in trouble," she confided. "They all had compelling messages, adorable rewards, and the demos! I'm trying again, and this time I'm getting help!"
The next pitch was awesome, and Freddi got her ten thousand. "So now you're off to complete that project?" I asked over congratulatory drinks.
"Well, not exactly. By the time the crowdfunding site got their cut, and I paid off the copywriter, the designer, the demo-maker and the fulfillment house, I didn't have enough cash left for the project; and now," she said, chugging her drink, "I have to send regular progress reports to all my donors."
Freddi might have to crowdfund another project just to pay for this one. But at least she'll know how!
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
Keep On Keepin' Up
My amazing Grandma told me, "If you can't keep up, you'll never catch up."
I didn't appreciate Grandma enough when she was alive, or even for decades after she passed on. But now... NOW! I've passed the age she was when she gave me this advice, and I am awed by her... well... awesomeness.
Bit of background. Grandma was the butcher's daughter in a small town in the Midwest, born around 1905. Her father built a lovely Victorian house for his family. They had a piano, a sun porch, a big barn, and a field.
From this prosperous beginning, Grandma married my wonderful grandfather, a barber. By 1929 they had 2 kids who survived (2 didn't) and a 3rd yet to come. Grandpa had started up his own shop. Then the Depression came. It wiped them out.
The Great Depression defined my grandmother. It transformed a gently-brought-up little girl into a thrifty, hardworking, and efficient dynamo. Here are examples:
They had no indoor bathroom. The outhouse was up the hill. Every morning Grandma hauled all the chamber pots up to the outhouse, emptied them, added lime to the outhouse as necessary, rinsed the chamber pots at the pump, and hauled the pots back to the house.
She got back just in time to tend to the chickens, make breakfast for 6 (her widowed father-in-law lived there too), wash up the dishes, and weed the garden before lunch. There was a laundry tub by the clothesline, so at least she didn't have to use rocks at the river on laundry day, but still...
As for food and money, there was never enough of either. Mom tells me Grandma once paid the doctor for a house call with... a chicken! Try that with Obamacare.
I could never have done all that. I have less to do all day than Grandma had to do in the first hour of her day. Yet I have fallen way behind. I have so much catching up to do that I'll need to bring in professional housekeeping help at some point.
I plan to get out of this mess. First, I will keep up and stay kept up until I'm satisfied that Grandma would approve. Then, and only then, will I schedule some help. After all, there's no sense in catching up if you aren't going to keep up, right Grandma? Sorry it took me so long to listen.
I didn't appreciate Grandma enough when she was alive, or even for decades after she passed on. But now... NOW! I've passed the age she was when she gave me this advice, and I am awed by her... well... awesomeness.
Bit of background. Grandma was the butcher's daughter in a small town in the Midwest, born around 1905. Her father built a lovely Victorian house for his family. They had a piano, a sun porch, a big barn, and a field.
From this prosperous beginning, Grandma married my wonderful grandfather, a barber. By 1929 they had 2 kids who survived (2 didn't) and a 3rd yet to come. Grandpa had started up his own shop. Then the Depression came. It wiped them out.
The Great Depression defined my grandmother. It transformed a gently-brought-up little girl into a thrifty, hardworking, and efficient dynamo. Here are examples:
They had no indoor bathroom. The outhouse was up the hill. Every morning Grandma hauled all the chamber pots up to the outhouse, emptied them, added lime to the outhouse as necessary, rinsed the chamber pots at the pump, and hauled the pots back to the house.
She got back just in time to tend to the chickens, make breakfast for 6 (her widowed father-in-law lived there too), wash up the dishes, and weed the garden before lunch. There was a laundry tub by the clothesline, so at least she didn't have to use rocks at the river on laundry day, but still...
As for food and money, there was never enough of either. Mom tells me Grandma once paid the doctor for a house call with... a chicken! Try that with Obamacare.
I could never have done all that. I have less to do all day than Grandma had to do in the first hour of her day. Yet I have fallen way behind. I have so much catching up to do that I'll need to bring in professional housekeeping help at some point.
I plan to get out of this mess. First, I will keep up and stay kept up until I'm satisfied that Grandma would approve. Then, and only then, will I schedule some help. After all, there's no sense in catching up if you aren't going to keep up, right Grandma? Sorry it took me so long to listen.
Tuesday, August 5, 2014
Dancing with the Votes
I am sold on the concept of 'direct democracy.' Why should there be an electoral college at all? Why not have everybody's vote count the same?
It would be so easy to do things differently. We could follow the model used by shows like American Idol and Dancing with the Stars. Most of us are already familiar with the concept. The candidates would have to perform for us so we could select the finalists. Since that's exactly what already happens, the transition would be a no-brainer.
The Issue Selection Committee would choose the key issues, and each candidate would team up with their writers and campaign staff to address that issue. The performance would last for 3 to 5 minutes, without pesky interruptions. Judges could grade the performance on quality of information, use of visual aids, and depth of solutions.
Imagine the fun voters would have making their choice:
Voter 1 - The challenger danced a clever side-step with the gun control issue...
Voter 2 - Yeah, but did you see the incumbant's razzle-dazzle pie charts?
Being voted off means candidates can't stay in the race and take up space. They can get back to their current job without further ado. No more fundraising, and their backers can consider which remaining candidate to support. Think what a time-saver that would be for us and them.
Instead of an exhausting death-march across the campaign trail repeating the same catch phrases, the candidates must move on to the next issue and perform again. This exposes those 'one-issue wonders,' who are so eloquent about a single topic but an 'empty suit' when it comes to everything else.
What a concept! Instead of leaving their jobs to campaign for 2 years, ladder-climbing politicians would have to do the job they were elected to do. Finally! ("Remember your last campaign, when you wanted your current job so badly, Senator? Go do it. Make the tape on your own time.")
Both the primary and the election performances would be run, frequently, right up to voting time. The discerning public would have a chance to view these, and additional information, such as voting records, attendance, and Q & A sessions.
I mean really. It's our tax money the politicians cheerfully hand over to other people for the wars, foreign aid, bank bail-outs, and other nonsense. Shouldn't we see a more in-depth explanation about how these clowns propose to spend it?
We should require more substance and less misleading rhetoric. We deserve everybody's vote to count instead of just the votes of the Ohio independents. Above all, we need to pick our president with at least as much scrutiny as we pick our American Idols.
It would be so easy to do things differently. We could follow the model used by shows like American Idol and Dancing with the Stars. Most of us are already familiar with the concept. The candidates would have to perform for us so we could select the finalists. Since that's exactly what already happens, the transition would be a no-brainer.
The Issue Selection Committee would choose the key issues, and each candidate would team up with their writers and campaign staff to address that issue. The performance would last for 3 to 5 minutes, without pesky interruptions. Judges could grade the performance on quality of information, use of visual aids, and depth of solutions.
Imagine the fun voters would have making their choice:
Voter 1 - The challenger danced a clever side-step with the gun control issue...
Voter 2 - Yeah, but did you see the incumbant's razzle-dazzle pie charts?
Being voted off means candidates can't stay in the race and take up space. They can get back to their current job without further ado. No more fundraising, and their backers can consider which remaining candidate to support. Think what a time-saver that would be for us and them.
Instead of an exhausting death-march across the campaign trail repeating the same catch phrases, the candidates must move on to the next issue and perform again. This exposes those 'one-issue wonders,' who are so eloquent about a single topic but an 'empty suit' when it comes to everything else.
What a concept! Instead of leaving their jobs to campaign for 2 years, ladder-climbing politicians would have to do the job they were elected to do. Finally! ("Remember your last campaign, when you wanted your current job so badly, Senator? Go do it. Make the tape on your own time.")
Both the primary and the election performances would be run, frequently, right up to voting time. The discerning public would have a chance to view these, and additional information, such as voting records, attendance, and Q & A sessions.
I mean really. It's our tax money the politicians cheerfully hand over to other people for the wars, foreign aid, bank bail-outs, and other nonsense. Shouldn't we see a more in-depth explanation about how these clowns propose to spend it?
We should require more substance and less misleading rhetoric. We deserve everybody's vote to count instead of just the votes of the Ohio independents. Above all, we need to pick our president with at least as much scrutiny as we pick our American Idols.
Monday, August 4, 2014
Career Pathos
When you're a little kid and people ask you want you want to do when you grow up, you usually pick the career of your favorite media star. Fireman, ninja, Sailor Moon, Dr. Who, Superman. Later, many kids pick their parents' or role model's occupation.
People are satisfied with the more realistic answer and stop asking. They consider the matter settled. This is just as well. Even the nicest kids go through phases where they think their parents and teachers are the stupidest people ever, and nobody in their right mind would follow in those footsteps.
Then there comes a day when the future becomes the present and you have to pick a door. Yikes! Remember the treadmill that Mom and Dad hated all those years? The one you really didn't want to be on? Not to worry. If that job category still exists by the time you're ready to apply for it, it won't pay a living wage anyhow.
Guidance counselors are rather useless, they just say you can do you anything you set your mind to, which is sort of a crock. No offense meant. Perhaps they take more trouble with non-college-prep students.
Back in the day when it was my turn to make a choice, I fell for the old, "There's a huge demand for _(whatever)_," hype in the media. It changes every year, from nurses to teachers to business execs to programmers. The catch is, they need them right away. By the time college ends, the void is filled to overflowing and you're in a long line.
They needed women in 'business administration' when I graduated from high school, so that was my major. The subject didn't excite me and my college grades showed it. I sucked at managing people too. Imagine my surprise after graduation. The field was teeming with women far more qualified and enthusiastic than I.
Now that I'm older and wiser, I'd advise college-bound kids to consider all the areas they'd do well in, and pick one that has some commercial applications. Jobs are tough to get in all areas, but one has a better chance if their GPA is high. That's assuming one can attend college without getting a loan. If a loan is required, think twice about college, please.
Above all, don't worry about what you want to do when you grow up. I'm 60 and still don't know. Get what work you can, and keep your eyes open for opportunities. For example, I hear that Superman is 76... maybe he'll be retiring soon.
People are satisfied with the more realistic answer and stop asking. They consider the matter settled. This is just as well. Even the nicest kids go through phases where they think their parents and teachers are the stupidest people ever, and nobody in their right mind would follow in those footsteps.
Then there comes a day when the future becomes the present and you have to pick a door. Yikes! Remember the treadmill that Mom and Dad hated all those years? The one you really didn't want to be on? Not to worry. If that job category still exists by the time you're ready to apply for it, it won't pay a living wage anyhow.
Guidance counselors are rather useless, they just say you can do you anything you set your mind to, which is sort of a crock. No offense meant. Perhaps they take more trouble with non-college-prep students.
Back in the day when it was my turn to make a choice, I fell for the old, "There's a huge demand for _(whatever)_," hype in the media. It changes every year, from nurses to teachers to business execs to programmers. The catch is, they need them right away. By the time college ends, the void is filled to overflowing and you're in a long line.
They needed women in 'business administration' when I graduated from high school, so that was my major. The subject didn't excite me and my college grades showed it. I sucked at managing people too. Imagine my surprise after graduation. The field was teeming with women far more qualified and enthusiastic than I.
Now that I'm older and wiser, I'd advise college-bound kids to consider all the areas they'd do well in, and pick one that has some commercial applications. Jobs are tough to get in all areas, but one has a better chance if their GPA is high. That's assuming one can attend college without getting a loan. If a loan is required, think twice about college, please.
Above all, don't worry about what you want to do when you grow up. I'm 60 and still don't know. Get what work you can, and keep your eyes open for opportunities. For example, I hear that Superman is 76... maybe he'll be retiring soon.
Sunday, August 3, 2014
Correctiness
Political correctness is a great punching-bag for pundits. Every year when they open the box of Christmas decorations they find the 'Merry Christmas' vs. 'Happy Holidays' debate tucked in the corner. Someone happily puts it up for discussion again. A real crowd-pleaser.
Pundits whine that we can't even compliment someone without getting sued for sexual harrassment. They bemoan that we all live in fear that the PC police will clap us in irons and haul us off for using a word because we "didn't know it was loaded."
They exaggerate. It's not illegal to be politically incorrect, though it certainly can be career-limiting. They won't arrest you for using the b-word, the c-word, the f-word, or even the n-word. Though you might lose your job, your restaurant, or your sports team.
I'm on the fence. I'm old enough to remember ethnic jokes that were so cruel, I'm surprised UN meetings didn't end in riots or at least food-fights. ("Look! The Ambassador just threw a package of ethnic food at the U.S. representative!") We don't want our kids thinking that hate and intolerance is OK. It isn't, and it's good that we're finally reigning it in.
On the other hand, a conversation is like walking-through-a-minefield for one raised back in the day. As kids we repeated what the adults around us said. Words, attitudes, and speech patterns became deeply ingrained. A few years later someone thinks to tell you to never say that in public.
Being older and wiser, I see the need to be careful what you call people. My only advice is, play it safe. If in doubt, call them a pundit.
Pundits whine that we can't even compliment someone without getting sued for sexual harrassment. They bemoan that we all live in fear that the PC police will clap us in irons and haul us off for using a word because we "didn't know it was loaded."
They exaggerate. It's not illegal to be politically incorrect, though it certainly can be career-limiting. They won't arrest you for using the b-word, the c-word, the f-word, or even the n-word. Though you might lose your job, your restaurant, or your sports team.
I'm on the fence. I'm old enough to remember ethnic jokes that were so cruel, I'm surprised UN meetings didn't end in riots or at least food-fights. ("Look! The Ambassador just threw a package of ethnic food at the U.S. representative!") We don't want our kids thinking that hate and intolerance is OK. It isn't, and it's good that we're finally reigning it in.
On the other hand, a conversation is like walking-through-a-minefield for one raised back in the day. As kids we repeated what the adults around us said. Words, attitudes, and speech patterns became deeply ingrained. A few years later someone thinks to tell you to never say that in public.
Being older and wiser, I see the need to be careful what you call people. My only advice is, play it safe. If in doubt, call them a pundit.
Saturday, August 2, 2014
Good Call, Founders
I don't get a strong religious vibe from everything the founding fathers wrote. I expect that some of them were deeply religious, some of them went to church because their wife made them, and others ordered their slaves to build golf courses for future Sunday enjoyment.
But they did agree that 'freedom of religion' was a good idea, and I think that was a smart move. For starters, it attracted many people who were charmed by the idea of not dying for their religious preferences. And frankly, we needed the dudes. There was a lot to do.
There was another benefit. The founders probably looked around the world and noted how many countries had been at war with each other since forever because of religious differences. We already had a war. Also, choosing one religion might limit potential alliances. Bad move, that.
So we separated church from state, and I think it's a fantastic idea. There's a whole lot of legally do-able stuff churches don't want people to do. I'm not even talking about the hot-button issues such as divorce, abortion or being gay. I'm thinking of foods, beverages, card games, science-learning, and book-reading.
Before the athiests hurry to my door to sign me up, I'll mention that I'm already taken. If we pick a national religion, mine would win. I just don't think we should. There's too much religion in the government as it is. We don't want this to happen next Christmas:
Daughter - "Why are we having Christmas here instead of going to Grandma's?"
Mommy -- "She's in jail, remember? She taught 'Evolution' to her grade school students."
Daughter - "Oh, yeah. Well, is Aunt Prudence coming?"
Mommy -- "Nope. After Uncle Al broke her jaw, she had to leave the country to divorce him."
Daughter - "This is bogus. Why don't we just go out for Chinese?"
Mommy -- "They aren't allowed to open on Christmas. It's a national holiday."
But they did agree that 'freedom of religion' was a good idea, and I think that was a smart move. For starters, it attracted many people who were charmed by the idea of not dying for their religious preferences. And frankly, we needed the dudes. There was a lot to do.
There was another benefit. The founders probably looked around the world and noted how many countries had been at war with each other since forever because of religious differences. We already had a war. Also, choosing one religion might limit potential alliances. Bad move, that.
So we separated church from state, and I think it's a fantastic idea. There's a whole lot of legally do-able stuff churches don't want people to do. I'm not even talking about the hot-button issues such as divorce, abortion or being gay. I'm thinking of foods, beverages, card games, science-learning, and book-reading.
Before the athiests hurry to my door to sign me up, I'll mention that I'm already taken. If we pick a national religion, mine would win. I just don't think we should. There's too much religion in the government as it is. We don't want this to happen next Christmas:
Daughter - "Why are we having Christmas here instead of going to Grandma's?"
Mommy -- "She's in jail, remember? She taught 'Evolution' to her grade school students."
Daughter - "Oh, yeah. Well, is Aunt Prudence coming?"
Mommy -- "Nope. After Uncle Al broke her jaw, she had to leave the country to divorce him."
Daughter - "This is bogus. Why don't we just go out for Chinese?"
Mommy -- "They aren't allowed to open on Christmas. It's a national holiday."
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