How does one escape from prison? The Count of Monte Cristo spent years digging through stone walls. Andy Dufresne crawled through a sewage pipe in "Shawshank Redemption". But what if you want to escape right now and you have an aversion to swimming through human waste? Just have a kidney shut down. That will do the trick.
Mississippi Governor (and prospective presidential candidate) Haley Barbour accomplished the political equivalent of "having his cake and eating it, too" yesterday. He released the Scott sisters from prison thus pleasing his liberal constituency. Then, he noted that the state prison would save tons of money by avoiding dialysis and kidney transplant costs (Sister B planned to donate a kidney to Sister A) thus pleasing his conservative constituency.
The background on the case is interesting. The Scott sisters are 16 years into a life(!) sentence for armed robbery. A firearm was involved (This is Mississippi, after all), but no shots were fired,. no one was hurt, and the grand proceeds of the heist was a whopping $11. Apparently, this gets you a life sentence and no parole for 16 years (This is Mississippi, after all). And we thought that sort of thing only happened to Jean Valjean in 19th century France.
For a governor with national political ambitions, the Scott sisters were a problem. A life sentence for stealing $11 might seem a tad stiff to those Yankees up north. On the other hand, releasing them labels Governor Barbour as "soft on crime" and opens the possibility of another Willie Horton. Good things come to those who wait, though. Kidney failure was bad news for Ms Scott, but the political equivalent of pulling a rabbit out of a hat for The Guv.
Those Monte Cristo and Dufresne guys really did it the hard way. All they needed was a dire disease and an ambitious Governor.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Thursday, December 30, 2010
A Life Lesson
Forty years ago today, I was travelling through South Korea with a sack full of money over my shoulder and a .45 caliber pistol on my hip like a perverted Santa Claus. The experience taught me a valuable life lesson.
As the junior lieutenant in the US Army's fightin' 23rd Direct Support Group, I was assigned as December Payroll Officer. I went to 8th Army HQ in Seoul and received a duffel bag full of Military Payment Certificates (MPC), the monthly pay for several hundred servicemen scattered throughout Central Korea. MPCs were denominated in US dollars and resembled Monopoly money in that bills were of different sizes and garishly colored. They could only be converted to US currency if you had orders to depart Korea. The Army feared that GIs would convert "greenbacks" to Korean won on the black market and that US currency would find its way to North Korea where the bad guys would use it to purchase nuclear weaponry and the like (as if that could happen).
The Army pay system is nothing if not egalitarian. Every 2nd lieutenant with two years or less service was paid the same princely sum of $340 per month and so on up and down the ranks. The only payroll "extras" were combat pay, flight pay for pilots, "jump" pay for paratroopers, and "medical" pay for doctors and dentists.
There was only one guy left in line for pay at the 2nd Aviation Group and I had a pile of money remaining in that unit's stack. Had I shorted someone earlier? Was my next assignment breaking large rocks into small ones at the Leavenworth Stockade?
It turned out that the last guy was a paratrooper pilot dentist who had flown near the DMZ and got combat pay. He made more than his Commanding Officer though he deserved it. Imagine if you got a toothache from biting down on your paratrooper's knife while flying over the DMZ. He could fix it and still land the plane. The guy had taken advantage of all the loopholes in the Army pay system. I was envious, but mostly relieved that I hadn't miscounted the Monopoly money.
Wall Street paid about $115 billion in Year End Bonuses last week. Wasn't that sort of stuff supposed to end when we taxpayers bailed Wall Street out last year?
Here's the life lesson. No matter how foolproof the system, someone will figure out a way to take advantage of it. I wonder if my paratrooper pilot dentist is working at Goldman Sachs today.
As the junior lieutenant in the US Army's fightin' 23rd Direct Support Group, I was assigned as December Payroll Officer. I went to 8th Army HQ in Seoul and received a duffel bag full of Military Payment Certificates (MPC), the monthly pay for several hundred servicemen scattered throughout Central Korea. MPCs were denominated in US dollars and resembled Monopoly money in that bills were of different sizes and garishly colored. They could only be converted to US currency if you had orders to depart Korea. The Army feared that GIs would convert "greenbacks" to Korean won on the black market and that US currency would find its way to North Korea where the bad guys would use it to purchase nuclear weaponry and the like (as if that could happen).
The Army pay system is nothing if not egalitarian. Every 2nd lieutenant with two years or less service was paid the same princely sum of $340 per month and so on up and down the ranks. The only payroll "extras" were combat pay, flight pay for pilots, "jump" pay for paratroopers, and "medical" pay for doctors and dentists.
There was only one guy left in line for pay at the 2nd Aviation Group and I had a pile of money remaining in that unit's stack. Had I shorted someone earlier? Was my next assignment breaking large rocks into small ones at the Leavenworth Stockade?
It turned out that the last guy was a paratrooper pilot dentist who had flown near the DMZ and got combat pay. He made more than his Commanding Officer though he deserved it. Imagine if you got a toothache from biting down on your paratrooper's knife while flying over the DMZ. He could fix it and still land the plane. The guy had taken advantage of all the loopholes in the Army pay system. I was envious, but mostly relieved that I hadn't miscounted the Monopoly money.
Wall Street paid about $115 billion in Year End Bonuses last week. Wasn't that sort of stuff supposed to end when we taxpayers bailed Wall Street out last year?
Here's the life lesson. No matter how foolproof the system, someone will figure out a way to take advantage of it. I wonder if my paratrooper pilot dentist is working at Goldman Sachs today.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Druid's Revenge
"I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus
Underneath the mistletoe last night"
Ah, mistletoe! It offers the chance to steal a kiss beneath its verdant greenery and white berries. But don't eat them! They are highly toxic. Also don't kiss Mrs Boss beneath the mistletoe at the Office Party. It is highly toxic to your career.
Now there's a holiday tradition everyone can support be they Christian, Jew, Muslim, or even Druid. In fact, the Druids gave us the mistletoe tradition. Druidic priests credited it with magic powers since it remained green while the deciduous tree branches surrounding it were bare. Celtic tradition forbade carrying weapons beneath mistletoe. This led to mistletoe-rich areas being the site of peace negotiations between warring Celtic tribes. You know those Celts. All those cold lonely nights away from home fighting a war without female companionship and "Don't Ask; Don't Tell" went right out the window. Much kissing ensued, thanks to mistletoe.
Like many holiday traditions (How early can K-Mart open on Black Friday?), mistletoe has been subtly perverted over the years. Fresh mistletoe is harvested nowadays by firing a shotgun into the trees rather than all that awkward climbing and cutting. The Druids get their revenge for this violation of their weapons-free law though.
Mistletoe is, in fact, a parasite that flourishes where droppings collect, usually beneath bird's nests. Upon firing their weapons, those mistletoe gatherers are, no doubt, showered not only with mistletoe, but an entire summer's collection of bird shit. Revenge is a dish best served cold (and full of e Coli).
Underneath the mistletoe last night"
Ah, mistletoe! It offers the chance to steal a kiss beneath its verdant greenery and white berries. But don't eat them! They are highly toxic. Also don't kiss Mrs Boss beneath the mistletoe at the Office Party. It is highly toxic to your career.
Now there's a holiday tradition everyone can support be they Christian, Jew, Muslim, or even Druid. In fact, the Druids gave us the mistletoe tradition. Druidic priests credited it with magic powers since it remained green while the deciduous tree branches surrounding it were bare. Celtic tradition forbade carrying weapons beneath mistletoe. This led to mistletoe-rich areas being the site of peace negotiations between warring Celtic tribes. You know those Celts. All those cold lonely nights away from home fighting a war without female companionship and "Don't Ask; Don't Tell" went right out the window. Much kissing ensued, thanks to mistletoe.
Like many holiday traditions (How early can K-Mart open on Black Friday?), mistletoe has been subtly perverted over the years. Fresh mistletoe is harvested nowadays by firing a shotgun into the trees rather than all that awkward climbing and cutting. The Druids get their revenge for this violation of their weapons-free law though.
Mistletoe is, in fact, a parasite that flourishes where droppings collect, usually beneath bird's nests. Upon firing their weapons, those mistletoe gatherers are, no doubt, showered not only with mistletoe, but an entire summer's collection of bird shit. Revenge is a dish best served cold (and full of e Coli).
Friday, December 24, 2010
The Christmas Spirit
"Mommy, why does that fat man walk past our house every morning leading his dog with one hand and carrying a bagful of poop in his other one? Is he one of Santa's helpers checking for bad little girls and boys? Would he put that bagful of poop in my stocking tonight?"
"I don't think so, Tiffany. Just to be on the safe side though, I'll catch him on the street, tell him what a good little girl you are, and give him some treats for his doggie."
I'm not sure that this was the way it actually happened, but I experienced the Christmas Spirit this morning. Christmas Eve or not, once the dog is fed, his metabolism converts all that good kibble into feces at the speed of light. We are typically no more than a quarter mile into our mile-long morning walk when he "makes a deposit". We complete the jaunt reeking bag in hand. Most folk are repelled by the sight (and possibly the odor), so we typically don't have a whole lot of friendly conversations with passers-by.
I was therefore surprised when a lady I'd never spoken to before approached the dog and me this morning, wished us a Merry Christmas, and handed me a bagful of doggie treats. "I see you walking by every morning, and I always loved golden retrievers," she said.
Jimmy Stewart had his "wonderful life", but, for me, that lady's kindness this morning showed the true Christmas Spirit.
"I don't think so, Tiffany. Just to be on the safe side though, I'll catch him on the street, tell him what a good little girl you are, and give him some treats for his doggie."
I'm not sure that this was the way it actually happened, but I experienced the Christmas Spirit this morning. Christmas Eve or not, once the dog is fed, his metabolism converts all that good kibble into feces at the speed of light. We are typically no more than a quarter mile into our mile-long morning walk when he "makes a deposit". We complete the jaunt reeking bag in hand. Most folk are repelled by the sight (and possibly the odor), so we typically don't have a whole lot of friendly conversations with passers-by.
I was therefore surprised when a lady I'd never spoken to before approached the dog and me this morning, wished us a Merry Christmas, and handed me a bagful of doggie treats. "I see you walking by every morning, and I always loved golden retrievers," she said.
Jimmy Stewart had his "wonderful life", but, for me, that lady's kindness this morning showed the true Christmas Spirit.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
The Well-Dressed Firefighter
Fire fighting requires many tools. The well-dressed firefighter wouldn't leave the station without axes, breathing apparatus, wrenches, hose couplings, and, based on a news story from last week, a roll of quarters.
A 2 year old girl crawled up the chute of one of those ubiquitous toy crane vending machines at a Pittsburgh area mall and sat there among the toys staring at the coin-operated crane above. When her parents couldn't coax her out, Mall Security called the local fire department.
As frustrated parents have known for years, it is well-nigh impossible to pick up anything, let alone the one toy that your kid wants with that crane thing. It requires the eyesight and depth perception of an eagle combined with the reaction time of a mongoose to perfectly align the clamshell bucket over the toy and instantaneously drop and retrieve it. A hair off on crane alignment or a slight hesitation on retrieval and it's time to drop another quarter into the slot and start all over again. Eventually, it becomes an affront to one's masculinity and after $10 worth of quarters, Dad finally bags a toy that is worth maybe 50 cents.
This is where it pays to be a fire fighter. The news story doesn't mention whether Pittsburgh's Bravest attempted to use the toy crane to get the little girl out or how many quarters were lost in that effort. In the end, they "used a tool to pry open a door on the machine to reach the girl".
How I wish that I had that tool back in the day. "So you want the Rainbow Brite doll from the machine, sweetheart? I'll just reach into my fireman's coat, pull out my prying tool, and it's as good as yours. If Mall Security asks, you were trapped inside and I had to rescue you."
A 2 year old girl crawled up the chute of one of those ubiquitous toy crane vending machines at a Pittsburgh area mall and sat there among the toys staring at the coin-operated crane above. When her parents couldn't coax her out, Mall Security called the local fire department.
As frustrated parents have known for years, it is well-nigh impossible to pick up anything, let alone the one toy that your kid wants with that crane thing. It requires the eyesight and depth perception of an eagle combined with the reaction time of a mongoose to perfectly align the clamshell bucket over the toy and instantaneously drop and retrieve it. A hair off on crane alignment or a slight hesitation on retrieval and it's time to drop another quarter into the slot and start all over again. Eventually, it becomes an affront to one's masculinity and after $10 worth of quarters, Dad finally bags a toy that is worth maybe 50 cents.
This is where it pays to be a fire fighter. The news story doesn't mention whether Pittsburgh's Bravest attempted to use the toy crane to get the little girl out or how many quarters were lost in that effort. In the end, they "used a tool to pry open a door on the machine to reach the girl".
How I wish that I had that tool back in the day. "So you want the Rainbow Brite doll from the machine, sweetheart? I'll just reach into my fireman's coat, pull out my prying tool, and it's as good as yours. If Mall Security asks, you were trapped inside and I had to rescue you."
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Old Wives Tale Debunked
Certain myths or Old Wives' Tales can be proven:
"No two snowflakes are alike." Actually, this one displayed on my special cold, cold microscope strongly resembles one that fell on Siberia back in 1842. Make reservations for the Nobel Prize Ceremony, Watson! We've got a winner.
"Eating bread crusts gives you curly hair." Richard Simmons admitted that back in his "fat" days, he ate nothing but bread crusts. Today's "thin" Richard Simmons hasn't eaten a bread crust in years and all those curls are falling out. As mathematicians say, "QED".
"Eyes placed closely together are a sign of a criminal mind." Prince Charles' eyes are so close together that he has to alternate blinking with each eye or they jam like a pair of bad windshield wipers. Has anyone inventoried the Crown Jewels of England lately?
A little-known Danish Old Wives' Tale states that it is possible to get drunk by immersing one's bare feet in alcohol. Researchers at Hillerod Hospital soaked their feet in a tub containing three bottles of vodka for three hours. They measured blood alcohol concentrations every half hour and rated themselves on a scale of one to ten on self-confidence, urge to speak, and the number of times they desired spontaneous hugs. Apparently, Danish drunks are self-confident, voluble, and affectionate as opposed to inebriates in the rest of the world who are depressed, vulgar, and combative.
The researchers reported that they found no evidence of absorption of alcohol. This is reassuring because I was planning on driving my car wearing boots full of vodka over the holidays. It's really good for bunions and toenail fungus doesn't stand a chance.
This research was actually published presumably with a grant to finance it. After all, they had to purchase the vodka and it is not rrecyclable. Even Danes wouldn't risk sock lint or toe jam in a celebratory Screwdriver or Cosmopolitan after the test. There is only one group that would - college students.
To graduate with honors in Science or Engineering back in the day, seniors had to develop and conduct a unique research project. I foolishly spent hours in the lab applying cathodic protection to prevent stainless steel from corroding in an acidic environment. I could have been dipping my feet in vodka and (waste not, want not) guzzling my experiment after I wrote it up. This Old Wives Tale should have been debunked years ago.
"No two snowflakes are alike." Actually, this one displayed on my special cold, cold microscope strongly resembles one that fell on Siberia back in 1842. Make reservations for the Nobel Prize Ceremony, Watson! We've got a winner.
"Eating bread crusts gives you curly hair." Richard Simmons admitted that back in his "fat" days, he ate nothing but bread crusts. Today's "thin" Richard Simmons hasn't eaten a bread crust in years and all those curls are falling out. As mathematicians say, "QED".
"Eyes placed closely together are a sign of a criminal mind." Prince Charles' eyes are so close together that he has to alternate blinking with each eye or they jam like a pair of bad windshield wipers. Has anyone inventoried the Crown Jewels of England lately?
A little-known Danish Old Wives' Tale states that it is possible to get drunk by immersing one's bare feet in alcohol. Researchers at Hillerod Hospital soaked their feet in a tub containing three bottles of vodka for three hours. They measured blood alcohol concentrations every half hour and rated themselves on a scale of one to ten on self-confidence, urge to speak, and the number of times they desired spontaneous hugs. Apparently, Danish drunks are self-confident, voluble, and affectionate as opposed to inebriates in the rest of the world who are depressed, vulgar, and combative.
The researchers reported that they found no evidence of absorption of alcohol. This is reassuring because I was planning on driving my car wearing boots full of vodka over the holidays. It's really good for bunions and toenail fungus doesn't stand a chance.
This research was actually published presumably with a grant to finance it. After all, they had to purchase the vodka and it is not rrecyclable. Even Danes wouldn't risk sock lint or toe jam in a celebratory Screwdriver or Cosmopolitan after the test. There is only one group that would - college students.
To graduate with honors in Science or Engineering back in the day, seniors had to develop and conduct a unique research project. I foolishly spent hours in the lab applying cathodic protection to prevent stainless steel from corroding in an acidic environment. I could have been dipping my feet in vodka and (waste not, want not) guzzling my experiment after I wrote it up. This Old Wives Tale should have been debunked years ago.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Rewriting History
The winners of a war write its history. That's why the Trojan Horse is considered a stroke of genius rather than an act of treachery, why Napoleon is demonized as a megalomaniac rather than as a rebel against royalty, and why the doomed defenders of the Alamo are hailed as patriots rather than opportunists.
It may take 150 years, but sometimes the losers can attempt to re-write history. Groups in South Carolina and Georgia are planning to observe the sesquicentennial of their state's secession from the Union next month and further celebrate the beginning of "The War for Southern Independence" (aka The Civil War) in April. Call it what you will, but a conflict that killed or maimed approximately 10% of the country's population is scarcely something to be celebrated.
NPR broadcast an interview with the chairman of the South Carolina celebration. He noted the bravery of the hundreds who signed the Secession Proclamation and compared them to the signers of the Declaration of Independence in that the South Carolinians also committed their "lives, trust, and sacred honor" to the cause.
Unlike that South Carolinian, I have no family connection to the Civil War (or The War for Southern Independence if you will). In 1861, my ancestors were mining coal in northern England and tending to cattle in Switzerland. If they were in America though, as common folk, they would, no doubt, have been unable to avoid military conscription and there's an excellent chance at least some of them would have been killed. In that case, I wouldn't be here today to romanticize the past and give the conflict in which they perished a more acceptable name.
It may take 150 years, but sometimes the losers can attempt to re-write history. Groups in South Carolina and Georgia are planning to observe the sesquicentennial of their state's secession from the Union next month and further celebrate the beginning of "The War for Southern Independence" (aka The Civil War) in April. Call it what you will, but a conflict that killed or maimed approximately 10% of the country's population is scarcely something to be celebrated.
NPR broadcast an interview with the chairman of the South Carolina celebration. He noted the bravery of the hundreds who signed the Secession Proclamation and compared them to the signers of the Declaration of Independence in that the South Carolinians also committed their "lives, trust, and sacred honor" to the cause.
Unlike that South Carolinian, I have no family connection to the Civil War (or The War for Southern Independence if you will). In 1861, my ancestors were mining coal in northern England and tending to cattle in Switzerland. If they were in America though, as common folk, they would, no doubt, have been unable to avoid military conscription and there's an excellent chance at least some of them would have been killed. In that case, I wouldn't be here today to romanticize the past and give the conflict in which they perished a more acceptable name.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Gresae, It's What's for Breakfast
News Flash - McDonald's will add oatmeal to its breakfast menu next year. And it's not just any oatmeal. All that dietary fiber is jazzed up with maple-flavoring, diced red and green apples (how festive), a mix of raisins and cranberries, and doused in cream. Tasty dietary fiber? Yum! The only downside are the lines of anxious patrons outside McDonald's rest rooms when that fiber hits bottom.
Call me a traditionalist, but I wonder if McDonald's oatmeal breakfast will be a hit. My fondest breakfast memories are courtesy of the US Army. It was not the bugle call of reveille that roused us from our bunks before the crack of dawn but the wafting odor of good old breakfast grease from the Mess Hall. Everything in an Army breakfast was fried - pancakes, eggs, SOS and probably even coffee. That cholesterol richness was what fueled us to storm the beaches of Normandy.
But where did the Army get all that good cooking grease? There were two garbage cans into which we scraped off our dining trays, one labelled "Edible" the other "Non-Edible". The surly Mess Sergeant insisted that the congealed grease on our trays mixed with ketchup and God knows what else be deposited in the 'Edible" can. The contents of the "Non-Edible" can were disposed of, but the "Edible" can disappeared back into the kitchen and returned empty at the next meal. Were we recycling grease with tasty additions for each iteration? Did today's breakfast grease date back to Valley Forge? All I know is that Army fried foods tasted like no other.
To insure the success of its oatmeal breakfast offering, McDonald's should add a touch of well-aged grease along with the apples, cranberries, raisins, etc. "Beef, it's what's for dinner" is not always true. "Grease, it's what's for breakfast" is tradition.
Call me a traditionalist, but I wonder if McDonald's oatmeal breakfast will be a hit. My fondest breakfast memories are courtesy of the US Army. It was not the bugle call of reveille that roused us from our bunks before the crack of dawn but the wafting odor of good old breakfast grease from the Mess Hall. Everything in an Army breakfast was fried - pancakes, eggs, SOS and probably even coffee. That cholesterol richness was what fueled us to storm the beaches of Normandy.
But where did the Army get all that good cooking grease? There were two garbage cans into which we scraped off our dining trays, one labelled "Edible" the other "Non-Edible". The surly Mess Sergeant insisted that the congealed grease on our trays mixed with ketchup and God knows what else be deposited in the 'Edible" can. The contents of the "Non-Edible" can were disposed of, but the "Edible" can disappeared back into the kitchen and returned empty at the next meal. Were we recycling grease with tasty additions for each iteration? Did today's breakfast grease date back to Valley Forge? All I know is that Army fried foods tasted like no other.
To insure the success of its oatmeal breakfast offering, McDonald's should add a touch of well-aged grease along with the apples, cranberries, raisins, etc. "Beef, it's what's for dinner" is not always true. "Grease, it's what's for breakfast" is tradition.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
We're All In This Together
The old song goes, "Breaking up is hard to do." Apparently, it is less hard to do just before Christmas. You do save on gifts for your formerly beloved.
This week, Ryan Reynolds and Scarlett Johansen called it quits. When "The Sexiest Man Alive" and #14 on Maxim's "2010 Hot 100" got together, we knew that it couldn't last. Ken and Barbie are the only mutually hot couple to stick together over the years.
Also this week, Michael C. Hall and Jennifer Carpenter split up. Again, we doubted the longevity of this relationship. How creepy must it be on the set of "Dexter" when you inamorata is playing your sister? On the other hand, how creepy must it be on the set of "Dexter" when your bitter ex-wife / ex-husband is playing your sister / brother?
One break-up this week was greeted with shock and awe. Zac Efron and Vanessa Hudgins of "High School Musical" fame ended their romantic relationship. The only bright spot of suffering through repeated viewings of the "High School Musical" trilogy when the grandkids visited was watching the flowering of Zac and Vanessa's squeaky-clean, All-American relationship. This was the diametric opposite of Angelina Jolie and Billy Bob Thornton creepily carrying vials of each other's blood around. Surely, Zac and Vanessa would lead 21st century American youth back to a 1950s sensibility. They would be married, settle in suburbia, mop the floor wearing heels and a pearl necklace, and have a spirited younger son nicknamed "Beaver". Their TV show theme song could be "We're All In This Together".
Alas, it was not meant to be. Could the true reason for the breakup be that Zac's solo movie career flopped and that Vanessa hasn't been heard from since "HSM3"? Could it be that neither Zac nor Vanessa could afford a proper Christmas gift for the other and to avoid breaking their beloved's heart, nobly ended the relationship?
I call on all Americans to purchase mass quantities of "High School Musical" merchandise. Zac and Vanessa will get a cut of the proceeds, restore their finances, and no doubt, get back together. We owe it to the impressionable youth who grew up with "High School Musical" and now wonder if true love is possible in 2010!
This week, Ryan Reynolds and Scarlett Johansen called it quits. When "The Sexiest Man Alive" and #14 on Maxim's "2010 Hot 100" got together, we knew that it couldn't last. Ken and Barbie are the only mutually hot couple to stick together over the years.
Also this week, Michael C. Hall and Jennifer Carpenter split up. Again, we doubted the longevity of this relationship. How creepy must it be on the set of "Dexter" when you inamorata is playing your sister? On the other hand, how creepy must it be on the set of "Dexter" when your bitter ex-wife / ex-husband is playing your sister / brother?
One break-up this week was greeted with shock and awe. Zac Efron and Vanessa Hudgins of "High School Musical" fame ended their romantic relationship. The only bright spot of suffering through repeated viewings of the "High School Musical" trilogy when the grandkids visited was watching the flowering of Zac and Vanessa's squeaky-clean, All-American relationship. This was the diametric opposite of Angelina Jolie and Billy Bob Thornton creepily carrying vials of each other's blood around. Surely, Zac and Vanessa would lead 21st century American youth back to a 1950s sensibility. They would be married, settle in suburbia, mop the floor wearing heels and a pearl necklace, and have a spirited younger son nicknamed "Beaver". Their TV show theme song could be "We're All In This Together".
Alas, it was not meant to be. Could the true reason for the breakup be that Zac's solo movie career flopped and that Vanessa hasn't been heard from since "HSM3"? Could it be that neither Zac nor Vanessa could afford a proper Christmas gift for the other and to avoid breaking their beloved's heart, nobly ended the relationship?
I call on all Americans to purchase mass quantities of "High School Musical" merchandise. Zac and Vanessa will get a cut of the proceeds, restore their finances, and no doubt, get back together. We owe it to the impressionable youth who grew up with "High School Musical" and now wonder if true love is possible in 2010!
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Psyched Up
Why did I never achieve athletic glory?
Other than my complete lack of foot speed and hand-eye coordination, there must be another reason. After all, I did "psych" myself up before games with raucous music. "Drums of Passion" by Olantunge was a particular favorite in my high school days. If that tom-tom beat and gutteral shouting didn't make you want to rip out the lungs of your opponent, you were comatose.
Sports Radio answered my long-standing question last night. Two Sports Psychologists were asked whether pre-game music influences athletic performance. They agreed that it does though "one size does not fit all". One psychologist was amazed to find that a college football player psyched himself up for big games by listening to Neil Diamond. "Forever in Blue Jeans" would not seem likely to inspire one to athletic greatness, but the psychologist claimed that Diamond's songs probably were the soundtrack to traumas in the player's life. "He was striking out against his opponent as a surrogate for the hurts he had suffered."
Before I next go swimming, I'm plugging "Touching You Touching Me" or "September Morn" into the old iPod. Look out, pool record times! Hello, Olympic tryouts!
Other than my complete lack of foot speed and hand-eye coordination, there must be another reason. After all, I did "psych" myself up before games with raucous music. "Drums of Passion" by Olantunge was a particular favorite in my high school days. If that tom-tom beat and gutteral shouting didn't make you want to rip out the lungs of your opponent, you were comatose.
Sports Radio answered my long-standing question last night. Two Sports Psychologists were asked whether pre-game music influences athletic performance. They agreed that it does though "one size does not fit all". One psychologist was amazed to find that a college football player psyched himself up for big games by listening to Neil Diamond. "Forever in Blue Jeans" would not seem likely to inspire one to athletic greatness, but the psychologist claimed that Diamond's songs probably were the soundtrack to traumas in the player's life. "He was striking out against his opponent as a surrogate for the hurts he had suffered."
Before I next go swimming, I'm plugging "Touching You Touching Me" or "September Morn" into the old iPod. Look out, pool record times! Hello, Olympic tryouts!
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Mean Girls (and Boys)
Research is a wonderful thing. It brought us a cure for polio and gave us the iPod. Sometimes, though, the results of research bring a resounding response of "Well, duh".
The National Longitudinal (as opposed to Latitudinal) Study of Adolescent Health reported this week that "Sick kids have fewer friends". Based on surveys of 2,060 kids, those with chronic health problems like obesity and asthma listed just as many friends as teens who were healthy while the healthy kids were less likely to say they were friends with one who was sick. The obese asthmatic kids "didn't realize that their overall social networks were weaker than those of other teens." In other words, fat asthmatic kids are not welcome at the "cool kids" table in the school cafeteria. Well, duh. Let's throw a few million more in grants at The National Longitudinal Study. Maybe they can "discover" that teens are cruel to others who are different.
Before we trash those "mean girls (and boys)", we should recognize that blatant cruelty may not be the only reason for teen, or even adult cliques. I once traveled to Liberal, Kansas with a Corporate Real Estate guy who suffered from every allergy known to man. We were side-by-side for the 18 hour trip which included two flights and a lengthy rental car ride. During that ordeal, Gerry blew his nose every thirty seconds. Our airplane arm rests overflowed with soggy tissues. The rental car console was festooned in white Kleenex. His Allegra was no match for our famous Lehigh Valley allergens not to mention the pollen-ridden plains of Texas, Oklahoma. and Kansas.
Now, I'm sure that Gerry thought of me as his "friend" and would have listed me as such on the National Longitudinal Study. But after eighteen hours of his honking and hacking, I locked my motel room door and refused to join him for dinner. Gerry, your "overall social network" just went down by one (very hungry but fed-up) member.
The National Longitudinal (as opposed to Latitudinal) Study of Adolescent Health reported this week that "Sick kids have fewer friends". Based on surveys of 2,060 kids, those with chronic health problems like obesity and asthma listed just as many friends as teens who were healthy while the healthy kids were less likely to say they were friends with one who was sick. The obese asthmatic kids "didn't realize that their overall social networks were weaker than those of other teens." In other words, fat asthmatic kids are not welcome at the "cool kids" table in the school cafeteria. Well, duh. Let's throw a few million more in grants at The National Longitudinal Study. Maybe they can "discover" that teens are cruel to others who are different.
Before we trash those "mean girls (and boys)", we should recognize that blatant cruelty may not be the only reason for teen, or even adult cliques. I once traveled to Liberal, Kansas with a Corporate Real Estate guy who suffered from every allergy known to man. We were side-by-side for the 18 hour trip which included two flights and a lengthy rental car ride. During that ordeal, Gerry blew his nose every thirty seconds. Our airplane arm rests overflowed with soggy tissues. The rental car console was festooned in white Kleenex. His Allegra was no match for our famous Lehigh Valley allergens not to mention the pollen-ridden plains of Texas, Oklahoma. and Kansas.
Now, I'm sure that Gerry thought of me as his "friend" and would have listed me as such on the National Longitudinal Study. But after eighteen hours of his honking and hacking, I locked my motel room door and refused to join him for dinner. Gerry, your "overall social network" just went down by one (very hungry but fed-up) member.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Cryptoquote Wisdom
One expects to acquire a nugget of wisdom by reading the Great Literature or even by listening to NPR. One seldom expects to be enlightened by the newspaper's daily Cryptoquote.
Last Saturday's Cryptoquote was from Mark Twain, "Patriotism is supporting your country all the time, and your government when it deserves it." Well said, Mr Twain! If I disagree with the government's policies, it does not make me any less patriotic. Mark Twain took a stand against American occupation of the Philippines after the Spanish-American War. So did a lot of Filipinos. The US Army fought a low-grade guerilla war against the Moros for forty years. On the plus side, the Moros taught us the finer points of waterboarding.
"Real" patriots began boycotting and protesting Mark Twain's public appearances. His response became 2010's best Cryptoquote.
How can I tell when my government deserves my support, though? That's the tricky part. One answer is strict interpretation of the Constitution. After all, that's what government officials and the military swear "to uphold and defend." Of course at various times in our history, upholding the Constitution meant defending slavery and rejecting a woman's right to vote.
As I heard once in a sermon, the Bible should be taken seriously, but not literally. So should the Constitution. Its preamble talks about establishing justice, insuring domestic tranquility, providing for the common defense, and promoting the general welfare. How does Afghanistan and Obamacare fit into that?
Good people on both sides will disagree. But even with disagreement, we should never call the other side unpatriotic. Thanks for that, Mark Twain.
Last Saturday's Cryptoquote was from Mark Twain, "Patriotism is supporting your country all the time, and your government when it deserves it." Well said, Mr Twain! If I disagree with the government's policies, it does not make me any less patriotic. Mark Twain took a stand against American occupation of the Philippines after the Spanish-American War. So did a lot of Filipinos. The US Army fought a low-grade guerilla war against the Moros for forty years. On the plus side, the Moros taught us the finer points of waterboarding.
"Real" patriots began boycotting and protesting Mark Twain's public appearances. His response became 2010's best Cryptoquote.
How can I tell when my government deserves my support, though? That's the tricky part. One answer is strict interpretation of the Constitution. After all, that's what government officials and the military swear "to uphold and defend." Of course at various times in our history, upholding the Constitution meant defending slavery and rejecting a woman's right to vote.
As I heard once in a sermon, the Bible should be taken seriously, but not literally. So should the Constitution. Its preamble talks about establishing justice, insuring domestic tranquility, providing for the common defense, and promoting the general welfare. How does Afghanistan and Obamacare fit into that?
Good people on both sides will disagree. But even with disagreement, we should never call the other side unpatriotic. Thanks for that, Mark Twain.
Friday, December 10, 2010
For The Man Who Has Everything
Still searching for that perfect Christmas gift?
Oh, it’s easy to delight little Josh and Tiffany on Christmas morn with this year’s must-have toy if you don’t mind hand-to-hand combat in the aisles for its limited supply and the kids becoming bored with the toy by New Year’s. Teens Brandon and Britney will be thrilled with gift cards to a trendy retailer who sells strategically-ripped and distressed jeans, not that they won’t be non-strategically ripped and distressed from constant wear by February. Adults Bob and Carol will swoon over cardio equipment and workout garb though they will never find the time to use them. As for Grandma and Grandpa, they already have everything. They are the toughest to buy for.
The Porter’s Lodge of Nazareth has come to the rescue as the “exclusive seller of Trappist caskets and urns in the Lehigh Valley”. They feature “the best prices for traditional wooden caskets”. Better yet, “between now and January, there are no shipping charges – a $200 value!” Now, there’s a doorbuster incentive.
Can Grandma say, “That’s a nice gift, but I’ll never use it” to a casket? I think not. When Grandpa says, “You spent too much. Take it back.”, you can reply, “Only the best for your eternal resting place, Big Guy.”
For those who think it macabre to have an empty casket sitting around the house, The Porter’s Lodge offers free storage though this will eliminate the joy of seeing the expression on Grandma’s face when she comes down the stairs on Christmas morn to a beribboned casket under the tree. After picking her up off the floor and reassuring her that the doctor didn’t tell you something that he didn’t tell her, she will agree that this is “the best Christmas ever”.
Oh, it’s easy to delight little Josh and Tiffany on Christmas morn with this year’s must-have toy if you don’t mind hand-to-hand combat in the aisles for its limited supply and the kids becoming bored with the toy by New Year’s. Teens Brandon and Britney will be thrilled with gift cards to a trendy retailer who sells strategically-ripped and distressed jeans, not that they won’t be non-strategically ripped and distressed from constant wear by February. Adults Bob and Carol will swoon over cardio equipment and workout garb though they will never find the time to use them. As for Grandma and Grandpa, they already have everything. They are the toughest to buy for.
The Porter’s Lodge of Nazareth has come to the rescue as the “exclusive seller of Trappist caskets and urns in the Lehigh Valley”. They feature “the best prices for traditional wooden caskets”. Better yet, “between now and January, there are no shipping charges – a $200 value!” Now, there’s a doorbuster incentive.
Can Grandma say, “That’s a nice gift, but I’ll never use it” to a casket? I think not. When Grandpa says, “You spent too much. Take it back.”, you can reply, “Only the best for your eternal resting place, Big Guy.”
For those who think it macabre to have an empty casket sitting around the house, The Porter’s Lodge offers free storage though this will eliminate the joy of seeing the expression on Grandma’s face when she comes down the stairs on Christmas morn to a beribboned casket under the tree. After picking her up off the floor and reassuring her that the doctor didn’t tell you something that he didn’t tell her, she will agree that this is “the best Christmas ever”.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
A Personal Tribute
John Lennon was killed thirty years ago today.
The print and electronic media will overflow with tributes and deservedly so. My personal remembrance of Lennon is simple. His work with the Beatles and his later solo career were, for me, a real bright spot in the otherwise dismal late 60s and early 70s.
What, you say? The era of $0.15 hamburgers, $0.29 per gallon gasoline, and being able to dash from the airport parking lot onto your flight five minutes before departure was dismal?
Yes, it was if you were a college student one failing grade away from the clutches of your Draft Board. Yes, it was if you were a soldier returned from the Far East and people crossed the street so they wouldn't have to walk near you. On a smaller scale, you had to actually get up to change the TV channel and there were only eleven of them available even on cable (with none all-sports, all-news, or music videos). Those were tough times.
One thing you could always count on, though, was that the latest Beatles or Lennon album would be good. Check that, it would be great. The "cool" local radio station (in many cases AM, imagine that.) would play the album repeatedly upon its release. Beatles or Lennon music would be the soundtrack of our lives. We would recite "Rocky Raccoon" while trudging up the hill to Physics class or doing laps, weapons at port arms, around the drill field.
Then, every few months, a new album would be released. "Revolver" begat "Sgt Pepper" which begat "The White Album" which begat "Abbey Road" which begat "Imagine" and so on. And it was always good.
The late 60s and early 70s were not a whole lot of fun for a college student / soldier, but John Lennon really helped. Thanks, John. RIP.
The print and electronic media will overflow with tributes and deservedly so. My personal remembrance of Lennon is simple. His work with the Beatles and his later solo career were, for me, a real bright spot in the otherwise dismal late 60s and early 70s.
What, you say? The era of $0.15 hamburgers, $0.29 per gallon gasoline, and being able to dash from the airport parking lot onto your flight five minutes before departure was dismal?
Yes, it was if you were a college student one failing grade away from the clutches of your Draft Board. Yes, it was if you were a soldier returned from the Far East and people crossed the street so they wouldn't have to walk near you. On a smaller scale, you had to actually get up to change the TV channel and there were only eleven of them available even on cable (with none all-sports, all-news, or music videos). Those were tough times.
One thing you could always count on, though, was that the latest Beatles or Lennon album would be good. Check that, it would be great. The "cool" local radio station (in many cases AM, imagine that.) would play the album repeatedly upon its release. Beatles or Lennon music would be the soundtrack of our lives. We would recite "Rocky Raccoon" while trudging up the hill to Physics class or doing laps, weapons at port arms, around the drill field.
Then, every few months, a new album would be released. "Revolver" begat "Sgt Pepper" which begat "The White Album" which begat "Abbey Road" which begat "Imagine" and so on. And it was always good.
The late 60s and early 70s were not a whole lot of fun for a college student / soldier, but John Lennon really helped. Thanks, John. RIP.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Reaganomics 2010
For those travelers who would rather avoid being herded like cattle through check-in lines and being "patted down" by some lecherous Security Screener, there is an alternative. For a mere $1,500 to $6,000 per hour, elite travelers can charter a private jet. Everybody is doing it. Charter and corporate jet flights numbered 2.8 million over the twelve months ending in September, 2010.
Of course, that is nothing compared to 2007 when jet-setters took 4.8 million private flights. Ah, the good old days of 2007, when GM, Ford, and Chrysler executives could charter a jet to fly to Washington to beg Congress for a bailout and not get hasseled about it.
Economists use various metrics to determine the nation's financial well-being. Gross National Product, employee productivity, durable goods sales, and unemployment rate are commonly used. Perhaps a better indicator is Corporate and Private Flight Usage. When your CEO feels comfortable enough with your company's prospects to cough up tens of thousands of dollars to jet privately to St Andrew's for that golfing boondoggle, it's time to buy stock.
So far in 2010, Corporate and Private Flights are up 7%. Reaganomics tells us that wealth "trickles down" to the common folk if they are trained in growth segments of the economy. Clearly, we should cut taxes for the rich so they can afford more private flights and we should train the currently unemployed as pilots. Everybody wins.
Of course, that is nothing compared to 2007 when jet-setters took 4.8 million private flights. Ah, the good old days of 2007, when GM, Ford, and Chrysler executives could charter a jet to fly to Washington to beg Congress for a bailout and not get hasseled about it.
Economists use various metrics to determine the nation's financial well-being. Gross National Product, employee productivity, durable goods sales, and unemployment rate are commonly used. Perhaps a better indicator is Corporate and Private Flight Usage. When your CEO feels comfortable enough with your company's prospects to cough up tens of thousands of dollars to jet privately to St Andrew's for that golfing boondoggle, it's time to buy stock.
So far in 2010, Corporate and Private Flights are up 7%. Reaganomics tells us that wealth "trickles down" to the common folk if they are trained in growth segments of the economy. Clearly, we should cut taxes for the rich so they can afford more private flights and we should train the currently unemployed as pilots. Everybody wins.
Monday, December 6, 2010
A Brush With Fame
A luxury liner cruise brings thoughts of the old TV series "The Love Boat" to those of a certain age. Every Saturday night, Captain Stubing, Gopher the Purser, Julie the Cruise Director, and Isaac the Bartender would solve three relationship problems (one comic, one bittersweet, and one family-oriented) of passengers usually portrayed by B-List actors with great 70s hair-dos like Charro and Bert Convy. Since I couldn't grow a good 70s hair-do even back then when I had hair, I figured that an ocean cruise was not for me.
Or maybe there is a berth for me on a January, 2011 Love Boat. Yesterday's newspaper travel section advertised a Taylor Swift-themed Caribbean cruise including trivia, karaoke, and a look-alike contest on board followed by a shore-side concert with Taylor herself when the boat docks in Cozumel. I'm sure I could ace the Taylor Swift Trivia Contest. After all, the girl is only 20 years old, how much trivia can there be? Karaoke shouldn't be a problem either. I can do teen angst over unrequited love with the best of them. Surely, I would win a front row seat (and probably back stage passes with a meet-and-greet) with Taylor herself.
The problem is, of course, with the look-alike contest. Overweight, balding 62 year-old men are unlikely to pass for Ms Swift even with the best wigs and make-up though some may attempt it. I foresee the most hilarious You Tube videos ever of a ship overrun with Taylor Swift look-alikes.
What to do, Captain Stubing, Gopher, Julie, and Isaac? You've always solved the most difficult dilemmas in 60 minutes minus commercial time. The answer is simple, you say? If the Taylor Swift Cruise concept catches on, other country stars will follow suit. I will still fail at the Reba McIntyre or Dolly Parton Cruise Look-Alike Contest, but I have a real shot at the Toby Keith Contest. Chubby, bearded, and balding, that's me! The Toby Keith Cruise will surely be my brush with country fame.
Or maybe there is a berth for me on a January, 2011 Love Boat. Yesterday's newspaper travel section advertised a Taylor Swift-themed Caribbean cruise including trivia, karaoke, and a look-alike contest on board followed by a shore-side concert with Taylor herself when the boat docks in Cozumel. I'm sure I could ace the Taylor Swift Trivia Contest. After all, the girl is only 20 years old, how much trivia can there be? Karaoke shouldn't be a problem either. I can do teen angst over unrequited love with the best of them. Surely, I would win a front row seat (and probably back stage passes with a meet-and-greet) with Taylor herself.
The problem is, of course, with the look-alike contest. Overweight, balding 62 year-old men are unlikely to pass for Ms Swift even with the best wigs and make-up though some may attempt it. I foresee the most hilarious You Tube videos ever of a ship overrun with Taylor Swift look-alikes.
What to do, Captain Stubing, Gopher, Julie, and Isaac? You've always solved the most difficult dilemmas in 60 minutes minus commercial time. The answer is simple, you say? If the Taylor Swift Cruise concept catches on, other country stars will follow suit. I will still fail at the Reba McIntyre or Dolly Parton Cruise Look-Alike Contest, but I have a real shot at the Toby Keith Contest. Chubby, bearded, and balding, that's me! The Toby Keith Cruise will surely be my brush with country fame.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Boo-Boo Timberlake
News Flash - Justin Timberlake will be the voice of "Boo-Boo" Bear in the upcoming "Yogi Bear" animated movie.
Imagine the scene several months ago in the film's production office:
Executive Producer - "Christmas, 2010 is coming and we need a movie where parents can dump their kids for a couple of hours relief from the whining that everyone else got better presents than they did and everything that they got was broken by noon."
Producer - "That could be tough. We've run out of TV cartoon characters from the 70s and 80s that parents can tolerate and that kids think are new and exciting. We've made Scooby Doo, Flintstones,and even Rocky & Bullwinkle movies. About all that's left is Yogi Bear. The problem is that we need big name stars to do the voice-overs and who would lower himself to do that nasal, whiny Boo-Boo. After Robert DeNiro did Boris Badenov in "Rocky", his career went down the toilet. We got Dan Ackroyd to do the voice of Yogi, but we had big name actors lining up outside the door for the chance to say "smarter than the average bear".
Casting Director - "I can't believe it! I just got a call from Justin Timberlake and he wants to do Boo-Boo!"
Producer - "Wait a minute. Justin Timberlake, Britney Spears' former boyfriend, lead singer of 'N Sync, the man who brought sexy back wants to voice-over a nasal, whiny baby bear in a kid's movie? Sign him up before he comes to his senses. He's either intentionally committing career suicide or he's got more self-assurance than Frank Sinatra in his prime."
Actually, Justin Timberlake comes across as a decent, non-ego-driven guy when he's interviewed on The Daily Show or when he hosts "Saturday Night Live". My guess is that he is doing Boo-Boo because it might be fun. Good for him.
Imagine the scene several months ago in the film's production office:
Executive Producer - "Christmas, 2010 is coming and we need a movie where parents can dump their kids for a couple of hours relief from the whining that everyone else got better presents than they did and everything that they got was broken by noon."
Producer - "That could be tough. We've run out of TV cartoon characters from the 70s and 80s that parents can tolerate and that kids think are new and exciting. We've made Scooby Doo, Flintstones,and even Rocky & Bullwinkle movies. About all that's left is Yogi Bear. The problem is that we need big name stars to do the voice-overs and who would lower himself to do that nasal, whiny Boo-Boo. After Robert DeNiro did Boris Badenov in "Rocky", his career went down the toilet. We got Dan Ackroyd to do the voice of Yogi, but we had big name actors lining up outside the door for the chance to say "smarter than the average bear".
Casting Director - "I can't believe it! I just got a call from Justin Timberlake and he wants to do Boo-Boo!"
Producer - "Wait a minute. Justin Timberlake, Britney Spears' former boyfriend, lead singer of 'N Sync, the man who brought sexy back wants to voice-over a nasal, whiny baby bear in a kid's movie? Sign him up before he comes to his senses. He's either intentionally committing career suicide or he's got more self-assurance than Frank Sinatra in his prime."
Actually, Justin Timberlake comes across as a decent, non-ego-driven guy when he's interviewed on The Daily Show or when he hosts "Saturday Night Live". My guess is that he is doing Boo-Boo because it might be fun. Good for him.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Credit and Regret It
Our elected representatives pass the laws in Congress while our unelected lobbyists write them. The Financial Protection Bill that was intended to shield us from unscrupulous mortgage brokers ("Buy that McMansion now for $9.99 per month! Your mortgage rate will go up to $9,999 per month in two years, but since you won't read the fine print in the contract, we get our commission and you are left holding the bag.)
Lobbyists for car dealers got an exemption from the requirement to insure customer creditworthiness. That is why Sports Radio carries ads like, "Credit and forget it! Get that nicer, newer car that you deserve. I'm Bob from Macungie. I was months behind on my mortgage and I owed more on my old clunker than it was worth. Then I went to Sleazy Sam's Autos and got the car of my dreams with no money down."
Bob had better plan to live in the car of his dreams because the payments on it at Sleazy Sam's 24% interest rate will ensure that he never pays off his delinquent mortgage. Actually, Bob needs a Plan B because it's a lot easier to repossess a car than a house.
The Tea Partiers claim that The Government has too much power and that The Free Market will lead us to unparalleled prosperity. As long as The Government is influenced by lobbyists, we don't have to worry about the prosperity of the guys who hire the lobbyists. As for poor Bob from Macungie, at least he gets to drive "the nicer, newer car that he deserves" until it is repossessed.
Lobbyists for car dealers got an exemption from the requirement to insure customer creditworthiness. That is why Sports Radio carries ads like, "Credit and forget it! Get that nicer, newer car that you deserve. I'm Bob from Macungie. I was months behind on my mortgage and I owed more on my old clunker than it was worth. Then I went to Sleazy Sam's Autos and got the car of my dreams with no money down."
Bob had better plan to live in the car of his dreams because the payments on it at Sleazy Sam's 24% interest rate will ensure that he never pays off his delinquent mortgage. Actually, Bob needs a Plan B because it's a lot easier to repossess a car than a house.
The Tea Partiers claim that The Government has too much power and that The Free Market will lead us to unparalleled prosperity. As long as The Government is influenced by lobbyists, we don't have to worry about the prosperity of the guys who hire the lobbyists. As for poor Bob from Macungie, at least he gets to drive "the nicer, newer car that he deserves" until it is repossessed.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
The Better Mousetrap
"If you build a better mousetrap, the world will beat a path to your door."
Bill Gates was a Harvard dropout with a bad haircut. Then, he developed the Windows System that enabled even Grandma to get on-line (Grandma could never have handled COBOL). Today, he still has the bad haircut along with billions of dollars.
I, too, have a bad haircut. What I need is a "better mousetrap" idea like Bill Gates' Windows. How about a tech-ready trench coat designed to replace airline luggage? No more long waits at the baggage carousel! No more excessive checked luggage fees!
Alas, someone beat me to it. The Scottevest Carry-On Coat (retailing at a mere $225) has 33 pockets specially designed for a pair of shoes, folded clothing, a tablet computer, and even a TSA-compliant compartment for liquids. Delta Airlines noticed this threat to their lucrative checked luggage income. They refused a Scottevest ad for their in-flight magazine.
Of course, there were those who thought that the Edsel, Betamax, and New Coke were the "better mousetrap" and where are they today? The Scottevest will likely fail for the same reason that we would rather watch football than hockey on TV. Hockey is faster, more violent, and doesn't stop for huddles and/or commercial breaks every 30 seconds. But hockey players look dorky. Nobody looks good in a bad helmet, a jersey drooping down over padded shorts and bulky kneesocks. Football players look cool in space-age helmets, tight jerseys over shoulder pads that hide even the worst gut and painted-on pants. We would rather watch (and imagine ourselves as) the cool guys and put up with only five minutes of action in an hour of game time.
We will not look cool with a pair of shoes, folded-up clothing, and a tablet computer concealed inside a trench coat. We will look fat (or even like very inept shoplifters). Nobody wants to look fat. The Scottevest is destined to fail.
So "the better mousetrap" continues to elude me. I remain poor. Maybe Bill Gates will sponsor relief for Bad Haircut Guys along with malaria sufferers.
Bill Gates was a Harvard dropout with a bad haircut. Then, he developed the Windows System that enabled even Grandma to get on-line (Grandma could never have handled COBOL). Today, he still has the bad haircut along with billions of dollars.
I, too, have a bad haircut. What I need is a "better mousetrap" idea like Bill Gates' Windows. How about a tech-ready trench coat designed to replace airline luggage? No more long waits at the baggage carousel! No more excessive checked luggage fees!
Alas, someone beat me to it. The Scottevest Carry-On Coat (retailing at a mere $225) has 33 pockets specially designed for a pair of shoes, folded clothing, a tablet computer, and even a TSA-compliant compartment for liquids. Delta Airlines noticed this threat to their lucrative checked luggage income. They refused a Scottevest ad for their in-flight magazine.
Of course, there were those who thought that the Edsel, Betamax, and New Coke were the "better mousetrap" and where are they today? The Scottevest will likely fail for the same reason that we would rather watch football than hockey on TV. Hockey is faster, more violent, and doesn't stop for huddles and/or commercial breaks every 30 seconds. But hockey players look dorky. Nobody looks good in a bad helmet, a jersey drooping down over padded shorts and bulky kneesocks. Football players look cool in space-age helmets, tight jerseys over shoulder pads that hide even the worst gut and painted-on pants. We would rather watch (and imagine ourselves as) the cool guys and put up with only five minutes of action in an hour of game time.
We will not look cool with a pair of shoes, folded-up clothing, and a tablet computer concealed inside a trench coat. We will look fat (or even like very inept shoplifters). Nobody wants to look fat. The Scottevest is destined to fail.
So "the better mousetrap" continues to elude me. I remain poor. Maybe Bill Gates will sponsor relief for Bad Haircut Guys along with malaria sufferers.
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