I've become a big fan of CNN's Jack Cafferty. Among other things, he poses questions about national affairs and invites viewers to email answers, and he reads a select few at the end of the program.
Tonight the question was, "Why do Americans trust the government less today than during the Watergate era?"
If you were paying close attention you heard him read a reply from Al, from Florida, who said, "Except for times when greatness was demanded as a matter of survival (the Civil War, World War II), the federal government has always been venal, corrupt and untrustworthy. The difference now is that the news media have developed the roasting of politicians into an art form. They aren't worse, merely over-exposed. Keep up the good work."
I think I could have said over-cooked instead of over-exposed, but it was good enough to get selected. I'm sure that the "keep up the good work" line was the part that grabbed their attention and made it a winner.
Friday, September 28, 2007
Monday, September 17, 2007
the countdown continues
490 days. Or, think of it as only 70 weeks. Nice round numbers, both of them, and getting smaller with every sunrise.
That's how much longer until the last day of George W. Bush's term in office.
Tonight I had dinner with three fellow "book club exiles." One is an old-time Boston Democrat and two describe themselves as "PORs," or "pissed-off Republicans." They've been in that frame of mind since Bush's election to the White House. His first election, that is.
I still don't know which primary election I'm going to vote in. That is to say, I don't know if the Democratic National Committee will make good on its threat not to seat the Florida delegates. If they do, I'm jumping ship to the Republican Party. That's a secret between you and me. I'll make a terrible Republican but at least they'll count my vote.
That's how much longer until the last day of George W. Bush's term in office.
Tonight I had dinner with three fellow "book club exiles." One is an old-time Boston Democrat and two describe themselves as "PORs," or "pissed-off Republicans." They've been in that frame of mind since Bush's election to the White House. His first election, that is.
I still don't know which primary election I'm going to vote in. That is to say, I don't know if the Democratic National Committee will make good on its threat not to seat the Florida delegates. If they do, I'm jumping ship to the Republican Party. That's a secret between you and me. I'll make a terrible Republican but at least they'll count my vote.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
election capers
Yesterday I got to view our elections superviser's office from behind the scenes as they process the ballots in our city's primary election.
I don't think the voters in "Flori-duh" are stupider than a general cross-section of the nation but some of them demonstrated yesterday that if there is a way to spoil their ballot, a sophisticated $14 million voting system will not stand in their way.
Some voters went to the trouble of getting absentee ballots, then paid 94 cents each to mail them in. Despite numerous warnings to sign the exterior envelope, several did not do so and their ballots won't even be opened.
Several ballots were disqualified because they undervoted (didn't vote for anybody) or overvoted (voted for more than one candidate). You need to know that there was only one race in each of two city council districts, and each race had either three or four candidates, so the voter's job was to vote for one, just one, only one, no more than one candidate.
One wise guy, apparently offended that he had only one race to vote in, wrote "what a waster of taxpayer's money" on the ballot. We saw that message only because the machine kicked his ballot out as an "undervote." Yep, he didn't even vote in the one race he could vote in.
Some ballots were mutiliated. They were printed on long sheets of paper, which in a normal election would be filled up with several lists of candidates and ballot questions. Some people cut off the bottom two thirds and mailed in the top third. This was a problem because the computer needed to "see" some codes at the bottom of the sheet. To make the ballots machine readable, elections officials duplicated them on full-sized sheets and ran the full-sized sheets through the machine.
To vote, you had to fill in the space between two short bars, connecting them to form a long bar next to your candidate of choice. This was too confusing for some people. Somebody drew an arrow next to his or her candidate. Another made one of the short bars even darker. The canvassing board gave them credit for their efforts and their votes were counted but the ballots had to be duplicated to be machine readable.
I mentioned that the voting system cost $14 million. We've used the system for less than two years. Somebody convinced somebody in Tallahassee that the system could be fooled, so the system will be discarded in favor of another multi-million-dollar system. The system now being used cannot even be sold for scrap. The counties are picking up half the cost of the new system even though the state forced the change on them. The new system will, trust me, be fooled by some fool.
Flori-duh, indeed.
I don't think the voters in "Flori-duh" are stupider than a general cross-section of the nation but some of them demonstrated yesterday that if there is a way to spoil their ballot, a sophisticated $14 million voting system will not stand in their way.
Some voters went to the trouble of getting absentee ballots, then paid 94 cents each to mail them in. Despite numerous warnings to sign the exterior envelope, several did not do so and their ballots won't even be opened.
Several ballots were disqualified because they undervoted (didn't vote for anybody) or overvoted (voted for more than one candidate). You need to know that there was only one race in each of two city council districts, and each race had either three or four candidates, so the voter's job was to vote for one, just one, only one, no more than one candidate.
One wise guy, apparently offended that he had only one race to vote in, wrote "what a waster of taxpayer's money" on the ballot. We saw that message only because the machine kicked his ballot out as an "undervote." Yep, he didn't even vote in the one race he could vote in.
Some ballots were mutiliated. They were printed on long sheets of paper, which in a normal election would be filled up with several lists of candidates and ballot questions. Some people cut off the bottom two thirds and mailed in the top third. This was a problem because the computer needed to "see" some codes at the bottom of the sheet. To make the ballots machine readable, elections officials duplicated them on full-sized sheets and ran the full-sized sheets through the machine.
To vote, you had to fill in the space between two short bars, connecting them to form a long bar next to your candidate of choice. This was too confusing for some people. Somebody drew an arrow next to his or her candidate. Another made one of the short bars even darker. The canvassing board gave them credit for their efforts and their votes were counted but the ballots had to be duplicated to be machine readable.
I mentioned that the voting system cost $14 million. We've used the system for less than two years. Somebody convinced somebody in Tallahassee that the system could be fooled, so the system will be discarded in favor of another multi-million-dollar system. The system now being used cannot even be sold for scrap. The counties are picking up half the cost of the new system even though the state forced the change on them. The new system will, trust me, be fooled by some fool.
Flori-duh, indeed.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
celebrating September 11
My city (that is, the one I work for) is having an election today, with two seats on the city council up for grabs. We will have a new councilmember in at least one of those seats. The incumbent has a pretty fair chance of getting re-elected to the other one.
I think this is a wonderful thing to do on September 11.
Our voters don't go home with purple ink on their thumbs but they don't worry about being shot or bombed on their way to the polling places, either.
There are millions of people on this Earth who have no idea what an open democratic election is.
I have a few stories I'll share later about the stupidity of a few of the voters. In our society, even stupid people get to vote. Stupid people need representation too, which explains why we sometimes get so many stupid Congressmen. But, don't get me started.
I think this is a wonderful thing to do on September 11.
Our voters don't go home with purple ink on their thumbs but they don't worry about being shot or bombed on their way to the polling places, either.
There are millions of people on this Earth who have no idea what an open democratic election is.
I have a few stories I'll share later about the stupidity of a few of the voters. In our society, even stupid people get to vote. Stupid people need representation too, which explains why we sometimes get so many stupid Congressmen. But, don't get me started.
Monday, September 10, 2007
bad news comes in threes
Last week I posted a couple of notes about acquaintances of mine chucking their lives and their fortunes down the toilet due to greed. The week ended on the same miserable note when an elected official in my city, a man with an excellent reputation among those who saw only his public persona, was revealed to have a dark side. How dark? We are talking about allegations of child molestation against his own adopted children. We are talking about court orders to stay away from the children. We are talking about divorce.
He resigned from office, then went home and committed suicide.
There are times when a word like "shock" is inadequate. The man should be remembered for the good that he did as a city councilman and in other public capacities. I've worked with a great many elected officials and I'd rank him up there with the best. The sad reality was captured by Shakespeare about 400 years ago: The evil men do lives after them but the good is oft interred with their bones.
He resigned from office, then went home and committed suicide.
There are times when a word like "shock" is inadequate. The man should be remembered for the good that he did as a city councilman and in other public capacities. I've worked with a great many elected officials and I'd rank him up there with the best. The sad reality was captured by Shakespeare about 400 years ago: The evil men do lives after them but the good is oft interred with their bones.
Friday, September 07, 2007
500 days
As of today, there are 500 days left until the end of George W. Bush's presidency.
That's 71 weeks and two days plus what's left of today.
That's 71 weeks and two days plus what's left of today.
I'm tempted to say that the last couple of days won't count, but Bill Clinton made a lot of money selling pardons before leaving office. On his last day, he issued 141 pardons and 36 commutations, thereby undoing (in my humble opinion) whatever claim to greatness he might otherwise be able to make.
I only wish that Dubya had a claim to greatness . . . any claim, any sort of claim at all. He does not.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
another one bites the dust
Lately the newspapers are full of stories about lawyers and politicians being taken away to jail, not to mention movie "stars" and other folks who ought to know better. After posting my note earlier this week about a lawyer I know who is going to jail, I learned of another one, this one a guy I knew as a fellow student in law school.
He was the quiet type in law school. Like me, he didn't raise his hand much and didn't seem particularly outspoken about anything. After law school, he surprised me and I suspect a lot of our classmates by his success, first as a lawyer in private practice and then as a state senator, a county commissioner, a state prosecutor, and finally as Sheriff of Broward County.
This week he resigned and then entered a guilty plea in federal court to charges arising from some petty transactions involving a land developer. Failure to report, failure to pay taxes . . . you've seen this story before. His story reminds me of the old "joke" about stealing money. If you are going to steal, don't steal the petty cash fund. Steal a huge amount and then flee to a country that won't allow your extradition back to the U.S.
In his case, as in so many others, I just don't get it. He had no doubt where his next meal or the next payment on his Mercedes was coming from. Now he is at risk of losing a state pension worth more per year than what I'm getting paid and I'm still working for a living. He is also en route to federal prison.
Working for a living. That pretty much sums it up. Some of us do, and some of us are looking for the easy way out.
He was the quiet type in law school. Like me, he didn't raise his hand much and didn't seem particularly outspoken about anything. After law school, he surprised me and I suspect a lot of our classmates by his success, first as a lawyer in private practice and then as a state senator, a county commissioner, a state prosecutor, and finally as Sheriff of Broward County.
This week he resigned and then entered a guilty plea in federal court to charges arising from some petty transactions involving a land developer. Failure to report, failure to pay taxes . . . you've seen this story before. His story reminds me of the old "joke" about stealing money. If you are going to steal, don't steal the petty cash fund. Steal a huge amount and then flee to a country that won't allow your extradition back to the U.S.
In his case, as in so many others, I just don't get it. He had no doubt where his next meal or the next payment on his Mercedes was coming from. Now he is at risk of losing a state pension worth more per year than what I'm getting paid and I'm still working for a living. He is also en route to federal prison.
Working for a living. That pretty much sums it up. Some of us do, and some of us are looking for the easy way out.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
be it ever so humble. . .
A man's home is his castle (and his lady's, if he is so lucky), no matter how rude it may be.
My home is nothing to brag about. The roof doesn't leak, although it's been replaced since I bought it and then a huge oak tree tried to cave it in. The windows keep the rain out and the air conditioner works. New landscaping makes the front of the house look better and the new citrus trees in the back yard should bear fruit in a year or two. Life could be worse, although we are overdue to gut the kitchen and bathrooms and replace them from the floor tiles up.
These thoughts occurred to me today when I picked up the latest copy of the Florida Bar News and read, to my amazement, that a well-known and wealthy lawyer in Palm Beach County has been suspended from practice. He has pleaded guilty to a federal felony, agreed to cough up $400,000 to the Internal Revenue Service, and agreed to cooperate with the IRS in determining and paying any tax liabilities, penalties and interest. The story does not say what became of his home. I've never seen his home but, trust me, it does (or did?) not look like mine.
He was an assistant county attorney early in his career. He helped rewrite the county's land use regulations, then jumped ship and made a ton of money representing developers in a county where there's never really been a recession. For years, he's been one of the people I thought I should have emulated. I could have done that, I thought. I thought of him in June, when I was in Palm Beach County for a scuba diving trip and saw his name on the back of a serious bicycler's racing jersey. Not just his name, but "B__ B___'s Racing Team." For a moment I tried to visualize a similar jersey with my name on the back, but it didn't come into focus. Now it sounds like the good life as he knew it is over.
When I go home tonight I will look around my hovel and think, at least it's all mine. I earned what it took to be in it the old-fashioned way, and I will not have the IRS or federal prosecutors breathing down my neck.
My home is nothing to brag about. The roof doesn't leak, although it's been replaced since I bought it and then a huge oak tree tried to cave it in. The windows keep the rain out and the air conditioner works. New landscaping makes the front of the house look better and the new citrus trees in the back yard should bear fruit in a year or two. Life could be worse, although we are overdue to gut the kitchen and bathrooms and replace them from the floor tiles up.
These thoughts occurred to me today when I picked up the latest copy of the Florida Bar News and read, to my amazement, that a well-known and wealthy lawyer in Palm Beach County has been suspended from practice. He has pleaded guilty to a federal felony, agreed to cough up $400,000 to the Internal Revenue Service, and agreed to cooperate with the IRS in determining and paying any tax liabilities, penalties and interest. The story does not say what became of his home. I've never seen his home but, trust me, it does (or did?) not look like mine.
He was an assistant county attorney early in his career. He helped rewrite the county's land use regulations, then jumped ship and made a ton of money representing developers in a county where there's never really been a recession. For years, he's been one of the people I thought I should have emulated. I could have done that, I thought. I thought of him in June, when I was in Palm Beach County for a scuba diving trip and saw his name on the back of a serious bicycler's racing jersey. Not just his name, but "B__ B___'s Racing Team." For a moment I tried to visualize a similar jersey with my name on the back, but it didn't come into focus. Now it sounds like the good life as he knew it is over.
When I go home tonight I will look around my hovel and think, at least it's all mine. I earned what it took to be in it the old-fashioned way, and I will not have the IRS or federal prosecutors breathing down my neck.
Saturday, September 01, 2007
Democrats: Hell-bent on self-destruction?
"I'm not a member of any organized polical party. I'm a Democrat." That's an old joke by Will Rogers.
He was right then, and he'd be right today.
The Democratic National Party has gone beyond disorganization. They lost their focus, and national and local elections, for too many years by pandering to every single-issue consistuency we have. Now, on the verge of winning the White House because the Republican Party is crumbling before our eyes, the DNC has threatened that Florida's delegates will not be seated at the national convention. Why? Because our Republican-controlled state legislature changed the schedule for all party primaries to January 29, and our early primary will upstage Iowa, Nevada and New Hampshire.
I've been a registered Democrat all my life. At the time I registered, Leon County had no Republican Party to speak of and, if you registered Republican, you couldn't vote in a primary election. If my vote in the 2008 primary election doesn't count because the delegates from my state, the fourth-largest state, have been blocked from the party convention by the party itself, I will change my registration to Republican.
Will Rogers also said, "You have to be an optimist to be a Democrat, and a humorist to stay one." He was right about that, too. I'm an optimist, but I've lost my sense of humor somewhere along the way.
He was right then, and he'd be right today.
The Democratic National Party has gone beyond disorganization. They lost their focus, and national and local elections, for too many years by pandering to every single-issue consistuency we have. Now, on the verge of winning the White House because the Republican Party is crumbling before our eyes, the DNC has threatened that Florida's delegates will not be seated at the national convention. Why? Because our Republican-controlled state legislature changed the schedule for all party primaries to January 29, and our early primary will upstage Iowa, Nevada and New Hampshire.
I've been a registered Democrat all my life. At the time I registered, Leon County had no Republican Party to speak of and, if you registered Republican, you couldn't vote in a primary election. If my vote in the 2008 primary election doesn't count because the delegates from my state, the fourth-largest state, have been blocked from the party convention by the party itself, I will change my registration to Republican.
Will Rogers also said, "You have to be an optimist to be a Democrat, and a humorist to stay one." He was right about that, too. I'm an optimist, but I've lost my sense of humor somewhere along the way.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Hurricane Katrina, two years later
The second anniversary of Hurricane Katrina is now upon us, and everybody is celebrating the successful rebuilding of New Orleans and other cities and towns on the Gulf Coast.
We wish. The truth is that the devastating effects of Katrina are as visible today as they were two years ago. Former homes stand in ruins, there are no utility services, two hospitals remain closed, and the levies are being rebuilt and strengthened in phases, slowly. People who fled to other states have no more reason to move back now than they did then.
Meanwhile, the Bush Administration has dumped $30 BILLION down a rathole called "let's rebuild Iraq," and at least $8.8 BILLION has disappeared. Guns, land mines and rocket launchers have been sold on the black market for cash, no receipts required, in what one whistleblower described as a "Wal-Mart for guns" only illegal. For his trouble he spent 97 days in a military prison outside Baghdad, classified as a "security detainee."
Can you visualize $30 billion? If you can you visualize $1 million, multiply by ten. Multiply by ten again, and then again. Now multiply by 30. That kind of money could rebuild New Orleans with new homes elevated above the floodplain behind new levies.
The inertia regarding New Orleans is not the exclusive fault of the federal government, but the feds have the resources to get something moving and they have squandered them in Iraq. Trying to rebuild any part of the Middle East is like feeding an alligator. An alligator will never learn to love you.
We wish. The truth is that the devastating effects of Katrina are as visible today as they were two years ago. Former homes stand in ruins, there are no utility services, two hospitals remain closed, and the levies are being rebuilt and strengthened in phases, slowly. People who fled to other states have no more reason to move back now than they did then.
Meanwhile, the Bush Administration has dumped $30 BILLION down a rathole called "let's rebuild Iraq," and at least $8.8 BILLION has disappeared. Guns, land mines and rocket launchers have been sold on the black market for cash, no receipts required, in what one whistleblower described as a "Wal-Mart for guns" only illegal. For his trouble he spent 97 days in a military prison outside Baghdad, classified as a "security detainee."
Can you visualize $30 billion? If you can you visualize $1 million, multiply by ten. Multiply by ten again, and then again. Now multiply by 30. That kind of money could rebuild New Orleans with new homes elevated above the floodplain behind new levies.
The inertia regarding New Orleans is not the exclusive fault of the federal government, but the feds have the resources to get something moving and they have squandered them in Iraq. Trying to rebuild any part of the Middle East is like feeding an alligator. An alligator will never learn to love you.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
grab a root and growl
When you reach a certain age, you realize that your brain is cluttered with trivia. The trivia ranges from the rattly noises and old-car smells of the first car you owned to bad jokes you learned in sixth grade, to minor vulgarities in foreign languages that you otherwise know nothing about. Included in that trivia are corny sayings that you may have learned from your father or from small-town guys you knew in college or the army. I have this theory about Alzheimers's disease, which is that this useless stuff collects in the grey cells like barnacles until there is no room for new but useful trivia such as the names of people you 've met in the past week and you know you will see again.
At dinner time tonight, the expression "grab a root and growl" bubbled up in the back of my mind for no reason at all except that I was unloading a bag of take-out food to serve for dinner.
Grab a root? Growl? What in hell does that mean?
("What in hell" is another of those useless expressions. The meaning of "grab a root and growl" is not in Hades. Hotter than hell, colder than hell, slower than hell, faster than hell, smart as hell, dumber than hell. . .the list goes on forever, all the way to hell and all useless. But I digress.)
I consulted Google, the source of all that I know, and I found at least three possible sources for the expression. One is, "sit down and eat." Another comes from railroad workers and means, "grab hold and lift." The third means "hold on and fight," or a stubbornness associated with the Dust Bowl farmers of the 1930's who never left their farms but held on, waiting for rain.
"Sit down and eat" is the meaning I associate with the phrase. I think I learned it in a fraternity house dining room. Wherever it came from, I'd like to unload it and make room for some useful trivia such as the exact day in 2009 which will be Bush's last day in office, a mere 517 days from today if anyone's counting.
At dinner time tonight, the expression "grab a root and growl" bubbled up in the back of my mind for no reason at all except that I was unloading a bag of take-out food to serve for dinner.
Grab a root? Growl? What in hell does that mean?
("What in hell" is another of those useless expressions. The meaning of "grab a root and growl" is not in Hades. Hotter than hell, colder than hell, slower than hell, faster than hell, smart as hell, dumber than hell. . .the list goes on forever, all the way to hell and all useless. But I digress.)
I consulted Google, the source of all that I know, and I found at least three possible sources for the expression. One is, "sit down and eat." Another comes from railroad workers and means, "grab hold and lift." The third means "hold on and fight," or a stubbornness associated with the Dust Bowl farmers of the 1930's who never left their farms but held on, waiting for rain.
"Sit down and eat" is the meaning I associate with the phrase. I think I learned it in a fraternity house dining room. Wherever it came from, I'd like to unload it and make room for some useful trivia such as the exact day in 2009 which will be Bush's last day in office, a mere 517 days from today if anyone's counting.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Hurricane season is upon us
Hurricane season is knocking at the door, dang it:
http://www.nhc.noaa.gov/refresh/graphics_at4+shtml/204525.shtml?5day#contents
http://www.nhc.noaa.gov/refresh/graphics_at4+shtml/204525.shtml?5day#contents
75 weeks to go
Yesterday, Karl Rove announced his retirement as of the end of August. Rove is credited with transforming Texas into Republican territory and with engineering George Dubya Bush's election in 2000, and his re-election in 2004. Do you remember the phrase, "compassionate conservative?" Rove is credited with that phrase. (Have you ever met a compassionate conservative?)
Upon Rove's announcement, Bush said, "I'll be on the road behind you in a bit."
Yesterday, we had 525 days left in the Bush regime. That's a mere 75 weeks before Bush hits the road.
Upon Rove's announcement, Bush said, "I'll be on the road behind you in a bit."
Yesterday, we had 525 days left in the Bush regime. That's a mere 75 weeks before Bush hits the road.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Grammar Rules, or How to Write Good
You've probably seen most of these, but not all in one place:
Grammar Rules for the Unenlightened; Or, How to Write Good
Don’t use a big word where a diminutive one will suffice.
Don’t use no double negatives. Don’t never use no triple negatives.
No sentence fragments.
Corollary: Complete sentences: important.
Stamp out and eliminate redundancy.
Avoid clichés like the plague.
All generalizations are bad.
Take care that your verb and subject is in agreement.
A preposition is a bad thing to end a sentence with.
Avoid those run-on sentences that just go on, and on, they never stop, they just keep rambling, and you really wish the person would just shut up, but no, they just keep going, they’re worse than the Energizer Bunny, they babble incessantly, and these sentences, they just never stop, they go on forever …
You should never use the second person.
The passive voice should never be used.
Never go off on tangents, which are lines that intersect a curve at only one point and were discovered by Euclid, who lived in the 6th Century, an era dominated by the Goths, who lived in what we now know as Poland…
As Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “I hate quotations.”
Excessive use of exclamation points can be disastrous!!!!!
Don’t use question marks inappropriately?
Don’t obfuscate your theses with extraneous verbiage.
Never use that totally cool, radically groovy out-of-date slang.
Avoid tumbling off the cliff of triteness into the black abyss of overused metaphors.
Keep your ear to the grindstone, your nose to the ground, take the bull by the horns of dilemma, and stop mixing your metaphors.
Avoid those abysmally horrible, outrageously repellent exaggerations.
Grammar Rules for the Unenlightened; Or, How to Write Good
Don’t use a big word where a diminutive one will suffice.
Don’t use no double negatives. Don’t never use no triple negatives.
No sentence fragments.
Corollary: Complete sentences: important.
Stamp out and eliminate redundancy.
Avoid clichés like the plague.
All generalizations are bad.
Take care that your verb and subject is in agreement.
A preposition is a bad thing to end a sentence with.
Avoid those run-on sentences that just go on, and on, they never stop, they just keep rambling, and you really wish the person would just shut up, but no, they just keep going, they’re worse than the Energizer Bunny, they babble incessantly, and these sentences, they just never stop, they go on forever …
You should never use the second person.
The passive voice should never be used.
Never go off on tangents, which are lines that intersect a curve at only one point and were discovered by Euclid, who lived in the 6th Century, an era dominated by the Goths, who lived in what we now know as Poland…
As Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “I hate quotations.”
Excessive use of exclamation points can be disastrous!!!!!
Don’t use question marks inappropriately?
Don’t obfuscate your theses with extraneous verbiage.
Never use that totally cool, radically groovy out-of-date slang.
Avoid tumbling off the cliff of triteness into the black abyss of overused metaphors.
Keep your ear to the grindstone, your nose to the ground, take the bull by the horns of dilemma, and stop mixing your metaphors.
Avoid those abysmally horrible, outrageously repellent exaggerations.
I've told you 100,000 times not to exaggerate.
Avoid awful anachronistic aggravating antediluvian alliterations.
This sentence no verb.
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
Happy Fourth of July
It isn't a Fourth of July without fireworks. History note: The rockets' red glare and the bombs bursting in air over Fort McHenry didn't occur on the Fourth of July or during the American Revolutionary War, but in 1814. Fireworks on the Fourth date back to 1777 in Philadelphia, thirty-seven years before Francis Scott Key wrote what became the National Anthem to the tune of an old British drinking song.
Monday, July 02, 2007
Gay Pride, St. Petersburg, Florida
Whatever San Francisco can do, St. Petersburg can do. . . maybe not better, but enthusiastically.
I'm a confirmed hetero and as straight as can be, but we had to go check it out. What we found was a mellow crowd having fun on a hellishly hot day. A few protestors drove down from Georgia, if you can believe it, but we didn't see them.
I'm a confirmed hetero and as straight as can be, but we had to go check it out. What we found was a mellow crowd having fun on a hellishly hot day. A few protestors drove down from Georgia, if you can believe it, but we didn't see them.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
why people hate lawyers; old guys rule
Credit to the International Municipal Lawyers Association for these stories:
The $54 million (originally $64 million) pants suit has been ruled on by a judge of the Superior Court of the District of Columbia. Roy Pearson, an administrative law judge [who represented himself - remind me to tell you about lawyers who represent themselves], sued the owners of his neighborhood dry-cleaners after they allegedly lost a pair of pants he had brought in for alterations, claiming they tried to pass off another pair of pants as his.
The defendants insisted that the pants they attempted to return to him, which he refused to accept, were the pants that he brought in to be altered. Among other things, the plaintiff argued that a "Satisfaction Guaranteed" sign displayed in the dry-cleaners was an unconditional warranty that required the defendants to honor any claim by any customer, without limitation.
The court disagreed: "A reasonable consumer would not interpret 'Satisfaction Guaranteed' to mean that a merchant is required to satisfy a customer's unreasonable demands or to accede to demands that the merchant has reasonable grounds to dispute." The court also ruled that the plaintiff had not proved that the pants the defendants attempted to return to him were not the pants he brought in for alterations. The plaintiff was entitled to nothing in the way of damages (one headline: "Loses Pants, Now Suit"). See it here: http://www.dccourts.gov/dccourts/superior/index.jsp
Meanwhile:
According to a recent news report, 65-year-old Bob Hayden, a former police chief, and a gray-haired retired US Marine Corps captain, age not specified, subdued a passenger on an aircraft after the passenger's behavior became alarming. The stewardess looked around for help but the young guys were averting their eyes. Mr. Hayden's wife of 42 years barely looked up from her book while the struggle occurred. "Bob's been shot at. He's been stabbed. He's taken knives away. He knows how to handle those situations. I figured he would go up there and step on somebody's neck, and that would be the end of it. I knew how that situation would end. I didn't know how the book would end." (Source: Boston Globe, June 5, 2007. See it here: http://tinyurl.com/2n8bqc).
The $54 million (originally $64 million) pants suit has been ruled on by a judge of the Superior Court of the District of Columbia. Roy Pearson, an administrative law judge [who represented himself - remind me to tell you about lawyers who represent themselves], sued the owners of his neighborhood dry-cleaners after they allegedly lost a pair of pants he had brought in for alterations, claiming they tried to pass off another pair of pants as his.
The defendants insisted that the pants they attempted to return to him, which he refused to accept, were the pants that he brought in to be altered. Among other things, the plaintiff argued that a "Satisfaction Guaranteed" sign displayed in the dry-cleaners was an unconditional warranty that required the defendants to honor any claim by any customer, without limitation.
The court disagreed: "A reasonable consumer would not interpret 'Satisfaction Guaranteed' to mean that a merchant is required to satisfy a customer's unreasonable demands or to accede to demands that the merchant has reasonable grounds to dispute." The court also ruled that the plaintiff had not proved that the pants the defendants attempted to return to him were not the pants he brought in for alterations. The plaintiff was entitled to nothing in the way of damages (one headline: "Loses Pants, Now Suit"). See it here: http://www.dccourts.gov/dccourts/superior/index.jsp
Meanwhile:
According to a recent news report, 65-year-old Bob Hayden, a former police chief, and a gray-haired retired US Marine Corps captain, age not specified, subdued a passenger on an aircraft after the passenger's behavior became alarming. The stewardess looked around for help but the young guys were averting their eyes. Mr. Hayden's wife of 42 years barely looked up from her book while the struggle occurred. "Bob's been shot at. He's been stabbed. He's taken knives away. He knows how to handle those situations. I figured he would go up there and step on somebody's neck, and that would be the end of it. I knew how that situation would end. I didn't know how the book would end." (Source: Boston Globe, June 5, 2007. See it here: http://tinyurl.com/2n8bqc).
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Friday, June 15, 2007
old baby photos
I like old baby photos. . .not photos of old babies, but old photos. This one I found on Flickr, and he had my last name although we might not have had a common ancestor since the last Ice Age. Cute kid, though.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
little pockets
I made an interesting observation this morning while waiting for the elevator, an event which consumes more of my time than it should each week.
When I was a boy we lived in Louisville and Dad worked for the Veterans Administration. He wore a suit and tie to work every day. This was in 1950, give or take a year, and you can visualize the suit. At the end of the day, we developed this little ritual to celebrate "Daddy's home!" He would pick up a gumball on the way home and drop it into the little pocket inside the bigger pocket on the side of his jacket. When he got home, I'd run up and check the little pocket to see what he had for me. It was always a gumball and I was always happy. (I was easily entertained at that age.)
When my kids came along I didn't pass that ritual on to them. We didn't have a gumball machine where I worked, I didn't always wear a suit every day, and not all of them had those little pockets. The only "Daddy's home" surprise I gave them was on a day when we had a new swimming pool, it was hotter than blue blazes outside, and I was wearing a wash-and-wear Palm Beach suit. I came in the front door and heard everybody in the pool, so I took off my shoes, emptied my pockets, took off my tie, and jumped in with them.
Back to this morning. I discovered that my suit pocket has one of those little pockets. I seldom poke my fingers in one of those little pockets without thinking of Dad's gumballs but today I discovered that the little pocket is the perfect size for my cell phone, and a perfectly secure place to put it. I'm not sure my father ever saw a cell phone in his life but I'm sure he'd be amazed.
When I was a boy we lived in Louisville and Dad worked for the Veterans Administration. He wore a suit and tie to work every day. This was in 1950, give or take a year, and you can visualize the suit. At the end of the day, we developed this little ritual to celebrate "Daddy's home!" He would pick up a gumball on the way home and drop it into the little pocket inside the bigger pocket on the side of his jacket. When he got home, I'd run up and check the little pocket to see what he had for me. It was always a gumball and I was always happy. (I was easily entertained at that age.)
When my kids came along I didn't pass that ritual on to them. We didn't have a gumball machine where I worked, I didn't always wear a suit every day, and not all of them had those little pockets. The only "Daddy's home" surprise I gave them was on a day when we had a new swimming pool, it was hotter than blue blazes outside, and I was wearing a wash-and-wear Palm Beach suit. I came in the front door and heard everybody in the pool, so I took off my shoes, emptied my pockets, took off my tie, and jumped in with them.
Back to this morning. I discovered that my suit pocket has one of those little pockets. I seldom poke my fingers in one of those little pockets without thinking of Dad's gumballs but today I discovered that the little pocket is the perfect size for my cell phone, and a perfectly secure place to put it. I'm not sure my father ever saw a cell phone in his life but I'm sure he'd be amazed.
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