Two Things You Can't Win At: Tattoos & Jewelry.

I don't have a tattoo and I don't wear jewelry. So I'm "tied" in this competition. Tied with every other person running around wearing no jewelry and sporting no tattoos. No one can beat me, with less than zero of either. So I never waste any time comparing my lack of either with others who lack both. We just nod at each other and move along.

I'm reminded of this fact every valentine's day and every x-mas season. No one is advertising on TV for tattoos, but jewelry gets a big play this time of year and at valentine's day. Basically the idea that is promoted is that if you buy a woman a diamond, or diamonds, it will enhance the quality of life of all concerned.

But people who wear jewelry, including piercings, (and people who get tattoos) all have to wonder how what they're sporting stacks up against what other people are sporting. "What is my (__fill_in_blank__) saying about me?" Or, "Does my (__fill_in_blank__) make me look 'better' than everyone else?"

Why jewelry still sells is beyond me. Jewelry is the past. Electronics is the future. Jewelry only does one thing: it hangs on a person and says, "Look, money has been spent to make you look at me." Same for tattoos.

If memory serves me correctly, a 'decent' engagement ring, one with a big enough stone so that the poor woman can hold her head high in polite society, costs around $3,000. So does the biggest, baddest Quad-core Mac Pro. If you are a guy, and the woman you want to marry would rather have the diamond on her ring over a quad-core Mac Pro in the study, you need to start the search over again. And if you're a woman and there's a guy who wants you to share his life with him, and je wants to put a ring on your finger over giving you your own Quad-core Mac Pro, keep looking, woman.

The Future for Reporters & Editors -- an Earnest Inquiry

I know I'm not exceptional in this regard, but in my heyday, I read two newspapers a day, cover to cover. I would read the Times at breakfast (once so intently that I failed to notice that the Jack in the Box I was at was being robbed) and then the Herald-Examiner at lunch. The Herald Examiner went out of existence about 15 years ago. I immediately stopped reading it when they stopped publishing it. See? I was right there on the cutting edge.

The Times... Circulation is shrinking. In this case, for two reasons. The internet has to be hurting all papers. Why pay money to sit and wait for a paper that went to press at midnight, and you're reading the stories seven or eight hours later, when you could spend that reading time on the internet, getting the absolute up to date story? That's one reason... The other reason is that Conservatives, with the internet available, could stop inflicting the Times Liberal bias on themselves, and still stay up to date on the news.

I called and stopped our subscription to the Times in mid-2004 when they ran a front page story about an Iowa farmer who had voted the Republican ticket since turning 18, but now was not going to vote for Bush in Nov. of 2004. Front page! Were there ever any stories about disaffected Democrats on the front page? On any page? Nope.

So I dropped them on account of Bias. I don't know what the excuse was for the other 30% of their readership.

So, to get to my point:l people want information. We want to know what happened. We don't mind opinions about the "why" of what happened. But they should be honest opinions, based on fact, not hope, or biased conjecture.

And in the age we live in now, newspapers and weekly publications, even when they try to be unbiased, are not the first sources we first think of.

I once subscribed to Time and to Sports Illustrated. Now why would I waste the time or the money for either? Many of us have favorite websites where we go, after we get the facts, to find out what the conjecture is about each set of facts. Very few of us are 'trend-setters,' but more and more of us are doing a lot more 'following' than we've ever done before.

So now if you're a reporter, or an editor, where would you want to work? Do journalism school students still think that the NY Times is the ultimate?

If "news" is a commodity, where do you want to be in the commodity cycle? Where it's mined? Where it's processed? Where it's delivered? Where it's recycled? If you're in it for the money, which part of the commodity cycle gives you the biggest bang for per unit of invested time or money?

How will the investigator-types fit into the system? Will they free-lance or will they hire out to the biggest, baddest vertical 'news' consortium? And the spin artists... Will news commodity organizations need them? Need to pay for them? They're going to be so many of them willing to work for free...

And news recycling... There is a market for that, you know. Just ask VH1.

Are we just too stubborn to give up on printed newspapers and magazine?

Forget B.C. & A.D. ... All Hail B.C.P. & A.C.P.

I read a lot. To hold down the costs (since I am too lazy to use the library) I stop at thrift stores as I'm out and about. (I've driven my first million miles and am working n my second million.) So I buy both paperback and hard-back books. At least 10 a month.

And here's one of the ways I look at literature: Before Cell Phones and After Cell Phones.

Cell phones really did a number on how we interact; they increased our ability/opportunities to connect with people. And did you know that the cell tower you use to make a call or answer a call is logged each time you use your phone? That's a fact of life that really impacts illegal activity. I've heard of insurance companies accessing this kind of information to prove that their policyholders weren't where they said they were when, for example, the insured vehicle was allegedly stolen.

And along with cell phones we can lump in the internet as a technological sibling, in terms of the impact each on us. So B.C.P. & A.C.P also includes the internet.

How different would your favorite BCP book be if it were written today? It bugs me that the Harry Potter series ignores cell phones and the internet...

America, the Two-Faced . . .

Don't get me Wrong; I like America!

As with any Human Institution, there are always going to be things wrong with America. The 'wrong' that I'm going to briefly harangue you about is a pretty serious problem. It's not as bad as the drug problem, and gangs, and the Marching Morons situation, but it is worthy of mention. Even though... Well, even though.

I was pointed towards this post by the Hand of Almighty Coincidence, which in this instance took the form of a post on a friend's blog. It was about a 'touching' obituary. Which concluded thusly:

"... In lieu of flowers, the family request that you love one another, forgive each other and always do what is good and pleasing in the eyes of God."

I certainly have to quarrel with that sentiment. It's a WONDERFUL sentiment!

But this is America. America the Beautiful would not exist if we all followed that sentiment. Because Capitalism (the foundation for getting at what is best in men) could not exist if such sentiments ruled our interactions.

Capitalism has some fundamental corner-stones: Buy low, sell high. All that the market will bear. Bury the competition. Etc., etc. And yet we are a country that has declared itself a Christian Nation, with all the baggage this heaps upon our aleady strained backs and shoulders. And so many of us exist as two-faced entities, doing our best to make a buck, while at odd moments of the day and week, making some kind of effort to Do Unto Others as You Would Have Them Do Unto You. Which I always thought was an aphorism best suited for sexual relations. But I digress...

There is no answer, no cure for this dichotomy. We are stuck with it and with the havoc it causes. We are America the Beautiful; Shop Early, Shop Often, what we can't afford we can always finance, and God Bless Us One and All.

Whaddaya Mean, what are my politics?

Or, if you don't have enough greed in your heart, politics doesn't make any sense...

I've had some email from people regarding the recent elections. Having no ides what they were talking about, I checked out some old stories on Drudge and caught up with what's been going on in the United States, politically speaking.

Distilling the stories, I determined that it was out with the old, in with the new. Hardly startling, to someone like me who has been there, returned there, went back a third time, and all three times, "done that.' Like many older farts, I'm proud of this section of me resume: Done That.

Anyway, to do politics well you have to either have the greed gene or the bossy gene. The really great politicians have both. And good, successful politicians have the strength necessary to weave lies. Lying is a stamina sport. Sprint-liars simply can't go the distance. Long, slow lying is what stays the course. But both take energy. I just don't have the energy to spare.

Along with husbanding my strength by not bothering to lie (except ss a form of entertainment!) I also save tons of energy by not denigrating my opponents. Not that I actually have any. But if I did, why waste the time and energy to find out their weaknesses and then make fun of them? Would I want someone to do that to me?

So... we need government and governing. And there's no way we can stop either of them from happening. But we should try...

Offering an Opinion about Gender Differences . . .

This is a joke from the internet. But there is a VERY LARGE TRUTH around which the humor is woven


For the past ten years a secret store that sells new husbands has been operating in New York City. Women can purchase a husband at this store.

At the entrance to the store, the prospective buyer must sign a release, indicating she has read the rules of the store and will abide by them, and keep secret the outcome of her shopping trip. Here are the rules:

1. You may visit this store ONLY ONCE!
2. There are six floors and the value of the products increase as the shopper ascends.
3. The shopper may choose any item from a particular floor, or may choose to go up to the next floor, but cannot go back down except to exit the building.

Here is an account of the typical visit by a typical woman:

On the first floor the sign on the door reads: Floor 1 - These men have jobs.

The second floor sign reads: Floor 2 - These men have jobs and love kids.

The third floor sign reads: Floor 3 - These men have jobs, love kids, and are extremely good looking.

Naturally the shopper, sensing a trend, skips each floor and now hastens up to the fourth floor and where the sign reads: Floor 4 - These men have jobs, love kids, are drop-dead good looking and help with housework.

Excitedly she heads up to the fifth floor. Here the sign reads: Floor 5 - These men have jobs, love kids, are drop-dead good looking, help with housework, and have a strong romantic streak.

Of course the shopper is tempted, but she goes up to the sixth floor, where the sign reads:

Floor 6 - You are visitor 31,456,012 to this floor. There are no men on this floor. This floor exists solely as proof that women are impossible to please. Thank you for shopping at the Husband Store.

Naturally The Husband Store makes no money for the owners. So to cover all their expenses, they opened another store, the Wife Store. It is near the Husband Store. And it, too, has six floors and the exact same rules.

The prospective buyer, after signing in, is greeted with this sign on the door to the first floor: Floor 1 - These women are very good looking and love sex.

Many men go right in the door and make their purchase. For the more discerning make, who goes up to the second floor, the sign reads: Floor 2 - These women are good looking, love sex and have money.

No man has ever gone past the second floor.

Basket Crosse or LaBaskette Balle?

Or, Bert Bananas Sorts Things Out

You heard it here first, folks. After the theft of my idea of a National Dodge Ball Federation, I sat down and had a long talk with myself. Despite the theft of that idea and the loss of tens, and perhaps even hundreds of dollars, I was able to come to grips with the notion that money isn't everything. Compared with oxygen, money runs a poor second place. So I forgave the thieves...

And now that I've come up with an even greater sensation, I realize that giving it away for freeway is the best way to go. It worked for me in high school and college, so why not now? Take it (me), I'm yours.

It was a natural and I think you'll agree. Men love violence. Okay, not all men, but most men. And lots of women love violence; maybe not a majority of them, but enough...

So we combine the artistry of basketball with the thuggery of lacrosse. We suit the player up with light armor, give them big lacrosse sticks, sized up to handle a basketball, raise the baskets higher and toss up a jump ball. You couldn't actually have referees on the game floor, but they could be on the sidelines, ready to help clear the dead and severely wounded. It would open up the game to men under 6' tall, since with the basket raised, size won't have quite the premium it does in basket ball. Speed, nimbleness, the ability to absorb punishment, these are the qualities that will count. And I swear on Thor's Hammer, the crowds will love the violence.

Oh, please, please... no thanks are necessary. I'm just doing my part for Evolution.

I'm Not Jewish, but I am Circumcised

I grew up very sheltered. I was about 10 years old before I learned about Black people. And I swear on my grandfathers' (both of them) peyos that I didn't know diddly about Jews or Judaism until I read Leon Uris' "Exodus." Prior to that I knew Jews only in the biblical sense. Well, no, not in the 'biblical sense' but from the mention of them in the bible. After "Exodus" I went on to read all Leon Uris' other Jewish works. And then Herman Wouk. (Herbie Bookbinder, let's go get a beer! Asher Lev, where are you?)

In summation, for a goy, I know a lot more about Jews and Judaism than most goyim. And part of loving Jews is loving their humor. Here is a remake of a classic...

The year is 2012 and the United States of America has just elected the first woman President. And it's a double whammy: She's also the first Jewish president, Susan Goldfarb.

President-Elect Goldfarb calls up her mother right after election results are confirmed and says, "So, Mom, I assume you will be coming to my inauguration?"

Mom whines into the phone, "I don't think so. It's a ten-hour drive, your father isn't as young as he used to be, and my gout is acting up again."

President-Elect Goldfarb responds with, "Don't worry about it Mom, I'll send a limousine to the house, it'll take you to the airport where Air Force One will pick you up. After the festivities, we'll fly you back and the limo will be there to take you home. Easy as pie, Mom."

But mom isn't giving in that easy. "I don't know, Susan, dear. Everybody will be all fancy-schmantzy, what on earth would I wear?"

"Oh Mom" replies Susan, "I'll make sure you have a wonderful gown, custom-made for you by the best designer in New York."

"Oh, but Honey," Mom complains, "you know I can't eat those rich foods you and your friends like to eat."

The President-Elect is ready for that one, "Don't worry Mom. The entire affair is going to be handled by the best caterer in New York, kosher all the way. C'mon Mom, I really want you to be there."

So Mom reluctantly agrees and on January 21, 2013 President-Elect Susan Goldfarb is sworn in as President of the United States of America. In the front row sits the new president's mother, who leans over to a senator sitting next to her. "You see that woman over there with her hand on the Bible, becoming President of the United States?"

The Senator whispers back, "Yes, of course.

Says Mom proudly, "Her brother is a doctor!"

A Post Wherein Bananas Repeats Important Truths Learned from a Forwarded Email !

Or, Things my Mother Never Taught Me . . .
(I made up 2½ of these. Can you figure out which one I tinkered with and which two I made up?)

99 % of lawyers give the rest a bad name.

½ the people you know are below average.

Depression is merely anger without enthusiasm.

On the other hand, you have different fingers...

The early bird may get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese in the trap.

Change is inevitable, except from vending machines.

Culture is evolution's way of keeping us in the herd.

If you believe in telekinesis, raise my hand.

Hard work pays off in the future. Laziness pays off now.

Every one has a photographic memory. Most of us just don't have enough film.

If you get scared half to death twice, you die.

Beer is evolution's version of Johnnie Applesperm.

Cheating to get ahead in life is like making your horn louder to compensate for bad brakes.

Inside every older person is a younger person wondering what happened.

Light travels faster than sound. That's why some people appear bright until you hear them.

Let us Talk of Fools and Their Money

Weep for People with Questionable Taste

I snapped this photo at Costco this afternoon. I had to wait to get this pic while a husband and wife struggled to get a set of these fine Xmas performers into their shopping cart. It's not for nothing that Costco has huge carts.

After they get this abomination home and plugged in, how many times will they listen to the song or songs in this group's repertoire before just the sight of it makes them want to puke?

The winter solstice holidays have become almost sacred to us; we've become almost slavish in our devotion to Good Cheer. But shouldn't their be
a limit?

Even if you have money to squander what does owning this group do for Good Cheer?

Hiring the Socially Somewhat-Handicapped

It's an axiom of business that when you hold down costs, you increase profits. In my pursuit of the American Dream, I came up with an approach to this lofty goal that does me credit, financially as well as Socially and Morally. (Mo Rally?)

If you can't read the sign at the left of the photo, it says Camp
David Gonzalez. This is a juvenile detention center, run by the Los Angeles County Probation Department. They house non-violent juveniles here. Kids who've run away, kids with truancy problems who refuse to go to school, kids who break laws but not bones, that kind of thing.

In an effort to help the kids, the County asked for bids from employers who would teach the kids a trade. I volunteered my curb painting business and I went to the camp to pitch the business to the Probation Officers and the kids. I waxed eloquently about the joys of being outside on bright, sunny days, meeting people and getting them to agree to having their curbs painted and then doing the actual painting. I explained how they'd have to learn about all the different paints we offer, the different font stencils and the logo stencils they have have next to the number, for a nominal extra cost. I suggested that the kids could learn valuable social skills. But I may have lost them when I made a joke, which in retrospect I can see was not all that wise to have mentioned. All I did was laughingly remark that being in middle class and affluent neighborhoods would give them a chance to 'case the joint' if they wanted to pad their incomes. Some of the kids laughed, but none of the Probation Officers did.

They said they'd get back to me, but now that I've thought about it, they probably won't. The bastards... They were going to let me pay the kids $2.00 an hour. You can't imagine how much I could have made with a crew of JD's working for me.

DABT?

All the Entertainment the Traffic will Bear

Or, keeping busy during a traffic jam or jelly

I was caught in horrible traffic yesterday. Stuck, unmoving, for literally minutes! Many of them!! It was awful !! At least I'd heard about it and left early enough so that I got to where I was going in time. Being on time is VERY important when you have paid in advance for a tee time.

Anyway, I was stuck behind this bright yellow Mustang. I had plenty of time to study this woman. She made it easy to want to study her. She was on the phone a lot. She gesticulated a lot while on the phone. Her unhappiness at the traffic situation was evident through her gesticulations.

And she chewed gum. She chewed with a vigor, with evident enthusiasm, with gusto. She was totally a chewing gum champ, or champette. Remember when Calvin went a chewing gum rant, Lecturing Hobbs on the intricacies of chewing gum and subcribing to Chewing Gum Monthly, and Gum Chewing Quarterly? I bet this woman still subscribes... I've never thought about it before, but what if gum chewing ability and oral sex ability have a causal relationship?

Please take this opportunity to reflect on the fact that people see you in your car, and that they can snap a quick photo of you if they're of a mind. You've been warned...

Smoke on your Pipe and put That In...

The above is from West Side Story, but this is really about Flower Drum Song

In the early 60s Flower Drum Song, with Jack Soo, ran for years at the Thunderbird Hotel in Las Vegas. Twice a night, dinner show and midnight show.

I saw the show, all the way through, at least 200 times. Really I did.

I would like to think that this explains something about me. But I'm relatively certain that it doesn't.

How many of you saw Flower Drum Song at the Thunderbird Hotel back in the early 60s?

Enigmatic Days Shorten til Equinox

Sorry about this title, but it's the Proper Signal . . .

But what this is really about is me. I've been getting a boatload of email -- love-mail & hate-mail -- as sharply divided as love & hate are divided, like when a fat person eats a banana-split. That's a very love - hate equation.

Half the boatload (port side) wants me to stop being so seriously sarcastic while the other side (starboard, they be) says my silly sarcasm pleases them to orgasm, whatever that means.

So I thought I'd tell a story, to see if that distracts the haters enough to take their pointin' fingers off'n they triggers. (That's quasi-Black talk. Which I am currently favoring because I just finished L.A. Rex, which besides being an interesting read is apparently going to be a movie, which frankly scares me. It reads like a primer for OTW Criminal Activity. OTW is Other Than White.)

Back to my story. It's about what I do for a living. It's been my "career" since 1981, when I got my first business license. I started of as a solo operation, doing it all myself. I was management and labor, all wrapped up in a cute little fur ball of industrial activism. I was a West Coast Horatio Alger. (a joke: Horatio Alger Hiss ... [that was the whole joke...]) I was making decent money, wasn't answering to anyone but representatives of various taxation organizations, and just generally living the American Dream. Plus I was getting laid a lot. Oh, wait, that's redundant.

And so it's all continued and I'm in my 25th year of operation. I'm paying more taxes, but on the upside, the "getting laid" is the best it's ever been.

What I do for a living has been part and parcel of my developing sarcasm. I know humans for what they really are: Human. If more people understood this concept, that we're just human, the world would be exactly the way it is now. (You didn't see that one coming, did you?) It won't ever change because part of being human is to try to be special. (What else explains tattoos & piercings?) No matter how well you understand that we are all mere humans, you can't stop yourself from thinking yourself better than a significant segment of the population. And it's always easy to find someone who validates your view, because you ARE better than that person.

So those of you who find me tiresome, at least I make you feel better about yourself. And for those of you who "admire" me, I like to think it means you're open to liking people, even when they can't do anything for you. If there is any hope for Humanity, it's that the latter group, my group, will one day beat our plows into swords and kill all the M-F'ers who can't or won't get along. Yeah, yeah, I know, then we'll be 'them,' because there will be a small, but active segment who won't beat the swords back into plows... Happens every time.

Oh, yeah, what I do for a living. I paint addresses on sidewalk curbs. I still go out and do some of the work myself, but I have an office, three office workers and crews out all over SoCal doing this work. And with the recent building boom, we can't keep up with the demand. And because we're in people's neighborhoods, we see them acting they way they do when they're not 'on stage.' It's very informative work. If'n you be in SoCal, an' you need yo address painted on yo curb, jingle me a holler an' I be by. I be in da Yellow Paginas.

Death as a Criterion for Voting

Or, Is Hypocrisy Fatal?

Being against "Death" is a silly abstract, when you're talking about a death that doesn't involve yourself or a loved one. So from this perspective, all the wailing about the deaths in Iraq is silly, if it's not you who died, or someone you loved.

What has brought me to this declaration is the remarkable turnaround of a local talk radio host who has in the past week turned rabidly anti-Bush and anti-war-in-Iraq. After 9/11 he was all for kicking the crap out of all the rag-heads. Now he's crying in his beer about how 'dumb' the war is, how dumb Bush is, etc., etc. All this is certainly possible, but I don't like the about-face.

I just don't think that 100 deaths a month in Iraq is a little deal, much less a big deal.

How many people died this past week in alcohol-related accidents? How many homicides occurred in American big cities? And did you ever stop to contemplate how many humans will expire in the next hundred years? Take the time to do some simple math. When you break this down to a daily figure for every single day for the next 100 years, you'll have an idea of what I'm driving at.

Humans die. It's one thing we have never had a problem doing. Compared to our past, we're frankly not doing near the job we used to do of it.

So sure, bewail that a Republican President is sending members of the armed service, often less then perfectly equipped, to their deaths. But be honest. it's not the deaths that are bugging you. If 'death' really bugged you, you couldn't function in life, what with the ability of modern communications to heap deaths on your doorstep. And how many make-believe deaths will you view this coming week?

I can't defend the current status of Bush's attempt to keep America safe. And I don't know enough to say it's a waste of time. But when it comes to wasting human life... Hey, if you were so against wasting human life, why are you wasting YOUR life reading blogs!