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Claro?

Bird brains - or, the second bird trial

Following the defeat of the Bellairean Bird Brain, I figured I was free from big bird for quite some time.

Oh, how foolish I was!

Only a few short weeks after the Bird Bath in Bellaire, I was, again, MINDING MY OWN DAMNED BUSINESS....

All of these bird stories start with an anxious, breathless, panicked phone call.

Anxious, breathless, panicked phone calls convey several things:

• A lack of prior planning or consideration as to outcomes
• The failure of efforts based on bluster, bluff, aggressiveness or combativeness to resolve a situation
• An ongoing effort to skirt rules, laws, regulations, common decency or just plain politeness that comes to disaster
• Running home to Momma to have her fix it all by defending your side without question

Back in the days before Caller ID and wireless phones, answering the phone was always an adventure.

"Hello, this is Doug Hord" (I answer the phone in the same way my dad does, but somehow without his commanding, confident tone in my own judgment of such things).

(insert shrieking, panicked, breathless verbiage from recent bird shop client)

"Now, , just calm down - 'WHAT' happened?"

Something along the lines of her having been sued in small claims court for ownership or damages for a bird she had rescued (on TeeVee!) from the roof of a building near the Houston Galleria.

I was then regaled with the extensive, vile, rich history of the Plaintiff's perfidy.  It seems that not only was he a bird smuggler, but also a card sharp, a villian, a Communist, a wife-beater, and he didn't timely change his motor oil.

In the opinion of my client, "He needs killin'" (as we say here in Texas).

Let's skip the pre-trial discussions (in which my client explained at every turn WHY he needed killin'), and skip right to the trial, in the courtroom of the Right Honorable Justice of the Peace (Precinct 5, place 2) Wm. Yeoman.

I have enormous respect for Judge Yeoman; in my many visits to his courtroom, I've only known him to be skilled, clear, polite, respectful and able to withstand the tirades of those who expect his courtroom to be far more Judge Judy.

Our trial setting was for the late shift - we were called hours in advance to advise us that the court would have limited seating room, as so many inquiries from "interested parties" had been received.

Uh, what was that?

I had, as witnesses, only my client, her manservant and myself.  What interested parties?

It turns out that there's an enormous sub-rosa community of bird lovers who communicate via tom-tom signals, and they were (basically) ALL flying in to watch the epic battle of the two most powerful forces in Southeast Texas Bird-dom.

The issue at hand was, simply, this:

My woman, being the pre-eminent bird lady in the area, received a call from a distressed bird person who had observed a bird of the exotic variety on top of a tree/bush/aerial/roof of a commercial building.  No amount of persuasion nor shiny object was luring the bird down from its aerie. 

An emergency situation!  They fired up the Isuzu pickup and dashed over with bird toys, lures and a ladder.

And, they recovered the bird.  ON TEEVEE!

Through the magic of television, the progenitor of bird-dom's Dark Side learned that this bird had been rescued, believed it to be his (without having identified the bird, seen the bird other than on his 27" CRT television set, or inquired of my client) and brought suit in small claims to recover the bird's VALUE.

You could think of this as a "cash grab".

Again, we were commanded to produce the egg laying vermin in open court.

Things moved fairly swiftly in this courtroom drama.  The Plaintiff laid on his case - primarily grounded in that my client was dishonest, lies, smoked filterless cigarettes and drank straight bourbon, kept her thumb on the scale and generally was a Loose Woman.  And, she had his bird.

His bird was of one of the sexes, her bird was (she testified) of the other.

There were, no kidding, seventy-five plus people in the courtroom.  It was JAMMED.  Everyone wanted to pitch in and testify (for one side, or both), even though not one of them knew a damned thing about that particular bird's identity.  They did wish, though, to carry on at great length about the looseness of my client, and/or the evilness and bird snatchery of the Plaintiff.

Cutting through all of this like a gentle but firm laser was Judge Yeoman, who indicated that he'd consulted the Veterinary College up to the A&M, had learned that only a surgical sexing could positively identify the bird, told those assembled that smart people would have their birds microchiped or tatooed, and sent everyone home with their licks.

Meaning, my woman didn't recover attorney's fees from the probably asset-less Plaintiff.  My fee's being paid was now sketchier than the first gig.

However, the Plaintiff complimented me as we left the courthouse, and asked if I'd work for him in the future.

Mercifully, the State Bar rules would frown on such an arrangement.  I was off the hook - temporarily.

For, bad things happen in threes, you know - and the THIRD bird trial was a mess of epic proportions.

Come back to read about trial number THREE and my being called out as the bird lawyer in court on a case NOT involving birds.

Story time!

I was thinking over the weekend - 'cause, you know, I do that.

I was thinking about all the "stories" I've spun over the years - to the amusement and hilarity of many, and how, as I've moved along life's path, many of these stories have come to be lost - and most, if not all, of my current friends are without connection to my amusement and tumultuous past.

So, now that I've participated in the brothers Koch lid-blowing party, I'm going to spend a few days regaling my readers with some "stories".

We'll start with one of the best - how I became known as "The Bird Lawyer."

There were three bird cases in all.  Each was sillier and worse than the previous.  There is something to be said for the value of the moniker "Bird Brain".

If you know me at all, you know that my best stories all begin in the same way .. "There I was, minding my OWN business, when.."

I was, quite contentedly, wallpapering my very first solo office one afternoon - a lovely and gentle pink cloth paper with vertical stripes.  Wearing my only suit, I was happily and quietly applying paste to the back of the paper.  The phone rang. 

Don't most dramatic or horrifying stories start with the phone ringing?

It was Mary, she with whom I had attended law school and who was now a successful defense attorney.

Mary, you see, had become fond of birds.  BIG birds.  She started out with a big gray evil fucker, who screamed bloody murder and crapped all over the kitchen floor.  I couldn't, for the life of me, understand it.

She had had a panicked call from the woman from whom she was buying birds.  This lady owned one of the larger bird retail shops in Houston - one that continues to this day. 

The bird shop owner had been served with a court order to release property characterized as stolen - one very large, one-eyed macaw.  She wanted representation, and Mary, citing her relationship with the bird shop owner, said she couldn't handle it.  Or I owed her a favor.  Or something.

It being a stolen property recovery hearing, the event was to be the very next day.  The issuing agency was the City of Bellaire PD, so this shindig would be hosted in the City's municipal courtroom, which was mere blocks from my (now unpapered) office.

I listened to my new client regale me with the horrors of her experience, and her lusciously detailed description of how this horribly unfair state was pressed upon her.  For two hours.  On a phone. 

Basically, it went like this:

My new client had this bird, which she had acquired personally in Central America somewhere, brought in through the Brownsville Ag station years earlier, and had cared for for many years.  His name was .. heck, I can't remember - the damned bird must still be alive, though, as they live forever.  We'll just call him "Buster". 

Buster was a fairly typical macaw, who bore a heavy metal staple around one leg that indicated at which Ag station he'd spent his quarantine and been cleared for lawful entry into the US.  He had one eye that was gone - not just blind, but gone - apparently, he'd had some infection years earlier.

He was an ill-tempered bastard, and he was a good three feet tall.  Warnings were issued to refrain from approaching him or his beak.

Buster lived in the aviary of my client's bird store, free of any tether, and without many other of God's creatures getting in his way.

One day, a new customer to the shop entered. 

Lured, no doubt, by my client's regional reputation for high quality birds and a broad selection of bird support products, this new customer, we'll call "Ginger".  There's actually a nifty word play in there that will suggest her real name to you, but we'll leave it at "Ginger".

Ginger was a member of a certain group of "professionals" who have as their primary business qualification "chutzpah". 

Really, I can't and won't reveal her "profession", but you could have pinned this occupation on her from twenty paces.  These days, she's driving a Lexus.  I feel certain that's true.  An RX400h, if I'm not mistaken.

Anyway, Ginger flounces into my client's bird shop and wanders back into the aviary, whereupon she espies "Buster" minding his own damned business up in the aviary tops.

"That's MY bird!  That's my "Flouncy!"  He was STOLEN from my backyard, and I WANT HIM BACK!"

I don't know how the ensuing conversation went, but my client is somewhat outspoken.  I imagine that it did not go well.

So, Ginger returned to her normal range (Bellaire, Texas) and filed a complaint with the Bellaire PD that her "stolen property" (as I recall, not previously reported as stolen) had been located.

And, shortly thereafter, Bellaire PD deposited the warrant/subpoena for my client to appear with the merchandise.

And then, the phone in my office rang.

Now, we're forward to the next afternoon, and I meet (for the first time) my client outside the Bellaire Municipal Building (quite modest, back in 1990, with their tax base now they probably have their own Supreme Court).  She, and her companion/partner/helper/manservant have "Buster" in a very large cage that is well covered.  She's smoking about twelve cigarettes an hour.  She's wound up to the hilt, and is ready for war.

She has another, similar bird with her, and her plan is to take the other bird into the court and deceive everyone that she can then pounce and alert the world that Ginger knows not her ass from a hole in the ground.

I personally know legions of title officers, mortgage officers, insurance agents and other folk who would, based solely on Ginger's professed profession, would agree wholeheartedly, but ..

I calmed and cautioned my client (who exhaled into my thirty year old face ignorant to my personal wishes) that such a choice would constitute criminal perjury, and .. she relented.

We entered the courthouse at the appointed time.

The Bellaire municipal courthouse was a lovely place (as compared to most comparable courtrooms), with theater styled seating in two sections, a nice light wood dais and bench for the Judge, who was a local attorney that heard speeding tickets and dog poo violations for one half day every so often.  We, the Respondents, were four in number, my client, said manservant, me, and one very dazed young man who I had subpoenaed from Texas A&M.

Oh, and Buster.  Buster in his massive cage, still covered, was brought into the courtroom (as we were ordered to do) but, he didn't like it so much.

Heedless of the vital nature that must be accorded those felonious non-residents of Bellaire who were nabbed exceeding their Very Special Speed limits, Buster announced his displeasure.

Did you know that a Macaw can drown out the noise of a crowded airport terminal?

Yeah.

LOUD.

The Judge Was Not Amused.

My client attempted to reduce the fussing level from within the covered cage.  Order was restored.  Dignity prevailed, but only until the Complainant (Ginger) entered the courtroom.

With her attorney, some standard issue suit, she entered leading a flying wedge of scrubbed white people.  Good citizens all.  There were a good twenty of them, total.  Twenty.  Leading citizens.  Taxpayers all.

My side looked like relics from the shelter, with a baffled nubbin, me in a cheap suit, and this enormous box that squawked.

The docket for the next hour was called - the time for our denouement before Lady Justice was at hand.

Well, after the traffic tickets, and those who had left gum on the sidewalk.

Bellaire, you see, is like Houston's own little piece of Singapore.  Sanitized.  Modernized.  An Oasis of Pretty (White) Affluent in the midst of the effluent.

Justice was meted out to those who were not well bred enough to be residents of Bellaire.  Money flowed into the city's coffers.

And, then, it was Ginger's turn.

Bellaire PD, you see, was NOT going to introduce this matter before the (unsuspecting) municipal judge.  Bellaire PD was not convinced that a.) this was the bird that was previously Ginger's, nor b.) that it was stolen from Ginger.

They demurred.  Ginger's standard issue suit with a bar card took over.

Ginger was, of course, her own star witness.  She was immaculately turned out in a lovely suit, probably from Neiman's or Tootsie's.  Her size one body hoisted those shoulder pads up off of the chair and she strode up to the bench, the picture of confidence and poise.

Her nineteen white friends and relatives sat up in their chairs, eager to hear about her wrongs and suffering.

She began.

I objected.

You see, just as you've learned from the 6,198,278,109.8 courtroom drama shows that have peppered our lives since the 1970's, the side INTRODUCING testimony has to give ANSWERS to QUESTIONS that that side's attorney ASKS.

Apparently, the standard issue suit skipped that day in law school, or something.

The judge, however, did not skip that day, and agreed with me.  This process consumed a goodly amount of time, in fact, the half hour traffic docket was nudging us with its chromed bumper.  Ginger would narrate, I'd object, the judge would agree, the suit would ask something like "So, Ginger, WHAT HAPPENED?" and Ginger would pick up her narration again.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

We paused while the City of Bellaire hauled in some more cash from non-residents.

After that break, I just gave up with trying to have the Rules of Procedure control the so-called proceedings.

Ginger regaled the rapt audience with her tale -

"Flouncy", you see, had been HER bird, that she acquired from some trip she had taken with her (thoroughly bleached) husband to An Exotic Port of Call.  They returned via Miami (MIA = the Miami Permanent Construction Zone and Drug Bazaar - courtesy of Dave Barry) where Flouncy had stayed his quarantine.

She LOVED Flouncy, and Flouncy LOVED her.  She petted him, and loved him, and petted him and took care of his needs and ..

"Objection, relevance."

"Sustained."

And she LOVED him, and cared for him...


"Objection, relevance."


"Sustained."

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Flouncy, being the beloved, privileged Bellaire bird, was allowed to roam freely in the BACKYARD.

Bird.  Backyard.  Trees.  Untethered.

Remember, chutzpah - not smarts. 

The bird FLEW out of the backyard.  By itself.  Without a masked Bellaire bandit's assistance.

Whence the Bellaire PD had found it unlikely that Flouncy had been hijacked.

Ginger described Flouncy in minute and pointless detail.  "Flouncy" aka Buster, was in his enormous, shrouded cage, finally silent.

The suit, sensing opportunity to shine, began to vilify my client, calling her inappropriate names (for any white woman a resident of Bellaire, anyway).

Objection.  Sustained.

I declined to cross examine her utter lack of testimonial largess.

Following was an endless parade of thronging Whiteness - witness after witness praising Ginger's love for Flouncy.

"Objection.  Relevance."

"Sustained." (a groan indicated long-suffering began to creep into the Judge's tone).

"Cross-examination?"  "Sure.  Ma'am, are you personally familiar with any fact that would suggest that Flouncy was stolen, rather than took a wrong turn at the tall tree in Bellaire?"  "No."

"No further questions."

Lather, rinse, repeat.

I have always called this the Great White Case.  You don't really HAVE a case, but you're very white and very upstanding, so you invite each and every upstanding white person that you know to come testify that you're both very white and very upstanding.

Frequently, this turns out swimmingly for the White Seekers of True Justice.

The did not count on the presence of He Who Wields Wit as a Weapon.

Finally, the parade of white people was halted, when the Judge (now well past his noontime relief) asked those yet unspoken whether any one of them had anything to offer OTHER than that Ginger LOVED Flouncy.

There was a murmur in the negative.

I was "on".

I lead with my client, whom I had hoped had been nosing around in the Ketamine back of her store.  I was able to confine her to the limits of the matter at hand - where she had acquired Buster, when, how he arrived here in These United States, how he had lost his eye (Flouncy, you see, had lost HIS eye in an unfortunate contact injury, whereas Buster had lost his eye from a viral infection common to birds). 

Now, it was time for the coup d'grace - my witness from Texas A&M. 

On direct, I had him testify that each Ag quarantine station had their own unique code which was stamped permanently into the heavy metal staple that was applied to each bird at that station.  The staple applied in Miami could NEVER be confused with the staple applied in Brownsville.  Had he personally inspected Buster before the courtroom drama?

Yes.

Could he identify the staple on Buster's leg?

Yes.

Please share your identification of the Ag station through which Buster entered the US from your personal examination.

"Brownsille, Texas"

And Buster could not have come through Miami?

No.  These staples are only applied by the US Dept. of Ag, only at the quarantine stations, and they cannot be removed without irreparable damage.

So, Ginger's bird, whom she has testified she personally brought in through Miami could not be the bird that you inspected today?

No.

Let's pass the witness with a heavy gravy of smug, please.

The suit winds up his opening pitch -

Couldn't the staple have been removed from Flouncy and replaced with a repaired staple from Brownsville?
No.
But, the staple could have been bought illegally from someone who worked at the Brownsville Ag station and then later put onto Flouncy's leg?
No.  The stapler is only at the Ag stations, and couldn't be applied off site.
Maybe you're just confused.
No.
Maybe Flouncy's staple was improperly applied with a Brownsville mark at the Miami station.

"Objection."

"Sustained"

"This man (says the suit) is refusing to produce the stolen property, and he is delaying justice for my client.  This man.."

"Your honor, I have a name.  It's Douglas Hord.  I gave opposing counsel my business card when we first met.  I object to him referring to me as 'this man'."

Judge (with head down on bench, groans) "sustained".

The Judge, now three hours into sudden death overtime, grumbles "I wish it were Judge Wapner hearing this case instead of me."

Now, the suit pronounces (out of turn, again) that IT IS NOW TIME THAT THIS STOLEN BIRD BE PRODUCED!

"Objection, your honor.  To prevail, the Claimant must first demonstrate that there was a theft, and then that my client is in possession of the property stolen.  The Claimant has introduced anecdotal evidence that the property was lost, but none regarding a theft."

Judge: "After listening to this for five hours, I want to see the damned bird."

Client, now VERY unhappy, allows her manservant to reveal Buster in his cage.

Ginger: "FLOUNCY!  FLOUNCY!"

Suit:  "I believe that the Court should observe my client interact with her bird".

Fine.  Whatever.

My client conveys the bird over to Ginger, who leans over (again with the chutzpah, but not smart - you couldn't have gotten me within five feet of that thing's hammerlock snout) and coos at the bird.  "Flouncy, how I've missed you."

The bird spins his head around 180 degrees and looks at my client as if to ask "who IS this bitch?".

My client points out to the judge that Buster's LEFT eye is the one missing.  Ginger had testified repeatedly that Flouncy's RIGHT eye was the one missing.

Ginger:  "YOU SWITCHED THE BIRDS!"

Suit:  "Your Honor, I believe that the Bellaire PD should now examine ALL of that woman's birds to find where she's put my client's bird!"

Me:  " Perhaps counsel may next suggest that Flouncy was transported away by the Starship Enterprise, but I doubt that this is other than wild speculation, and there is nothing before this Court to suggest that my client has done anything but observe the orders of this Court."

"Sustained.  Okay, look... is there anything else?"

No.  No.

"Okay, in order to prevail, the Claimant must first prove that she was deprived of her property by theft, and then that Respondent possesses or controls that property.  There has been no evidence introduced that a theft took place.."

The Great White Case stand up, en masse, and file out of the courtroom .. including the suit, and without waiting for the Judge to finish.

Just rude.

I don't remember how much I got paid for that one.  We finished at 5pm.  We'd been there since 9am.

Oh, but there's more.  A lot more.  And, you'll get to read all about it (or part two thereof) tomorrow...

Today's most poingnant and relevant discussion -

I spent a good couple of hours today reading about the Koch family, about the Birchers, the Tea Party, the astonishing spread of hate and intentional ignorance -

I was beginning to form the thought "why bother?"

Then, the conversation with Teddy:

Ted: So whats new in politics today?
drdivo: Oh, it's all the same.  It's the same shit been going on since Andrew Jackson
Ted: I figured
Ted: the decline of intelligent thought in this country is making me sad
drdivo: It's making it challenging for me to be around people who are talking
drdivo: I just want to injure them
Ted: I stay away from them
Ted: There isn't anything in common, so there is no possible dialogue
drdivo: so true
Ted: They believe that once you are born, you're on your own.  I believe we have a collective responsibility to society.  We are arguing from two separate and irreconcilable bases of thought
drdivo: quite so
drdivo: and they resent ANY helping hand given anyone other than themselves
Ted: indeed.  Although they might tread carefully.  Worrying too much about the 2nd amendment may not be in their favor when the middle class is gone and there is a huge, armed underclass who comes to realize that they've been well and truly screwed by the very wealthy whom they supported for so long

(my comment at the end there)

Holiday depression, or just ... ?

I'm going to talk about depression for a bit.

The goal of this discussion, is to give those who don't deal with depression some understanding about what depression is, and to give those who are depressed and aren't getting treated some access to seeing that there is hope.

Even for someone who is themselves depressed, it is nearly impossible to see a depressed person as anything other than selfish and self-pitying. Even in mass media articles about depression, the tone is that it's all in the head of the depressed.

 Being depressed is an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness, of pointlessness.  There is only a certainty that nothing will get better, ever.

It's not something one just "snaps out of".  It's not selfish, although the matter tends to be self-focused.  It's not something that one can smile one's way out of.

It is a closed, self-fulfilling, self-validating circle that blocks out everything else.

You can't talk someone out of it.  Helpful suggestions are not helpful.

My sister recently complimented my Zoloft for my improved mood and behavior.  Uh, thanks.  Zoloft did cut through the fog long enough that I could start productive talk therapy.

Medical research is now beginning to show that the vast pool of anti-depressants don't .. um .. do anything.

Productive talk therapy, with a patient who is intent on changing their life and their patterns does work.  So does exercise.  Sometimes.

Everyone is quite different in small ways; what works for one person won't necessarily work for someone else.

Bottom line, don't think you know what's wrong with a depressed person because you watched "Oprah" one afternoon, or because you've heard that SSRIs do wonders.  You're just justifying your own judgment.

Try walking ten miles in the blinding fog of a depressed person and see how judgmental you're feeling thereafter.

Full as a tick on a Junebug...

As we say here in Texas, anyway.

I'm as full as a tick on a Junebug - it refers to that a tick will suck the blood of its victim literally until it bursts.  So, I could suggest that I'm full to the point of bursting.

Of what, you ask?

• racism
• people who resent government, want lower taxes because government is inefficient, and then bitch about government inefficiency
• US military spending
• people who steadfastly remain ignorant to the effects of their behaviors and choices
• gay Republicans
• gay conservative Christians
• married men who live "normal" lives but seek anonymous sex with men
• people who bitch about taxes in the US
• people who bitch about how unions ruined everything
• people who think that there are herds of unemployed, lazy, shiftless people on welfare who are ruining our economy
• people who blame illegal immigrants for illegal immigration

Thoughts on organized religion, ecclesiastical leadership and abuse

The further I move away from organized religion and ecclesiastical leadership, the more I am seeing that a consistent theme among such leaders is an urgent desire to "fix" what they perceive to be wrong with themselves.

Just as with the constant drone of conservative, anti-gay leaders coming out of the closet and braying for forgiveness, these committed self-healers find themselves in positions of authority and without the tools to actually teach what they preach.  Conceptual knowledge and a good schtick is still a horrible disservice to those who look to these frauds as leaders.

Just as with the ardent anti-homo homos, these "healers" tend to lash out and further injure those who are in the most injury prone state.

What can be done about it?  Nothing.  People should just keep their eyes more open than they tend to do, I guess.

Vacating...

Vacation.  One vacates? 

Vacates what, though?  What if one's life now is such a change from what one's life was that going back to vacation with people who are from that "was" just inadvertently take you away from who you are now and return you back to where you've worked so hard to move away from?

Is there a successful vacation when you are assured of being thought of, interacted with and only seen as who you've always been known to be?

Or, does a successful vacation require going somewhere with only one's new self?

Sometimes, it's just SUCH a small world....

Subject:  Hot waiter with whom I've flirted

Locale:  BB's Cafe on Montrose

Event:  Andrew, the very cute, very blond, very daffy waiter was there today.  I greeted him effusively.  I complimented him on his haircut.  He's just not the brightest bulb in the chandelier.

Shortly after, Robert showed up and to cap off our lunch experience, Robert put on his "anti-UofH" floor show for Andrew.

It's quite the show.  Only his "And then, I flew off of the top step and body checked the bitch while she was trying to bite my partner's arm" comes close to its drama and intensity.

Andrew, who has today started at UH, was somewhat overwhelmed.

Yes, UH has its problems, but Robert paints them out to be so vast and monstrous that there appears to be no valid reason that UofH is still operating.

Robert was called away to another engagement, and I mentioned to Andrew that I'm an adjunct at UH and Robert paints the picture out to be much worse than it really is.

"Oh, really?  Maybe you know my dad - he's an adjunct at UH.  Ken Jones".

(insert massive pause in space time continuum here)

"Ken Jones - as in married to Carla?" (Carla being she who during the cast party following opening night of "Best Little Whorehouse in Texas back around 1998 I complimented by telling her that she was so hot I had heterosexual thoughts about her)

"Yeah, he's my dad"

(insert flood of conflicted thoughts here, i.e.

• Your dad is one of the smartest guys on the planet - what happened to you?
• That explains why you've got such a great ass, 'cause your dad's ass ROCKS the house at age 54.
• I wonder if you're as MSM curious as is your dad...
• Well, crap, now I can't try to get into your pants!
• etc.)

my email to Darrin at Beck and Masten Buick GMC today

So, you're all aware that I'm a car whore.  Currently, I'm captivated both emotionally and intellectually with the 2011 Buick Regal.  I saw it at the Houston (pathetic) car show in January, and I got to drive one a couple of Saturdays ago.  I've consumed every fragment and data bit of information that I can hunt down about the car, and I'm s-o-l-d.

Last week, after retuning from vacay with my fam, I found myself sans companions - as is my usual, but was newly unfamiliar to me - and I did my usual - which is to look at cars online.  I was delighted to see that Edmunds.com had uploaded the Regal CXL turbo information, which was brand new to the net - pricing, equipment, etc.  Edmunds provides a convenient "get a quote" link.  Being a.) bored, b.) lonely and c.) insane, I completed the online form and was nearly immediately rewarded with a barrage of automated emails from the five (5) Houston area Buick dealers that I chose.  Somehow, DeMontrond didn't make the cut (probably because they're not paying Edmunds off).

I had a single satisfactory conversation with one (1) Buick salesman following this web inquiry.  His automated responder just tonight emailed me with a follow up, and I replied to him thusly:

Hello Darrin -

Enjoyed speaking to you last week.

Edmunds sent out five requests for quote for the '11 Regal GXL turbo.

You replied cogently, spoke in a reasonable way, and suggested you'd call me when one came in that I could drive.  If one wasn't available as I would want (CXL turbo, 6AT pkg 5, espresso brown, cashmere), you'd help me order one.

I'm quite good with that answer, and you've got my business.  When one comes in, I hope to hear from you and I'll dash right up there to check it out with you.  I understand that they'll start shipping shortly.

You'll be quite entertained to hear of the other four responses:

• David Taylor - replied that the Turbo won't be out until next year 2nd qtr (they must be thinking of the GS, which I didn't inquire about)
• West Point - replied by phone and by email and blackberry at 10:30pm, then by phone and email and blackberry the next morning.  After I spoke to you, I spoke to him, and he suggested that I could come in right then and buy one - he'd find me one.  Uh, no.
• Beck & Masten South - replied by email that the Turbo won't be out until the Spring - see David Taylor, above.
• Casa - replied twice; internet "manager" (not the internet manager reflected on their website) replied that the turbo wasn't out, and they didn't know when that would be.  I tried to reply to his email, and his reply address failed.  Then, the internet manager (as listed on the website) contacted me by email to suggest that I'd really like the non-turbo, and I should come try one.  After I had made it clear to them that I'd already driven the CXL base, and wanted the CXL turbo.

So, man, you're the only Buick guy in town who's actually processing what the customer is asking for.  Kudos.  Call me when they're coming off the truck and I'm looking forward to meeting you then.

Doug Hord

Notes:

1. If you're interested in a new Buick, go see Darin at Beck and Masten North.
2. I love being again validated by my prior opinions of the idiots at David Taylor.

More stupid shit from crazy white people

My dad sends me (for verification purposes):

From September 11, 2009 ….

        IN CASE YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THIS READ CAREFULLY
In Houston, Texas

Harwin Central Mall: The very first store that you come to when you walk from the lobby of the building into the shopping area had this sign posted on their door. The shop is run by Muslims.
Feel free to share this with others. In case you are not able to read the sign below, it says
"We will be closed on Friday, September 11, 2009 to
commemorate the martyrdom of Imam Ali"

Imam Ali flew one of the planes into the twin towers.

Nice huh?
Try telling me we're not in a Religious   war!
THIS HAS NOT BEEN AROUND.....SO MAKE SURE IT GOES!


---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Truthfulness inspection:

From September 11, 2009 ….true

        IN CASE YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THIS READ CAREFULLY
In Houston, Texas true-ish

Harwin Central Mall (untrue, no such place): The very first store that you come to when you walk from the lobby of the building into the shopping area (untrue) had this sign posted on their door. (true) The shop is run by Muslims. (true-ish, they're Americans)
Feel free to share this with others. (if you're a chickenshit white bigoted Asshat) In case you are not able to read the sign below, it says
"We will be closed on Friday, September 11, 2009 to
commemorate the martyrdom of Imam Ali"

---

Picture is real

---

Imam Ali flew one of the planes into the twin towers. (not even a little bit true)

Nice huh? (that you made a bunch of shit up and spread it around the other arrogant, bigoted, Paulist asshats that call themselves "Christian"?  No, not really.  So, not even a little bit true)
Try telling me we're not in a Religious   war! (I think you're right, we're still fighting the Crusades, which we started as a diversion for the folks that could rise up against the leadership in rebellion and take over.  The arrogant, bigoted, Paulist asshats that call themselves "Christian" are still at it.  So, true.)
THIS HAS NOT BEEN AROUND (this has been around in circles, so not true a tiny little bit).....SO MAKE SURE IT GOES! (this isn't really a claim as much an exhortation, so knock yourself out)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My note back to my dad:

"We're not in a religious war". 

http://www.snopes.com/rumors/photos/martyr.asp

It's FALSE.

I live in Houston and have for 29 years.  There is no "Harwin Central Mall".  There is a "Harwin Central Mart".  There was no 9/11 hijacker named "Ali", and "Imam" is not a name, but is rather a title for a Muslim religious leader.

Imam Ali http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Imam_Ali was the cousin and son-in-law of the Prophet Muhammad, and was the ruler of the Islamic Caliphate after Muhammad died.  In 656 C.E. 

Imam Ali, who was the leader of the largest organized area of the world at the time, was assassinated on the 19th day of Ramadan (a lunar calendar) and died on the 21st day of Ramadan.  This happened to fall, in 2009, on September 22, 2010 by the Georgian calendar.

The owners of the store, who were astonished and baffled by white, Christian bigotry in reaction to their observation of a religious and cultural leader's death one thousand five hundred years ago, continue to this day to receive hundreds of hostile letters and phone calls, many of which threatened them with death and destruction of property.

Please tell your buddy Al thanks from me for making the world a safer place.

Oh, it took me less than ten seconds to dig up this information.  It took me far longer to write it into the body of an email, because most people like your buddy Al who send this horseshit onward won't click links containing facts to see for themselves.

The following graphic is for your buddy Al, and for anyone else who looks at the world the way he does:

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Just one more note on a related subject:

Fighting back when they already own the government

I love talking with Teddy.  His thoughts on the Target situation:

It is so disappointing though, they were the anti-walmart and now they are no better than the Arkansas asshats.  Corporations in this country seem hell-bent on proving that they are, in fact, evil.

When commercial organizations support political or ideological causes antithetical to your very being, there is only one way to successfully deal with it.

When they perceive that their cost of business is higher than supporting the causes which try to kill or limit you, coupled with an awareness of tens of thousands of individual communicated decisions to purchase elsewhere, they'll change.

So every time you purchase something you could have or would have purchased at Target, send the local store a note that informs them of how much business they lost.

For those OCD souls among us, follow my lead in sending your local Target store a summary of all the money you spent there in the last calendar year and notify them that next year, the total will be zero.

Teddy reminded me that he mostly shops at Amazon online, and  I have been noticing my own tendency to do the same.  I wonder if Jeff Bezos could consider opening up an online pharmacy by mail....

"HEY JEFF!"

My email to Target's CEO

I've been a Target customer, loyal beyond reason, for twenty-nine years.

I deeply regret that Target management has concluded that their best business strategy is to promote political entities that advocate me personally having no human rights, that I be done violent death and be relegated to a sub-human existence.

I believe that you must understand I can no longer support Target in any way with my recommendations, my time nor my money. 

I will be providing both the store manager and the pharmacist with the attached letter next week when I advise them in person that I am transferring my prescriptions to a commercial enterprise that does not actively and openly seek my person and my life being damaged, and that I will never be back.

Today's Life Lesson

Never irritate a woman who

can operate a backhoe.

Thus endeth the lesson.

Women are angels, and when someone breaks their wings they simply continue to fly ... on a broomstick. They’re flexible like that.

Speaking of Lap and Shoulder Belts

Didja know that I used to have a little column in a Houston regional magazine called "Martini Motoring"?

I was reflecting on that the other day when my very dear Chuckerpoo was trying to get the lap and shoulder belt in my Buick to stop cutting him across the neck - he wrapped it under his armpit and I think I threw a fit.  There may have been a little spittle involved.

Back in the late 1990s, I wrote this about that:

Recently, Parade Magazine invited readers to submit their favorite bumper stickers for publication. My favorite one was “Get Out of the Gene Pool.”

It seems that there is a large body of drivers who are intent on getting out of the gene pool; they are those who have started wearing their shoulder belts under their arms and across the ribcage.

Okay, simple physiology boys and girls, the ribcage is weak. The collarbone is very strong. The shoulder belt goes over the shoulder because all of the deceleration force is directed to the collarbone, which will easily absorb it.

If you are one of those who thinks it is more comfortable or trendy to wear your shoulder belt across your ribcage, just remember this: When you are chatting up someone on your mobile phone and fail to see that traffic stopping in front of you, pile into your next-door neighbor at 35 mph or so and are pulled to a halt by the shoulder belt, your ribcage will collapse under the strain, your chest and internal organs will be squashed like goose liver pate, and you will suffer the same fate as Princess Diana without the paparazzi.

PayPal customer service - new era

"Thank you for re-reading to me the information that was provided on the website for the fourth time.  I teach college, and I was able to understand that information from the website - I wanted to understand WHY you took this action.  You have been utterly unhelpful, you have refused to connect me with a supervisor, and this will be reflected in the survey that I will be asked to complete before, likely, the payment is cleared"

"I hope the rest of your shift is utterly miserable.  Now, I am going to hang up on you, which was your goal all along.  Goodbye."

Fun with Diabetes

"Oh, my God!  You're DIABETIC?  You have to TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF!  Here, have a piece of pie.."

This morning, I was listening to a podcast of the BBC world service, in which people with AIDS were being interviewed - the interviewees commented about the uniform assumption that they had engaged in male/male sex to become infected.  I was thinking about this post when I was driving along and listening, and I thought well, the same for diabetes - people make assumptions that are based on commonly held fallacies.

If I'm diabetic, I must be eating Snickers and Bon-Bons all day.
If I'm diabetic, I must be lazy and never exercise.
If I'm diabetic, I must not realize what's good for me.

Okay, so there's some truth to the commonly held fallacies.  But, whipping up on someone who is diabetic is a sure fire way to NOT get your message across.  Especially when you're handing them a piece of cake.

In our post-baby boomer obesity, most diabetes is Type II adult onset, and is based on hyper-insulin production; basically, your body becomes numb to high levels of insulin - just as do your ears after a couple of hours listening to very loud music.  Eventually, the body's high production of insulin wears the pancreas down until it fails and then one is a Type I diabetic.

How is it that we get such over-production of insulin?  A diet that is founded on things like high-fructose corn syrup, higher sugar contents, higher refined carbohydrate intake and less physical exercise.  Our body receives a huge load of food energy to be processed, which it does with insulin produced in the pancreas. 

High fructose corn syrup does not interact with insulin to produce usable energy in the body; however, it is recognized by the body as energy-dense food, and induces the body to produce a LOT more insulin, which doesn't reduce the energy density, and MORE insulin is produced.

Finally, the body stores the unusable energy as fat.  Belly fat.  Insulin resistant belly fat.  This compounds the insulin production situation, and makes it harder to change the body's chemistry.

What will turn this around?

Back to the commonly held beliefs - diet and exercise.  Diet and exercise ONLY.

All of the medications to treat diabetes treat symptoms - not causes.  The oral medications either enhance the body's absorption of insulin, or induce the body to produce more insulin.

Back to our analogy of the ears ringing (numbness) from too much loud music.  What's the best cure for that, do you think?

How about LOUDER music?  Or, maybe work on the ear wax??

Clearly not!

Letting the ears recover, and changing the environment is how we deal with that.

How does that analogy translate back into combating diabetes?

Let the body recover and change the environment.

For the last six years, I *thought* I knew what I was doing, food-wise.  Boy, howdy (that's a Texas phrase), was I wrong about that.

Environmental change #1 - eliminate High Fructose Corn Syrup.  That is much harder than it may seem - it is a primary element of nearly all pre-packaged or prepared foods.  It's in ALL non-diet drinks.  It's in nearly all low or non-fat foods.

Environmental change #2 - reduce sugar.  Again, a challenge.  Sugar is in EVERYTHING, especially in diet, low and no-fat foods.

Environmental change #3 - dense, lean body mass consumes far more nutrients than does adipose tissue (fat).  Lean body mass increases the metabolic rate ALL day.  So, it's not just getting more active that will change the body adequately; one has to do weight training to increase muscle mass.

How can this be fun?  After all, I did promise that this was going to be FUN with diabetes.

Example #1 - virtually all (a-l-l) oral diabetes medications have as a side effect "upset stomach".  AKA diarrhea.

Example #2 - many of the sugar substitutes are sugar alcohols. Sugar alcohols are slightly different than real sugar - they have one fewer molecule - but taste just like sugar on the tongue. 

Real world example - after THOROUGHLY researching artificial sweeteners, I picked Xylitol.  It's relatively cheap, it's got a smooth taste, it has ZERO glucose load and .. no side effects. 

Okay, no bad, death causing side effects.  Sugar alcohols are laxatives.

My friend Teddy told me "oh, watch out, Xylitol is a laxative".  He has a penchant for understatement.

Don't try to use Xylitol as you have done sugar.  That, plus the oral meds all we diabetics are taking produce EXPLOSIVE, aggregated side effects.  Think "flame thrower".

Fortunately, using Xylitol has greatly reduced both my blood glucose numbers, and my consumption of coffee.  The flame thrower effect seems to have self-regulated.

Eat bananas.  It helps.  Don't eat prunes.  You have to eat one of them to keep your potassium levels up.

Greaseless

I've not been doing a lot of writing lately, but have been doing a great deal of consuming information and cogitating. So, I'm not going to rely on a common theme for this piece; it's just about cool stuff I've found.

Starting with cool stuff - walk into any urban resale shop and you'll see that the #1 abandoned item is the George Foreman grill.  The funny thing about virtually all of these abandoned grilles is that they didn't get kicked to the curb WITH the vital grease trap that sits beneath the front of the grill.  The patented slanted cooking surface, that so famously promotes grease and fat reduction, has to drain off all that hot grease.  Without the grease trap, all of that grease is gonna be all over the counter.

Also, the grease trap has to be pushed ALL the way back under the grill until it stops moving.  Or, again, one will be swamping grease from every kitchen surface.

I wonder whether improper grease trap placement sours all of these grill owners?  Or, I wonder whether the wild variety of Foreman grilles induces people giving them as gifts, which then sit unused in a closet for several years until they get sold at a garage sale or donated to a charity?

Anyway, the other day, my computer popped up and said "Okay, fatboy - you've been in front of the computer for too long again, get up and walk around!"  And, I complied by walking across the street to the Goodwill which recently occupied the 99 cents store space.

A River Oaks-y Goodwill, no less!

The Foreman grill was on my mind after last weekend, when Billy told me that the two little Filet Mignons I bought from the Kroger discount bin would cook up just wonderfully in his Foreman grill.

So, there I was, in the Goodwill, with Foreman grills on the mind.  After all, I'm all about the bargains, even though my parsimony pales in comparison to Air-Rick, the Canuck.  HE is genetically bred to identify bargains before even the Seller knows that they are selling.

There were ELEVEN Foreman grills at this particular Goodwill.  Oh, wait, my lawyer training requires me to state that as "There were ELEVEN (11) Foreman grills at this particular Goodwill." 

How the heck can one tell them apart?  I knew nothing of Foreman grills.  I compared them endlessly.  Why is the one with the red bun heater lid only five bucks, when the identical one save for the lid being blue is ten? 

One of the grills, just one, had a grease tray strapped to it with packing tape.  Clearly, this distinguished the one grill mated to the grease tray from the lesser, unlovable grills without said grease tray.  And, this one was DIGITAL, with little buttons marked "up" and "down" bracing a digital timer display.  AND, this one was STAINLESS STEEL (veneer).  And, it was .. ten bucks.

The identical price to lesser grills without the grease tray.

I nabbed it.

After a few days of fiddling with it, and after having done internet research on the use and care of said grill (Goodwill not being so good about having owner's manuals and such dross) I discovered a few things:

• These grills are a MESS, but no more so than anything else when cooking meats!  The difference here is that this grill can't be dipped into hot, sudsy water.
• Once you get the cooking times down, they are great cookers!
• Bacon - never better.  Perfectly cooked, perfect consistency.
• A food thermometer is a requirement
• Cleaning the grill is pretty easy if you do it when it's warm, using a 10% bleach/water solution in a spray bottle and paper towels

So, for ten bucks, I am keeping my Cuisinart ceramic "Green" cookware more pristine and feeling more effective in the kitchen!  And, should this one up and die, I know where about twenty of his brothers are living.

Mashup Wednesday -

This morning, I had a bloom on my climbing, clambering morning glory.  I can see now why they're called morning glory - I was out there at 7:15 this morning, and the bloom had already collapsed.

Will I get up even earlier to check it out?  Don't hold your breath.

Some random thoughts will creep into this here post.  To-wit, I'm becoming increasingly aware that people (most people) spend most of their time complaining about how they're being ill treated.  When they're not verbalizing how they are ill treated, they're acting out of a goal to reinforce and/or compensate for their perception of maltreatment.

How on earth does anything get done?

Facebook is fast losing its appeal for me.

I'm working on a new web based publishing concept and I've just started posting new content.  The content is probably not something you need, but it's something a lot of people need.

The concept is a triptych of blogs (web logs) covering three primary areas:

"Can You Believe That?" - notes of the interesting things people do at www.drdivo.com
"Can They Do That?" - notes about collection agencies, how they are allowed to behave and what to do about misbehavior at http://doughord.com
"Can I Deduct That?" - notes about taxes as they relate to self-employment and small business at http://douglashord.com

I'm spinning this up gradually, but I'd sure appreciate your thoughts.  You can share them by email, or by making comments after each article.  All comments are moderated, so if you want to post a comment, you can swing wide and not worry about having to retract it later.

You can also help me out by doing any of the following:

• Subscribe to my posts on any or all three sites.  You can unsubscribe at any time; you'll mostly get a notice that there's a new article
• Let friends who may find the information helpful, supportive, or entertaining know about the articles by sharing them
• Using online referral tools, such as Facebook, Twitter, Digg, Stumble On to recommend them to others
• Thinking good thoughts for me

Thanks for having a look!!

Where are they going? And why are they? Do we know?

Last week, Robert dropped me off at UofH.  On the way there, we passed a very long freight train leaving the Port of Houston.  The train consisted solely of flatbed cars, each loaded with Bradley fighting vehicles, M1A1 Abrams tanks, motorized artillery, Humvees - more than a hundred vehicles - all painted in desert colors.

This was an unusual experience.

Then, today, while waiting for the bus (hopefully for the last time in a LONG time), I see these going by on low-boy trucks - straight through the tony Galleria area, heading in from the west.

These are US Navy, 31 foot River Patrol Boats.  Why are they driving down the middle of Westheimer?  From where were they coming?  Where were they going?  Why?

Victoria rehab spa update

Today is the first day we've had strong sunshine since Victoria went into rehab to dry out following a serious bender two Thursdays ago.  Her carpeting and padding is sitting outside in the sun, baking out the last bits of water.

If you're wondering why she could have gone "Christine" without getting "wet" aka water sloshing into the car, here are a few pictures of the many computer modules that run everything from the climate control to the power windows - all mounted to the floor:

Right there in the center of the picture, you can see a module attached to the floor - that one likely got wet.

Crappy picture, yes, but this is the back seat area - in the center are two big honking black modules.  The wires to the left are where the battery lives.

Here is where Victoria has been drying out - for eleven days now.

They're SAYING that MAYBE today they'll be able to reassemble everything and test her out.  But, then comes the work that's needed on the balancer for the supercharger drive belt.  So, tomorrow at the earliest.

It happened again.. Citgo logic

Once again, "Citgo" logic struck me today.

You may wonder - what IS Citgo logic?

Of course, it's something I made up in the moment.  It's a type of email or other communication that's been going around since those who don't squint discovered email and internet access.  You've gotten about ten of them this week - telling you that George Soros is actually a reincarnated Mayan devil who's controlling the Jewish hegemony over 9/11 records.

They are deeply flawed, both on the basis of logic and on the basis of fact.  They are an appeal to emotion and they BECOME TRUTH because of incessant repetition.

The subject of this one just happened to be Citgo.  The good folks over at Snopes.com have debunked it quite thoroughly, but you should click on it and read their stuff.

Don't worry, I'll wait until you finish.

All right.  So, you read it, yes?  You've probably had it in your "in" box at some point.

What's wrong with it?  Well, factually, there's very little there.  Blah blah blah "Chavez is a bad man", blah blah blah "punish him for being bad to his people", blah blah blah "And now he's got GUNS" blah blah blah "And Iranian OIL DEVELOPERS".

In the Universities where I teach logic review classes, we have a "dirty dozen" of common logic fallacies.

Logic fallacies, because they are presented to persuade, the structure doesn't lead to the conclusion, and yet they're believed to be persuasive.

Motivated by the questions raised in classes, and by this email I received, I resolved to write a post about this common form of persuasive badgering.

Badgering - it's an analogy - meaning, that it's used to describe human behavior even though it's clearly about badgers.  Badgers are predatory omnivores that are known for their fierce and tenacious defensive behavior.  They will attack, attack, attack and press regardless of the odds against them.

Humans, who verbally harass, press the point, attack attack attack, are said to be "badgering".

Persons who forward emails of this nature are doing so to bait a response, and it's quite fair to call this behavior "badgering".

Now, when one responds to such an email or communication (p.s., NEVER do this if it's someone you care about maintaining a relationship with) to discuss it .. say, rationally .. you may reasonably expect that the badger will strike from within their underground lair with the savageness that they are known for.

For some persons (probably those wearing hunting togs and riding expensive horses) this could be considered sporting.

However, for someone who's just trying to make sense of the world, or someone who's avoiding the drama and trying to live life mindfully, this is not sport.  It's wildly dramatic and unwelcome, especially when one is certain that the sender (badger) knows full well that the email broadside will be unwelcome and will serve to create discordant discourse.

Let's go back to the Citgo email (as an example):

• Citgo is indeed 100% owned by PDVesa, the state owned oil company of Venezuela.  
• Citgo was owned by PDVesa for nearly ten years before Chavez was ELECTED the President of that country
• Citgo has had a nearly 100 year history in the US as a refining and marketing brand
• Venezuela has had a long history of wealth and power concentration that has brought pain to its common citizens and many fruits to those wealthy and powerful
• Venezuela does have a gun factory
• Venezuela has created an exploration deal with an Iranian company
• Chavez has often objected to US diplomacy and militarism, and has been a loud voice among dozens who seek to create an alternative to US domination
• Lots of Americans think that this is evil, wrong and that we should blow them up

Now, the email suggests, based on the above, that all good and patriotic Americans should cease purchasing gas from Citgo.  The assertion is that every dollar spent at a Citgo station will be used by the government of Venezuela.

Depending on whether you're a "patriotic" American, or a "liberal", you're either sending this email to suggest that you buy or boycott.

First point - the identical information is used to support "buy" and "boycott", depending on one's axe needing ground.

Second point, the entire argument is a fallacy - the fallacy of ad populum.  It also smacks of proof by verbosity, which is a common technique used by those who badger.  Should one reject the argument in any manner, one can be assured of a vigorous collection of statements ad hominem, i.e., personal insults.

If the common discourse in this country could be fact based and logically sound, most of the finger pointing would cease.

Given the predilection for such behaviors, I suspect that there will be far more cessation of relationships.

Avast! The scuppers are awash!

As a boy, we spent most summer weeks at my grandparents' house in upper Michigan. The cousins had a lake cottage up the street, and we frequently were aboard small boats. Living in Michigan - anywhere in Michigan - one was never far from a natural lake, on which boating abounded.

For all my experiences afloat, I was never really SECURE on a floating piece of fiberglass. The feeling of being jostled by the waves, the sound of water slapping against the bottom of the vessel, these always gave me a vague sense of nausea.

I've now lived in Houston twenty-nine years, and I've been able to avoid being afloat most of this time. I've been aboard a few larger boats, Texans tending to do things in a big way, but even there, the unsettled stomach persists.

Having lived here this long, I've become well familiar with street flooding that defies description. We get rain that comes down so hard and so fast that parts of the city are awash until the storm drains catch up. I've used nearly every car I've owned these last twenty-nine years as a life raft or rowboat.

In fact, last year I drove the Bonneville through water that seriously made me question my decision making skills. She came through like a champ - and I was lucky.

I have, however, never been trapped in standing water, unable to go anywhere - even to seek higher ground.

Until Thursday.

Thursday night, the lightning storm over Houston was worthy of inclusion in a summer blockbuster movie. It was mostly dry leaving UofH, and I took my usual route home.

As I came around to Richmond Avenue, I could see that it was under water from curb to opposite curb.

I could also see that people were, predictably, making very poor choices and were unwilling to consider the effects of their choices on others.

I had three or four choices - proceed through on Richmond, which would take me through the highest water foreseeable, pull into the Best Buy parking lot and wait, turn around and wait in a dry parking lot behind me, or try to cut around the back way to get home.

I chose option #4.

Right now, knowing what I know, either option #2 or #3 would have been superior.

When I got around to the "back way", I quickly ran into standing water that had already disabled a number of cars. I could see very clearly that the water was not high enough to impede my moving through it (as long as I didn't do anything stupid). I made it through this patch of stalled or waiting cars to the intersection, and found myself walled in by high water.

So, I made the turn and stopped. And waited. For three hours.

The water was about curb height, and I was right next to the curb. According to Yahoo Answers, the average vertical curb is six inches high, which seems about right, if not a shade high. My car has ground clearance of about 4.5 inches to the chassis, and about 6.25 inches to the bottom of the doors. I was in the clear, as long as the water didn't rise.

I turned the car off, and waited.

For three hours.

During this time, larger vehicles - Suburbans, Tahoes, wreckers, Tundras, Silverados, Expeditions - kept attempting to breach the high water.

And I spent three hours feeling like I did when sitting in a little aluminum boat on Lake Missaukee. The sound of the water sloshing underneath the chassis, occasionally, when someone would really power through, the feeling of being rocked in someone else's wake.

My 3700 pound car was LIFTED up by the water pressure at least twenty times.

As I said, the car was above the water level. I opened my door several times to make sure.

However - the bow waves pushed by these large trucks swamped my Buick.

Do you remember the movie "Christine"? Where the 1957 Plymouth Fury goes on a rampage? It's from 1983, but it's still a great watch.

The Fury is restored by one Arnie, who works at a local repair garage owned by Will Darnell. One evening, after going out for a murderous spin, Christine returns to the garage, still smoking hot from having been ablaze. Darnell (played by Robert Prosky) checks out the driver-less, smoldering car and gets behind the wheel. The radio fires up, and begins playing a '50s tune. Then, the power seat cranks forward all the way, crushing Darnell to death behind the steering wheel.

Let me tell you what that's like in REAL life.

After having sat there for about a half hour, the first big wave rocked the car and .. the stereo (which was turned OFF) started making some beeping noises. I was on the phone with Billy (who was at home, only ten blocks away and telling me that the water in our street was over ten inches deep) and he kept asking "WHAT IS THAT NOISE?"

Then, the driver's seat moved. On its own. Uncommanded. It lurched forward over the space of some thirty seconds, until I was wondering whether my recent weight loss could save me Prosky's fate from the movie.

It stopped.

New beeping came from under the dash, as well as the sounds of different relays firing.

All of this activity came after someone had come barreling down the road, raising the water level by - oh, about four to six inches.

The outside mirrors started to move - the right one pointing downward and the left one pointing outward - until they reached their stops and then kept right on trying.

The driver's seat now began lurching backward - an inch or two - then nothing. Then, another inch or two. Then, nothing. Finally, it had worked itself back as far as the track would allow it to go.

Frustrated, whichever electrical gremlin was doing the driving decided to recline the backrest - ALL the way back.

Of course, given that it seemed I may be spending the night there, that was indeed a convenient position.

I've been asked why I didn't just leave the car and walk the ten blocks home. Well, the wreckers (all of which are raised up and have heavy suspensions) were TOWING cars out of the water like mad. Leaving the car would have clearly meant - paying the impound fee and such. Plus, I could see that the water was receding.

But, wait!

Now come the sightseers!

Without any purpose, the flow of pick ups, Hummers and their ilk ramped up until I felt sure I was tied to the little boat dock in front of my cousin's cottage.

Finally, the water had receded enough that I could try to make it home, but now I was blocked in by three wreckers, each of whom kept telling me to try a different route home - impossible to act upon because of the position of their buddies.

She started and ran just fine, but .. she's now next door, the interior pulled out, battery disconnected, drying out. Hopefully, the electronics modules that so objected to immersion will be able to recover.

Moral of this story:

No matter how careful or measured one's response to danger may be, you can always count on someone to barge past heedlessly, imperiling your safety.

So, to the forty or so pickups, wreckers, SUVs and especially to the wild eyed woman plowing through at over twenty miles an hour in her Expedition, thanks.

From Victoria, who never wanted the role of Christine.

People are wigging out

At least, that's my take on it. Maybe it's just that I'm NOT wigging out, and that has me seeing other people's anxiety from a different perspective.

I'm working up a couple of things; a big brain dump, a long article about logic fallacies and common emotional reasoning fallacies (complete with a code index, so that we can rate incoming emails and news items more easily), some fundamentals about consumerism, and stuff like that there.

Also, I'm going to be adjusting my layout and such to coordinate with my other two websites with the intention of operating a triptych of websites - each with a complimentary theme:

Can I deduct that? (tax matters explained)
Can they do that? (issues with collection agencies)
Can you believe that? (there here little creation)

I'm excited about all of that!

It's getting late, and I'm pushing myself to NOT be a late bird surfing the interwebs, so I'll get back to work and you can watch this space for developments!

downwithtyranny Congressional candidate knowledge test

I was flabbergasted when I read all of this, I follow this guy like a Baytown 'skeeter. Send in your answers to downwithtyranny@gmail.com ASAP

Every answer is the name of someone running for Congress in 2010. Just send your answers to downwithtyranny@gmail.com, and if you're the first one to get 'em all right, you win the box of brand-new cool CDs (all genres). Are these CDs any good? Sure-- and if there are any you don't like... there's always eBay. Yes, that simple!

* This candidate's opponent is not just a congressman but also a real estate speculator who bought some worthless land, earmarked an $8 million dollar road to his new property and then sold it for a $450,000 profit a few months later.

* Now a multimillionaire, he knows more about auto theft than anyone in Congress since he has stolen so many autos himself.

* What candidate wrote a book about a famous rapper?

* His opponent, a Christmas-tree farmer, got into Congress and immediately offered a resolution to commend... yes, Christmas tree farmers.

* This roly-poly incumbent was arrested in his car with a drug-addicted prostitute giving him head.

* This unimportant congressional figure spent nearly one day in three on the links for all of 2009.

* This candidate is a direct linear descendant of a Prophet of God.

* Her opponent was disqualified from being the head of the Intelligence Committee because she was caught in an act of espionage for another nation; still not arrested, though.

* Her opponent was the chair of Lieberman for President, but she doesn't put that on her resume much.

* This 16-term congressman steered hundreds of millions of dollars in earmarks in exchange for contributions to his campaign committee and PAC but had the clout to get rid of two consecutive U.S. attorneys looking into the little matter.

* This guy was just denied a contest against an ex-congressman arrested while driving drunk to visit his second family in the Virginia suburbs. (Hint: there are no Mormons in this story.)

* He's the only member of the Republican House leadership who voted against Bush's no-strings-attached bailout for Wall Street banksters on both September 29 and October 3, 2008.

* Several Democrats can say they were Bush's "favorite Democrat," but only this one agreed to co-sponsor his bill to gut Social Security.

* Tuesday there's a bona fide progressive running against a conservative corporate shill in a closely contested runoff for an Arkansas House seat. Who's the conservative corporate shill?

* A staunch advocate of "Drill, Baby, Drill" and a protector of Wall Street banksters, this far right Republican managed to beat a blind rabbi in 2008 and will face an active member of the New York Guard this year.

* Another Palin-endorsed candidate flopped spectacularly Tuesday night. Who did Palin want her sadly underperforming candidate to run against in November?

* Which Democratic congressman in New York has drawn the most primary challengers?

* There are quite a few rock musicians in Congress, but this is the only one who was ever in a big band with a real smash hit (which he wrote).

* In 2008 this clown almost lost his election to a no-nonsense Democrat who is challenging him again. So this year fear got the better of him, and he just changed to another district.

* When it comes to key issues and tight votes, this guy has crossed the aisle to vote with the Republicans more frequently than any other Democrat.

So there you have it. Google is allowed. The first person to send all 20 correct answers wins the box of CDs. This contest is brought to you by Blue America, and if you want to donate to any of our candidates, here's the endorsement page. You don't have to donate in order to win.

Bill White Speaks in Llano -- Fed Up

I am unreasonably and suddenly smitten

Oh, I know - it's a car. Again again. However, it's not a car I was ever expecting to be in deep smit with.

The Acura ZDX crossover has me by the eyelashes. It's ravishing! It's well reviewed! The interior colors have luscious names like "Sumatra" leather!

Even though I was yesterday all about the Bentley line, an Acura is more pedestrian and achievable.

I started watching "Capitalism: A Love Story" today. That, and some articles I've been reading about the efforts to dismantle social security have given me some ideas. Yes, they have.

Watch this space for details.

Stuff that's just kind of amazing, I guess.

Amazing to me, perhaps.

So, I live in an apartment that is nearly fifty years old. I haven't yet been able to persuade Wes to spend a few weeks here ripping out the kitchen and replacing it with a new, fabulous "WES-O-MATIC", but I love it nonetheless.

The bathroom mirrors displayed the years of unkempt residency - they resisted the best efforts I knew - straight ammonia, 10% bleach solution, 10% alcohol solution and Bon Ami cleanser.

Last night, I was thinking about cleaning the windows in the car - and grabbed my Meguire's Quik Mist and Wipe glass cleaner. Then, I thought .. naw, it's too bloody hot outside. But, the QM&W sat on the counter for a bit. And I began to think..

Naw, it just came in a gift box with the wax I wanted. It's just some schlock thing that won't .. naw.

It continued to taunt me. The Meguire's QM&W.

Finally, I broke down and took it and its companion microfibre cloth into the bathroom. Removed everything from the counter (the bathroom needing cleaned, after all) and turned off the halogen mini-spots. They don't respond really well to cool spray, I've heard.

I read the instructions, than quickly misted and wiped.

HOLY CRAP! The water marks on the side mirror that had resisted everything save for the Borg invasion were GONE!

(mist, mist, mist)

Lord have mercy.

It even pulled the schmutz off'n my ever-so-cute Marvin the Martian night light.

Astonished.

Still haven't been outside with it. Maybe tomorrow morning.

A few weekends ago, I was at the Ace Hardware (the good one in Tanglewilde) and I just love hanging out there. They are just so friendly and happy and thoughtful - I finally got the little butter thingie that I'd had my eye on, but I avoided the incredible Ninety Dollar wind chime that really wants to come live with me. I had paid, and was almost headed to the car when I remembered that I have been wanting to get an indoor clothes drying rack AND they sell'em at Ace.

And they had ONE.

Well, briefly, they had one. Then, they had NONE.

AND I LOVE THAT THING!

My apartment has a stacked Barbie Dream Washer/dryer - thus a full washer load goes right up on the rack. The clothes dry beautifully, and I am so pleased to NOT be running the dryer TWICE to dry a load of clothes.

Worked out my teaching schedule for Summer/Fall semesters today, and I *think* I'll be able to go to Oshkosh AND take a big-assed driving vacation for the month of August.

Buick go places.

The last few days, I've been wishing/hoping/praying for something to do when I'm not in front of a classroom and this afternoon - I think just that thing waltzed through the door! How cool is that?!

So, I'm sleepy and about to hit the sack for the night. Maybe I'll even go into the office in the MORNING.

I've never once used the word "Bored" in seven years of posts

Never once, except twice when I quoted someone else in their context, and not as a referent to my own boredom.

I don't think I've ever been bored before. People would say that they're bored, people harp on it all of the time, and I don't understand the concept. In fact, I would deride people who bitch about boredom (with my inside voice) because I figured that they're just lazy, or .. well, lazy.

But, I think that's what's ailing me now.

I'm not giving over half my life to some non-profit.

I don't have crazy people chasing me around (generally speaking).

I don't have any addicts or addictions.

I don't have any friends who aren't working full time, or in a relationship, or in another county.

Everything both at home and office is put away, unpacked, organized, cleaned, polished, labeled, dusted, or disposed of.

Aside from feeding myself, and deploying a microfiber dust rag every now and again, there is no maintenance. Three loads of laundry over the weekend. Now that I'm using an indoor clothes rack for drying, I don't even have to keep an ear tuned to the dryer's buzzer.

I don't have any unfinished business roiling my dreams.

And, I have no plans. Well, not until Saturday afternoon when I have five hours of mental cake-walking to engage in. And, I'll have to buy gas before then.

No visitors. No crises. I can't work up a good outrage about anything going on, because none of it is new, different or unexpected. We're ALL getting what we paid for, voted for, asked for and expected.

I have been asked by a number of people to lend a hand with this or that project, but it's all spec. Speculative. Non-income producing, except for maybe.

Maybe this is why people get married. I don't know.

If I had a job, I would have something to do, somewhere to go, something to interact with - but -

It took me all of fifteen minutes, searching on Amazon tonight for a Kindle series of perfect opera librettos (64 in all) to buy, download and research.

I read two sample books on my Kindle for PC tonight. Watched a DVD that was truly delightful (Joyeux Noel - about the first Christmas following the outbreak of war in 1914).

After Saturday's class, I have a brief dinner engagement and then nothing until the following Saturday, or maybe the previous Wednesday.

I guess it's a good thing that I didn't win last night's Powerball, because I'd be gone so fast looking for something new to engage in - you'd wonder what happened to me.

Sometime in June, that is, when you come back to thinking about why I've been so quiet.

I've been distracted

Wisdom, says Sternberg, is the tacit knowledge that lets a person balance two sets of things.  First, wise people are able to balance their own needs, the needs of others, and the needs of people or things beyond their immediate interaction (e.g., institutions, the environment, or people who may be adversely affected later on).  Ignorant people see everything in black and white--they rely heavily on the myth of pure eveil--and they are strongly influenced by their own self-interest.

The wise are able to seee things from others' points of view, appreciate shades of gray, and then choose or advise a course of action that works out best for everyone in the long run.

Aristotle says that being well or being happy is "an activity  of soul in conformity  with excellence or virtue."  Aristotle wasn't saying that happiness comes from giving to the poor and supressing your sexuality.

Happiness Hypothesis Book,

J. Haidt

The new (and seemingly quite pointless gay site) Fabulis has posed the question "Who's your real life hero?"

Here is my answer, which their site won't post - again - not quite sure WHY Fabulis, but maybe not SO Fabulis:

There are many people whose life path is heroic to me. 

My dad and his siblings, for overcoming abject poverty, family violence, separation, foster families, abuse and yet all completing college, having successful careers and building middle class lives.

My father's mother, who made sure all of that happened.

The other day, though, my hair dresser told me her life's story -

Fled Vietnam at the age of 17 with her 13 year old brother in a small boat

Spent four years in Singaporean and Indonesian refugee "camps"

Injured in the camp so badly she could never have children

Finding a US church as a sponsor for her, her husband and her brother to enter the US

She and her husband working two full time jobs to put her brother through high school and college with no public assistance of any kind

Getting trained as a licensed hair stylist, working very hard until she and her husband had their own shop.

Still working hard, every day.  Expecting no hand outs, having no complaints, feeling blessed by life.

She's here in this country, she's a citizen, she's employing people, giving them a place to work, her brother is married, has children and has an upper level career -

She's a hero.  Every day.

I hope she doesn't go to Arizona now.

Dixie Carter receives her homage but not from me

Well, I guess she must have kicked the bucket. Probably having a nigger democrat in the White House was more than her system could take.

I loved her work, and thought the world of her until the evening of the Texas/Wyoming ball following W's 2001 inauguration. I was already in a piss-poor mood, and working my way toward being pissed (as in drunk). Before W and Darth Vader arrived in the ballroom to address the minions, Dixie Carter took the stage and suggested to everyone that they, the winners, needed to extend a hand of friendship and conciliation across the aisle. She then launched into 10 minutes of rabid diatribe against liberals, the Clintons (who were no liberals, thank you) and the intellect of anyone who supported or voted for such people.

THEN, Kelsey Grammer joined her on the stage and they bantered back and forth a while.

After that evening, I've never given a moment's attention to the work of either, and I've chosen to leave or turn off any work by them that inadvertently came in front of me.

I'm sorry she's gone for the loss of her talent, and I know the pain of those who loved her as a person. However, she used her platform to spread hate and violence and for that I have no shame in saying "Good Riddance".

The Intelligence Debate - Hitchens on the Catholic church as a force of evil

The Intelligence² Debate - Christopher Hitchens (Unedited)
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The Intelligence Debate - Stephen Fry - more on this in a moment

The Intelligence² Debate - Stephen Fry (Unedited)
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