Have Calculator, Will Travel

Island is... wait for it...

2011-01-10T19:18:00.002-06:00

...island-y. Focusing on the positive:

There's a group of guys in the complex where I live - "the guys" - who ride around in the bed of a beat-up small pickup, functioning as the landscaping and light maintenance crew here. They are all very Rasta and are probably some of the happiest guys I've ever seen, at least when I've been around them. One of them makes his own insect repellant. Five dollars says it contains concentrated THC.

Towards the end of my last "tour" down here, they saw me coming out of my place and asked me what had brought me to the island. I explained my circumstances. The responses included:

"He look like he 18 and he the boss-man!"
"What you do to stay lookin' so young?"
"You that guy!"

Within a day of getting here with my lovely wife, we ran into "the guys" hopping out of the truck in front of our building. It had been a while. Nevertheless:

"IT THAT GUY! AND CHRISTMAS CAME EARLY! LOOK AT YOU!" (This was in approval of my lovely wife's presence.) I have to agree.

It's obvious from my previous post(s) (and, if we communicate on a regular basis, in pretty much any form of human interaction I've had recently) that there are a lot of things in life with which I am currently dissatisfied. But for that to be the whole story, or my primary memories of this place, would be doing this place and my experience here a great disservice.

Some really smart guy whose blog I read recently wrote a post about how the atmosphere of a place has a definite impact of how you experience it, both in the moment and in your recollection afterwards. There are plenty of stories here like "the guys" and the pure insanity of the entire experience, which I look forward to sharing with plenty of folks over plenty of adult beverages (and perhaps some rotisserie chicken). It's only appropriate, after all, because although they don't have a lot of things here, they certainly have atmosphere.

Productivity in procrastination*.

2010-12-05T17:31:00.003-06:00

* Obviously doesn't apply to the frequency with which I update this thing, which is obviously not so productive.

Out of sheer happen-stance I find myself crashed out in a coffee shop in New Orleans on an early Sunday evening. My dear spouse is down the street a bit, hanging out with some of her female friends from the area and generally getting to catch up. At said coffee shop, I've been able to pause for a moment, reflect, and plan. Unfortunately, the planning part was for tackling the beast that will be the upcoming work week, but them's the breaks. Regardless:

- While walking around the campus where my aforementioned dear spouse obtained her MS degree, we saw a poster (attached to a plywood barricade at a construction site) that said the following: "If you don't like something, change it. If you can't change it, change your attitude." That's about as appropriate a thing I can conjure up right now, mostly because there's a lot I don't like right now, and there's a significant subset of that category that I can't change.

- Employment is an excellent way to obtain money in order to satisfy financial obligations. However, if you don't like what you do, and you don't like where you're doing it, that's about all it's good for. In fact, it can get in the way of a lot of other important things, especially if you let it.

- It really helps if you believe in what you're doing. From my perspective it helps even more if you believe that what you're doing is benefitting people in a way beyond shareholder value or helping others escape financial penalty. I did that once, albeit for about a third of what I'm getting for... whatever it is I do now. I would be well-served by figuring out a way to get back to something that feels "big-picture worthwhile" without taking a 66% pay cut.

- When push comes to shove, and everyone is telling you that you need them right then and there, it is far better to put the person with whom you share a home (and a life) at the front of the line. This sounds a lot harder than it is.

- This place (New Orleans), in one form or another, will always be home for me (and us). This is the place where I began a career, got engaged, got married, endured disaster, and came out as a reasonable fascimile of an adult. I would not be the least bit surprised that, following Life's Next Big Adventure: Dr. Spouse Edition, we end up here again. It gets your hooks in you, and that's a good thing.

Saturday morning, or Day 45.

2010-08-14T08:57:00.002-05:00

Until I thought about the title above I hadn't really considered how long I've been here. It's a bit over six weeks now, which means that I should be about halfway through my first rotation.

This place still continues to fascinate me. There's a strange sense of familiarity to it, and it's not the Wendy's drive-thru in front of the OfficeMax that does it. It's more like a rewind to 2003: new job, meeting people in a similar point in their lives in a young professional's setting, Irish pub, Texas bar, etc. I feel a lot more comfortable with it this time around, though. Been there, done that.

On the surface, the comfort level should be somewhat obvious: I have a better job (though the one I had back then was probably the most fun I've ever had as an engineer), more experience, and a general sense of what I can reasonably accomplish. However, that doesn't consider the changes on the horizon: new city, new job (I'm at least 95% sure of that part), lovely spouse in school.

I have no idea why I'm good with this. For one, I know that this is the natural course for my lovely spouse career-wise, and I'd frankly fry Krispy Kremes for four years to make that happen. I can't say I'm particularly enamored with our current "home base" right now, either (though this place makes for a very nice break from that). With all that being said, I'm admittedly not someone who typically deals with big changes very well, at least not in the short term. We'll see.

In the interim, more fun island notes:

We have somewhat of a feral poultry issue, except that they're used to being around people. For example, the roosters at the gas station are very service-oriented - I think one of them checked my tire pressure yesterday. Similarly: roadside goats and horses.
I have a receipt from a repair man breaking down his plumbing efforts as follows: "time and labor." It's refreshing that he's honest enough to distinguish between the two.
Roadside notary public set up in a 6' x 6' storage barn from a hardware store? Check.
Roadside chicken stand that makes the best rotisserie I've ever had? Indeed. Complete with floor show including construction workers drinking tiny bottles of white zinfandel and people drunk enough to give each other impromptu lap dances? Count it. All of this at 11:30 am? You're damn right, and you will have a side of casava with that.

Notes from Small Island, Month 1

2010-08-07T08:02:00.003-05:00

Small Island (tm) is a very fascinating place. There are things here that you'd expect from living and working in a place like this, and then there are things that have absolutely surprised or flabbergasted me. To wit:

The most noticeable thing you encounter when you first get here (aside from the outdoor luggage carousel) is the often-joked about but very real experience of driving on the left side of the road. This is made more unusual (for those of you having seen the "real thing" in the UK) by the fact that the cars are left-hand drive, as they are shipped from the States. The local advice for driving: "keep your ass in the grass."
Small Island is not a particularly tourist-y place - since there's industry here, the local economy doesn't really depend on it. In my mind that's a great thing. You can go to the beach (especially during the weekdays) and there are maybe a few other people there.
It's pretty Americanized (McDonalds! Big K! OfficeMax!) with a distinct Puerto Rico influence (Pueblo! Plaza Extra! Banco Popular!). However, if you didn't know better, you'd also notice a distinct absence of things: American food chains beyond fast food, Wal-Mart, etc. In that respect (and in many others), living in New Orleans is a good primer.
This place is crazy with mongoose (proper plural: "mongoose dem"). Some of them are a little too acclimated to people. One tried to steal some of my breakfast burrito one morning.
If you're going to another island, go seaplane. It's worth the experience, not having to go through security, and the landing in St. Thomas will get your attention (OH MY GOD THAT'S A BUILDING OH WAIT THERE'S THE WATER THANK YOU PONTOONS).

So those are some of the (many) anecdotal tidbits. In my mind, the biggest distinction is that it is very much unlike the place where I currently spend the other half of the year. It's almost bizarre, considering how small this place is (28 mi x 7 mi; 60,000 people):

The food here is better. Far better. I have yet to be disappointed.
People are far more sociable. Some of this is out of necessity, or homesickness, but there's a distinct group of young (and in my case, "marginally younger") professionals that are here to make a go of it.
The mood is far more relaxed.
Everyone here has a iPhone, too.
No matter what the stereotype is about "less developed" parts of the world, I'll take this over ignorant (especially intentionally ignorant) rednecks any day of the week.

The difference in my mood here (and that of my lovely wife, who joined me for Month 1 of this adventure) has been remarkable, but when I think back on it, it's understandable. A lot of the whole "life satisfaction" thing seems to derive from the real estate axiom: "location, location, location." Certainly that has something to do with other factors (e.g. are you currently "located" in a career path that's satisfying), but regardless this is a fascinating experiment no matter how you shake it. Especially considering what comes next...

Please, Calgon...

2010-06-16T21:41:00.002-05:00

...or some other petroleum-based product, for that matter...

...take me away.

As discussed here and elsewhere in blogs run by extant members of my family tree, the seeking of a means of escape is always at least somewhat present. What one would describe as the "brilliant entrance and / or exit strategy" is like the golden ring dangling in front of us. My lovely wife describes this as "itchy feet;" she indeed experiences a similar sensation of needing some form of escape.

That ring, to some degree, seems very much within my (our) grasp, albeit in a sort of temporary fashion. It lies within plane tickets booked at the first of next month to a far-off place, much different than the one in which we currently find ourselves. Even though this is a temporary reprieve, it is a reprieve nonetheless.

I am reminded of this because I just received another of a too-frequent series of phone calls: the last-minute immediate family drop-in, AKA the "we're headed your way this weekend and would really like to see you" conversation. Never mind that my in-laws are completing their move-in (with us) on Saturday. Never mind that I'm insanely busy at work trying to tie up my current assignment in a pretty red bow so my successors (and I) don't get screwed by my desire for transition. Never mind that I just blew a not-insignificant amount of money for a hotel room (damn that futon) and ridiculously-hotel-priced alcoholic beverages to see you EARLIER THIS MONTH.

I will frankly never understand my family (I gave that up a long time ago), and that doesn't really bother me that much. The fact that I continually suffer for it, however, bothers me. I know one of the golden rules of blogging sans consequences is "don't bitch about your family," but... still.

They hate plane travel, so I have that going for me.

---

There has been a whole lot of rancor, supposition, introspection, and other things engineers patently aren't good at re: the oil and gas industry, certain oil spills in certain places I love, etc. and I can't shake the sensation that so much of it is wrong-headed in the overly simplistic way that people who don't (or can't) know better try to understand the world around them. Ladies and gentlemen, if life were that simple, and solutions easily attainable, stuff would get fixed. The world doesn't work that way.

Suffice to say the following: the tar-stained woes in my current part of the world are owed to a myriad of things. Let's take a stab at it:

* Shit-ass safety engineering and risk analysis
* A mentality that some risks are worth taking if the bottom line benefits
* Poorly designed regulations for subsea operations with huge potential environmental impacts
* Poorly enforced regulations as above
* Continued, increasing exotic exploration for a finite resource proving increasingly difficult to find
* Market demand for products derived from said resources

You could make arguments that all of these are root causes, but it really comes down to this: we like stuff, we like stuff cheap, and we don't trust government to protect us from the down side of liking cheap stuff. In other words, we like stuff without consequences. Too bad no such thing exists.

However, I can't shake the sensation of being on the wrong side of the fence in situations like this, largely because this is the industry that I work in (primarily). I can (and have) rationalized that most of my projects are environmentally related and in some way help out, but that typically just makes me the left-wing nutjob in a roomful of crazy don't-tread-on-me flag wavers. It's not the greatest realization in the world, but I've largely come to grips as to why I do it: the paycheck that shows up every two weeks. Given where I am, what my background is, and what I do, it's the most likely path to the highest income, so here I am. If someone dropped a "green job" in front of me that made the same kind of money, I'd go in a heartbeat.

This is why people in Louisiana willingly work in that industry when the same industry could be the downfall of so much of this part of the world - it's the best option they have going. I can't fault people for that any more than I fault that paycheck that shows up every two weeks.

Teabaggers and updated options.

2010-04-18T13:10:00.002-05:00

On April 15, (aka Pay Your Taxes and Shut the Hell Up Day), our current town of residence hosted one of those Tea Party rallies in the public square. As one would expect, it was chock-full of folks exercising their right as citizens to congregate and espouse those views that they hold dearest.

Those views, of course, happen to be as follows:
1. White people are good. Everyone else, not so much. Especially if you get elected President.
2. Taxes are bad. (Bad!)
3. Government regulation of just about anything is bad. (Really bad! Awful!)

Given the demographic (white, mostly old, surprisingly literate), I figured this was a chance to appeal to their sensibilities as people of similar backgrounds who also cherish time-honored values of freedom of speech and civil debate. To wit:

1. "Down with government regulation! Close the library! Turn off the traffic signals! Stop signs are socialism! Unadulterated free-market banking practice will save us all!"
2. "Pay your taxes or the IRS will get you!"
3. "They're trying to take away our freedom to stand in a public square and witness the last gasps of Reconstruction-era racism and Southern government distrust!"
4. (My personal favorite): "Why are all of you standing around in the middle of the day on a weekday? Go get a job so my tax money doesn't have to support your Medicare and Social Security! Freeloading hippies!"

I was honestly not surprised when I received replies that were not particularly reflective of civil discourse and legitimate debate. Then again, the more I'm here, the more I enjoying stirring up the Necks.

Which brings me to a discussion of not being here, at least as much. The update:

1. I am now Doer of Good 4. This is obviously one step above Doer of Good 3 but not quite Senior Doer of Good. Regardless, I am glad for it, because it counts as a resume builder and helps pay the bills.
2. I am about 98% sure (i.e. it's all done except putting it in writing and marking the calendar) that I'll be doing an initial three-month stint on the easternmost Non-Alcoholic Isthmus Missing Its Mainland Appendage starting mid to late May. This has the same benefits as #1, except... more. Important note: consistent non-stop service from ATL and Miami; two bedroom condo. Just sayin'.
3. The Justice League of America is "currently evaluating candidates." I don't put a lot of stock in this (I can't help but imagine that they get swamped any time they post something), but who knows. A year ago I used to crack jokes about Option #2, and now...

Proper noun avoidance, as performance art.

2010-03-07T19:23:00.004-06:00

As a general rule, I do my best to avoid the use of the names of people, places, businesses, etc. within the confines of this medium. As many before me (including, ironically, me) have discovered, this practice is typically a "best practice" (thanks, fancy work words) if you have curious colleagues who troll the Internet (presumably, for lack of anything better to do, in the office or otherwise) looking for dirt on one another.

The tell-all "no, really, fuck every last one of you, right in the ear" blog is the resulting magic unicorn of indiscretion, a few steps above the "photos of my tattoos in private locations posted on my MySpace page that my students can see" or "passive-aggressive pseudo-private blog about how angst-ridden my life is because That Guy Who I Want Happens to be Gay and Why Aren't Things Always Perfect."

I know people who have committed all those faux pas (yes, specifically) and then some. I was one of those people my freshman year who had his dorm party pics shown to him during an internship interview by a fellow alumnus of Ma-higher-learning-institute of choice.

(Hint, people who went to that school: don't post drunk pics of you, your friends, or that group of people from the dorm across the way on a web page whose URL is some mashup of "nerdinstitute..edu/~myemail" when your e-mail address is myemail at nerdinstitute..edu. If they graduated, they're easily smart enough to figure that shit out. Just a thought.)

Ironically, I got the internship, but I digress.

The point is that although this policy somewhat detracts from the rhetorical flourish that is sure to follow, I'll do my best to capture the essence without naming names, attempting to convert the gays, or showing any tattoos.

I have three interesting and mostly tangible options for career moves in front of me currently. They are as follows:

1. Status quo: I have multiple clients, I do project management, and I charge north of 40 hours a week for it. This is acceptable practice, especially when everyone else is also busy, and it pads the bank account or otherwise softens the blow when tax time rolls around. This is a much better circumstance than, say, six months ago, when I was working through a pay cut and some general nonsense. Supposedly I am also getting a marginal bump in title (think "Doer of Good 3" to "Doer of Good 4"); a marginal bump in compensation is also expected.

2. Adventure Island: Our director in charge of one of these clients (not my biggest one, but one where there are growth prospects) currently rotates from our satellite office at said client's site to our office every couple of months. He typically swaps with a senior-PM-type guy. Based on efforts so far in "pulling one out of the ditch," he has offered me to be one of those people who rotates on and off island. (Said island: possession of the United States, easternmost point of the country; Google it or e-mail me for details.) If I play my cards right, this could equal a nice promotion (title and salary) and would come with expenses-paid time on a perennially warm island. Would need to also negotiate trips home (or trips for spouse to visit), etc. Cons: away from home for long stretches, less home-office visibility, potential creep of "island time" into work habits. Might be mitigated by in-laws moving in and uncanny desire to bust ass at work no matter the circumstances. Likelihood: probably at least 75%; it's been offered and my home office management is (mostly) in the loop.

3. Adventure Island, Northern Edition: I have also applied for a position with a certain international body whose forte' is peacekeeping in light blue helmets at their US-based home office. This is also on an island, but of a far different (and extremely more populated) sort. Pros: doing something good for humanity, position commensurate with experience; salary that allows us to live on said Adventure Island. Cons: not sure if we're ready to get out of here quite yet on a multitude of levels; likely chance of occurring probably hovers around 2%.

This, by the way, is an ass-backwards way for me to let everyone know why I'm not on the BookFace as much, to generally give an update, and to shamelessly solicit advice.

Regardless of the outcome (my money frankly is on #2), I have to say this: it is damned good to have options, especially when it seems that so much of life is spent thinking that one doesn't have them.

The best thing ever.

2010-02-09T20:54:00.004-06:00

The best thing ever is a feeling of shared joy with everyone around you. There have been a handful of such moments in my life. Two weekends ago, I experienced such an event.

What follows is my recollection of the events of that Sunday. All Mardi Gras alcohol jokes aside (I honestly didn't have that much to drink), I believe it to be pretty damned accurate:

Arrival at viewing stop #1, Finn McCools in Mid City. Someone flew in from Ireland to watch the game there. It is the single rowdiest bar gathering I have ever seen in New Orleans, and I watched France v. Brazil there during the 2006 World Cup - French guys on one side of the room, pissed-off Brazilians on the other. We drank Guinness. My lovely spouse had a nice conversation with a gentleman in a black and gold dress. I thought nothing of it.

Realizing that Finn's might turn into a riot, the Canal streetcar conveys us to the Popeye's on St. Charles Avenue, a few blocks from our hotel. The streetcar driver jokes about everyone saying they're from New Orleans. I told him I worked for the Water Board during Katrina. He gave me a look that told me he knew I wasn't kidding. He gave me a score update on his phone.

Popeye's, St. Charles Avenue. One of the best ones. The normally surly staff, even working during the game, are cheerful. They give us score updates from their phones, too.

While walking back towards the hotel, we crashed a street party off St. Charles where they had projected the game on the side of a building. Everyone was cool. When the Colts scored again, I declared that we were bad luck. We left. The party sighed relief.

Circle Bar: things still don't look good. When we walk out towards the hotel, we notice that they are flashing "S-A-I-N-T-S" in a pattern on all the hotel windows.

Hotel: Shockey TD. Tracy "Pick 6" Porter. I jump around and hug my lovely wife so much that I accidentally get scratched under the left eye. We immediately march into the private party in the lobby that had suddenly become a lot less private. The last-minute Colts drive fails. People absolutely lose it. A guy jumps up and down on crutches. I double over screaming, tears in my eyes. I will never forget the look on my lovely wife's face. They immediately play "The Saints are Coming." I call The Cousin (tm), who I know is the only blood relative who would understand this. I still am not sure if he heard any of the conversation, including my parting words that we are promptly headed to Bourbon Street, tell the family I love them, sell my stuff if I don't make it back.

There is literally a mob of people heading from the CBD to the Quarter. It is more insane than any New Orleans party I've ever seen, Mardi Gras Day included. Screams. Hi-fives among strangers of different races, genders, backgrounds, people who would normally not even look each other in the eye.

St. Louis Cathedral flies the Saints flag alongside the American flag. They took down the papal flag earlier in the day to make way for it, because Pope Benedict XVI had officially given his blessing to do so.

We loop through the Quarter and to the CBD. Poydras Street is literally at a standstill with people screaming from the cars, the backs of trucks, running down the street between the vehicles. Camp Street is the same. It is the same all the way back to the hotel, which is easily a mile and a half from the edge of the Quarter. Pure, abject happiness.

That is all.

What in the hell just happened...?

2009-12-31T15:22:00.002-06:00

...to the past decade?

As is expected during this time of year, my co-workers and I engaged in a discussion of opinions on how we should consider the past decade. Coworkers in their 50s and 60s pretty much concluded that this has been the worst decade they've lived through. From a political and cultural standpoint, I'm inclined to agree.

Were I to characterize it further (and I did at the time), I'd call it the "absurdist decade." We have people who are famous for.. being famous. Reality TV aside, the shows that most reflect us are comedies like The Office, because it's absolutely insane yet is a decent impression of what working life is like these days. The popular (emphasis) music industry is dead, and what's left is essentially one long advertisement to 13 year old girls.

Don't get me started on the politics or the economics. Let's just say "absurdist" applies there, too.

With this in mind, I engaged in my yearly office ritual of cleaning up my files. 6 gigs of e-mail, a couple thousand pages of recycling, and a full drawer in my file cabinet (4 hours) later, and it was complete. There's a Keane song on the new album that talks about being slaves to our e-mail, so it's good to liberate some of that backup to a flash drive and start anew in the year.

Further to the theme, a purge of the 00's. From my recollection:

December 31, 1999: I was sitting in my Institute-owned apartment (former Olympic housing). I recall having a sinus infection or something, but I got to spend the evening with my girlfriend watching the festivities on TV. Bonus points for the 00's: said girlfriend is now my lovely wife.

January 1, 2000: The world does not end.

2001: We (the future lovely wife and I) graduate college and decide to move to New Orleans to pursue graduate school. The initial attempt at moving becomes one of my lesser moments and somehow results in living in Birmingham for four months to save up some cash and actually get the move done. Wedged in there somewhere was 9/11. I mention it because I recall thinking "perhaps we'll pull together as a country now." Sadly, that looks retarded when I type it.

2003: I crash out of grad school when I realize I don't want to be a professor of mechanical engineering, let alone a professor of mechanical engineering from a university full of dickheads. My first real job is with the City of New Orleans working for the department that is responsible for, among other things, the pumps that drain the city.

December 24, 2004: After a brief telephone affair with the UPS lady at the local office, I propose (not to the UPS lady, to the aforementioned lovely wife). She asks to see the ring first because I forgot to open the jewelry box.

2005: This hurricane thing happens. This is significant for a number of reasons, which I will randomly list: I set the record for earliest bourbon consumption in my lifetime. It is the only time I've cut my way out of a bed and breakfast with a chainsaw. It is the only time I have driven the wrong way on the interstate (it was government - sanctioned). It is the most shameful thing I have ever seen our federal government, construction contractors, and poor excuses for engineers ever do, and it is when I figured out that "political engineering" is unfortunately the most important part of what I do for a living. It is the earliest I have ever changed a cabin air filter after purchasing a car. It is the only time I've been in a bar with no one else except people in fatigues carrying M-16s. It was the second time that I have had a project completely destroyed.

February 17, 2006: As alluded to above, I got married. It is still the single smartest thing I've ever done for more reasons than I can name.

December 31, 2009: I tired of this process, because my attention span has negatively been affected by absurdist humor (gotta blame it on something - joking) and the time-shift disorientation of losing two months of my life in 2005 (not so joking). Suffice to say we fell in love with New Orleans again, fell out of love, moved to our nation's neighbour to the north, hated it, moved to our own little section of Lower Alabama, bought an old house, and... here we are.

In summary: in a single decade I went from clueless college student to... clueless adult. (Just kidding, I think.)

So, what did I learn, kids?

Most of what occurred leading up to me being in an Institute-owned apartment on December 31, 1999 seems like it was handed to me - I was raised on the notion that I was somehow crazy special, and that anything less than a Nobel Prize or millions of dollars by the time I was 30 would be an underachievement. The 00's threw that notion in the trash. That, strangely, is the second best thing that's ever happened to me.

Let's go, 10's.

My cough medicine may be socialist, but...

2009-08-19T21:05:00.003-05:00

... there's no beating that delicious cherry flavor.

It is very silly to watch the health care debate take place in Alabama when I lived, albeit briefly, in a place where I was eligible for "socialist health care." I will start by admitting that I never had to make use of it during my short Canadian stay, but I argue that that's not the point. The point of health care coverage is knowing it's there when you actually do need it.

Anyone in the United States that is sitting around with their health care card thinking everything's aces and they can get whatever care they need, no matter the circumstances, is frankly delusional. That's assuming, of course, that you have a job - no, make that a "good job" - that happens to have selected a decent slate of health care plans from which to choose. This is assuming that your employer gave you that choice, and that also assumes that you have the money to pay the premiums associated with the decent health care plan.

So, a host of assumptions later, you have a "decent health care plan." This plan comes with a shiny blue card (I live in a state, after all, where 70% of employers use health care plans from the Shiny Blue Symbol Company - insert corporate socialism crack here), and it also comes with a whole list of qualifications, exemptions, exceptions, co-payments, and a big fat "preexisting conditions" clause.

To review: if you have a medical need in this country, you can get whatever care you deserve, as long as:

You have a job
Your employer provides insurance
You can afford said insurance
You've had the insurance for X days
You don't have a preexisting condition
You call ahead
You're not out of state

Don't worry, free market: you'll still get the bill at the end. I received a bill for a routine doctor visit (after a year of fun medical billing exchanges between my doctor and my insurance company). My insurance didn't cover "well visits." Ahem:

"So, my doctor visits only get covered if he diagnoses an illness?"

"Yes."

"So you'll pay a ridiculous sum of money if I get sick, but you won't pay for preventative measures to catch things early before the potential cost balloons out of control?"

"Well, yes. But..." (I hung up the phone at this point, because I was at work, and I try to keep my profanity there to a minimum. Because it makes baby Jesus cry.)

My point of all of this is as follows: there is a whole host of people parading around in this country acting like the Government (we use a big "G" here) is trying to take away their freedom of choice (irony intended) in making medical decisions. The huge joke here is that those people don't have that freedom in the first place. In the best of circumstances they have a private health care plan that is largely controlled by their employment status, the whims of their employer, and the side of the bed that the person processing medical claims wakes up on during any given morning. Even more delicious as pointed out by my intelligent west-coast cousin is that most of the people complaining are older sorts who will soon be eligible for... wait for it... socialized health care.

Frankly, people, if you're too dumb to realize what you've got (or even better, what you don't have), and you choose to fight against it when it's offered to you... you get the picture.

It's even practical. Here's a common conversation I've had all too frequently as of late:

"Oh, socialist Obama blah blah poor people blah blah welfare state blah blah Great Society LBJ asswipe blah Barry Goldwater. Wait, didn't you live in Canada?"

"Yes."

"And the health care?"

"I had what is called an OHIP card, yes."

"Was everything ridiculous there?"

"No, actually. If you take my insurance premiums and add my taxes, you'd get about the same as the income tax rate there."

"Oh. Blah blah socialist bastard."

Indeed. On that note, I'll save my "what I think would work" post for another time...

The season is upon us.

2009-08-16T20:29:00.003-05:00

In more ways than one. Break out the Pepto for:

I watched the first Saints preseason game with the familiar sounds of Jim Henderson barely making their way from the WWL tower to my crappy AM antenna. It's far superior than any TV announcer duo, even with the few seconds of delay between the radio signal and the action on-screen. I call upon anyone who has the know-how to produce a device that can delay an audio signal by a variable amount of time to step forward. Adjustable-frequency high- and low-pass filters would also be useful. Bring it, nerdy sports fans.
Specific to the football: Brunell, thank you for not sucking. Jason David, why do you even show up? The big kids will just pick on you. All in all, the offense shows continuing promise if we can win a game with our TE being the go-to receiver. Defense? You're going to have another rough road if a mediocre Carson Palmer gives me the jitters.
Welcome to tropical weather season. So far nothing on the trusty NHC map looks too foreboding (unless Bill doesn't make that curve to the open Atlantic as predicted). I have a little more trepidation about hurricane season #1 as a homeowner, though. Making sure the rent's paid up before hauling ass with a car-full of stuff? Entertaining. Cringing at the notion of "hurricane deductible"? Not so much. (Yes, our house is above sea level - elevation 25, to be exact. Yes, we bought flood insurance anyway.)

In other news, we performed a drive-by-frogging in retaliation for the drive-by-gnoming we received a couple of weeks back. It seems we are engaged in game of "my shitty suburban plastic lawn decoration is far more embarrassing than your back-shelves-of-Home-Depot-schlock." In Alabama, we find ways of keeping ourselves entertained.

Pub-la-mi-cations.

2009-08-09T11:26:00.002-05:00

Oh, it's been awhile, so I'll steal my cousin's often-effective bullet point methodology.

It would be difficult to say anything more (than what's been posted by others) that would more accurately describe the awesomeness that was the Team Black Swan - Temporarily Alabama Branch voyage to northern California. The four CDs of data and 500 photos on our camera alone serve as a pretty good metric for the fun level involved. Thanks again, y'all - we needed a reminder that there's a whole world of awesome out there.
Some of those photos are going to be printed in large format so as to be hung on the walls of our Team HQ. They're that good. One of them is already my desktop background at home. Work would follow if they didn't see it as a veiled threat to quit and move (a subject best not discussed herein).
Transit!
Team Other Half: Be looking for a package in the mail over the next couple of weeks.

The only downside to this trip (and it's a shame to mention given all the good sides, but there's a zen moment to follow): the realization that the world out there is ready for the taking and I somehow elected to move to M!@#(*!@# F!@#(*@!# ALABAMA. However, justification:

Other options (Canada, anyone, in various incarnations? Baton Rouge? Los Angeles?) entailed either a significant been-there-done-that suck factor or may have been too risky given the circumstances. Los Angeles may have been cool, but considering we were shocked by the expense of living in a "real city" (debatable, in retrospect)...
New Orleans is a two-hour drive from here if done properly, which serves as a good compromise given that moving back to New Orleans would have been admitting defeat. I've since come to terms somewhat with New Orleans and would certainly live there again if the right opportunity came up (e.g. "let's open an office out west - you want to run it?"). That being said, not being there for a while was probably at least a good thing. Ask my liver.
This place is cheap as hell. Embarrassingly cheap. I'd feel worse about how low the property taxes are (seeing as how the public school system is shit here) but I don't have any damn kids so it doesn't affect me that much. Well, except I'm betting the kid who robbed us was a product of said system. Damned "society benefits as a whole" theories that happen to be correct.
Honestly, path of least resistance.

Here's the zen moment: leaving and coming back reminded me of why we're here in the first place. We're here to regroup, retool, and to step back from things a bit and really evaluate where we want to be and what we want to be doing. This has already borne fruit: a house to renovate and resell once the market picks back up (that sounds like a "wears a helmet" comment, but the housing market is thankfully very stable here), career goals slowly coming to fruition, educational goals becoming much clearer, and a general sense that I can get my head around it all. Goals - goals other than "let's make as much money as possible" suddenly take a back seat to things that are really important. And that's good.

Nevertheless, the ultimate product of this is "get the f!@# out of here, get back to real America, and enjoy the hell out of the victory." When or where, I'm not sure, but I've got a decent grasp of "how."

In the interim, I'm determined to work the plan and to use the remainder as some sort of observational social experiment - going to an outlet mall during the back-to-school tax-free weekend (don't), surreptitiously making fun of extreme right-wing viewpoints held by others as they come crashing down in the face of our new modern reality (do), being the person people ask about "socialized" health care and other seemingly-new concepts (since we "lived in one of those places" - definite do).

To make this overly long story short, it sometimes gets tiresome to be defined by things you most certainly are not. Having the chance to define yourself based on things that you are and things that you want to be - that's where the action is.

Foreigner syndrome.

2009-05-14T21:56:00.002-05:00

So, true to my previous post, I ended up going on the Buffalo - Detroit trip last week. Specifically, I ended up in the Niagara region of Ontario and suburban Detroit. They were interesting places, but perhaps not in wholly positive ways.

As it stands, my history with the Canadian Immigration authorities is a fascinating one. Due to the wonders of NAFTA and spousal sponsorship, I was able to obtain a work permit in 30 minutes and a permanent resident (green) card in two months. The experience of actually living and working in Canada (Toronto) didn't go so well, but at least we gave it a shot.

Side note: Gordie, on the side chance you Google this and realize our three degrees of separation while on break from pwning BC and the provincial NDP - I bet your part of the country is way cooler.

But I digress.

When trying to enter Canada last Monday, the straight-out-of-CIC-school border guard pulled me over for having an immigration visa in my US passport but no PR card on hand. This should have been simple, but unfortunately it went down as follows:

Dude in sunglasses: "Did you live in Canada?"

Me: "Yes, from July - December 2007."

Dude: "So you no longer live here?"

Me: "No."

Dude: "Do you have your PR card with you?"

Me: "Well, no, because I'm not coming here to reside again. I'm just here for two days."

Dude: "You need to go inside."

Sadly, things did not improve from this point on. The immigration officer inside the "scary building" didn't understand a simple fact of law: When you obtain a PR card by having your spouse sponsor you, and you live continuously with said spouse, you are entitled to retain said card no matter where you live. Period.

Suffice to say that Canadian Immigration now has me "flagged," a copy of my business card on file, and my smiling face in a computer somewhere. This has occurred for having what is technically more of a right to enter their country than the average American. Excellent.

Crap like that is why I don't live there anymore. That, and it gets cold there. (Who knew?)

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Suburban Detroit (the nice part) is a mix of shuttered businesses and brand-spanking-new high-end shopping plazas. It's depressing, but it's a fair reminder of how America found itself in its current economic state. There are a lot of houses for sale, a lot of empty parking lots, etc., but a lot of people apparently interested in obtaining an iPhone. (Including me.) Epiphany provided by a Spanish participant of our travel adventure: Proscuitto is a cheap knockoff of Serrano ham. Curious.

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So now I find myself rocking it back in Lower AL, which is an okay place as long as I remain in the "bubble" (i.e. not the super-Republican suburbs). It's a good spot for now, but I don't know that it'll stick forever.

Especially if I don't find a good Sazerac around.

This is my epic post about Mobile, Alabama.

2009-04-07T20:42:00.002-05:00

Not really.

The origin of said phrase: we went and saw Ben Folds last night with a friend. A highlight: "This is my Epic Song about Mobile, Alabama." Lyrics included:

"This is a nice hotel. Why do you quit serving breakfast at ten? Just give me the eggs - I'll cook them myself."

"Mobile isn't such a bad place. I called a cab and went to the mall."

Notably, our version of the Saenger Theatre makes a fine rock venue.

I digress, even though the mall reference is a fair analysis.

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I potentially have fun and not-so-fun trips coming up. Not-so-fun: Detroit and Buffalo. People always say that those places are "dead cities" (and from the looks of them, they are), and yet most everything needed on my projects comes from the Rust Belt or potentially Mexico or Houston. None of these are particularly fun places to go, especially on business.

Fun: San Francisco. Big time fun, in fact. It will be good to visit a sane member of my family, his lovely spouse, and their "real America" environs.

I propose that all urban areas over 1,000,000 people in size qualify as the "real America" now. No, that doesn't include where I live.

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The band that played our New Orleans going-away party is no longer. Though bittersweet, it represents new opportunities for a lot of people in a lot of ways, and I'm happy for that.

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This was my epic post about Mobile, Alabama, and now I want scrambled eggs.

The glamorous world of business travel.

2009-01-18T11:40:00.003-06:00

Anyone who reads the above, and who has traveled for business in recent memory, is in on the joke there.

"Business travel" isn't something that I frequently have to do in my line of work, which realistically is a good thing. Every time I do have to travel, though, many things that I occasionally assume to be true are usually confirmed for me. A sampling:

- Business travelers do not often eat well. We tend to use it as an excuse to eat poorly - the old "I'll eat what I want because no one is here to tell me otherwise" kicks into effect. This is all fun on Night 1, but by the time Day 5 rolls around, you're at the salad bar not wanting to see red meat again for a very long time.

- I am very, very thankful to live somewhere that isn't cold. If asked to pick between the two temperature extremes (ball-shrinking cold versus oppressive heat), then pass the extra deodorant and keep your damn earmuffs.

- The airline industry, with precious few exceptions, is run by a bunch of poop-slinging monkeys. Notably, poop-slinging monkeys are rarely known for their mastery of logistics or their "people skills." Example: when being sent back and forth between gates at Hartsfield (to find my flight home), I was told to not talk about a Delta gatekeeper's mama.

- Side note on the previous: remember when everyone in the South would only fly Delta? Delta is now officially a "shit airline" in my book. Merging with Northwest? Now that's a match made in hell if there ever was one. Moving along...

- Canadians talk funny. Well, most Canadians. When they break out with the "yous" and the talk about how treacherous the weather is... it's a good thing they make tasty beer there.

- It is always good to be home.

Meanwhile, I now find myself equipped with a work laptop. In principle this is some sort of promotion, but the reality is now that I have an electronic VPN tether that connects me to work wherever there's a wireless network available. FYI it's a year-old Dell with a battery issue and a bad attitude.

In better news, Mobile continues to impress me in terms of the eclectic nature of living here. Yesterday entailed the following:

- Cold pizza for breakfast. (Please ignore my previous statement about salad bars.)
- Float barn party. (I'll explain later.)
- Shrimp and oyster lunch.
- Coffee at independent coffee shop.
- Pre-symphony party at martini bar; club soda with lime, thank-you-very-much. (Float barn party = lots of beer; 'tis a marathon, not a sprint.)
- Symphony. Very good European pianist, complete with floppy hair.
- Darts at bar down the street. Laugh at 22-year-old guys with SEC haircuts getting hit on by women old enough to be their moms. Discover wife's God-given ability to whip ass at 501. Who knew?
- Chez Waffle, midnight.

Glorious. It is good to be home.

"Are you better off," 2009 version.

2009-01-03T22:30:00.002-06:00

Things get a bit jumbled when you pile a few life changes together towards the beginning of the year. Since the end of October:

- Bought a house.
- Celebrated Thanksgiving with my side of the family (insert shout-out to persevering cousins here).
- Moved in rapid fashion into new house.
- Celebrated a "milestone birthday."
- Moved into a new office (same company, different part of town).
- Traveled to in-laws for Christmas.
- Began painting house with visiting in-laws.

Scheduled: a visit from my parents (at the same time as my in-laws; fortunately, we have enough room) and a weeklong trip to the Niagara portion of the world. More on that irony in a bit.

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One of the good old political talking points (one of many that was resurrected this past year, in fact) is the question, "Are you better off now than you were four years ago?" I've been asking myself lately if I'm better off at the beginning of 2009 than I was at the same time the year previous.

Well, by and large, yes.

This time last year, we had just moved to Mobile (which for me reads like "back to Alabama"). If we rewind slightly further, we were living in another country, feeling like we had been sold a false bill of goods, and basically freezing our asses off in a farcical Land of the Lame. It was bad. Really, really bad. There wasn't a single major life element (residence, job, social life, etc.) that I enjoyed in the least, save the presence of my lovely wife. Even that was bittersweet, given what all that aforementioned disappointment represented.

As bad as all that was, things are good now. Life, for the first time since a certain inclement weather event in 2005, doesn't seem like one constant struggle.

That trip north, which I take in a week, will be interesting if nothing but for an after-the-fact comparison of where I felt stuck and where I found redemption. I will, however, drink copious amounts of Tim Horton's coffee, some of which will make its return to the States. (That stuff was good. I think the Ministry of Health laces it with happy drugs.)

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I'm a bit late to this conversation (thanks, AT&T and the blind toddler who ran the phone lines in this place), but here goes:

Cousin, I am not smarter than you. I must mention that I do recall my WISC-R score, only because there's a distinct part of me that regrets the set of expectations that resulted from going through the "gifted experience" at a young age. I've felt (more and more, lately) that being "the golden boy" denied a sense of satisfaction and (more importantly) contentment as early adulthood came around. Please feel free to throw in your two cents on that - I get a lot of perspective from hearing your side of a similar experience.

Notes from Pro-America America

2008-10-26T19:10:00.002-05:00

It's easy to get on the good-ol'-boy bandwagon when money is flush and everyone just wants to get along with "how things should be" or "the way things were," but when the sometimes harsh reality of life sets in - then you begin to see the measure of people.

When things really go south, and people begin to truly question what matters to them, the truth begins to seep out.

That's what's happening now, even here, in one of the reddest "red states."

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I flew in a private plane to a client site last week. When colleagues bandied about the old "well, here comes Mr. Spread-the-Wealth-har-har-har", the client openly stated, "He can't be worse than who we have now. No one will ever meet that mark. And let's be honest, he's far better than the other guy running this year." I thought the oxygen masks might drop, given the gasp of air that left the cabin.

These words were spoken en route to a chemical plant deep in the landscape of other chemical plants, refineries, and dreary port facilities in east Texas. Bush country.

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At Airport Blvd and Cody Rd in Mobile, Alabama, at a repurposed BP station, one can readily purchase biodiesel.

An SUV down the street has a languishing "...or best offer" for-sale sign posted on the hood. It hasn't moved from that spot in several weeks.

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People at work who are more aware of my political view on things (though I admittedly don't like to advertise, due to a bad experience ten years ago) have accepted that the Democratic party will be in full swing in a couple of months. They've asked me why I trust "that one." They fear whatever disgusting rumor that Fox News or Sarah Palin's makeup artist is spouting at any given moment.

They don't remember when practicing Islam wasn't considered equivalent to being a terrorist, even though they're much older than I am.

I do. Then again, I'm "from off," by comparison.

It is quite possible that I went to the most bizarre high school in this state. I remember walking down the halls and the place, even though it was in Birmingham, seemed like the United Nations to me. People weren't afraid to express their views, talk about their faith, or do much of anything else for that matter. We didn't scare each other - there wasn't a reason for that to be the case, even though a lot of us had "funny" names or went to mosques instead of churches or just generally came from other places. And it was in Alabama. Who knew.

Some people I know can't envision a world where classifying people by their religious affiliation or political beliefs isn't the status quo. Or where people, when they disagree, don't resort to calls of "terrorist" or "socialist" or any other "-ist" that gets out "the pro-America" America to vote. That's a shame, because despite the things that have happened over the past eight years, that's the most un-American concept I can imagine. That's not the version of America I grew up in.

Good evening, white people.

2008-09-14T19:02:00.002-05:00

Mobile, thus far, has been a fascinating and enjoyable study in what happens at the crossroads of civilization.

Some historical background: six flags have flown over Mobile in its colonial history (Spanish pre-conquistador outpost, first capital of French Louisiana, British loyalist refuge, Spanish again, American during the War of 1812, the Republic of Alabama, the Confederacy, America again... and that doesn't count the Republic of West Florida). Historical homes have shields featuring these flags (yes, including that one). As such (and also by being a port city), it is an interesting blend of a variety of cultures.

Yesterday evening my lovely wife, some friends, and I went to see a prominent New Orleans musician at a local club. Given the club's location, it was obvious to us that we would very much be in the racial minority of the attendees. When we arrived, this was confirmed - the owners were almost surprised that we had showed up.

"Wow... you're here for the show this evening?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
"We used to live in New Orleans."
"Oh. Ohhhhhh. The cover's $20. Would you like a table up front?"

Envision an old Golden Corral converted into a retro-style supper club, complete with stage and awesome brass band. When the emcee strode up stage, we were appropriately greeted.

"Good evening, everyone. Hey, good evening, white people."

I haven't had that good of a time in a while. Racial divisions are alive and well in the deep South, but a lot of us (regardless of race) like to have fun at their expense.

The more things change...

2008-08-28T19:40:00.002-05:00

...blah blah blah.

So, it's August 28, and I'm watching computer models and five-day forecasts and NHC discussions as if I'm some sort of Gulf coast savant, knowing fully that I have no idea where this thing's headed, nor do I have any control over it. Of course, no one else does, either. All we can do is prepare.

That preparation, borne from getting Katrina'd (there's no polite way to put it), is a multi-point approach:

1. Hurricane kit. We have the Hurricane Kit For the Ages, including a respectable short wave radio, a half-dozen flashlights, rations (yes, rations), etc. We bought it from a company in California that specializes in earthquake supplies. It came in a five-gallon bucket. The bucket has a snap-on toilet seat. I'm not joking. Quite honestly, it's the Apocalypse Bucket, and I respect that.

2. Work has sent out an e-mail declaring a mandatory shutdown of our office effective COB tomorrow. Back up the data, take the important files, get everything off the floor, and roll out the polyethylene. It will be interesting to see if our (350,000 bpd) client shuts down as well.

3. The hot water heater and the oven at our house are gas-fired. Electricity: optional. Fridge shuts down? I have two huge bags of charcoal. The neighborhood will eat well.

4. Alabama does not require a license to purchase a firearm. There's a new Bass Pro Shops just down the road. I don't think it would ever get all "you loot, we shoot" here, but... I'm not saying, I'm just... saying.

Frankly, where we live isn't nearly as susceptible to flooding as our residence in New Orleans, so there's that. Our game plan: if it's not a 4 or 5, or unless there are some sort of other mitigating circumstances, we're staying.

On a more fun note, I feel I must relate a conversation that I had to witness today. I say "witness," because if I had "participated," my head would have "exploded." This confirms many of my venerable cousin's conclusions regarding (the curse of) Southern politics:

"You know, it scares me to death, but Obama just might win it."
"I wonder if the Muslims will test him."
"I know it's just, like, 10% of the Muslims who are all radical, but the others are still pretty traditional, what with the honor killings and all."

It got worse. I'm not kidding. Here's what I wanted to say:

"You know, if you think people who practice Islam have the market cornered on terrorist acts... well, maybe you should ask people who live in Northern Ireland how they feel about that. Or people who were in Atlanta in '96 during the Olympics. Or anyone who opened a special package from Ted Kaczynski. Or just about any resident from Oklahoma City."

The better argument, given where I am:

"You don't hate football, do you? Because when I was in high school, a (very kind and intelligent) fellow student was Mr. Alabama Football. He was also incredible at the game, and he was universally well liked. Oh, by the way, he practices Islam. So, if you think all Muslim people are bomb-toting terrorists, then Mr. Football was a terrorist, and football is evil. Therefore, the terrorists win."

My old high school is now a Muslim community center.

Q.E.D., redneck Alabama.

Recap.

2008-07-16T20:36:00.002-05:00

One of the reasons I never got into blogging that extensively was its propensity to increase my Pepto consumption. In other words, I'd write a lot of somewhat angry stuff, which would just get me going, writing more angry stuff, etc. into a downward spiral of misplaced punctuation and mouse clicks sounding out "why doesn't the world understand" in some vague form of Morse code. It's a lot less glamorous than it sounds.

That being said, here's my last link on energy policy for a while. Straight from the files of "take a good idea and then dump on it a bunch:"

FutureGen: Dude, where's my funding?

This wouldn't bother me so much if I hadn't had an internship at one of the predecessors. Don't buy it when people say we're exploring all our energy options.

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I came to a conclusion this morning that most news media is worthless. I enjoy the local news here (and not just because I know people that work in that business) because it has somewhat of a direct effect on me. Just about everything on a national level, however, is simply degrading to watch. Somewhere (2001, perhaps far earlier), the media got away from telling us what's going on and began telling us what to think... about what's *not* going on.

If you're getting the urge to turn on CNN, I'll save you the trouble: Nancy Graaaaace is outraaaaaaged, and Lou Dobbs is a scary, protectionist (racist), bitter old man. Also, gas costs a lot, Obama is a Muslim who hates the Pledge of Allegiance and white people, and McCain is running the ideal 1908 presidential campaign. (Sadly, I have to refute those stupid Obama-is-evil forwards on a regular basis.)

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I feel that I should counteract the vitriol with something silly, so I'll end with this:

"No Values Voters" Looking To Support Most Evil Candidate

Two week collection.

2008-07-02T19:57:00.002-05:00

Highlights from the past couple of weeks:

Flying to Newark and driving west (i.e. away from The City) is a torturous experience if you happen to like New York. Me, I think the place rocks, so sitting in an EWR terminal for several hours before flying over the Statue of Liberty and Lower Manhattan on my way out was not the most enjoyable experience. Come on, the Port Authority runs the place, and you're one SkyTrain and a NJ Transit ride from Penn Station.

Man, that $4 - $4.60 / gal gas thing really pisses people off. Too bad it's not going to change anytime soon (except, perhaps, to get more expensive), which means we'll constantly hear about it in the news until our collective ears bleed. In very media-sensationalist fashion, the story is made out to be a Big Corporation vs. the Real Common American Citizen (which, by definition, doesn't exist). Also, there's obviously one Magic Bullet (tm) solution for the whole thing. Check out:

Chevron chief, environmental lawyer discuss energy policy

10 Things You can Like About $4 Gas

The energy policy solution? D: all of the above, with potential fun side effects.

Speaking of fun side effects, we saw Wall-E on opening night. (I have to maintain my tech-cool image, after all.) Cute movie about robot love? Indictment of our slothful, wasteful lifestyle? Yes and yes, which made it that much better. The depiction of the natural end of privatization was the icing on the cake.

This week: my title of "project engineering manager" has been extended to "project manager" (yes, that's a step up); success with charcoal chimney starters, and revisiting an inventive idea spawned by old grad school boredom.

Technological motivator.

2008-06-20T12:07:00.002-05:00

I read somewhere once that new information technology developments tend to be initially used for two things: religion and sex. Think of the Gutenberg bible, for instance, or those dirty movies that Edison made. Further evidence:

The iPhone's Next Frontier: Porn

Because the potential photos for "The iPhone's Next Frontier: Bible" weren't as flashy (pun intended), and "The iPhone's Next Frontier: Q'uran" would have resulted in a rebuke from the White House to TIME magazine.

Please retreat to your smoke-filled back rooms.

2008-06-18T20:56:00.003-05:00

Because, United States Senate, you've easily met your "screw things up" quota for the week.

Sometimes I wonder why the pace of the federal government is so slow here. One might say it results from our bicameral legislative system (as opposed to a parliamentary one), or to the numerous checks and balances that ultimately protect us from having one branch of government overwhelm the others (at least in theory).

And then I realize the real answer: it's because the place is full of blow-hard morons who like to hear themselves talk but not actually do anything other than refine their own sense of moral superiority in the name of the "regular folks back home."

Here's a couple of examples:

Air Force may reopen $35B tanker bid

To anyone who thinks awarding this contract to Northrop Grumman / Airbus is some form of selling out to those funny-speaking Europeans: well, I don't really have to mention anything in response to you, because chances are you didn't get past big words like "bicameral." Or "tanker." The senators mentioned in the article dancing with glee over having screwed over the Frenchies (tm) are leading this country down a very wrong-headed protectionist path that will only lead to further problems for the U.S. in the global economy. I also wouldn't piss on them if they were on fire, unless I happen to develop the ability to urinate lighter fluid.

McCain wants 45 new nuclear reactors by 2030

This may not be what you think, but it's still indicative of some gigantic stupidity on the Senator's part. If we want to shake off the idea of using fossil fuels anytime soon, we're going to have to go down this road. Fret not, though: nuclear technology has come a long way since... well, the last time we built them (early 80's, unless you count recent TVA restarts). Also, if you enjoy the concept of baseload power (i.e. being able to have electrical-type things run 24-7), this is the only way to go that doesn't involve burning something.

Here's what I don't get: this isn't exactly a new idea. One can easily obtain a list of utilities pursuing NRC permits for new / restarted facilities (likely coming to a greenfield near you), and having seen this list, 45 sounds like a pretty good count. So Senator McCain makes headlines by essentially advocating an idea that's... already going to happen. Kudos, you energy policy pioneer, disguised as a creepy guy who makes lukewarm speeches to the Young Republicans of Kenner, LA (including Bobby Jindal).

Two-headed monster.

2008-06-13T15:02:00.004-05:00

Further to my previously-announced blog topics:

There were many interesting things about living in Canada for a few months. Unfortunately, many of them were not what was expected, which is to say that by and large the experience temporarily sucked the life out of me. There was, however, one shining highlight; it is a treat that I cannot yet duplicate here:

I swear to you, Steam Whistle Pilsner, manufactured in an old railroad roundhouse next to the Rogers Centre (nee Skydome), tastes like Captain Crunch in beer form. Once this dawned on me during a late night at the Wheat Sheaf (Toronto's oldest bar), I announced it to my lovely S.O., who promptly stole my pint. This would not have happened when the bar was men-only, which was not all that long ago (Canada being the land, for the most part, of Protestant sticks-in-the-mud).

Sure, it was $5.50 a pint, but that was the going rate for most anything there (I once paid $6 for a Corona bottle). Sure, it was hard to justify drinking a pilsner when it was -15C outside and most any European beer (including Guinness) tasted fresher than the stuff we get here. But I'll be damned if it wasn't worth it.

Unfortunately, it isn't available in the U.S. Anywhere. You literally have to go to Canada, buy it, and bring it back with you. If I end up going to St. Catharines for work (different story), I'm going to bring back the customs limit (a case). My apologies if you're in the car behind me at the Lewiston bridge checkpoint that day.

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On to my other armchair hobby: fun with energy policy:

China clearly overtakes U.S. as leading emitter of climate-warming gases

Most people think that China is an emerging power on the world stage, and that someday their economy will have a dramatic effect on ours. That pretty much the case, if by someday you're thinking "that dot in the rear view mirror."

China has access to the same industrial environmental control technology that the U.S. has. In many cases, their technology is more advanced than ours. (I once used a Chinese facility as a benchmark for an environmental control solution for a U.S. plant.) It's not the other way around. Moreover, China easily has the money to pay for this stuff.

Which brings me to a conclusion, one that is essentially echoed in the article above: Any climate change plan that doesn't involve China, let alone hold them to the same environmental control parameters, isn't worthy of use as Al Gore's birdcage lining. That includes Kyoto. I'm not saying that the Bush Administration have been the most forthright people on anything involving the environment, but when it comes to making the call on Kyoto... well, I understand.

Now that we've covered That One Thing They Did Right During 8 Years, I'll hint at the One Other Thing They Almost Did Right:

Pilot carbon capture technology

And the consequences of not doing so:

New coal-fired power stations unbuildable
Climate change campaigners hijack coal train

Coming soon.

2008-06-12T22:30:00.002-05:00

After a nice retreat to SW Florida to hang out with the in-laws (sans high-speed internet until we assisted with the DSL install the day before we left), I'm slowly re-adjusting to life in the great Lower A.

Seeing as how time currently does not permit real intellectual discourse (or what tries to pass for it), I'll simply reveal some planned topics for posts. In no particular order:

1. Nature vs. nurture: how two cousins can have initially convergent, then divergent, then geographically separated yet strangely similar life experiences, and still end up with the same musicians on their MP3 players.

2. 2500 miles and two hours east: a recap of MSY-->YYZ (that's a zed) ---> MOB, and the adjustments that result (barbecue and sweet tea, yes; french bread, just wrong; who took away the Captain Crunch beer?). Will also include ironic quotes from LJ posts long forgotten.

3. A healthy, yet VOC-laden, intellectual topic: an engineer's take on American (worldwide?) energy policy, realistic goals, and stupid one-sized policy decisions by all parties involved. Guaranteed to piss you off, or I'll use a PE stamp on my forehead (select from LA, AL, or MS).

I tease.

In other news.

2008-06-01T18:33:00.002-05:00

Perhaps the authorities in your town are contemplating banning alcohol consumption on public transit. Maybe they go through with it, announcing that at the stroke of midnight June 1 that chugging a beer on your favorite train is no longer above-board.

I wonder what will happen 'round 11 pm, May 31.

Especially if you execute the ban in the Binge Drinking Capital of the Universe.

Hint: it won't be pretty.

Here I is.

2008-05-25T14:37:00.000-05:00

...in my basic, not-yet-customized form.