Where I've been.

For a few months I haven't really felt like talking. I had a lot on my mind but nothing approaching a cogent thought. For much of the time we were simply exhausted from, well from life.

Lisa's grandfather passed away. Now I'm almost free to talk about it. It's hard to talk without sounding like I'm gloating. I'm not. Tom was my best friend these last few years. We played together. I listened to the same god damned stories every week. Each telling seemed to be taking on a more intense sense of urgency. Tom had to get them out before his end came. He knew it was coming. He fought every slip and slide toward what comes next. Kind of like that Seinfeld episode where George fakes being a marine biologist.

"The sea was angry that day my friend!" "Like an old man sending back a bowl of soup in a restaurant."

Tom refused that last bowl of soup as if he could hold off and hold on to one more rush. But he knew when he bought his last car that he was buying his last car. He knew the mess he was leaving when he burned the engine on his Porsche. He knew no one would buy his broken down Bricklin during his lifetime.

We had the Porsche fixed. I just could not stand the thought of it not rolling around. The Bricklin I can do myself.

He left Lisa the house and the objects there-in. He left the cars to her but it was understood that the cars would be for me to look after as I had when he was living. He left us land that we can't build a house on. The joke's on Wenham. I found a tax loophole that lets me tell them to go fuck off. We can't build and they can't tax us on it. They get my trees for a decade and I have my own adventure park to four wheel drive in.

We have nothing to complain about. Hopefully no one else will and the estate will pass probate quickly. In the mean time, I know what 250 km per hour feels like.

Greed Is Good

Ever wonder why fund managers can't beat the S&P 500? 'Cause they're sheep -- and the sheep get slaughtered. I been in the business since '69. Most of these Harvard MBA types don't add up to dog shit. Give me guys that are poor smart and hungry and no feelings. You win a few, lose a few, you keep on fighting... I got 20 other brokers analyzing charts, pal. I don't need another one.

Gordon Gekko

I have a new hero in life and his name is Andrew Lahde!

What's Wrong With Education In America Part 3: Adults

Could someone explain to me what possible benefit a defendant could achieve by going to trial in a criminal case but waiving the right to a jury and having the case be decided on by one judge?

Mr Funk, I'm looking at you.

I've been waiting 13 months for this. I got called to jury duty in the beginning of July 2007 for a trial in October of that year. I sent in the deferral card asking to serve in August of 07 but if they couldn't swing it then to make it August of 08. I got assigned to show up today. So for more than a year I've had this day where I had to be awake, showered and in Newburyport by 8:30 am hanging over me. I rolled into the jury room at 8:33 am. They had already started roll call but were only in the B's. I was on time.

This was my second time getting called in the last decade or so. It looked pretty much the same as last time. The room looked like the break room in an office park, white tables and chairs designed more for stacking than sitting. The jury pool was a pretty fair cross section of New Englanders weighted heavily toward baby boomer women. There were about 30 of us. Everyone was white and middle class. When they called our names we had to turn in a questionnaire asking some personal details about our education, family, criminal past and if we may not be an impartial juror. I answered that last question and for the reason put that I may have to obey my Freemasons oath if given the Grand Hailing sign of distress, murder and treason excepted. I was assigned number 26.

The clerk gave us some instructions about what to expect for the day. We listened. He left to get the judge. We read books and magazines for about 5 minutes. Most of the jury pool had coffees from Dunkin Donuts. I had a Coke. The judge came in. He was a handsome man in his late 40's, He had that just beginning to turn grey but wouldn't be considered the creepy old man at the night club look. I could listen to that man read the phone book and find it fascinating. He was clear, concise, articulate and funny. He's probably given that same speech 500 times but made it sound like it was a casual conversation between a couple guys sitting on the deck at the yacht club. We all listened to him carefully hoping that he'd actually tell us what is going on and what the trial will be about. No such luck. It was mostly about how important jury duty is and thank you for not blowing it off. Still, that man could sell tea to a Chinaman. He must have been a great lawyer.

Then they showed "the movie." It was a 15 minute slice of tedium. It was supposed to explain our duty as jurors and what to expect from the day. About half the pool watched it as if they were watching an episode of 'Law and Order'. I figure it was conditioning. The TV set has a courtroom on it. Where's that guy who sells Robot Insurance? When he comes on he'll kick some ass!

The rest of the room dropped their heads back into their books. A couple people went to the bathroom. One young woman, a cute 20 something bottle blonde put her head down on the table top and I'm pretty sure she fell asleep. I later saw that her late 90's Ford Explorer had her name on the license plate. There's something sad about a vanity plate on a crappy car.

The fate of this hapless criminal defendant is going to be decided by a room full of people who are one of two things, conditioned to turn into zombies when a TV is turned on or have the kind of ADHD where they can't even pay attention to a short film.

Maybe it's because we're all the kind of good citizen who shows up for jury duty. We consider ourselves smart and maybe a little bit jaded. Call me silly but unless you do it for a living, if you're going to decide someones fate maybe you should pay attention to the instructions. Hopefully the folks who watched the video can fill the rest of us in when the time comes. Truth be told, I did watch the video but only to see if they actually told us anything useful. There was some bit about how important it is to show up for jury duty. A bit about what to expect in the courtroom. It grooved on some of the legal terms we would hear and what the general procedure would be. There was absolutely nothing about why a jury is important for the protection of individual rights and nothing about jury nullification. You know, the reasons why we're actually here. It's just as well there wasn't. I don't think the jury pool would have cared or even comprehended such abstractions. They certainly wouldn't have understood what it all means after ignoring the pretrial infomercial in front of them.

As for my day as a juror, after the film we were told that the case will go to trial but we would be given a 45 minute break. I don't know why we were given a break from the strenuous work of sitting and reading magazines. I hope the court clerk is getting some kind of kick back because the Dunkin Donuts across the street must get mad business from the courthouse giving us just enough time to cross the street and get a snack but not enough time to drive anywhere else.

We were instructed to return by 10:15. At 11:00 we were sent home. This is a one chamber courthouse and we were told that there was only one trial scheduled today. I have no idea what the trial was actually going to be about but there were a lot of police cars from Merrimac in the parking lot and there were a bunch of kids in front of the courthouse smoking. It could be related to some teen drinking arrests last spring. I'll try to remember next week to check the Newburyport newspaper for the court filings.

No Time For Love Doctor Jones!

I haven't really been watching TV much. I'm paying a stinking fortune to those bastards at Comcast for internet and HBO, Skinemax, Starz, Showtime, Encore and The Movie Channel. I don't watch much. Usually if I get that kind of time I fall asleep. I'm still working more 36 hour days then I should. Last week I fell asleep behind the wheel twice. Both times I woke up inches away from side swiping a parked car.

I got a full nights sleep two nights in a row this weekend yet tonight I fell asleep during The Simpsons. I think it was because they've become quite boring. I don't expect The Simpsons to ever be as funny as the Connan O'Brian years but lately they haven't been funny at all. One thing I have been watching lately has been foreign horror and Britcoms.

I have to blame the writers for this. If I remember correctly, The Simpsons is the one show that the writers have control over. Producers aren't allowed to bring "notes" or screw with scripts that have passed "standards". It's uncharacteristically un-republican of me to say this but I support the writers decision to strike. I hope they get fair treatment. I'm sorry the grips, gaffers and other crew are feeling collateral damages but they wouldn't have a job in the first place if the writers didn't camp out at 18th Street Coffee House in front of their laptop. The make-up girl is still going to collect a paycheck regardless of whether I watch "The Office" through my cable connection to the TV set or watch "The Office" through my cable connection to my PowerBook. However, only one path between the writers fingers to my eyeball compensates the writer. That's what this is about.

That's why the writers have their own union in the first place. They were smart enough to know that the Teamsters weren't going to get them a better deal. If the Best Boy wants a residual check maybe he needs to join a union that fights for a better cut of the paycheck. I hear the crew complaining about the writers but what they really need might not be a union that fights for the right to stand around doing nothing but keep the clock running while the director waits for magic hour. I don't blame the studio for layoffs. If you want residual payments too you should elect union reps who are, you know, smart. Maybe Joe Bob was great at swinging a hammer and did great at woodshop in high school but he's out gunned in the frontal lobes when negotiating with front office management that requires an Ivy League degree to be the mail clerk.

No one complained when musicians demanded the same royalty for CD's that they used to get for VINYL platters. Name the last 12 inch diameter black disk you purchased. Admit it, you paused for more then a second. You paused two seconds if you thought that 'S' was a 'C'. It's been that long since records were sold that way. I'll bet you a copy of "Little Miss Sunshine" on VHS that you can't find it.

Writers aren't stupid. They have enough vision to see what's coming around the bend. They have to be smart or they don't get paid. This strike isn't about their greed today it's about knowing when one medium is dead and acknowledging when new technology is taking over.

So maybe American TV isn't worth watching. It's been that way since Philo T Farnsworth first shot electrons through a tube. I've been watching season 6 of The Simpsons in my classroom after school. Listening really, as I set up for labs. I'm thinking of having my Netflixs sent to the school. Maybe abandoning the airwaves will be a good thing. Without the FCC and "Standards & Practice" telling writers what they can write they might have something worthwhile to say. I'd actually miss TV. In the mean time, does anyone remember the '88 writers strike? I vaguely remember that episode of Moonlighting where they ran short so Bruce Willis just sang to Cybil Shepard for 10 minutes?

Uh Oh Over Flow

It's Friday morning. The world is still here. Some folks believe the world is going to end this morning.

Bin Laden Trades

Missing Nuclear Bombs

Bush was on TV last night. He reminds me of how worn down Lincoln looked after a couple years on the job. Being president grinds you up physically. I don't think Bush was all that healthy to begin with. Now he looks like he's ready for hospice. Something's got him worried. It shows.

I've been wrong before but I'm calling today a red herring.

There is a missing nuke. It was transferred on presidential orders. It was to be used against Iran. Someone noticed the nukes were gone and talked. That man is a hero.


Plan B?

Now the missing nuke will be squirrelled away for a rainy day. We'll all have forgotten about today in a few months. When the bomb is used we'll say see I told you something was up last september. No one will care by then. They'll say sure. Neocons stole a bomb and hid it just to make you look like chicken little. They spent billions of dollars to fool you into thinking something was up in the stock market. Then they hid the bomb for months knowing they could be caught with it. And they're using it now? Who has money to spend on the Bin Laden Trades just to fool a bunch of tinfoil hat bloggers looking for conspiracy theories.

Plausable denialability. Limited hangout. Sound bite.

The Fed injected cash into the banking system a couple weeks ago. Right around the amount of money that the Bin Laden Trades cost to issue. And right around the settlement date. Sounds crazy doesn't it?

It probably is crazy.

Plan on going to work Monday.

OK, Here's One More

The first question of a 4 question final exam for my Freshmen Physics class.

What did we study all year and what did you learn? Please give specific examples.

The Hardest Decision I'll Ever Have To Make

It's looking like it may be time for me to say goodbye to my truck. She's been my girl for 5 years now. She was a graduation present from my mom. She was already 6 when I bought her. Now at 11, she's at the point where there's still a fair trade in value but things are breaking with frequency.

There's a foot of rot in the frame. The leaf springs are both cracked. The rear drums freeze in position a lot. The AC needs a new condensor. It leaks oil from somewhere. It's about to throw a rod (I think in cylinder 4.) There's a hole in the exhaust but it's after the muffler.

Kurczy, wanna buy a truck?

On the other hand, I just replaced the battery, clutch, U-joint and had some body work done. Brakes and tires are still pretty new and it runs great. I've been deeply religious about changing oil and fixing the little problems before they become big problems.

Do I trade it in on a new car or do I stick by my girl and make the commitment to drop a couple grand a year into keeping it going? I love the 4x4. I love sitting up on a lifted suspension. I love my truck but I don't need the pickup bed anymore. I wear a tie to work now and really need the air conditioner working again.

My mechanic is telling me now is the time to let her go. My wallet is telling me I'm screwed no matter what I do. My heart is telling me that I should go home with the girl who brought me to the dance.

It would be an easy decision if this wasn't in production.

Maybe Bribes And Kickbacks And Mafia Payoffs Are How You Do Business

It's an America's Cup year. I am glued to the BIG screen. America vs Italy and Spain vs New Zealand are my Cubs, Yankees, BoSox and whatever they call the team that plays in the pointy ball park in Montreal or Toronto... some Canadian city that has a ball team.

I love watching sailboat racing. I really love coming home from work and there's a pair of 3 foot tall sailboats dueling for position in my living room. Since one of the boats is Italian Lisa's grandfather has been watching with me. I've been trying to explain it to him. It's not the gentlemenly past time it once was. Gone are boats featuring grand pianos or bars with trained monkey bartenders. These boats cost 35-40 million dollars. The teams have hundreds of support personel back in the boat yard. They are the height of nautical sporting technology. For a geek like me they're not technology they're ballet. I don't see a boat. I see graphite epoxy rocket ships. I see geometry in action.

Harry Allcock.

It's not a made up porn name. Harry Allcock is the worlds authority on polyphosphazenes. I took a materials science class with him at Penn State. Harry is very English. Port snifting kind of English. "A Woman Hasn't Set Foot In The Club Sitting Room Since 1763" kind of English. He gave a friend of mine an F because he had a beard. He didn't put 2&2 together when that friend shaved the beard and retook the class. Or maybe the good doctor forgave him for the self expression.

I was at PSU alone. Lisa hadn't come out to join me yet. The campus cable service sucked ass and carried crap stations in languages not even the weird grad students spoke. The cable channel that was showing The America's Cup Race wasn't offered so Lisa was bootlegging videotapes of the races to me. I would watch the races over and over until Lisa would bring me a new tape.

One morning Dr. Allcock decides to employ Socratic Method to deliver his lecture point. He describes in very general terms a sailboat and tells us there is this big race called America' Cup that have fancy boats. He asks us to think-pair-share and consider the materials that go into sailboats.

I pick up the ball and run with:

The hull are epoxy resin over fiberglass or carbon fiber with balsa wood decking or ferrocement. The standing rigging is steel or carbon fiber unless it's a rigless mast. The mast is aluminum or carbon fiber. It's definately carbon fiber if it's a rigless mast. The sails are dacron, nylon or mylar laminated in sheets over x-ply weaves of carbon fiber. The running rigging are

And that's where he stopped me because half the students in the class were furiously jotting down notes about what I was saying and the other half felt tremendously stupid. Like they showed up 20 minutes late for the first day of kindergarten and would never catch up.

Leaky asked me if I raced sailboats for a living.

Dr Allcock then debated that mylar and graphite were not used together in sails.

I know how to make coffee.

I know how to sail.

BZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzz

Could it be from genetically modified crops?

Remember, this is a republican noticing this. So consider the canary long dead and the mineshaft collapsing.