Standing in line at Boston Logan Airport, awaiting the privilege of being frisked in the name of national security, I was privy to the utterances of a well-dressed gent in the first class line who breezed by with the comment, "USAir is the worst airline in the world." Sitting here tonight, some 24 hours after landing and still with a kink in my right lat, I can't muster a counter-argument. USAir is gawdawful.
It boggles the mind that the same industry can produce the extremes of USAir and Southwest. Southwest flights are affordable, the planes full and comfortable, the result profitable even though bags fly free. USAir flights are expensive, the planes full and just barely beneath the Geneva Convention definition of torture, the result consistently on the brink of bankruptcy even though bags fly at $25 a pop.
There's only one possible explanation:
USAir is run by people who have no association with flight whatsoever.
To be honest, I have no idea who runs USAir. They might be nice people. But it's pretty obvious that they've never flown in their lives. Ever. They may not even know what an airplane looks like. If you showed them a picture of one of their planes and asked them what it was, they'd probably tell you it's some kind of fancy turtle.
The concept of why people fly is foreign to them. It seems ridiculous to them that their customers — people who have to travel so far that the only way to make the journey in less than a month is to do so in the sky at nearly the speed of sound — would have any need to bring stuff with them. Hence they punish their customers $25 per-bag and provide overhead storage that can hold approximately 20 carry-ons, even though the plane holds 50 people, each of whom is invited to bring on two items.
I'm also not sure who the person is in charge of configuring the interiors of USAir planes, but I'm pretty sure he came from the Campbell's Soup Company, where his job was to design boxes that reduced product loss due to shipping damage. Clearly, he believes that the key to moving people safely around the country is to pack them in so tightly together that they don't shift during transit. On yesterday's flight from Boston to Pittsburgh, fifty people were stuffed in a plane that any rational individual would estimate to comfortably hold fewer than twelve. But in fairness, none were dented on the journey.
My flying partner yesterday, Dave Popelka, (davepopelka.blogspot.com) said that the plane was, "designed around the premise that the only people who fly USAir are jockeys." I'm six-feet tall, which isn't terribly unusual for people raised on cow-based food that was laced with bovine growth hormones. I had to crouch the length of the plane to avoid shaving my head on the ceiling. This cumbersome waddle ended at America's least comfortable seat. The headrest was situated roughly one foot lower than the sitting height of the average human head. The seat cushion was as hard as marble. The flight attendant (there was only one) told us that it could be used as a flotation device, but that's only because it appeared to have been made out of titanium and shaped like a ship's hull. Around the seat, the window was perfectly positioned for optimum viewing, provided your eyes are in your elbow, and the armrests were barely wide enough to accommodate the limbs of a starving mantis.
Oh, and the cabin was roughly 116 degrees Fahrenheit. Luckily, being winter, we were all wearing heavy clothing.
The world's most accomplished sadist couldn't create a less comfortable flying experience on a dare.
Oddly enough, the flight was overbooked. I'm assuming that's only because Al Qaeda Airlines was full. As an incentive, USAir was generously offering a $200 voucher for anyone willing to give up their seat. The catch was that it was only good for a future USAir flight. For 25 cents and a seat on Southwest, I'd have volunteered in a heartbeat.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Just Say "No" to Squeeze Mayonnaise
I, like most Americans, cheered the technological breakthrough that brought us squeeze mayonnaise. Thanks to the squeeze bottle, I would never again face the horror of sticking a knife into a jar of mayo, only to discover a six-week-old fragment of chunk light tuna that used to be swimming in natural spring water.
But here's the problem: Squeeze mayonnaise is a diabolical plot, masterminded by Hellmann's (and probably Halliburton) to increase mayonnaise sales.
They make it look legitimate with words like "E-Z Squeeze" and a label that's applied so as to be upright when the bottle rests on its cap. And at first, one little squeeze delivers a perfect portion of mayo. Don't be fooled! This condimentary utopia is a swiftly fading mirage.
Even though it may be resting on its lid in the fridge for a month, the mayo inside refuses to yield to gravity after less than half the bottle has been emptied. First, you try to shake it. But that mayo has stronger adhesive properties than colon polyps. Sometimes a stray dollop shakes loose, only to be ejected from the bottle by your violent shaking. This projectile mayonnaise (or "projectaise") is inexplicably drawn to trousers and/or mail. At this point, you think there's enough near the bottle exit to squeeze on your burger. But after only a fraction of an ounce crawls out, an air bubble is released with the escape velocity of a Saturn V rocket, spraying a fine mist of mayonnaise (or "mistaise") over a six square foot area.
Angry and in need of new pants, you figure you'll just take the lid off and use a knife. HA! That lid is harder to remove than a truck bumper. It's designed with a locking latch and secured with Krazy Glue, solder and carpet tacks. It's the exact same lid mechanism they use for spent uranium rods. You're not getting inside that bottle without the jaws of life.
Eventually, you give up and throw out 40% to 60% of the mayonnaise you bought, then run out and buy more. Meanwhile, the fiends at Hellmann's (and probably Goldman Sachs) laugh all the way to the bank.
But I'm on to your sinister game, Mr. Hellmann (and probably Mr. Bin Laden). I'm going back to the jar, tuna be damned.
But here's the problem: Squeeze mayonnaise is a diabolical plot, masterminded by Hellmann's (and probably Halliburton) to increase mayonnaise sales.
They make it look legitimate with words like "E-Z Squeeze" and a label that's applied so as to be upright when the bottle rests on its cap. And at first, one little squeeze delivers a perfect portion of mayo. Don't be fooled! This condimentary utopia is a swiftly fading mirage.
Even though it may be resting on its lid in the fridge for a month, the mayo inside refuses to yield to gravity after less than half the bottle has been emptied. First, you try to shake it. But that mayo has stronger adhesive properties than colon polyps. Sometimes a stray dollop shakes loose, only to be ejected from the bottle by your violent shaking. This projectile mayonnaise (or "projectaise") is inexplicably drawn to trousers and/or mail. At this point, you think there's enough near the bottle exit to squeeze on your burger. But after only a fraction of an ounce crawls out, an air bubble is released with the escape velocity of a Saturn V rocket, spraying a fine mist of mayonnaise (or "mistaise") over a six square foot area.
Angry and in need of new pants, you figure you'll just take the lid off and use a knife. HA! That lid is harder to remove than a truck bumper. It's designed with a locking latch and secured with Krazy Glue, solder and carpet tacks. It's the exact same lid mechanism they use for spent uranium rods. You're not getting inside that bottle without the jaws of life.
Eventually, you give up and throw out 40% to 60% of the mayonnaise you bought, then run out and buy more. Meanwhile, the fiends at Hellmann's (and probably Goldman Sachs) laugh all the way to the bank.
But I'm on to your sinister game, Mr. Hellmann (and probably Mr. Bin Laden). I'm going back to the jar, tuna be damned.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Note to MLB: HURRY UP!!!
If there's one thing this year's World Series is long on, it's length. Each game has been nearly three and a half hours long, regardless of the final score:
Yes, there have been a couple of high-scoring affairs there, but even game two which totaled only four runs was nearly 3.5 hours long. Compare that to this:
There is one category, however, where this year's games all come up short: drama. On October 13, 1960, there was barely time to breathe between twists and turns. This year, there's time to visit the fridge, check email, tuck in the kids, run to the store and take part in a webinar. No wonder America is tuning out in droves.
A bigger problem that MLB seems unable to comprehend much less address is that the next generation of fans can't watch the games because they start so late and last so painfully long. On school nights. IN THE SECOND MARKING PERIOD.
In 1960, game seven started at one o'clock in the afternoon. So loved was the game of baseball that kids skipped school to watch it or smuggled transistor radios into school to catch the action as it happened. Now, they're lucky to be awake when the second inning starts, much less for the final out.
If kids never see the final act of the baseball season, eventually (and this is already happening) they're not going to follow Major League Baseball at all during the summer. The only reason you follow a story is to see how it ends. And baseball's story ends too late in the year and too late at night for kids to get that satisfaction. Which, down the road already being traveled, might end baseball's story altogether.
GAME 1: Phillies 6, Yankees 1
Hits: 15
Pitchers: 7
Time: 3 hours 27 minutes
GAME 2: Yankees 3, Phillies 1
Hits: 14
Pitchers: 6
Time: 3 hours 25 minutes
GAME 3: Yankees 8, Phillies 5
Hits: 14
Pitchers: 10
Time: 3 hours 25 minutes
GAME 4: Yankees 7, Phillies 4
Hits: 17
Pitchers: 8
Time: 3 hours 25 minutes
Yes, there have been a couple of high-scoring affairs there, but even game two which totaled only four runs was nearly 3.5 hours long. Compare that to this:
1960 World Series Game 7: Pirates 10, Yankees 9A game that featured 19 runs, seven pitching changes, 24 hits, five walks, one error and a timeout to drag Tony Kubek off the field was 49 to 51 minutes shorter than any series game played so far this year.
Hits: 24
Pitchers 9
Time: 2 hours 36 minutes
There is one category, however, where this year's games all come up short: drama. On October 13, 1960, there was barely time to breathe between twists and turns. This year, there's time to visit the fridge, check email, tuck in the kids, run to the store and take part in a webinar. No wonder America is tuning out in droves.
A bigger problem that MLB seems unable to comprehend much less address is that the next generation of fans can't watch the games because they start so late and last so painfully long. On school nights. IN THE SECOND MARKING PERIOD.
In 1960, game seven started at one o'clock in the afternoon. So loved was the game of baseball that kids skipped school to watch it or smuggled transistor radios into school to catch the action as it happened. Now, they're lucky to be awake when the second inning starts, much less for the final out.
If kids never see the final act of the baseball season, eventually (and this is already happening) they're not going to follow Major League Baseball at all during the summer. The only reason you follow a story is to see how it ends. And baseball's story ends too late in the year and too late at night for kids to get that satisfaction. Which, down the road already being traveled, might end baseball's story altogether.
Friday, October 30, 2009
The World's Funniest Nazi Dies at 96
The mystery is how Fritz Darges didn't die at 31.
Darges was the last surviving member of Hitler's inner circle. He died Saturday at the age of 96, still admiring Hitler, still longing for a Reich. "I must say, I found him a genius," he said of Hitler. (OK, that part isn't funny, but what ardent leftist doesn't think all socialist crazies are geniuses?)
Darges cut his comedic chops in the worst possible place imaginable: a conference with Adolf Hitler on July 18, 1944.
Now, by July of 1944, Hitler probably wasn't in a joking mood. The Allies had landed in France and things along the eastern front with Russia were falling apart. In this particular conference of his inner circle, Hitler was going over strategies and maps with, among others, Darges and Luftwaffe adjutant Nicolaus von Below. At one point during the meeting, a fly made it's presence known by buzzing around Hitler's head and landing on his map.
At this point, Hitler ordered Darges to dispatch the fly.
Darges, who I'm assuming was laughing inwardly as he said it, suggested that since the fly was an airborne pest, the responsibility fell to the Luftwaffe, and as such, von Below should take care of it.
History tells us not whether von Below laughed. But Hitler sure as hell didn't.
Only a Hitler could not find Darges' comment funny, and needless to say, this Hitler did not. "You're for the eastern front!" he raged, and had Darges removed from the room. True to his word, Hitler sent Darges to fight the Russians. Considering that kings normally slay jesters who fail to amuse, he got off easy.
Or at least until he got home, I'm guessing. Imagine explaining that one to the missus.
DARGES: Um, honey? I leave for the eastern front tomorrow.
MRS. D.: What?!? But you're in Hitler's inner circle!
DARGES: Yeah, not so much now.
MRS. D.: What happened?!?
DARGES: Well... it's funny, really, when you think about it. There was this fly buzzing around and Hitler told me to kill it. So I said, "That's an airborne pest so it's the Luftwaffe's job. Make von Below do it." Heh-heh.
Pause
DARGES: I guess you had to be there.
Two days later, that bit of hilarity might have saved Darges' life. On July 20, the bomb designed to kill Hitler went off at a meeting of the inner circle, killing three officers and the stenographer.
Meanwhile, Darges was alive and well and on his way to Russia. That's a shame, given how unrepentant the old Nazi was right up until the very end. That joke should have killed.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
The Not-So-Super Collider
Very quietly last week, scientists deep under Switzerland restarted the Large Hadron Collider. This is the device that European men designed to slam atoms together at 99.999% of the speed of light just to see what happens. (OK, I'm only assuming it was men since it involves making things crash into each other. Which, as any man will tell you, is frickin' awesome.)
The Europeans restarted it quietly this time because when they first started it back in September of 2008, they did so with much fanfare. Then it broke down. Kinda like their cars.
But it's back up and running now, and soon we'll unlock the secret of how and why matter exists in the universe. Which is nice, I guess. And I have to guess because I have no idea what they're talking about when they start explaining what they're looking for. Mind you, I graduated from one of the most respected science universities in the world. Granted, it was with two writing degrees, but you have to figure that I picked up something by osmosis.
What they're looking for is the Higgs boson particle, sometimes referred to as the "God Particle" for its vital role in making matter exist. If indeed it exists itself. Here's what Wiki says about the Higgs boson particle:
Uh-huh, uh-huh. I followed that right up to the first appearance of the word "boson."
This demonstrates one problem they're going to have to overcome if they do find the Higgs boson particle: explaining just what it is and what it means in a way that somebody can understand. It's more likely that whoever they're talking to will just ball up a fist and punch them in the mouth out of frustration.
Another problem is they're crashing sub-microscopic stuff, which is dreadfully dull. Personally, I'm not interested in what happens when proton beams or lead ions collide at the speed of light. However, I would be extremely interested in seeing what happens when two Matchbox cars collide at the speed of light. Or a bowling ball and a rock. Or how about two of those electric football players. What do you think would happen to the dude with the little cotton football in a head-on, speed-of-light collision? I'm guessing he fumbles, but without the sound science this super collider provides, we'll never know for sure.
A lesser problem, but a problem nonetheless, is that some scientists theorize that the collision could create a black hole. They're not talking about a burn-hole in the machine itself. They're talking about the black hole that sucks in all matter and crushes it into virtual nonexistence. Eventually, it would swallow the entire planet. The good news is it would start with Europe, so we'd at least get the last laugh.
One final problem is that the collider is being tampered with. Two physicists (one Danish, one Japanese) believe that the collider broke down the first time because of some weird time warp created by the machine itself. Their theory is that nature traveled back in time and stopped the creation of the Higgs boson. Oddly enough, both physicists are named Gene Roddenberry.
Of course, this last problem is just silly. Let's face it: if nature could travel back in time, the first thing it would do is stop the creation of Astroturf. Then it would turn its wrath on virtually all post-1950s architecture.
But, even if it isn't a time warp or a black hole, we can be sure that something exciting will come out of the Large Hadron Collider, because scientists will tell us as much. It just won't be between 160 GeV/c2 and 170 GeV/c2, because the Tevatron excluded that at the 95% confidence level back in March. But that goes without saying, really. Or at least, it should.
The Europeans restarted it quietly this time because when they first started it back in September of 2008, they did so with much fanfare. Then it broke down. Kinda like their cars.
But it's back up and running now, and soon we'll unlock the secret of how and why matter exists in the universe. Which is nice, I guess. And I have to guess because I have no idea what they're talking about when they start explaining what they're looking for. Mind you, I graduated from one of the most respected science universities in the world. Granted, it was with two writing degrees, but you have to figure that I picked up something by osmosis.
What they're looking for is the Higgs boson particle, sometimes referred to as the "God Particle" for its vital role in making matter exist. If indeed it exists itself. Here's what Wiki says about the Higgs boson particle:
The Higgs boson particle is one quantum component of the theoretical Higgs Field. In empty space, the Higgs field has an amplitude different from zero; i.e., a non-zero vacuum expectation value. The existence of this non-zero vacuum expectation plays a fundamental role: it gives mass to every elementary particle which has mass, including the Higgs boson itself.
Uh-huh, uh-huh. I followed that right up to the first appearance of the word "boson."
This demonstrates one problem they're going to have to overcome if they do find the Higgs boson particle: explaining just what it is and what it means in a way that somebody can understand. It's more likely that whoever they're talking to will just ball up a fist and punch them in the mouth out of frustration.
Another problem is they're crashing sub-microscopic stuff, which is dreadfully dull. Personally, I'm not interested in what happens when proton beams or lead ions collide at the speed of light. However, I would be extremely interested in seeing what happens when two Matchbox cars collide at the speed of light. Or a bowling ball and a rock. Or how about two of those electric football players. What do you think would happen to the dude with the little cotton football in a head-on, speed-of-light collision? I'm guessing he fumbles, but without the sound science this super collider provides, we'll never know for sure.
A lesser problem, but a problem nonetheless, is that some scientists theorize that the collision could create a black hole. They're not talking about a burn-hole in the machine itself. They're talking about the black hole that sucks in all matter and crushes it into virtual nonexistence. Eventually, it would swallow the entire planet. The good news is it would start with Europe, so we'd at least get the last laugh.
One final problem is that the collider is being tampered with. Two physicists (one Danish, one Japanese) believe that the collider broke down the first time because of some weird time warp created by the machine itself. Their theory is that nature traveled back in time and stopped the creation of the Higgs boson. Oddly enough, both physicists are named Gene Roddenberry.
Of course, this last problem is just silly. Let's face it: if nature could travel back in time, the first thing it would do is stop the creation of Astroturf. Then it would turn its wrath on virtually all post-1950s architecture.
But, even if it isn't a time warp or a black hole, we can be sure that something exciting will come out of the Large Hadron Collider, because scientists will tell us as much. It just won't be between 160 GeV/c2 and 170 GeV/c2, because the Tevatron excluded that at the 95% confidence level back in March. But that goes without saying, really. Or at least, it should.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Celebrating the Absence of Resistance
Upon hearing that President Barack Obama is the winner of the 2009 Nobel Peace Prize, most people rightly asked, "Why?" A world leader for only nine months, Obama has no substantial achievement that would seem to qualify him for such an honor. But according to the Nobel Peace Prize committee, he doesn't need one:
"His diplomacy is founded in the concept that those who are to lead the world must do so on the basis of values and attitudes that are shared by the majority of the world's population."
That's a revealing reason, given that the "majority of the world's population" (which lives under one degree of socialism or another) has been unable to match our tiny minority of the world's population in achievement that betters humanity. In science, medicine and economics, the United States has won 231 Nobel prizes. No other country has even approached 100. Britain is closest with 73. Clearly, the "values and attitudes shared by the majority of the world's population" tend not to inspire genius or achievement. Rather, the values and attitudes at the root of American liberty have proven most effective at compelling, inspiring and allowing individual greatness to manifest itself. Two-hundred and thirty-one times, at last count.
In spite of this, the Nobel Peace Prize committee has for many years honored those who stand in opposition to America and squarely in the camp of socialism — especially if they do so from within. Al Gore, in 2007, for his manufactured global warming hysteria that would, if acted upon, cripple the American economy and quash most individual freedoms. Jimmy Carter, in 2002, for his worldwide Bush-bashing tour. From outside our borders, there's Wangari Muta Maathai from Kenya for her "contribution to sustainable development," which is code for "government central planning of pretty much everything." The United Nations won in 2001 for... um... I guess their "sex for food" program. And most famously, Mikhail Gorbachev took the prize in 1990 for single-handedly winning the cold war by surrendering unconditionally to the war-mongering capitalists, Ronald Reagan and George H.W. Bush.
True to form, the Nobel committee again fawned over a man who wants to surrender American sovereignty, individual liberty and prosperity to the left's false religion of climate change:
"Thanks to Obama's initiative, the USA is now playing a more constructive role in meeting the great climatic challenges the world is confronting."
And so it is that Barack Obama, champion of massive government intrusion in the name of climate change, is the 2009 recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize. A man known for his peaceful takeover of the U.S. auto industry and the U.S. financial system. A man working tirelessly to peacefully take over the U.S. health care system. A man, very quietly, trying to peacefully take over the World Wide Web through his internet Czar, Susan Crawford — an ACORN-associated leftist who envisions the web as a utility like gas, water and electricity (which are, of course stringently regulated by the government). A man who has spent the better part of his presidency thus far traveling the globe and apologizing for American hubris.
The glowing words from the Nobel Peace Prize committee on Obama's worthiness are destined to fade into obscurity. Yet they serve to remind us of more prophetic words that are frightening in their ability to endure:
"The meaning of peace is the absence of resistance to socialism."
— Karl Marx
In no one is this absence more profoundly pronounced than this year's Nobel Peace Prize winner.
"His diplomacy is founded in the concept that those who are to lead the world must do so on the basis of values and attitudes that are shared by the majority of the world's population."
That's a revealing reason, given that the "majority of the world's population" (which lives under one degree of socialism or another) has been unable to match our tiny minority of the world's population in achievement that betters humanity. In science, medicine and economics, the United States has won 231 Nobel prizes. No other country has even approached 100. Britain is closest with 73. Clearly, the "values and attitudes shared by the majority of the world's population" tend not to inspire genius or achievement. Rather, the values and attitudes at the root of American liberty have proven most effective at compelling, inspiring and allowing individual greatness to manifest itself. Two-hundred and thirty-one times, at last count.
In spite of this, the Nobel Peace Prize committee has for many years honored those who stand in opposition to America and squarely in the camp of socialism — especially if they do so from within. Al Gore, in 2007, for his manufactured global warming hysteria that would, if acted upon, cripple the American economy and quash most individual freedoms. Jimmy Carter, in 2002, for his worldwide Bush-bashing tour. From outside our borders, there's Wangari Muta Maathai from Kenya for her "contribution to sustainable development," which is code for "government central planning of pretty much everything." The United Nations won in 2001 for... um... I guess their "sex for food" program. And most famously, Mikhail Gorbachev took the prize in 1990 for single-handedly winning the cold war by surrendering unconditionally to the war-mongering capitalists, Ronald Reagan and George H.W. Bush.
True to form, the Nobel committee again fawned over a man who wants to surrender American sovereignty, individual liberty and prosperity to the left's false religion of climate change:
"Thanks to Obama's initiative, the USA is now playing a more constructive role in meeting the great climatic challenges the world is confronting."
And so it is that Barack Obama, champion of massive government intrusion in the name of climate change, is the 2009 recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize. A man known for his peaceful takeover of the U.S. auto industry and the U.S. financial system. A man working tirelessly to peacefully take over the U.S. health care system. A man, very quietly, trying to peacefully take over the World Wide Web through his internet Czar, Susan Crawford — an ACORN-associated leftist who envisions the web as a utility like gas, water and electricity (which are, of course stringently regulated by the government). A man who has spent the better part of his presidency thus far traveling the globe and apologizing for American hubris.
The glowing words from the Nobel Peace Prize committee on Obama's worthiness are destined to fade into obscurity. Yet they serve to remind us of more prophetic words that are frightening in their ability to endure:
"The meaning of peace is the absence of resistance to socialism."
— Karl Marx
In no one is this absence more profoundly pronounced than this year's Nobel Peace Prize winner.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
The Route 22 Miracle
When I was in college, the drive from Altoona to Pittsburgh along Route 22 took two hours and steady nerves. It was mostly two lanes, and not much more than a paved pioneer trail that largely followed the Indian footpaths of antiquity up and over the Allegheny Mountains. The ascending road was often slowed by fully loaded coal trucks, but broken-yellow-lined passing zones provided the opportunity to zip past these lumbering hulks — provided the fully loaded coal trucks barreling downhill in the oncoming lane were far enough away to avoid.
Today, after billions of dollars, this section of Route 22 is almost entirely four safe, smooth lanes of relatively new concrete. Those harrowing curves have been straightened out by the simple expediency of hacking through the mountains rather than following their meandering contours. Thanks to this sizable investment and brute-force taming of nature's winding design, the trip from Altoona to Pittsburgh now takes...
Two hours.
Only in Pennsylvania.
The brakes on what should now be a much faster trip have been applied by the genius of PennDot. No fewer than 16 traffic lights have been installed along the new 22, all but a few of them on the 30 miles between Indiana and Monroeville. And in a classic example of Pennsylvania's traffic management prowess, these lights are so imperfectly synchronized that travelers see red at nearly every single one. Murrysville, which was once a mess of traffic constricted by two lanes is now a four-lane mess of traffic constricted by one red light after another. Sixty-five MPH zones through the mountains are clipped by 20 MPH in the mile or two leading up to and immediately after intersections that had never existed before — and wouldn't exist now if engineers had noticed the ample land surrounding that would make merge and turning lanes possible.
Of course, that would make sense. And this is Pennsylvania, after all.
But wait. There's more. In winter, it's not uncommon for road conditions on the new 22 over Cresson Mountain to become so severe that the road is closed and traffic is diverted to...
Wait for it...
Old Route 22 over Cresson Mountain.
In the days when this stretch of road was being built, signs bragged that the construction was providing "Jobs for Pennsylvanians." No doubt it did. In fact, were it not for constant road repair and construction projects, our unemployment rate would probably be 30%. But at some point, someone should probably remind our illustrious transportation department that roads aren't about construction jobs. They're about, well, transportation.
Maybe then, several billion dollars will actually build a more efficient road.
Don't hold your breath, though. This is Pennsylvania, after all.
Today, after billions of dollars, this section of Route 22 is almost entirely four safe, smooth lanes of relatively new concrete. Those harrowing curves have been straightened out by the simple expediency of hacking through the mountains rather than following their meandering contours. Thanks to this sizable investment and brute-force taming of nature's winding design, the trip from Altoona to Pittsburgh now takes...
Two hours.
Only in Pennsylvania.
The brakes on what should now be a much faster trip have been applied by the genius of PennDot. No fewer than 16 traffic lights have been installed along the new 22, all but a few of them on the 30 miles between Indiana and Monroeville. And in a classic example of Pennsylvania's traffic management prowess, these lights are so imperfectly synchronized that travelers see red at nearly every single one. Murrysville, which was once a mess of traffic constricted by two lanes is now a four-lane mess of traffic constricted by one red light after another. Sixty-five MPH zones through the mountains are clipped by 20 MPH in the mile or two leading up to and immediately after intersections that had never existed before — and wouldn't exist now if engineers had noticed the ample land surrounding that would make merge and turning lanes possible.
Of course, that would make sense. And this is Pennsylvania, after all.
But wait. There's more. In winter, it's not uncommon for road conditions on the new 22 over Cresson Mountain to become so severe that the road is closed and traffic is diverted to...
Wait for it...
Old Route 22 over Cresson Mountain.
In the days when this stretch of road was being built, signs bragged that the construction was providing "Jobs for Pennsylvanians." No doubt it did. In fact, were it not for constant road repair and construction projects, our unemployment rate would probably be 30%. But at some point, someone should probably remind our illustrious transportation department that roads aren't about construction jobs. They're about, well, transportation.
Maybe then, several billion dollars will actually build a more efficient road.
Don't hold your breath, though. This is Pennsylvania, after all.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Judge Upholds Eviction of Mom of 6.
That headline is from the Altoona Mirror, September 24, 2009. And one would be forgiven for asking, where's the compassion? How could he do such a heartless thing? Let's go to the story itself, because it's instructive of the kind of tragedy created (I submit, intentionally) by generations of social engineers in the inner cities. And now it's spreading to smaller towns.
Shaquita...
We pause after the first word in the story because that's the first hint that trouble's afoot. Social engineers have created an inner city culture that separates itself from (and often visibly despises) the rest of America. One demarcation line is the invention of new names. Not that there's anything wrong with creating new names in a country with 300 million people. We can only have so many "Mikes." It's just that the practice pretty much started in some of the worst communities in the country. So as soon as you hear "Shaquita," you can pretty safely guess that something bad's coming next. Rarely do you see the name "Shaquita" followed by the words, "won a prestigious award."
Shaquita Young, 28, who came to Altoona three years ago from Chicago...
She left a bustling city three years ago to come to a contracting small town with a rampant drug problem and overly generous access to welfare. That rampant drug problem started after someone in Altoona (too cowardly to step up and take credit) put the word out to New York City, New Jersey, Philly and other inner city Meccas that Housing Authority-owned dwellings in Altoona were abundant and vacant (due to lack of need). (Aside: How long do you think Altoona will be a solid Republican vote with people moving in from big city slums? Do you honestly believe that's not by design?)
... said she didn't know what she was going to do.
Young, whose children range in age from 8 months to 11 years...
Another staple of the leftist-designed inner city: illegitimate children, helping to realize Karl Marx' dream of the destruction of the traditional family. Who needs a family with a dad bringing home the bacon when the government cuts a check to replace him? This reality is learned young, as evidenced by the fact that Shaquita was a mom at 17. So she very well could have been pregnant at 16.
Let's skip down the story fo find out who fathered that child when Shaquita was 17...
She said the father of her oldest son "did terrible things" in Chicago, and in retaliation, his brother and grandmother were gunned down. She said the killings stemmed from gang activity.
I won't comment on the abject stupidity of getting knocked up by a gang banger, but focus on another staple of the social engineered inner city: the gang. An expensive yet worthless government education system produces men with no skills other than to gang up and peddle dope. And of course, vote for people who play the race card and promise more welfare or more money for inner city schools. But not school choice, of course. These inner city kids might become productive citizens who don't need welfare. Too big a risk for the political poverty pimps.
The children's fathers...
Note the plurals. Yet another result of the welfare culture and another nail in the coffin of the traditional family. ("Yay!" cried Karl Marx.)
The children's fathers do not contribute to their support.
Of course they don't. They don't have to. The government has a check ready for those kids and their mom. And if the fathers are all the caliber of daddy #1, what would they contribute? Weed?
The leaders of the American left have sold society-dividing snake oil from a bottle labeled "compassion" since the 1950s. The result: people who create not only their own hell, but one for the next generation. And the next. And the next...
Find the compassion there for me. Because frankly, I'm having a hard time finding it. And no one who looks closely can honestly see it either, especially the people who created this mess.
Everything is working out for Shaquita just the way it was designed to. I don't for a minute believe that the politicians who have peddled this "compassion" have ever thought that it would help people escape poverty. They wrapped their malicious scheme in Christian-baiting words to tug at the hearts of good people who want to help. They knew it would only expand and institutionalize poverty — and their own power.
It's working perfectly.
Shaquita...
We pause after the first word in the story because that's the first hint that trouble's afoot. Social engineers have created an inner city culture that separates itself from (and often visibly despises) the rest of America. One demarcation line is the invention of new names. Not that there's anything wrong with creating new names in a country with 300 million people. We can only have so many "Mikes." It's just that the practice pretty much started in some of the worst communities in the country. So as soon as you hear "Shaquita," you can pretty safely guess that something bad's coming next. Rarely do you see the name "Shaquita" followed by the words, "won a prestigious award."
Shaquita Young, 28, who came to Altoona three years ago from Chicago...
She left a bustling city three years ago to come to a contracting small town with a rampant drug problem and overly generous access to welfare. That rampant drug problem started after someone in Altoona (too cowardly to step up and take credit) put the word out to New York City, New Jersey, Philly and other inner city Meccas that Housing Authority-owned dwellings in Altoona were abundant and vacant (due to lack of need). (Aside: How long do you think Altoona will be a solid Republican vote with people moving in from big city slums? Do you honestly believe that's not by design?)
... said she didn't know what she was going to do.
Young, whose children range in age from 8 months to 11 years...
Another staple of the leftist-designed inner city: illegitimate children, helping to realize Karl Marx' dream of the destruction of the traditional family. Who needs a family with a dad bringing home the bacon when the government cuts a check to replace him? This reality is learned young, as evidenced by the fact that Shaquita was a mom at 17. So she very well could have been pregnant at 16.
Let's skip down the story fo find out who fathered that child when Shaquita was 17...
She said the father of her oldest son "did terrible things" in Chicago, and in retaliation, his brother and grandmother were gunned down. She said the killings stemmed from gang activity.
I won't comment on the abject stupidity of getting knocked up by a gang banger, but focus on another staple of the social engineered inner city: the gang. An expensive yet worthless government education system produces men with no skills other than to gang up and peddle dope. And of course, vote for people who play the race card and promise more welfare or more money for inner city schools. But not school choice, of course. These inner city kids might become productive citizens who don't need welfare. Too big a risk for the political poverty pimps.
The children's fathers...
Note the plurals. Yet another result of the welfare culture and another nail in the coffin of the traditional family. ("Yay!" cried Karl Marx.)
The children's fathers do not contribute to their support.
Of course they don't. They don't have to. The government has a check ready for those kids and their mom. And if the fathers are all the caliber of daddy #1, what would they contribute? Weed?
The leaders of the American left have sold society-dividing snake oil from a bottle labeled "compassion" since the 1950s. The result: people who create not only their own hell, but one for the next generation. And the next. And the next...
Find the compassion there for me. Because frankly, I'm having a hard time finding it. And no one who looks closely can honestly see it either, especially the people who created this mess.
Everything is working out for Shaquita just the way it was designed to. I don't for a minute believe that the politicians who have peddled this "compassion" have ever thought that it would help people escape poverty. They wrapped their malicious scheme in Christian-baiting words to tug at the hearts of good people who want to help. They knew it would only expand and institutionalize poverty — and their own power.
It's working perfectly.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Havin' Fun at the G20
With the impending arrival of G20 dignitaries and their entourage of rent-a-mob protesters, the fed has seen fit to evacuate all mailboxes from the downtown area. This move should also serve to discourage al-qaeda from trying to parcel-post a suicide bomber to the proceedings.
No doubt, bandanna-ed groups like The Coalition for Broccoli Equality will be attacking anything that remotely conveys government ownership or control. Which in Pittsburgh is pretty much everything but the pigeons. But apparently, mailboxes, pacifists that they are, are most at risk. And therein lies a tremendous opportunity for the City of Pittsburgh to send a message to the world. That message is: start a riot and we'll shoot you!
So here's what they should do. Get a hold of the guys from those hunting shows on Versus and post them up on a building. Then, leave one mailbox out in the open and let the cameras roll. While the guy in Real Tree camo whispers on and on about the wind and the sun and travel routes and the one he missed in Seattle awhile back, protesters will start sneaking out of the shadows and start sniffing warily around the mailbox. Eventually, one will have a go at it. At which point, the Versus guy stops whispering to the camera and BLAM.
It's just like baitin' a bear.
"Woo! Look at him! He... is... a... beauty! Looks to be about six foot, has to weigh 128 pounds! That's huge for a protester!"
Then, as a guitar and a harmonica play a gentle down-home ditty in the background, we see our Versus fellow carting off his quarry with a deer drag, and hear the voice of Sam Elliot say, "There's nothing like spending a day afield in protester country."
And somewhere, a whole slew of other rent-a-mob protesters will start thinking, "Yeah, I don't want to play anymore."
No doubt, bandanna-ed groups like The Coalition for Broccoli Equality will be attacking anything that remotely conveys government ownership or control. Which in Pittsburgh is pretty much everything but the pigeons. But apparently, mailboxes, pacifists that they are, are most at risk. And therein lies a tremendous opportunity for the City of Pittsburgh to send a message to the world. That message is: start a riot and we'll shoot you!
So here's what they should do. Get a hold of the guys from those hunting shows on Versus and post them up on a building. Then, leave one mailbox out in the open and let the cameras roll. While the guy in Real Tree camo whispers on and on about the wind and the sun and travel routes and the one he missed in Seattle awhile back, protesters will start sneaking out of the shadows and start sniffing warily around the mailbox. Eventually, one will have a go at it. At which point, the Versus guy stops whispering to the camera and BLAM.
It's just like baitin' a bear.
"Woo! Look at him! He... is... a... beauty! Looks to be about six foot, has to weigh 128 pounds! That's huge for a protester!"
Then, as a guitar and a harmonica play a gentle down-home ditty in the background, we see our Versus fellow carting off his quarry with a deer drag, and hear the voice of Sam Elliot say, "There's nothing like spending a day afield in protester country."
And somewhere, a whole slew of other rent-a-mob protesters will start thinking, "Yeah, I don't want to play anymore."
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
I Wouldn't Want to be Starbucks Today
Starbucks was successful not because of the crunchy atmosphere or the cache or the eco-conscious, earth-friendly, shade-grown, fair trade blah, blah, blah. It was successful because for many years, it was the only place in the country that served really good coffee. It freed millions of coffee drinkers from the tyranny of Maxwell House. And because of that, it was able to charge unheard-of amounts of money for a simple cup of java.
But then McDonalds caught on and started brewing their own excellent blend. And Dunkin' Donuts one-upped Mickey-D's with their own outstanding offerings. Both were blows to Starbucks' bottom line.
And then this morning...
This morning, I was jonesing for a cup of coffee. I stopped at the Sunoco A-Plus convenience store/gas station because I'd noticed they'd upgraded their coffee machines. I grabbed a 16-oz. cup, added a bit of real half-and-half and filled up with Sumatra.
It was excellent. And it was $1.25.
If the Sunoco A-Plus in Crafton Borough, Pennsylvania has caught on to the premium coffee trend, it's a fair bet that pretty much everywhere else in America has as well. There may be a million Starbucks in the U.S., but there are a lot more everywhere-elses. And if they're just as good as Starbucks, more convenient and less money, Starbucks opened its doors this morning on a totally different world.
It'll be interesting to watch how they react to it.
But then McDonalds caught on and started brewing their own excellent blend. And Dunkin' Donuts one-upped Mickey-D's with their own outstanding offerings. Both were blows to Starbucks' bottom line.
And then this morning...
This morning, I was jonesing for a cup of coffee. I stopped at the Sunoco A-Plus convenience store/gas station because I'd noticed they'd upgraded their coffee machines. I grabbed a 16-oz. cup, added a bit of real half-and-half and filled up with Sumatra.
It was excellent. And it was $1.25.
If the Sunoco A-Plus in Crafton Borough, Pennsylvania has caught on to the premium coffee trend, it's a fair bet that pretty much everywhere else in America has as well. There may be a million Starbucks in the U.S., but there are a lot more everywhere-elses. And if they're just as good as Starbucks, more convenient and less money, Starbucks opened its doors this morning on a totally different world.
It'll be interesting to watch how they react to it.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Some Free Advice to the UFL
I don’t know what the United Football league is going to look like, but I can guess. It’s going to try to look like the NFL. Other leagues have come and gone by trying to be the NFL, only with lesser talent. None have succeeded.
Or they’ve tried to look at where the NFL is now, guess where it’s going, and get there first (the remote-controlled hover cameras of the XFL, for example). This too has failed.
So rather than trying to imitate and/or innovate, the UFL ought to do something completely unexpected: the exact opposite.
Retrovate.
Hey, there’s a reason why Mitchell and Ness can charge over $300 for a 1970-style Johnny Unitas uniform and Steelers crowds are still packed with fans wearing Lambert jerseys. Fans loved what professional football used to be.
The UFL should look at what made pro football different, fun, popular and wildly successful. Then give that back to football fans. Forget about drawing in new fans. That’s what the NFL has been all about for twenty-five years now — changing the rules to create more offense, making broadcasts as much spectacle as sport, turning game day into an event. They should imitate what the NFL used to be when it caught the imagination of the sport-loving public. Put the goal posts on the goal line. (That’s why they’re called “goal posts” not “back of the end zone posts.”) Bring back wider hash marks and sportsmanlike conduct. Kill the TV time-outs and video reviews. Start games at the same time every week. (That’s how kids get into a habit of watching it.) Take it back to when a guy was down only when he had two knees on the ground and was actually touched. Forget the muff rule and the five-yard rule. Bring back the rule that you can’t act like a five-year-old desperate for attention every time you make a tackle. And forget uniforms that look like something the Jetsons would wear. No one is ever going to spend $300 for them in the future.
Want to be really retrovative? Get rid of some of the padding. Heck, go with leather helmets. Sure, you’ll have more broken noses, but you’ll have fewer cases of pugilistic dementia. Guys won’t go helmet-to-helmet if what’s covering their melon is only slightly more than a tossel cap.
Try it. Why not? Everything else has been tried before. And failed.
Or they’ve tried to look at where the NFL is now, guess where it’s going, and get there first (the remote-controlled hover cameras of the XFL, for example). This too has failed.
So rather than trying to imitate and/or innovate, the UFL ought to do something completely unexpected: the exact opposite.
Retrovate.
Hey, there’s a reason why Mitchell and Ness can charge over $300 for a 1970-style Johnny Unitas uniform and Steelers crowds are still packed with fans wearing Lambert jerseys. Fans loved what professional football used to be.
The UFL should look at what made pro football different, fun, popular and wildly successful. Then give that back to football fans. Forget about drawing in new fans. That’s what the NFL has been all about for twenty-five years now — changing the rules to create more offense, making broadcasts as much spectacle as sport, turning game day into an event. They should imitate what the NFL used to be when it caught the imagination of the sport-loving public. Put the goal posts on the goal line. (That’s why they’re called “goal posts” not “back of the end zone posts.”) Bring back wider hash marks and sportsmanlike conduct. Kill the TV time-outs and video reviews. Start games at the same time every week. (That’s how kids get into a habit of watching it.) Take it back to when a guy was down only when he had two knees on the ground and was actually touched. Forget the muff rule and the five-yard rule. Bring back the rule that you can’t act like a five-year-old desperate for attention every time you make a tackle. And forget uniforms that look like something the Jetsons would wear. No one is ever going to spend $300 for them in the future.
Want to be really retrovative? Get rid of some of the padding. Heck, go with leather helmets. Sure, you’ll have more broken noses, but you’ll have fewer cases of pugilistic dementia. Guys won’t go helmet-to-helmet if what’s covering their melon is only slightly more than a tossel cap.
Try it. Why not? Everything else has been tried before. And failed.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Oh, Well Hey There, Sex Offender!
The scuttlebutt last night was unpleasant and unnerving: we have us a sex offender living and lurking in the neighborhood. Well, living, at least. We don't know if he's technically "lurking."
That's because we don't know what he did. Is this a guy who did something unspeakable to a defenseless child? Or a guy who, at 23, found himself in the company of a willing, 16-year-old, scantily clad skank? No one knows. All we know is there's a registered sex offender living in an apartment right behind a family with four children.
But there are only two possibilities: 1) he's a threat; 2) he's not a threat.
If it's #1, why is this person not in prison? Clearly, the law considers it important that everyone know when a sex offender has moved in, so they must consider him a threat. So why isn't he in prison if he's committed a sex crime in the past and considered likely to do so again? What are the residents supposed to do with that information? Restrict their own freedom or that of their children? Run the guy out? Arm themselves? Set a trap? What are they supposed to do? I mean, other than live with worry, fear and trepidation?
If it's #2, then why make the guy register as a sex offender and alert all of his neighbors to a crime he's supposed to have paid for already? Prison isn't supposed to be about punishment, we're told by lofty thinkers. It's about reform. OK, he's out. So he's reformed, right? Why turn all of his neighbors against him and throw a dark cloud over every home in the immediate vicinity? All that's happened is life has been made a little less pleasant for everyone around him.
Thanks for that, legal system.
Laws making it mandatory to register sex offenders were created because some people repeated their crimes after serving time. And no doubt, Borough Council will be asked to pass more laws and ordinances that will make it necessary for this man to move. They'll say that registered sex offenders can't live within a mile of a playground or school. They'll make it incumbent upon landlords to check backgrounds of tenants. They'll drive him out to...
Some other neighborhood.
Wouldn't a simpler solution be to use some common sense? If it's a true sex crime involving a child (rather than the aforementioned skank), the guy never gets out of jail. He's no threat there. And his sentence might just serve as a deterrent to other would-be predators who instead of seeking a victim might instead seek help.
Either way, the neighborhood isn't punished.
That's because we don't know what he did. Is this a guy who did something unspeakable to a defenseless child? Or a guy who, at 23, found himself in the company of a willing, 16-year-old, scantily clad skank? No one knows. All we know is there's a registered sex offender living in an apartment right behind a family with four children.
But there are only two possibilities: 1) he's a threat; 2) he's not a threat.
If it's #1, why is this person not in prison? Clearly, the law considers it important that everyone know when a sex offender has moved in, so they must consider him a threat. So why isn't he in prison if he's committed a sex crime in the past and considered likely to do so again? What are the residents supposed to do with that information? Restrict their own freedom or that of their children? Run the guy out? Arm themselves? Set a trap? What are they supposed to do? I mean, other than live with worry, fear and trepidation?
If it's #2, then why make the guy register as a sex offender and alert all of his neighbors to a crime he's supposed to have paid for already? Prison isn't supposed to be about punishment, we're told by lofty thinkers. It's about reform. OK, he's out. So he's reformed, right? Why turn all of his neighbors against him and throw a dark cloud over every home in the immediate vicinity? All that's happened is life has been made a little less pleasant for everyone around him.
Thanks for that, legal system.
Laws making it mandatory to register sex offenders were created because some people repeated their crimes after serving time. And no doubt, Borough Council will be asked to pass more laws and ordinances that will make it necessary for this man to move. They'll say that registered sex offenders can't live within a mile of a playground or school. They'll make it incumbent upon landlords to check backgrounds of tenants. They'll drive him out to...
Some other neighborhood.
Wouldn't a simpler solution be to use some common sense? If it's a true sex crime involving a child (rather than the aforementioned skank), the guy never gets out of jail. He's no threat there. And his sentence might just serve as a deterrent to other would-be predators who instead of seeking a victim might instead seek help.
Either way, the neighborhood isn't punished.
Friday, August 28, 2009
My, How the U.N. Loves Children
WARNING: SOME CONTENT WILL MAKE NORMAL PEOPLE UNCOMFORTABLE.
From news reports this past week:
The United Nations is recommending that children as young as five receive mandatory sexual education that would teach even pre-kindergarteners about masturbation and topics like gender violence.
Under the U.N.'s voluntary sex-ed regime, kids just 5-8 years old will be told that "touching and rubbing one's genitals is called masturbation" and that private parts "can feel pleasurable when touched by oneself."
It's fair to ask: How many members of this U.N. panel have child pornography on their laptops? Because only a pedophile would even consider THINKING about talking to a five-year-old about sex, much less go public with that perverted thought. They may hide behind the guise of diplomatic dignity, or PhD's in utterly useless fields of study, or the rhetorical gymnastics that dupes mistake for reason, but there's no hiding the real motivation here. They want to have sex with children, and they want to make it easier to do so.
This is the U.N., after all. The same organization that ran an elaborate "sex for food" operation in war-torn sections of Africa back in the '90s and early '00s. Here's how that humanitarian effort worked: if you were starving to death and wanted food, you had to have sex with a U.N. worker to get it. Yes, that included children.
Noble, huh?
Oh, and if you've been earning an income for the past 20 years, congratulations. You've been paying for this. Which is good, because we need the U.N.
At least, that's what our own PhD's in government tell me.
From news reports this past week:
The United Nations is recommending that children as young as five receive mandatory sexual education that would teach even pre-kindergarteners about masturbation and topics like gender violence.
Under the U.N.'s voluntary sex-ed regime, kids just 5-8 years old will be told that "touching and rubbing one's genitals is called masturbation" and that private parts "can feel pleasurable when touched by oneself."
It's fair to ask: How many members of this U.N. panel have child pornography on their laptops? Because only a pedophile would even consider THINKING about talking to a five-year-old about sex, much less go public with that perverted thought. They may hide behind the guise of diplomatic dignity, or PhD's in utterly useless fields of study, or the rhetorical gymnastics that dupes mistake for reason, but there's no hiding the real motivation here. They want to have sex with children, and they want to make it easier to do so.
This is the U.N., after all. The same organization that ran an elaborate "sex for food" operation in war-torn sections of Africa back in the '90s and early '00s. Here's how that humanitarian effort worked: if you were starving to death and wanted food, you had to have sex with a U.N. worker to get it. Yes, that included children.
Noble, huh?
Oh, and if you've been earning an income for the past 20 years, congratulations. You've been paying for this. Which is good, because we need the U.N.
At least, that's what our own PhD's in government tell me.
Friday, July 31, 2009
What Government Should Do
“The government should do something.”
With any endeavor, any crisis (real or imagined) or any movement, that cry rises from nearly all quarters. Be it a serious event like a flood, or an imagined looming catastrophe like global warming, the immediate reaction in front of and behind the cameras is, “the government should fix it.”
Government can do no such thing. For one simple reason: With government comes politics and politics are nefarious.
Government and politics are inseparable. Anything that involves the government — be it through funding or regulation — involves politicians and therefore, politics. It is impossible for that not to be the case. The belief that a politician — any politician — can somehow be apolitical is naïve in the extreme. All of them owe their office to someone else — a coalition, like-minded donors, PACs, cause groups, industry sectors, unions, George Soros and, to a limited extent, voters.
Because of this, introducing government changes the mission of the cause, movement or crisis response. The goal (a cure, the end of hunger, clean air, safe streets) is no longer the sole objective. Politicians add new objectives — appeasing a constituency, getting re-elected, advancing a larger agenda, sticking it to an adversary, getting positive PR, diverting attention, etc. Aid, science, logic, freedom, truth, effectiveness… all become secondary (at best) to political aims.
The historical evidence is clear: Usually, government involvement, far from helping, makes the situation worse. After massive spending to pull America out of the Great Depression, unemployment was nearly twice as high in 1937 as it was a year following the crash. After massive government funding, involvement and action, our inner cities are worse off than before. After strong-arming lenders to relax mortgage requirements, the collapse is costing trillions. The cost of education and health care have spiraled since the fed first began to “help.”
In spite of its track record, there are those who will scream, beg and insist that government “do something” because only government has the money, power and resources to help. But consider:
In 1889, the first Johnstown Flood laid waste to the city. As word spread, relief committees were organized across the country. Buffalo Bill Cody held a benefit for the flood fund in Paris. Over 1,400 full carloads of goods — 17 million pounds worth — rolled into the city on rails rebuilt by the PRR. And over $3.7 million in donations came in from the U.S. and around the world. FEMA didn’t exist for the simple reason that it didn’t need to. We can take care of ourselves.
In 1936, Johnstown flooded a second time. This time, the government “did something.” The fed built channels to make Johnstown “flood proof.” And the State of Pennsylvania enacted a temporary 10% liquor tax to raise the $41 million needed to rebuild the community.
Forty-one years later, “flood proof” Johnstown flooded yet again.
Seventy-three years later, that temporary 10% liquor tax, which met its intended financial goal by 1942, is now 18%.
After the 1889 flood, good hearted people saw a need. They reacted to the plight of their fellow man with one goal: to help. In 1936, politicians saw an opportunity. The fed’s primary goal was to create jobs (and save their own) during the depression. The state’s, to create a new — and permanent — revenue stream.
History again and again tells us that the government should, indeed, do something. Specifically, stay away.
With any endeavor, any crisis (real or imagined) or any movement, that cry rises from nearly all quarters. Be it a serious event like a flood, or an imagined looming catastrophe like global warming, the immediate reaction in front of and behind the cameras is, “the government should fix it.”
Government can do no such thing. For one simple reason: With government comes politics and politics are nefarious.
Government and politics are inseparable. Anything that involves the government — be it through funding or regulation — involves politicians and therefore, politics. It is impossible for that not to be the case. The belief that a politician — any politician — can somehow be apolitical is naïve in the extreme. All of them owe their office to someone else — a coalition, like-minded donors, PACs, cause groups, industry sectors, unions, George Soros and, to a limited extent, voters.
Because of this, introducing government changes the mission of the cause, movement or crisis response. The goal (a cure, the end of hunger, clean air, safe streets) is no longer the sole objective. Politicians add new objectives — appeasing a constituency, getting re-elected, advancing a larger agenda, sticking it to an adversary, getting positive PR, diverting attention, etc. Aid, science, logic, freedom, truth, effectiveness… all become secondary (at best) to political aims.
The historical evidence is clear: Usually, government involvement, far from helping, makes the situation worse. After massive spending to pull America out of the Great Depression, unemployment was nearly twice as high in 1937 as it was a year following the crash. After massive government funding, involvement and action, our inner cities are worse off than before. After strong-arming lenders to relax mortgage requirements, the collapse is costing trillions. The cost of education and health care have spiraled since the fed first began to “help.”
In spite of its track record, there are those who will scream, beg and insist that government “do something” because only government has the money, power and resources to help. But consider:
In 1889, the first Johnstown Flood laid waste to the city. As word spread, relief committees were organized across the country. Buffalo Bill Cody held a benefit for the flood fund in Paris. Over 1,400 full carloads of goods — 17 million pounds worth — rolled into the city on rails rebuilt by the PRR. And over $3.7 million in donations came in from the U.S. and around the world. FEMA didn’t exist for the simple reason that it didn’t need to. We can take care of ourselves.
In 1936, Johnstown flooded a second time. This time, the government “did something.” The fed built channels to make Johnstown “flood proof.” And the State of Pennsylvania enacted a temporary 10% liquor tax to raise the $41 million needed to rebuild the community.
Forty-one years later, “flood proof” Johnstown flooded yet again.
Seventy-three years later, that temporary 10% liquor tax, which met its intended financial goal by 1942, is now 18%.
After the 1889 flood, good hearted people saw a need. They reacted to the plight of their fellow man with one goal: to help. In 1936, politicians saw an opportunity. The fed’s primary goal was to create jobs (and save their own) during the depression. The state’s, to create a new — and permanent — revenue stream.
History again and again tells us that the government should, indeed, do something. Specifically, stay away.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Eggs
I don't go grocery shopping often, and probably for good reason. Grocery shopping to me is a game where I'm challenged to spend as little as possible. So rather than coming home with the $3 box of flash-frozen non-hybridized corn from organic fields fertilized with butterfly tears, I come home with a 79-cent can of store brand corn that was shoveled out of a 90-story grain silo and boiled in a solid steel can that used to be the front fender of a Dodge Dart.
Sometimes, I'll pay more for better quality for the sake of the kids. But one place I won't compromise frugality is in the egg aisle. I will always and forever buy the cheapest eggs they sell, no matter what new variety of egg they roll out.
And roll them out they do. There are just plain old eggs in the off-gray carton. There are also lower-cholesterol eggs, pasteurized eggs, free-range eggs, organic eggs and combinations thereof that include free-range pasteurized organic low-cholesterol eggs.
But the point is, whether your egg of choice came from a chicken in a coop, a cage, an assembly line or a flowering meadow... whether that chicken was force-fed laboratory-synthesized hormone pellets or wandered freely about a certified-organic farm eating fresh grains sprouting from rich volcanic soil... there's one important thing to keep in mind about that egg:
IT DROPPED OUT OF THE ASS-END OF A CHICKEN.
Honestly, who in their right mind is going to be picky about what kind of ass-end that egg fell out of? "Well, the chicken was in no way genetically modified and lived freely on 1,000 acres and was fed only native baby grains and spring water." Uh-huh. And then an egg fell out of it's ass-end. And you're eating it.
Why would anyone pay more than the absolute minimum for that privilege?
Sometimes, I'll pay more for better quality for the sake of the kids. But one place I won't compromise frugality is in the egg aisle. I will always and forever buy the cheapest eggs they sell, no matter what new variety of egg they roll out.
And roll them out they do. There are just plain old eggs in the off-gray carton. There are also lower-cholesterol eggs, pasteurized eggs, free-range eggs, organic eggs and combinations thereof that include free-range pasteurized organic low-cholesterol eggs.
But the point is, whether your egg of choice came from a chicken in a coop, a cage, an assembly line or a flowering meadow... whether that chicken was force-fed laboratory-synthesized hormone pellets or wandered freely about a certified-organic farm eating fresh grains sprouting from rich volcanic soil... there's one important thing to keep in mind about that egg:
IT DROPPED OUT OF THE ASS-END OF A CHICKEN.
Honestly, who in their right mind is going to be picky about what kind of ass-end that egg fell out of? "Well, the chicken was in no way genetically modified and lived freely on 1,000 acres and was fed only native baby grains and spring water." Uh-huh. And then an egg fell out of it's ass-end. And you're eating it.
Why would anyone pay more than the absolute minimum for that privilege?
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
One Giant Leap Backwards
It was forty years ago today that man, for the first time, set foot on the soil of a world other than our own. The sheer magnitude of that event — the first footprint on the infinitely vast frontier of space — captured the attention and the awe of the entire world. For tens of thousands of years, countless people in countless cultures imagined journeying to the moon. The United States, after just 193 years as a nation, actually did it. It was proof that the founding philosophy of the nation was correct: that humanity, under the emancipating power of liberty, is capable of unimagined greatness.
It was the crowning proof of American exceptionalism. A society that discovered miraculous medicines, accelerated scientific discovery, improved the human condition the world over, spawned countless life-improving inventions and yielded a standard of living that mankind had never, ever seen before.
Since then, our country's intellectual elites (politicians, pundits and pointy-heads in ivory towers) have spent countless hours and boundless energy on trying to convince America that since we're not perfect, we're not special. They accuse us of hubris, of imperialism, of destroying the planet and raping resources. They've belittled our history, re-written textbooks to highlight our warts, pointed to the exceptions in our imperfect society and called them the rule, and invented vicious new ways to keep us constantly bickering with each other.
They've pimped guilt over what we think, what we drive, what we eat, how we pray, where we choose to live, what we wear, what we enjoy and how much we earn.
They've dictated and tinkered with virtually every aspect of a society that in their eyes — despite all evidence to the contrary — is utterly flawed. They've set new laws and regulations that fly in the face of our founding philosophy. They've made villains of doctors, entrepreneurs, CEOs, hunters, investors, preachers, builders and employers. They've dictated business practices, mandated the water flow of toilets, outlawed incandescent light bulbs, saved us from the scourge of lawn darts and realized myriad other achievements of astounding pettiness draped in false robes of consequence.
They've done all in their power to bring us back down to earth in every way.
Is it any wonder why today, our greatest achievement is nearly two generations behind us?
It was the crowning proof of American exceptionalism. A society that discovered miraculous medicines, accelerated scientific discovery, improved the human condition the world over, spawned countless life-improving inventions and yielded a standard of living that mankind had never, ever seen before.
Since then, our country's intellectual elites (politicians, pundits and pointy-heads in ivory towers) have spent countless hours and boundless energy on trying to convince America that since we're not perfect, we're not special. They accuse us of hubris, of imperialism, of destroying the planet and raping resources. They've belittled our history, re-written textbooks to highlight our warts, pointed to the exceptions in our imperfect society and called them the rule, and invented vicious new ways to keep us constantly bickering with each other.
They've pimped guilt over what we think, what we drive, what we eat, how we pray, where we choose to live, what we wear, what we enjoy and how much we earn.
They've dictated and tinkered with virtually every aspect of a society that in their eyes — despite all evidence to the contrary — is utterly flawed. They've set new laws and regulations that fly in the face of our founding philosophy. They've made villains of doctors, entrepreneurs, CEOs, hunters, investors, preachers, builders and employers. They've dictated business practices, mandated the water flow of toilets, outlawed incandescent light bulbs, saved us from the scourge of lawn darts and realized myriad other achievements of astounding pettiness draped in false robes of consequence.
They've done all in their power to bring us back down to earth in every way.
Is it any wonder why today, our greatest achievement is nearly two generations behind us?
Friday, July 17, 2009
Burros and Jackasses
Today, a friend emailed me some facts and figures on H.R. 1018, the "Restore our American Mustangs" Act. The link he sent along provided some hard-to-believe facts and figures on the bill that were so asinine I felt it had to be a hoax. So I did a quick search for H.R. 1018.
No, my friends, it is real. In fact, according to the text of the bill itself, it's purpose is:
"To amend the Wild Free-Roaming Horses and Burros Act to improve the management and long-term health of wild free-roaming horses and burros, and for other purposes."
Yes, you read that right. There exists today such a thing as the "Wild Free-Roaming Horses and Burros Act." And apparently, it needs to be amended. Because, hard as it might be to believe, it appears congress did not pass a very good "Wild Free-Roaming Horses and Burros Act" the first time around. Thus, it becomes imperative that our august congress establish a more perfect "Wild Free-Roaming Horses and Burros Act," lest countless wild free-roaming horses and burros suffer deprivation and engage in risky behavior. How, you may ask, will they improve the current, inadequate, some might say shameful "Wild Free-Roaming Horses and Burros Act"? With millions and millions and millions of dollars. Two-hundred million dollars, as a matter of fact, according to the Congressional Budget Office. For things like a biennial horse census, "enhanced contraception" (one can only assume to replace the Puritan, entry-level wild horse and burro contraception provided in the original act) and 19 million acres of land.
Two-hundred MILLION dollars that could have been spent by the people who earned it on things like cars, computers, private schools, anything they please is instead going to a land grab and equine anti-pregnancy program.
When it comes to horses and burros, the jackasses are taking care of their own.
No, my friends, it is real. In fact, according to the text of the bill itself, it's purpose is:
"To amend the Wild Free-Roaming Horses and Burros Act to improve the management and long-term health of wild free-roaming horses and burros, and for other purposes."
Yes, you read that right. There exists today such a thing as the "Wild Free-Roaming Horses and Burros Act." And apparently, it needs to be amended. Because, hard as it might be to believe, it appears congress did not pass a very good "Wild Free-Roaming Horses and Burros Act" the first time around. Thus, it becomes imperative that our august congress establish a more perfect "Wild Free-Roaming Horses and Burros Act," lest countless wild free-roaming horses and burros suffer deprivation and engage in risky behavior. How, you may ask, will they improve the current, inadequate, some might say shameful "Wild Free-Roaming Horses and Burros Act"? With millions and millions and millions of dollars. Two-hundred million dollars, as a matter of fact, according to the Congressional Budget Office. For things like a biennial horse census, "enhanced contraception" (one can only assume to replace the Puritan, entry-level wild horse and burro contraception provided in the original act) and 19 million acres of land.
Two-hundred MILLION dollars that could have been spent by the people who earned it on things like cars, computers, private schools, anything they please is instead going to a land grab and equine anti-pregnancy program.
When it comes to horses and burros, the jackasses are taking care of their own.
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