I found a fascinating little thing today from BizJournals about sports markets. The company did a study that matches a metro area's total combined income against the cost of running a major sports team--costs not including building a new stadium or offering incentives every few years so the team doesn't threaten to move. To no surprise the study concluded that LA has a huge amount of extra income to support any new sports franchise in any league, and probably two.
Several interesting findings. One, a MLB franchise costs over twice as much to maintain as a team in any other league. Over twice as much! How can that be? NFL tickets are as expensive or moreso than MLB tickets. Granted, you have to sell tickets to about 80 games a year in baseball, as opposed to 7-10 games in football. I guess that's part of it. And baseball teams seem to cost more to run, so they'd have to take in more in ticket revenue. Still, it's a shock to me.
Though, as a result, none of the 179 metro areas in the study (including Aberdeen, SD, but not San Juan, PR, which surprises me) except LA and New York can afford to support a new MLB team. Just as well, frankly. MLB is big enough and has too many other problems (*cough* revenue sharing, anyone?) to consider expanding.
The big surprise, here, is that there is apparently so much available space left in America for sports expansion. According to the study, there are 75 metro markets in America that could support a new MLS team; 23 that could support a new NHL franchise; 19 with room for an NBA team; and the biggest surprise, 30 cities that could do with an NFL team.
Think about that. If we can believe BizJournals, there's room in America for a whole new NFL. And that doesn't include cities that already have an NFL team but could support another one. Among the metros with income to spare for the NFL are Greenville-Spartanburg, South Carolina (!); Des Moines, Iowa; Tulsa, Oklahoma; Jackson, Mississippi (wtf?); Birmingham, Alabama; Grand Rapids, Michigan; and Little Rock, Arkansas. There are plenty of other surprises on the list.
BizJournals kindly gives us a list of their top ten cities that could support a new franchise, among them (of course) LA, which they think needs an NFL team (I could agree, though I could also care less) plus a baseball team in Riverside, Oklahoma City (basketball), Norfolk-Virginia Beach (basketball), Las Vegas (also basketball), Philadelphia (soccer), and northern New Jersey (baseball).
They also point out that all is not sunshine and roses; 16 markets are overextended on sports teams already. At the top of that list is none other than sunny Tampa Bay. With baseball, football, and hockey in town, and a local total gross income of only $75 billion, we're overextended by more than the cost of a baseball team (so we shouldn't really be surprised our baseball team can't put fans in the seats--although I maintain that if they put together a team that wouldn't lose to a local high school squad people would go watch). Phoenix, Denver, and Pittsburgh are the other worst offenders, although I'll note that Pittsburgh teams seem to do okay despite the small market, and I just can't imagine the Penguins or Pirates leaving town (though if they were to do so, Harrisburg just across the state has plenty of income space for a new team). Not to say that any teams in overextended markets are about to flee for greener pastures, though perhaps it wouldn't come as a great surprise.
All of the foregoing aside, the only league I'm aware of that actually has expansion plans (recall MLB was planning to contract only a few years ago) is MLS, which has a desire to expand into more "multi-ethnic" markets. The league has 12 teams at the present, and should give this study a serious look before finalizing their decisions. They expanded into Salt Lake City last year, which had just $2 million over the needed local cash to support a team, and which in no way qualifies as "multi-ethnic." In 2007 the league expects to expand into Toronto (I say let the Canucks field their own dadgum soccer league as long as we have 75 metro areas that could support a team), and one of six other cities.
The thing MLS should be looking at is that five of the six candidate cities (St. Louis, Milwaukee, Cincinnati, Cleveland, and Seattle) are already overextended. Only Tulsa remains. But Tulsa's not what you'd call multi-ethnic, as major metro areas go. Just look at this list of cities that would make great soccer markets: McAllen-Brownsville, Texas (more Spanish radio stations than English, and really fast growing); San Antonio, Texas (they'd rather have a football team, though); El Paso, Texas (bigger and more dense than McAllen-Brownsville, and less humid); Albuquerque; Indianapolis; Toledo, Ohio; Fresno, California; and the list goes on. BizJournals recommends Philadelphia. I'd recommend El Paso or Albuquerque.
It's worth pointing out that when MLS opened its doors several years ago there were teams in Tampa and Miami, both of which are overextended even now after those teams shut their doors, and the league still has teams in Kansas City and Denver, both also overextended. MLS, in other words, maybe isn't paying very much attention to a market's capacity to support a new sports team--and they have an uphill battle anyway since Americans just don't watch much soccer when their kids aren't on the team.
The league is said to be impressed with the Cleveland bid, which includes a shopping and entertainment district around a new soccer-only stadium. But Cleveland is not a growing city and is already overextended by more than the cost of an MLS team; they can put together the greatest package in the world, but if they can't put butts in the seats that's a bigger problem for MLS than a lower-grade stadium would ever be. Case in point: the Tampa Bay Devil Rays. The market was nearly overextended when it bid for the team--in fact, each of the three times it bid for a team--and now that we have it we can't get fans to pay to see the games, because they'd rather spend money on a Bucs or Lightning game. Why would MLS not consider that a Cleveland soccer team would be in the same boat? Ah, but a Tulsa (or El Paso!) team--that would be a smart move.
27 February 2006
25 February 2006
Three Books
I've finished three books recently without reviewing them, and I should rectify that oversight.
First was Undestanding Arabs, which I picked up back when I thought I'd be in Iraq right now instead of whiling away the hours at work desperately waiting for something interesting to happen. It was the first of the pre-Iraq books I decided to read, and as such is also the only one I've finished so far. I can say safely even without having finished/read the other books, this is the one of the four that I would have brought with me overseas.
Obviously this isn't the sort of book you're just going to pick up and read for fun. But if you find yourself heading toward that part of the world, this book (now available in a new edition from September 2005) is basically the standard (not to say only) text on Arab culture written for Westerners. It's a great primer on dealing with Arabs on a personal level. Would that I had reason to use it.
Next up was Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, by Philip K. Dick. This is the novel upon which the movie Blade Runner was (loosely) based. It's a nice slim book and I took it with me during the fantastic trip to Valdosta a couple weeks ago. I read the whole book in one afternoon and another evening. I need to rent Blade Runner now and watch it again, but the differences in the two are significant.
This was a great book. I won't insult you with a synopsis since if you're reading this blog you are almost certainly well-read and well-screened enough to know how the story goes, from one source or another. If you only know the movie, and you liked the movie, you ought to pick this up. It's so much deeper, but typical of Dick it showcases a very ambiguous morality. I can't recommend this book too strongly to fans of sci-fi or dystopian fiction, though I'll admit non-fans would find many of the book's conceits a little to bizarre. Still, this is probably the best novel I've read in the past year.
And just today I finished Bill Bryson's Lost Continent: Travels in Small-Town America. I picked this one up to take home last weekend because I wanted something ligther than the history of the middle east to read. Today I read the last two-thirds of it. Bryson is terrifically readable, funny and light and, for such a recent discovery of mine, one of my current favorites among writers. After Mother Tongue, I was really looking forward to this.
And it was light and engaging and humorous and a little sad, but it wasn't as great a read as I'd hoped--mostly because I couldn't get past Bryson's condescension toward so many of the people he met. Certainly not everyone you meet is as wise or warm or witty as yourself, but neither is everyone necessarily less so because they come from a different region or speak with a different accent. For an American, even one who when this was written had been living in England for over 12 years, Bryson comes across almost a little bit too Euro-trash, and that was disappointing.
Nonetheless, he makes some brilliant comments, especially considering that they're now over 15 years old. In particular he seems disappointed that every town in America is becoming the same--they're all Anytown U.S.A. He is disturbed by the tendency of the towns immediately abutting National Parks to become seedy tourist traps and is fairly negative toward tourist traps in general. He has some very insightful comments about the NPS' administration of the National Parks, which he sees as quite poor.
The book has been compared to Travels with Charley and Blue Highways. Not having read Blue Highways I don't know how to compare it, and Charley is almost 45 years old, so some of the insights show their age (plus I don't like poodles. Or Steinbeck). But before I started this blog, I read a book by Stephen Coonts called The Cannibal Queen. Coonts is no Steinbeck (or Least-Moon or even Bryson, frankly), but his book is perhaps the most recent version of the schlepping-through-America genre that started with de Tocqueville (who's book is still the best of the type), and to be honest with you, I like Queen better than Lost Continent. A 1941 Stearman is way cooler than any Chevette ever made, and Coonts manages to be less critical of the places he visits, possibly because as a former military man he has an easier time than Bryson looking past America's faults. While I chide this tendency in my colleagues, in print it's a much more attractive tendency than Bryson's condescension.
First was Undestanding Arabs, which I picked up back when I thought I'd be in Iraq right now instead of whiling away the hours at work desperately waiting for something interesting to happen. It was the first of the pre-Iraq books I decided to read, and as such is also the only one I've finished so far. I can say safely even without having finished/read the other books, this is the one of the four that I would have brought with me overseas. Obviously this isn't the sort of book you're just going to pick up and read for fun. But if you find yourself heading toward that part of the world, this book (now available in a new edition from September 2005) is basically the standard (not to say only) text on Arab culture written for Westerners. It's a great primer on dealing with Arabs on a personal level. Would that I had reason to use it.
Next up was Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, by Philip K. Dick. This is the novel upon which the movie Blade Runner was (loosely) based. It's a nice slim book and I took it with me during the fantastic trip to Valdosta a couple weeks ago. I read the whole book in one afternoon and another evening. I need to rent Blade Runner now and watch it again, but the differences in the two are significant.This was a great book. I won't insult you with a synopsis since if you're reading this blog you are almost certainly well-read and well-screened enough to know how the story goes, from one source or another. If you only know the movie, and you liked the movie, you ought to pick this up. It's so much deeper, but typical of Dick it showcases a very ambiguous morality. I can't recommend this book too strongly to fans of sci-fi or dystopian fiction, though I'll admit non-fans would find many of the book's conceits a little to bizarre. Still, this is probably the best novel I've read in the past year.
And just today I finished Bill Bryson's Lost Continent: Travels in Small-Town America. I picked this one up to take home last weekend because I wanted something ligther than the history of the middle east to read. Today I read the last two-thirds of it. Bryson is terrifically readable, funny and light and, for such a recent discovery of mine, one of my current favorites among writers. After Mother Tongue, I was really looking forward to this.And it was light and engaging and humorous and a little sad, but it wasn't as great a read as I'd hoped--mostly because I couldn't get past Bryson's condescension toward so many of the people he met. Certainly not everyone you meet is as wise or warm or witty as yourself, but neither is everyone necessarily less so because they come from a different region or speak with a different accent. For an American, even one who when this was written had been living in England for over 12 years, Bryson comes across almost a little bit too Euro-trash, and that was disappointing.
Nonetheless, he makes some brilliant comments, especially considering that they're now over 15 years old. In particular he seems disappointed that every town in America is becoming the same--they're all Anytown U.S.A. He is disturbed by the tendency of the towns immediately abutting National Parks to become seedy tourist traps and is fairly negative toward tourist traps in general. He has some very insightful comments about the NPS' administration of the National Parks, which he sees as quite poor.
The book has been compared to Travels with Charley and Blue Highways. Not having read Blue Highways I don't know how to compare it, and Charley is almost 45 years old, so some of the insights show their age (plus I don't like poodles. Or Steinbeck). But before I started this blog, I read a book by Stephen Coonts called The Cannibal Queen. Coonts is no Steinbeck (or Least-Moon or even Bryson, frankly), but his book is perhaps the most recent version of the schlepping-through-America genre that started with de Tocqueville (who's book is still the best of the type), and to be honest with you, I like Queen better than Lost Continent. A 1941 Stearman is way cooler than any Chevette ever made, and Coonts manages to be less critical of the places he visits, possibly because as a former military man he has an easier time than Bryson looking past America's faults. While I chide this tendency in my colleagues, in print it's a much more attractive tendency than Bryson's condescension.
Three Books
I've finished three books recently without reviewing them, and I should rectify that oversight.
First was Undestanding Arabs, which I picked up back when I thought I'd be in Iraq right now instead of whiling away the hours at work desperately waiting for something interesting to happen. It was the first of the pre-Iraq books I decided to read, and as such is also the only one I've finished so far. I can say safely even without having finished/read the other books, this is the one of the four that I would have brought with me overseas.
Obviously this isn't the sort of book you're just going to pick up and read for fun. But if you find yourself heading toward that part of the world, this book (now available in a new edition from September 2005) is basically the standard (not to say only) text on Arab culture written for Westerners. It's a great primer on dealing with Arabs on a personal level. Would that I had reason to use it.
Next up was Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, by Philip K. Dick. This is the novel upon which the movie Blade Runner was (loosely) based. It's a nice slim book and I took it with me during the fantastic trip to Valdosta a couple weeks ago. I read the whole book in one afternoon and another evening. I need to rent Blade Runner now and watch it again, but the differences in the two are significant.
This was a great book. I won't insult you with a synopsis since if you're reading this blog you are almost certainly well-read and well-screened enough to know how the story goes, from one source or another. If you only know the movie, and you liked the movie, you ought to pick this up. It's so much deeper, but typical of Dick it showcases a very ambiguous morality. I can't recommend this book too strongly to fans of sci-fi or dystopian fiction, though I'll admit non-fans would find many of the book's conceits a little to bizarre. Still, this is probably the best novel I've read in the past year.
And just today I finished Bill Bryson's Lost Continent: Travels in Small-Town America. I picked this one up to take home last weekend because I wanted something ligther than the history of the middle east to read. Today I read the last two-thirds of it. Bryson is terrifically readable, funny and light and, for such a recent discovery of mine, one of my current favorites among writers. After Mother Tongue, I was really looking forward to this.
And it was light and engaging and humorous and a little sad, but it wasn't as great a read as I'd hoped--mostly because I couldn't get past Bryson's condescension toward so many of the people he met. Certainly not everyone you meet is as wise or warm or witty as yourself, but neither is everyone necessarily less so because they come from a different region or speak with a different accent. For an American, even one who when this was written had been living in England for over 12 years, Bryson comes across almost a little bit too Euro-trash, and that was disappointing.
Nonetheless, he makes some brilliant comments, especially considering that they're now over 15 years old. In particular he seems disappointed that every town in America is becoming the same--they're all Anytown U.S.A. He is disturbed by the tendency of the towns immediately abutting National Parks to become seedy tourist traps and is fairly negative toward tourist traps in general. He has some very insightful comments about the NPS' administration of the National Parks, which he sees as quite poor.
The book has been compared to Travels with Charley and Blue Highways. Not having read Blue Highways I don't know how to compare it, and Charley is almost 45 years old, so some of the insights show their age (plus I don't like poodles. Or Steinbeck). But before I started this blog, I read a book by Stephen Coonts called The Cannibal Queen. Coonts is no Steinbeck (or Least-Moon or even Bryson, frankly), but his book is perhaps the most recent version of the schlepping-through-America genre that started with de Tocqueville (who's book is still the best of the type), and to be honest with you, I like Queen better than Lost Continent. A 1941 Stearman is way cooler than any Chevette ever made, and Coonts manages to be less critical of the places he visits, possibly because as a former military man he has an easier time than Bryson looking past America's faults. While I chide this tendency in my colleagues, in print it's a much more attractive tendency than Bryson's condescension.
First was Undestanding Arabs, which I picked up back when I thought I'd be in Iraq right now instead of whiling away the hours at work desperately waiting for something interesting to happen. It was the first of the pre-Iraq books I decided to read, and as such is also the only one I've finished so far. I can say safely even without having finished/read the other books, this is the one of the four that I would have brought with me overseas. Obviously this isn't the sort of book you're just going to pick up and read for fun. But if you find yourself heading toward that part of the world, this book (now available in a new edition from September 2005) is basically the standard (not to say only) text on Arab culture written for Westerners. It's a great primer on dealing with Arabs on a personal level. Would that I had reason to use it.
Next up was Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, by Philip K. Dick. This is the novel upon which the movie Blade Runner was (loosely) based. It's a nice slim book and I took it with me during the fantastic trip to Valdosta a couple weeks ago. I read the whole book in one afternoon and another evening. I need to rent Blade Runner now and watch it again, but the differences in the two are significant.This was a great book. I won't insult you with a synopsis since if you're reading this blog you are almost certainly well-read and well-screened enough to know how the story goes, from one source or another. If you only know the movie, and you liked the movie, you ought to pick this up. It's so much deeper, but typical of Dick it showcases a very ambiguous morality. I can't recommend this book too strongly to fans of sci-fi or dystopian fiction, though I'll admit non-fans would find many of the book's conceits a little to bizarre. Still, this is probably the best novel I've read in the past year.
And just today I finished Bill Bryson's Lost Continent: Travels in Small-Town America. I picked this one up to take home last weekend because I wanted something ligther than the history of the middle east to read. Today I read the last two-thirds of it. Bryson is terrifically readable, funny and light and, for such a recent discovery of mine, one of my current favorites among writers. After Mother Tongue, I was really looking forward to this.And it was light and engaging and humorous and a little sad, but it wasn't as great a read as I'd hoped--mostly because I couldn't get past Bryson's condescension toward so many of the people he met. Certainly not everyone you meet is as wise or warm or witty as yourself, but neither is everyone necessarily less so because they come from a different region or speak with a different accent. For an American, even one who when this was written had been living in England for over 12 years, Bryson comes across almost a little bit too Euro-trash, and that was disappointing.
Nonetheless, he makes some brilliant comments, especially considering that they're now over 15 years old. In particular he seems disappointed that every town in America is becoming the same--they're all Anytown U.S.A. He is disturbed by the tendency of the towns immediately abutting National Parks to become seedy tourist traps and is fairly negative toward tourist traps in general. He has some very insightful comments about the NPS' administration of the National Parks, which he sees as quite poor.
The book has been compared to Travels with Charley and Blue Highways. Not having read Blue Highways I don't know how to compare it, and Charley is almost 45 years old, so some of the insights show their age (plus I don't like poodles. Or Steinbeck). But before I started this blog, I read a book by Stephen Coonts called The Cannibal Queen. Coonts is no Steinbeck (or Least-Moon or even Bryson, frankly), but his book is perhaps the most recent version of the schlepping-through-America genre that started with de Tocqueville (who's book is still the best of the type), and to be honest with you, I like Queen better than Lost Continent. A 1941 Stearman is way cooler than any Chevette ever made, and Coonts manages to be less critical of the places he visits, possibly because as a former military man he has an easier time than Bryson looking past America's faults. While I chide this tendency in my colleagues, in print it's a much more attractive tendency than Bryson's condescension.
24 February 2006
Great Picture
The Future Is Here!
You must go see this picture. It looks like a younger brother of the machine in Contact, except it's real.
You must go see this picture. It looks like a younger brother of the machine in Contact, except it's real.
Shout Out to the Journalists
A lot of people in my line of work have a universally negative view of all media outlets other than Fox News. As a small cry of protest I want to piggyback on a post over at Sticks of Fire that tells a little story about what journalism is really for. Here's the link. All the pertinent articles in the newspaper, the Saint Petersburg Times.
Some days ago, it surfaced that the Pinellas County Commission was seeking bids to build a restaurant and several other tourist-related developments at Fort DeSoto Park, a popular barrier-island park and annually one of the top ranked beaches in the United States. A columnist for the Times, Howard Troxler, uncovered the plans and wrote a rather tetchy article about them, beseeching his readers to respond and tell him what they thought.
Five days later, he tipped his hat about the results and urged readers to write and tell the commission what they thought. Two days later he reported that his request had brought from his readers 55 letters, calls, or emails in support of the "upgrades" at the park, and over 788 negative responses. The people were better than 14-1 against the proposal--a proposal that the commission claimed "the people" were for. Which people? Not Troxler's readers, certainly--and with three columns on the subject in just over a week, those people who supported the idea should have been calling and writing, too, to prove him wrong. They didn't.
They also didn't call or write to the county commission. "The people" who the commission initially claimed supported the new development apparently failed to materialize, and the commission ordered the staff to revise the plans for the park; Troxler wrote a very insightful column on the entire ordeal.
Now, this was the work of a columnist, who has a little latitude to support a particular position, as Troxler did. But his position turned out to be solidly in the majority, and he gave that majority a much-needed voice. But the Times printed an article just yesterday about plans by two local officeholders for some underhanded dealing on a new development. A state legislator was working to pass legislation in the upcoming session (March-April) that would have allowed local developer Grady Pridgen (who is not, I must point out, a bad guy, especially as developers go) to skirt local and state traffic studies on his way to a new development in central Pinellas County.
Pridgen has a pretty good development record, and is actually working on a second project in downtown St. Pete that. He's developing a piece of property that is of no particular ecological significance and is going to be developed sooner or later. What's more, the plan he has is a good plan, something that deserves a chance. But every other development in the county has to undergo a state sponsored traffic study and meet other local traffic mitigation requirements. These can cost a pretty penny, and Pridgen no doubt hoped to save that money.
I can't blame him for that. But figuring that he'd get no support from local government, Pridgen went to the state legislature, where he found supporters. Local government was outraged, as you can well imagine, and Rep. Farkas is going to have a tough time finding much love from local leaders for the next few months. One might wonder how the voters feel about this. I can tell you what I suspect--given the density and size of the development and the near-universal appeal of NIMBYism, I imagine readers of the paper yesterday morning were just about as outraged. This sounds like corruption.
The Times dutifully reported the facts. And a day later--one day, only one day--Rep. Farkas withdrew his sponsorship of the bill. Farkas made other excuses, but we can reasonably assume that had the article not been written, the bill would have continued to move forward.
Of course this is a tough thing to support, for me at least. The development, La Entrada, looked to have been a good development. Density and infill are infinitely better than sprawl, although in Pinellas County the debate is moot since there's little land left on which to sprawl--in fact, the development in question was on one of the few undeveloped bits of land left in the county, which is largely built out. Still, the project deserves a good hearing and, I think, solid support. It's a shame it will be thought of in relation to this little escapade.
But just because the development is a good one doesn't mean it should get to circumvent the rules. Development rules, especially in Florida, are necessary things. If the traffic studies are too onerous for large developments then the state needs to look at changing the way the studies are conducted for all developments, rather than exempting one at a time piecemeal. That's inappropriate, and bravo to the Times for reporting on it.
This is why, when I hear some of my colleagues complain about the media's lack of integrity, I tell them they are stupid. We all lack integrity; it's the human condition. The role of journalists is to call people on it.
Some days ago, it surfaced that the Pinellas County Commission was seeking bids to build a restaurant and several other tourist-related developments at Fort DeSoto Park, a popular barrier-island park and annually one of the top ranked beaches in the United States. A columnist for the Times, Howard Troxler, uncovered the plans and wrote a rather tetchy article about them, beseeching his readers to respond and tell him what they thought.
Five days later, he tipped his hat about the results and urged readers to write and tell the commission what they thought. Two days later he reported that his request had brought from his readers 55 letters, calls, or emails in support of the "upgrades" at the park, and over 788 negative responses. The people were better than 14-1 against the proposal--a proposal that the commission claimed "the people" were for. Which people? Not Troxler's readers, certainly--and with three columns on the subject in just over a week, those people who supported the idea should have been calling and writing, too, to prove him wrong. They didn't.
They also didn't call or write to the county commission. "The people" who the commission initially claimed supported the new development apparently failed to materialize, and the commission ordered the staff to revise the plans for the park; Troxler wrote a very insightful column on the entire ordeal.
Now, this was the work of a columnist, who has a little latitude to support a particular position, as Troxler did. But his position turned out to be solidly in the majority, and he gave that majority a much-needed voice. But the Times printed an article just yesterday about plans by two local officeholders for some underhanded dealing on a new development. A state legislator was working to pass legislation in the upcoming session (March-April) that would have allowed local developer Grady Pridgen (who is not, I must point out, a bad guy, especially as developers go) to skirt local and state traffic studies on his way to a new development in central Pinellas County.
Pridgen has a pretty good development record, and is actually working on a second project in downtown St. Pete that. He's developing a piece of property that is of no particular ecological significance and is going to be developed sooner or later. What's more, the plan he has is a good plan, something that deserves a chance. But every other development in the county has to undergo a state sponsored traffic study and meet other local traffic mitigation requirements. These can cost a pretty penny, and Pridgen no doubt hoped to save that money.
I can't blame him for that. But figuring that he'd get no support from local government, Pridgen went to the state legislature, where he found supporters. Local government was outraged, as you can well imagine, and Rep. Farkas is going to have a tough time finding much love from local leaders for the next few months. One might wonder how the voters feel about this. I can tell you what I suspect--given the density and size of the development and the near-universal appeal of NIMBYism, I imagine readers of the paper yesterday morning were just about as outraged. This sounds like corruption.
The Times dutifully reported the facts. And a day later--one day, only one day--Rep. Farkas withdrew his sponsorship of the bill. Farkas made other excuses, but we can reasonably assume that had the article not been written, the bill would have continued to move forward.
Of course this is a tough thing to support, for me at least. The development, La Entrada, looked to have been a good development. Density and infill are infinitely better than sprawl, although in Pinellas County the debate is moot since there's little land left on which to sprawl--in fact, the development in question was on one of the few undeveloped bits of land left in the county, which is largely built out. Still, the project deserves a good hearing and, I think, solid support. It's a shame it will be thought of in relation to this little escapade.
But just because the development is a good one doesn't mean it should get to circumvent the rules. Development rules, especially in Florida, are necessary things. If the traffic studies are too onerous for large developments then the state needs to look at changing the way the studies are conducted for all developments, rather than exempting one at a time piecemeal. That's inappropriate, and bravo to the Times for reporting on it.
This is why, when I hear some of my colleagues complain about the media's lack of integrity, I tell them they are stupid. We all lack integrity; it's the human condition. The role of journalists is to call people on it.
22 February 2006
Taylor Hicks
All right. He's definitely not the typical Idol contestant. His voice is entirely unique in this group. Simon ain't gonna like it. But I'm sorry, this guy just looks like he's having such a great time, like he just loves what he's doing. I love the song, I love this guy.
Randy's right, he could do other songs better. But Randy's also right, there's never been anybody on this show in five years like him.
Let's see what Simon says...
Simon admits he was wrong! Taylor belongs in the finals, he says! All right! There's hope for this show yet!
Okay, time to vote. I've got two hours. How many votes can I register?
Randy's right, he could do other songs better. But Randy's also right, there's never been anybody on this show in five years like him.
Let's see what Simon says...
Simon admits he was wrong! Taylor belongs in the finals, he says! All right! There's hope for this show yet!
Okay, time to vote. I've got two hours. How many votes can I register?
A Rambling, Incoherent Post about TV and Work
It's probably a good thing the Olympics don't last any longer than they do because I've been completely useless the last two weeks after 8 o'clock. But so what? I think we can all agree I'm not especially likely to ever compete in the Olympics, so I might as well watch them.
Did anybody see this girl from the U.S. who skiied the slalom tonight with tiger ears on her skiing helmet? Okay, this seems like it would really be bad for your aerodynamics. But still, tiger ears! How cool! She's probably not from Clemson, but I still think that's pretty cool.
And over on the other channel... well, four guys in, I haven't been that impressed. The first two guys, Patrick and David, I sort of felt like they deserve a second chance. The next two, Bucky and Will? Nah. I guess this just makes it easier for Taylor Hicks.
I should point out that the horrible exercise at work passed with nary a peep from the inspectors today. They did not come in to inspect our office at all--nor did they inspect anyone in the Ops Group. We've already been inspected enough, it seems. Thank God. It means I don't get to show off my airman, but I sent a few notes forward in an effort to get him recognized at the wing picnic next week. We'll see how it goes. Wish him luck (Rick Insley, by the way, that's his name).
I've been thinking a lot lately, of course, about the next job down the line for me, since I assume it will come to pass sooner or later. You know, I really don't want to work for anyone ever again. I guess none of us do. And I guess I don't really have that option. I doubt I'll ever have as good a boss as I do right now, and I'll certainly miss that. But I think I'll miss much more being a boss.
Don't get me wrong--I'm not exactly a great boss. I basically give my people jobs and leave them alone. This works great with someone like Rick, who works well on his own initiative and will do better work left to his own devices than he will with constant supervision. This is not so good with other people who need a little more oversight, and I'm uncomfortable being in that role.
So that settles it. I'm not going to work. I'm going to find something that doesn't feel like work. I wonder what it will be...
Three more performers have taken the stage. One of them was actually good. These dudes just aren't really getting it done tonight. The geeky looking kid, Kevin, (who by the way I really like; I think he's the most real of the contestants apart from Taylor) is clearly not the best singer here, but after seven performances he's easily in second place on my ranking. These last five guys have some work to do.
I'm watching freestyle aerials. This sport is absolutely incredible, and not just because the contestants will all need knee replacements by the age of 30. How high in the air are they going? And twisting and flipping around the whole time? And getting oriented and landing feet-first? How do you learn this?
This is one of the things that amazes me about some of these sports: moreso than with the Summer Olympics, so many of these sports look like they would be impossible to learn--how do you learn ski jumping, aerials, luge, or giant slalom without so badly injuring yourself the first time you try them that you can never try them again? Maybe that's how these athletes are chosen: they were the ones who survived the initial training.
Did anybody see this girl from the U.S. who skiied the slalom tonight with tiger ears on her skiing helmet? Okay, this seems like it would really be bad for your aerodynamics. But still, tiger ears! How cool! She's probably not from Clemson, but I still think that's pretty cool.
And over on the other channel... well, four guys in, I haven't been that impressed. The first two guys, Patrick and David, I sort of felt like they deserve a second chance. The next two, Bucky and Will? Nah. I guess this just makes it easier for Taylor Hicks.
I should point out that the horrible exercise at work passed with nary a peep from the inspectors today. They did not come in to inspect our office at all--nor did they inspect anyone in the Ops Group. We've already been inspected enough, it seems. Thank God. It means I don't get to show off my airman, but I sent a few notes forward in an effort to get him recognized at the wing picnic next week. We'll see how it goes. Wish him luck (Rick Insley, by the way, that's his name).
I've been thinking a lot lately, of course, about the next job down the line for me, since I assume it will come to pass sooner or later. You know, I really don't want to work for anyone ever again. I guess none of us do. And I guess I don't really have that option. I doubt I'll ever have as good a boss as I do right now, and I'll certainly miss that. But I think I'll miss much more being a boss.
Don't get me wrong--I'm not exactly a great boss. I basically give my people jobs and leave them alone. This works great with someone like Rick, who works well on his own initiative and will do better work left to his own devices than he will with constant supervision. This is not so good with other people who need a little more oversight, and I'm uncomfortable being in that role.
So that settles it. I'm not going to work. I'm going to find something that doesn't feel like work. I wonder what it will be...
Three more performers have taken the stage. One of them was actually good. These dudes just aren't really getting it done tonight. The geeky looking kid, Kevin, (who by the way I really like; I think he's the most real of the contestants apart from Taylor) is clearly not the best singer here, but after seven performances he's easily in second place on my ranking. These last five guys have some work to do.
I'm watching freestyle aerials. This sport is absolutely incredible, and not just because the contestants will all need knee replacements by the age of 30. How high in the air are they going? And twisting and flipping around the whole time? And getting oriented and landing feet-first? How do you learn this?
This is one of the things that amazes me about some of these sports: moreso than with the Summer Olympics, so many of these sports look like they would be impossible to learn--how do you learn ski jumping, aerials, luge, or giant slalom without so badly injuring yourself the first time you try them that you can never try them again? Maybe that's how these athletes are chosen: they were the ones who survived the initial training.
Hooray Wine!!!!
If you live in Florida, read this article here and drink a toast. We can now order wine over the internet. It is a good day indeed; I'm going to be ordering some more of this fine Val Verde Sangiovese from sunny Del Rio sometime soon.
21 February 2006
Snoring
If anybody gets the title to this post I want to know about it. It is so esoteric I'm not even sure if I get it.
Anyway. A few last tidbits. Sadly, once American Idol was done, the Olympics were back to figure skating. Blah. I'm going to go read shortly. But I did vote: I voted for Mandisa (a little young to be going only by one name, but whatever), and for Melissa McGhee, because she's from Tampa. I've been trying to vote for the clear star of the night, Paris Bennett, but the lines are jammed. Which means, ultimately, that Paris is getting loads of votes and doesn't need one from me. Good for her.
I hope that tomorrow night I'll have the same problem trying to vote for Taylor Hicks. But if not I'll just keep voting repeatedly until the system locks me out. Thanks to my good friend Scanime I discovered that Mr. Hicks already has an album available--and I'm thinking the American Idol voters may like him more than I initially feared because apparently the CDs are selling like hotcakes (actually, I've never noticed that hotcakes sell all that well; the CDs are selling like cheap beer before the Superbowl) and you have to wait two weeks before you can get one. You can download three of the tracks off the CD, and they're great. And, the Laser's Edge CD company that makes the CD is in no way affiliated with the RIAA; it seems Taylor Hicks doesn't have a record contract, just a record. You can buy a copy with a clear conscience. I already did; it's still too expensive for a CD, but what the hell.
And on a totally unrelated topic, I got a phone call from UVA tonight. They were just paying a friendly call, to see if I had any questions and make sure I knew about the upcoming student weekends. I asked about the schedule for Friday the 7th, since I intend to go to UVA for the weekend but will have to fly out of Charlottesville and into Clemson on the 7th (which, ahem, happens to be my birthday. I'll be 28 again.) and wanted to know what I'd miss (not anything too important, was the verdict).
I asked about deferment. I explained that my status with the Air Force was uncertain and I may not know anything solid until too late to make a firm commitment. The admissions counselor (the guy who called me with the news that I'd been accepted) said if I paid my initial deposit ($500), then in June I could pay my second deposit (probably a lot more than $500) and at that point I have only to tell them whether I intend to enroll this fall or in 2007. So getting the deferment is easy. What more it means I don't know, but at least I know that. This does mean I can't realistically ask for a deferment from more than one school, or at least that's my suspicion. But I still have a whole month to think about this, and then some.
Anyway. A few last tidbits. Sadly, once American Idol was done, the Olympics were back to figure skating. Blah. I'm going to go read shortly. But I did vote: I voted for Mandisa (a little young to be going only by one name, but whatever), and for Melissa McGhee, because she's from Tampa. I've been trying to vote for the clear star of the night, Paris Bennett, but the lines are jammed. Which means, ultimately, that Paris is getting loads of votes and doesn't need one from me. Good for her.
I hope that tomorrow night I'll have the same problem trying to vote for Taylor Hicks. But if not I'll just keep voting repeatedly until the system locks me out. Thanks to my good friend Scanime I discovered that Mr. Hicks already has an album available--and I'm thinking the American Idol voters may like him more than I initially feared because apparently the CDs are selling like hotcakes (actually, I've never noticed that hotcakes sell all that well; the CDs are selling like cheap beer before the Superbowl) and you have to wait two weeks before you can get one. You can download three of the tracks off the CD, and they're great. And, the Laser's Edge CD company that makes the CD is in no way affiliated with the RIAA; it seems Taylor Hicks doesn't have a record contract, just a record. You can buy a copy with a clear conscience. I already did; it's still too expensive for a CD, but what the hell.
And on a totally unrelated topic, I got a phone call from UVA tonight. They were just paying a friendly call, to see if I had any questions and make sure I knew about the upcoming student weekends. I asked about the schedule for Friday the 7th, since I intend to go to UVA for the weekend but will have to fly out of Charlottesville and into Clemson on the 7th (which, ahem, happens to be my birthday. I'll be 28 again.) and wanted to know what I'd miss (not anything too important, was the verdict).
I asked about deferment. I explained that my status with the Air Force was uncertain and I may not know anything solid until too late to make a firm commitment. The admissions counselor (the guy who called me with the news that I'd been accepted) said if I paid my initial deposit ($500), then in June I could pay my second deposit (probably a lot more than $500) and at that point I have only to tell them whether I intend to enroll this fall or in 2007. So getting the deferment is easy. What more it means I don't know, but at least I know that. This does mean I can't realistically ask for a deferment from more than one school, or at least that's my suspicion. But I still have a whole month to think about this, and then some.
Hooray for Public Access
There was a lot of handwringing over Kelo v New London last year, the property rights/eminent domain case decided by the Supreme Court last year. I won't revisit it.
I've been more interested in the case out of Michigan known as Glass v Goeckel. Goeckel is a landowner in Alcona County, Michigan, who owns property on the shore of Lake Huron (which I think is the prettiest lake). Glass lives across the highway from the lakefront properties. Glass, like many Michigan residents, likes to go out and walk along the shore of the lake. The state's public trust doctrine says that the waters and submerged lands of the Great Lakes are held by the state (Michigan has the most coastline of any state other than Alaska).
The issue was the definition of "submerged lands." The Goeckels argued they had rights to all territory down to the actual waterline. Glass said the public trust was somewhere landward of the waterline. An appeals court found for the Goeckels and based their decision on an earlier case called Hilt v. Weber. It's worth noting that Michigan was unique in defining the public trust as starting at the waterline; in most states the public trust includes land below the ordinary high water mark (which is the highest water level reached under other-than-extraordinary conditions such as floods and surge tides).
Glass appealed to the Michigan Supreme Court. Several interested groups filed amicus briefs supporting the Goeckels, all referencing Hilt v. Weber, which the Michigan Supreme Court had handed down some years earlier.
To the surprise, certainly of me but it seems of most people following the case, the Supreme Court found for Glass, and decided that the public trust in fact included all lands below the ordinary high water line. This brought Michigan in line with the rest of the country but went counter to many years of Michigan law. Still, a Supreme Court can do that; that's why they're called Supreme.
The Goeckels of course appealed this to the Supreme Court. I had assumed the case would be granted cert. Turns out I was wrong.
The Supreme Court today denied cert in the case (now called Goeckel v. Glass), meaning the Michigan SC's ruling stands. Glass can walk on the beach below the ordinary high water line, which means she doesn't have to get her feet wet. Neither do any other of Michigan's 10 million citizens.
You don't have to agree with the eminent domain issues in Kelo. But this case was simpler. One of my pet peeves is lack of public access to shorelines; I'm thrilled that the Michigan court has made that access a matter of law, and that the US Supreme Court has let that law stand.
I've been more interested in the case out of Michigan known as Glass v Goeckel. Goeckel is a landowner in Alcona County, Michigan, who owns property on the shore of Lake Huron (which I think is the prettiest lake). Glass lives across the highway from the lakefront properties. Glass, like many Michigan residents, likes to go out and walk along the shore of the lake. The state's public trust doctrine says that the waters and submerged lands of the Great Lakes are held by the state (Michigan has the most coastline of any state other than Alaska).
The issue was the definition of "submerged lands." The Goeckels argued they had rights to all territory down to the actual waterline. Glass said the public trust was somewhere landward of the waterline. An appeals court found for the Goeckels and based their decision on an earlier case called Hilt v. Weber. It's worth noting that Michigan was unique in defining the public trust as starting at the waterline; in most states the public trust includes land below the ordinary high water mark (which is the highest water level reached under other-than-extraordinary conditions such as floods and surge tides).
Glass appealed to the Michigan Supreme Court. Several interested groups filed amicus briefs supporting the Goeckels, all referencing Hilt v. Weber, which the Michigan Supreme Court had handed down some years earlier.
To the surprise, certainly of me but it seems of most people following the case, the Supreme Court found for Glass, and decided that the public trust in fact included all lands below the ordinary high water line. This brought Michigan in line with the rest of the country but went counter to many years of Michigan law. Still, a Supreme Court can do that; that's why they're called Supreme.
The Goeckels of course appealed this to the Supreme Court. I had assumed the case would be granted cert. Turns out I was wrong.
The Supreme Court today denied cert in the case (now called Goeckel v. Glass), meaning the Michigan SC's ruling stands. Glass can walk on the beach below the ordinary high water line, which means she doesn't have to get her feet wet. Neither do any other of Michigan's 10 million citizens.
You don't have to agree with the eminent domain issues in Kelo. But this case was simpler. One of my pet peeves is lack of public access to shorelines; I'm thrilled that the Michigan court has made that access a matter of law, and that the US Supreme Court has let that law stand.
So Much Waste, So Little Time
Normally I put on reruns during dinner, but don't otherwise watch too much TV. But this is my TV time--the Olympics are on, they're not showing figure skating right now, and American Idol is on with the people who can actually sing somewhat. Most of them. My remote is getting more use tonight than in the last week and a half.
Tonight, the women sing on American Idol. So far I've seen six of the twelve, and I want to admit right now that I really prefer black women's voices to white women's. Sorry if that's offensive to anyone (but if it is you're too sensitive so shut up), but among the first six, Paris Bennett and Mandisa were head and shoulders above the others. This Stevie girl, the opera singer... I just don't... I don't care for her style. And I like opera. Really, I do. I mean, some opera. I'm not always a fan of Wagner, but who is? Anyway. And Randy said he got bored during her performance, and I think that's the problem (and Simon said much worse). Compare that against Paris Bennett, who had the crowd (mostly the other contestants) out of their seats, clapping and dancing, and Paula gave her a standing ovation. And Simon said of her performance, "That was great." High praise from the mean judge.
Meanwhile on NBC we have women's bobsledding. It's ladies' night, I guess. I don't care, as I said earlier, bobsled has always been one of my favorite events; you can't beat raw speed. Especially raw speed that doesn't burn any gasoline. It's a great night to sit home and watch TV. I feel like... I like an average American, really, sitting in front of the TV all night. But I rowed today, and did laundry, so I haven't totally sold out. Yet.
This week starts the horrible exercise at work. It won't require any horrible early hours or 14-hour days (we hope), but it will require an enormous amount of tedium and irritation, and they're going to come to my office and ask me a bunch of questions and waste my freakin' time. I hate exercises.
Still, I can practice being a good boss. I assume inspectors are coming to our office; they are going to visit one UDM office in the ops group. There are only four UDM offices in the group: ours (we're the good office), the OSS (Eric, the other good office), the OG (Marrero, who's brand new and doesn't know his job), and the 310th (who don't have a freaking clue). Much as I hate getting inspected, I hope they inspect us. I can see them going to the OG, but that would be bad because it will make the whole group look bad. If they inspect the 310th we're just plain doomed.
And if they come and inspect our office, I think they'll be suitably impressed with our folder system, and our emergency management program, and I can tell them how my troop built that emergency management program from the ground up and set the standard for the wing. My dream is that, at the outbrief next week, they'll call Rick up on the stage and give him an IG coin for being an outstanding performer. The dude needs some recognition; the wing/cc wanted to give him an award but wouldn't call him up on stage at the last commander's call because he's fat. Who cares if he's fat, he's one of the hardest working airmen in the wing. She was supposed to come in to our office and present him with an award... but I'll note that has not yet happened. I hate to say it but I think less of our wing king than I used to. But that's the military for you--no matter how hard you work, if you don't look right you don't get shit.
Tonight, the women sing on American Idol. So far I've seen six of the twelve, and I want to admit right now that I really prefer black women's voices to white women's. Sorry if that's offensive to anyone (but if it is you're too sensitive so shut up), but among the first six, Paris Bennett and Mandisa were head and shoulders above the others. This Stevie girl, the opera singer... I just don't... I don't care for her style. And I like opera. Really, I do. I mean, some opera. I'm not always a fan of Wagner, but who is? Anyway. And Randy said he got bored during her performance, and I think that's the problem (and Simon said much worse). Compare that against Paris Bennett, who had the crowd (mostly the other contestants) out of their seats, clapping and dancing, and Paula gave her a standing ovation. And Simon said of her performance, "That was great." High praise from the mean judge.
Meanwhile on NBC we have women's bobsledding. It's ladies' night, I guess. I don't care, as I said earlier, bobsled has always been one of my favorite events; you can't beat raw speed. Especially raw speed that doesn't burn any gasoline. It's a great night to sit home and watch TV. I feel like... I like an average American, really, sitting in front of the TV all night. But I rowed today, and did laundry, so I haven't totally sold out. Yet.
This week starts the horrible exercise at work. It won't require any horrible early hours or 14-hour days (we hope), but it will require an enormous amount of tedium and irritation, and they're going to come to my office and ask me a bunch of questions and waste my freakin' time. I hate exercises.
Still, I can practice being a good boss. I assume inspectors are coming to our office; they are going to visit one UDM office in the ops group. There are only four UDM offices in the group: ours (we're the good office), the OSS (Eric, the other good office), the OG (Marrero, who's brand new and doesn't know his job), and the 310th (who don't have a freaking clue). Much as I hate getting inspected, I hope they inspect us. I can see them going to the OG, but that would be bad because it will make the whole group look bad. If they inspect the 310th we're just plain doomed.
And if they come and inspect our office, I think they'll be suitably impressed with our folder system, and our emergency management program, and I can tell them how my troop built that emergency management program from the ground up and set the standard for the wing. My dream is that, at the outbrief next week, they'll call Rick up on the stage and give him an IG coin for being an outstanding performer. The dude needs some recognition; the wing/cc wanted to give him an award but wouldn't call him up on stage at the last commander's call because he's fat. Who cares if he's fat, he's one of the hardest working airmen in the wing. She was supposed to come in to our office and present him with an award... but I'll note that has not yet happened. I hate to say it but I think less of our wing king than I used to. But that's the military for you--no matter how hard you work, if you don't look right you don't get shit.
16 February 2006
Watching the Olympics
I love the Olympics. Maybe someday I'll actually buy tickets and go, but I have to be honest, a lot of the events seem like they're better viewed on television.
I'm more a fan of the Summer games than the Winter, partly because I grew up in Florida, but partly also because a lot of the Winter games just don't seem like they're much fun. Figure skating, for example. I don't ever get the feeling that the competitors are having any fun. They seem relieved when it's over, but that's sort of like hitting yourself in the head with a hammer because it feels so good when you stop; not really a great way to spend your time. Figure skating is the winter version of gymnastics, another sport whose competitors I don't imagine are really enjoying themselves. Then there are the cross-country skiing events, winter's version of the marathon, an event that to me seems the farthest possible thing from fun.
Bobsled and luge, as you might imagine, have always been my favorite events, because they just seem like so much fun. Speed is inherently fun, at least to me. Add to that list ski jumping, which combines speed with flying through the air, also inherently fun. Alpine skiing seems like it could be fun, once you stop falling down all the time, but I think if I ever find myself in a ski-intensive area I'd like to try ski jumping. You can keep the downhill stuff.
Earlier this week I watched women's 3000m speed skating. This looked... well, it looked exhausting, but rowing is exhausting and I enjoy rowing. Speed skating off the short track is amazingly graceful, just beautiful to watch. If I ever go to a Winter Olympics this is an event I'll have to see. I'd like to try it, but the last time I ice skated there was a lot of blood involved and I really don't belong on the ice.
Tonight we got to see Snowboard Cross (Snbdx?). Now, this looked fun. It looked like all the snowboarding X-Box and Playstation games we play during deployments--really, a lot like those games: multiple people, varied course. Of course, there was no riding along downed trees or flying off cliffs, but within the limits of reality this was pretty close. The guys competing in it seemed like they were having fun doing it, and watching them, I don't see how you couldn't.
I'm more a fan of the Summer games than the Winter, partly because I grew up in Florida, but partly also because a lot of the Winter games just don't seem like they're much fun. Figure skating, for example. I don't ever get the feeling that the competitors are having any fun. They seem relieved when it's over, but that's sort of like hitting yourself in the head with a hammer because it feels so good when you stop; not really a great way to spend your time. Figure skating is the winter version of gymnastics, another sport whose competitors I don't imagine are really enjoying themselves. Then there are the cross-country skiing events, winter's version of the marathon, an event that to me seems the farthest possible thing from fun.
Bobsled and luge, as you might imagine, have always been my favorite events, because they just seem like so much fun. Speed is inherently fun, at least to me. Add to that list ski jumping, which combines speed with flying through the air, also inherently fun. Alpine skiing seems like it could be fun, once you stop falling down all the time, but I think if I ever find myself in a ski-intensive area I'd like to try ski jumping. You can keep the downhill stuff.
Earlier this week I watched women's 3000m speed skating. This looked... well, it looked exhausting, but rowing is exhausting and I enjoy rowing. Speed skating off the short track is amazingly graceful, just beautiful to watch. If I ever go to a Winter Olympics this is an event I'll have to see. I'd like to try it, but the last time I ice skated there was a lot of blood involved and I really don't belong on the ice.
Tonight we got to see Snowboard Cross (Snbdx?). Now, this looked fun. It looked like all the snowboarding X-Box and Playstation games we play during deployments--really, a lot like those games: multiple people, varied course. Of course, there was no riding along downed trees or flying off cliffs, but within the limits of reality this was pretty close. The guys competing in it seemed like they were having fun doing it, and watching them, I don't see how you couldn't.
15 February 2006
Links and nothing new
I feel the need to provide some content(s) today, but I don't have a lot to say. They're tearing down the Maas building this week and I've been taking some pictures, which I plan to post, but it'll be a little later. Instead I present you with these two interesting articles that are utterly unrelated.
First is this article from Anna Quindlen about standardized testing in colleges. It's very tongue in cheek, but she makes a good point about how ridiculous the standardized testing craze could be. When she gets into the idea of people in all walks of life being tested to standards set by the government... it sounds EXACTLY LIKE THE MILITARY. In every way. It's not about doing the job best, it's about doing the job to the standards set by the people who's only job is to set standards, not to do the original job in the first place. Hmm.
Second is this article from Ars Technica about how people don't understand each other very well on the internet. Actually the study the article references says people don't understand written text very well generally, but this here thing you're reading is the internet, and the study was published on the internet, and the article is on the internet... you get the picture. Without the visual and vocal cues you get from a person, it can be hard to tell when that person is being sincere, sarcastic, bombastic, or what. I MEAN, YOU CAN SHOUT IN ALL CAPS ALL THE TIME, FOR EXAMPLE, AND WHAT'S THAT PROVE? THAT YOU'RE SHOUTING? OR JUST THAT YOU'RE A JERK? It's tough to say. I know certainly on bulletin boards I've found that I don't do an especially good job of making clear when I'm being sarcastic and when I'm not. That's how flame wars start. Anyway. Interesting article.
First is this article from Anna Quindlen about standardized testing in colleges. It's very tongue in cheek, but she makes a good point about how ridiculous the standardized testing craze could be. When she gets into the idea of people in all walks of life being tested to standards set by the government... it sounds EXACTLY LIKE THE MILITARY. In every way. It's not about doing the job best, it's about doing the job to the standards set by the people who's only job is to set standards, not to do the original job in the first place. Hmm.
Second is this article from Ars Technica about how people don't understand each other very well on the internet. Actually the study the article references says people don't understand written text very well generally, but this here thing you're reading is the internet, and the study was published on the internet, and the article is on the internet... you get the picture. Without the visual and vocal cues you get from a person, it can be hard to tell when that person is being sincere, sarcastic, bombastic, or what. I MEAN, YOU CAN SHOUT IN ALL CAPS ALL THE TIME, FOR EXAMPLE, AND WHAT'S THAT PROVE? THAT YOU'RE SHOUTING? OR JUST THAT YOU'RE A JERK? It's tough to say. I know certainly on bulletin boards I've found that I don't do an especially good job of making clear when I'm being sarcastic and when I'm not. That's how flame wars start. Anyway. Interesting article.
13 February 2006
More News!
When it rains... well, when it rains, the roads get wet and people drive like morons. Which isn't all that different from normal.
No, I mean, I got acceptance letters from Georgia State and William & Mary today. Hooray! I gotta tell ya, too, William & Mary has a nice little package. UVA wasn't really that... you, wasn't all that exciting, except of course that they called. But the letter was just a letter. William & Mary sent along a whole folder of information, and a formal invitation to the admitted students weekend. How cool is that?
No, I mean, I got acceptance letters from Georgia State and William & Mary today. Hooray! I gotta tell ya, too, William & Mary has a nice little package. UVA wasn't really that... you, wasn't all that exciting, except of course that they called. But the letter was just a letter. William & Mary sent along a whole folder of information, and a formal invitation to the admitted students weekend. How cool is that?
12 February 2006
09 February 2006
Buy Danish Again!
I noted in my Danish post a few days ago that, "Now, I recognize that in Islam depictions of people are verboten, depictions of the Prophet doubly so. Islamic art has 1300 years of very fascinating history with nary a depiction of a human face, testament to the extremes of creativity the human mind is capable of."
Well, turns out I was wrong. Depictions of people are not verboten, not according to Qur'anic law, at any rate. Today I happened upon this fascinating article in the Wall Street Journal's opinion page (free, no registration required), discussing images of Muhammad in Islamic art. This is well, well worth your time to read; it's a nice short article, only 11 paragraphs, and sheds some light on this continuing story. And I must say, it only strengthens my resolve to buy more Legos and Tuborg beer.
Well, turns out I was wrong. Depictions of people are not verboten, not according to Qur'anic law, at any rate. Today I happened upon this fascinating article in the Wall Street Journal's opinion page (free, no registration required), discussing images of Muhammad in Islamic art. This is well, well worth your time to read; it's a nice short article, only 11 paragraphs, and sheds some light on this continuing story. And I must say, it only strengthens my resolve to buy more Legos and Tuborg beer.
Smitty Goes Soul-searching and Comes up Empty
I had some lunch and took a magazine and went out to watch the T-6's fly around the pattern a little. Hadn't been out long when one of the guys called to ask me to pick him up after his T-38 ride, so off I went. We stopped by the BK so he could pick up some lunch, and I asked if he wanted to go back and watch the pattern for a little while, so that's what we did.
I had a good time. I got to tell some of my old pilot training stories again that most of my friends have already heard, and I got to answer some questions he had about UPT. We watched the jets take off and land for about an hour or two before we came back. I felt much better about things. I am glad I got to come on this trip, after all, TSgt M.S. and Lt Col H. notwithstanding (I called one of my bosses at home to see if H. had decided to pass along what a wretched, sinful person I was; he hadn't. My boss reminded me that some people are just pricks. True enough). Like most of the T-38 IPs these guys have been flying with the last two days, I envy them.
Pilot training was hard, and I don't for a minute think it was all glorious fun, especially not in my case. But what I wouldn't give to go right back and do it all again--with the benefit of experience behind me, of course. I hope they all do well and get to fly what they want, but I know that's just not the case for everybody. You never know who's going to do well in UPT and who's not, but I think just getting to come up here and see a little bit of what it's like will help these guys out.
I came back in and checked my email just a few minutes ago. A little late, Stanford University wrote to tell me that my application was, at last, complete.
Since I haven't added anything to my application package since mid-December, I wonder what they were waiting for. Maybe they hoped I'd send in more... money? I don't know. Do I really care any more? I got in at Virginia; certainly Stanford's not likely to come through with any bigger scholarship offer than Virginia might (if Stanford even admits me). And yet now I feel like--even with Virginia--I'm being pulled inexorably forward toward law school, to JAG, and I don't feel like I ever really stopped and asked if that was what I wanted to do. I just got on the train; I never bothered to look at my ticket.
This is a tough thing to be thinking about as I sit up here in Valdosta, living in the past. What good times those were, and what bad times, too. And oh, the things I'd do differently if I only had the chance. I'm no dummy; I know I wasn't going to go fly fighters. But I could have flown something other than the tanker. Perhaps it wasn't meant to be; after all, the flying I like to do is really not the kind of thing you ever get to do in the mobility world.
Still... why did I get depressed? What was it really all about? Do I really know? Is there a way I could keep flying and keep whatever caused that depression at bay? I guess there isn't; I guess in reality there's no way to stay in the service at all and keep that depression at bay. After all, flying was the thing I liked, and it wasn't enough to keep everything else from crowding in: the strange provincialism, the absurd performance rating system, the two-faced attitude towards trust and responsibility, the rules for every little thing that prevent you from really solving a problem, the book that tells you where to go and who to talk to and when to be there and how to cut your hair and what to think about all these things as you do them. It's not a lifestyle I could ever adapt to. And yet I'll miss it so much. Why?
I saw the movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind about two years ago, I guess, and while I liked it I didn't really get it. I'd never had a relationship like that, one that I might actually want to scrub from my mind entirely, and I couldn't imagine ever having one. But that's the relationship I have with the Air Force now. I know I can't ever really be happy here. But I'll miss it so much when it's gone, how on Earth am I going to cope? I don't even understand why I'm going to miss it, but in a sense I already do. If I could wipe all memory of my service from my mind... I'd lose so many great memories, so much of who I am and so much of what I love; and yet I'd be free, free to go on and live the rest of my life, and never have to think back and wonder what might have been, why it didn't work out, whether it ever could have.
What a mess I've made. All I want to do is enjoy myself and give something back to others at the same time. It seems a simple enough impulse, and look what I've managed to do with it. I should be happy. Things are actually going well, in most senses. Lord knows I live a better life than a lot of people; I just can't let myself sit back and enjoy it.
I had a good time. I got to tell some of my old pilot training stories again that most of my friends have already heard, and I got to answer some questions he had about UPT. We watched the jets take off and land for about an hour or two before we came back. I felt much better about things. I am glad I got to come on this trip, after all, TSgt M.S. and Lt Col H. notwithstanding (I called one of my bosses at home to see if H. had decided to pass along what a wretched, sinful person I was; he hadn't. My boss reminded me that some people are just pricks. True enough). Like most of the T-38 IPs these guys have been flying with the last two days, I envy them.
Pilot training was hard, and I don't for a minute think it was all glorious fun, especially not in my case. But what I wouldn't give to go right back and do it all again--with the benefit of experience behind me, of course. I hope they all do well and get to fly what they want, but I know that's just not the case for everybody. You never know who's going to do well in UPT and who's not, but I think just getting to come up here and see a little bit of what it's like will help these guys out.
I came back in and checked my email just a few minutes ago. A little late, Stanford University wrote to tell me that my application was, at last, complete.
Since I haven't added anything to my application package since mid-December, I wonder what they were waiting for. Maybe they hoped I'd send in more... money? I don't know. Do I really care any more? I got in at Virginia; certainly Stanford's not likely to come through with any bigger scholarship offer than Virginia might (if Stanford even admits me). And yet now I feel like--even with Virginia--I'm being pulled inexorably forward toward law school, to JAG, and I don't feel like I ever really stopped and asked if that was what I wanted to do. I just got on the train; I never bothered to look at my ticket.
This is a tough thing to be thinking about as I sit up here in Valdosta, living in the past. What good times those were, and what bad times, too. And oh, the things I'd do differently if I only had the chance. I'm no dummy; I know I wasn't going to go fly fighters. But I could have flown something other than the tanker. Perhaps it wasn't meant to be; after all, the flying I like to do is really not the kind of thing you ever get to do in the mobility world.
Still... why did I get depressed? What was it really all about? Do I really know? Is there a way I could keep flying and keep whatever caused that depression at bay? I guess there isn't; I guess in reality there's no way to stay in the service at all and keep that depression at bay. After all, flying was the thing I liked, and it wasn't enough to keep everything else from crowding in: the strange provincialism, the absurd performance rating system, the two-faced attitude towards trust and responsibility, the rules for every little thing that prevent you from really solving a problem, the book that tells you where to go and who to talk to and when to be there and how to cut your hair and what to think about all these things as you do them. It's not a lifestyle I could ever adapt to. And yet I'll miss it so much. Why?
I saw the movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind about two years ago, I guess, and while I liked it I didn't really get it. I'd never had a relationship like that, one that I might actually want to scrub from my mind entirely, and I couldn't imagine ever having one. But that's the relationship I have with the Air Force now. I know I can't ever really be happy here. But I'll miss it so much when it's gone, how on Earth am I going to cope? I don't even understand why I'm going to miss it, but in a sense I already do. If I could wipe all memory of my service from my mind... I'd lose so many great memories, so much of who I am and so much of what I love; and yet I'd be free, free to go on and live the rest of my life, and never have to think back and wonder what might have been, why it didn't work out, whether it ever could have.
What a mess I've made. All I want to do is enjoy myself and give something back to others at the same time. It seems a simple enough impulse, and look what I've managed to do with it. I should be happy. Things are actually going well, in most senses. Lord knows I live a better life than a lot of people; I just can't let myself sit back and enjoy it.
All better now
And apparently that one E-6 can go tell her O-5 boss that you lack integrity, and he'll believe her without meeting you. Wow. I'm not sure what to make of all that. But on the bright side, I didn't have to curl up on the bed and cry. Instead I met with who I assumed would be a fairly genial O-5 (Lieutenant Colonel; that's as opposed to little ol' O-3 Captain me) to explain that what we had was a misunderstanding. He didn't think so. In the midst of him telling me that: I would never make major because I was too stupid, that he thought I needed to "come to Jesus" about my integrity issues, that he was glad I was no longer flying, and that he thought I was trying to pin my own indiscretions on his Tech Sergeant (E-6); and of his completely ignoring and plainly not giving a rat's ass about what actually happened here, I came to a realization.
I love flying. I love flying small planes, like T-6's and even T-1's to an extent, and I'd love to do that again. I'd love to instruct. Frankly, I'd love to instruct Air Force student pilots. I think that would be a good job and I think I would like to serve out my time doing that. But I also don't ever want to deal with people like this O-5 again. Integrity? How about using a little common sense? Does he really think I'd do the things he was accusing me of? Does he know me or my work well enough to disparage my intelligence? What gives him the right?
Ah, yes. What gives him the right is that rank. And all you really have to do to get rank is stick around. One of the worst officers I have ever worked with was a one-star general. He had the rank; what he didn't have was a clue. And that's where this guy is heading--he's going to be a wing commander one day and he's not going to have any fucking idea what the people below him do for a living or what he should do for his wing--and he's not going to care, either. I'd rather not still be employed by this organization when that day comes.
So, I'm all better. I have bitter nostalgia. I also now know what it means to say you can never go home again. But I think I can safely go back to MacDill and talk to AFPC and do what they need to promote me to civilian.
I love flying. I love flying small planes, like T-6's and even T-1's to an extent, and I'd love to do that again. I'd love to instruct. Frankly, I'd love to instruct Air Force student pilots. I think that would be a good job and I think I would like to serve out my time doing that. But I also don't ever want to deal with people like this O-5 again. Integrity? How about using a little common sense? Does he really think I'd do the things he was accusing me of? Does he know me or my work well enough to disparage my intelligence? What gives him the right?
Ah, yes. What gives him the right is that rank. And all you really have to do to get rank is stick around. One of the worst officers I have ever worked with was a one-star general. He had the rank; what he didn't have was a clue. And that's where this guy is heading--he's going to be a wing commander one day and he's not going to have any fucking idea what the people below him do for a living or what he should do for his wing--and he's not going to care, either. I'd rather not still be employed by this organization when that day comes.
So, I'm all better. I have bitter nostalgia. I also now know what it means to say you can never go home again. But I think I can safely go back to MacDill and talk to AFPC and do what they need to promote me to civilian.
Unconscionable
No matter how high you go in the AF, apparently one E-6 still can still stand in your way if you manage to piss her off enough.
TSgt M.S. of the 479th OSS at Moody AFB, GA, told one of her supervisors that I wasn't cleared to fly, and thereby managed to thwart every attempt I've made to get a T-38 ride up here. This despite the fact that I am medically cleared to fly. I have the form 1042 with me. I've left copies of it at the ops/scheduling desks in the two T-38 squadrons here. I've been carrying it around with me all week.
Did TSgt M.S. ever actually ask me whether or not I was cleared to fly as a passenger? No.
Did this stop TSgt M.S. from telling the guy who could have approved my flight that I wasn't cleared to fly? No.
So now I get to sit here in this damn hotel room listening to the freaking Jerry Springer show going on in room 223 behind me, and being awakened by the screaming child they have in that room that they successfully ignored from 0100 until about 0310 this morning, when I finally called the hotel desk and said if they didn't do something about it I was going to call the base cops. Shock! The child was quiet not but ten minutes later.
Oh well. I sent a very pointed letter to TSgt M.S.'s uberboss just a moment ago. She won't get into any trouble, but she isn't getting the flowers I was going to send her to apologize for whatever it was I did to get on her shit list, either. Of course, I doubt I'll get myself a T-38 ride, either, but what can you do? This is the way the Air Force works, or more precisely doesn't work.
Now all I've got is this horrible nostalgia for my own pilot training days. Was it wrong to want to relive that a little? It was fun. It makes me remember why I liked flying so much, now that my life has devolved into an endless series of questions about what I'm supposed to do next. When I was in the hospital on Monday morning getting my temporarily flight clearance (I can't pilot a plane, but I can ride along as a passenger; all you have to be able to do for that is clear your ears), the flight doc who had signed off on my disqualification told me that as long as AFPC (AF Personnel Center) didn't formally change my AFSC (AF Service Code, which is to say "job") out of the 11XXX category (pilots), they could actually go back and return me to flight status.
I didn't need to hear that. I especially didn't need to hear that and then come up here and watch those T-6's flying around and think, man, if I could just get a job instructing in those, that's all I really wanted anyway.
I just want to curl up in a little ball on the bed here and cry. Maybe I will.
TSgt M.S. of the 479th OSS at Moody AFB, GA, told one of her supervisors that I wasn't cleared to fly, and thereby managed to thwart every attempt I've made to get a T-38 ride up here. This despite the fact that I am medically cleared to fly. I have the form 1042 with me. I've left copies of it at the ops/scheduling desks in the two T-38 squadrons here. I've been carrying it around with me all week.
Did TSgt M.S. ever actually ask me whether or not I was cleared to fly as a passenger? No.
Did this stop TSgt M.S. from telling the guy who could have approved my flight that I wasn't cleared to fly? No.
So now I get to sit here in this damn hotel room listening to the freaking Jerry Springer show going on in room 223 behind me, and being awakened by the screaming child they have in that room that they successfully ignored from 0100 until about 0310 this morning, when I finally called the hotel desk and said if they didn't do something about it I was going to call the base cops. Shock! The child was quiet not but ten minutes later.
Oh well. I sent a very pointed letter to TSgt M.S.'s uberboss just a moment ago. She won't get into any trouble, but she isn't getting the flowers I was going to send her to apologize for whatever it was I did to get on her shit list, either. Of course, I doubt I'll get myself a T-38 ride, either, but what can you do? This is the way the Air Force works, or more precisely doesn't work.
Now all I've got is this horrible nostalgia for my own pilot training days. Was it wrong to want to relive that a little? It was fun. It makes me remember why I liked flying so much, now that my life has devolved into an endless series of questions about what I'm supposed to do next. When I was in the hospital on Monday morning getting my temporarily flight clearance (I can't pilot a plane, but I can ride along as a passenger; all you have to be able to do for that is clear your ears), the flight doc who had signed off on my disqualification told me that as long as AFPC (AF Personnel Center) didn't formally change my AFSC (AF Service Code, which is to say "job") out of the 11XXX category (pilots), they could actually go back and return me to flight status.
I didn't need to hear that. I especially didn't need to hear that and then come up here and watch those T-6's flying around and think, man, if I could just get a job instructing in those, that's all I really wanted anyway.
I just want to curl up in a little ball on the bed here and cry. Maybe I will.
08 February 2006
I Went Home Again
They say you can't do that, but I thought I'd try anyway. So I'm back here in Valdosta. It hurts. I keep watching those little T-6's flying overhead and thinking, man, I wish I could do that again.
It hurts, too, because some paperwork snafu seems to be standing in the way of my getting a sandbag ride in a T-38 (turns out there just aren't many such rides available in the T-6). I've got one of my bosses talking to a boss out here to try to smooth things over, but one never knows exactly what may happen. So I may spend my time chauffering and... and responding to emails from work. Ugh. That's the problem with being able to connect to the email system on the road; now that we can do it, everyone expects us to. It's like I haven't left at all! How neat! Ahem.
But the guys I brought up here are getting T-38 rides, so that's a good thing. Two of them went earlier this morning, two more are in briefings right now, and I'm driving another guy over to the squadron here in a few minutes for his ride. The boss at the T-38 squadron (the 49th, not the 435th; the 435th hasn't been quite as accomodating) says he wants all the guys to get at least two flights while they're here, so that's good news. And while some of my friends haven't been around to say hello to, it's nice to be back in the big V all the same. I really do like this town.
It hurts, too, because some paperwork snafu seems to be standing in the way of my getting a sandbag ride in a T-38 (turns out there just aren't many such rides available in the T-6). I've got one of my bosses talking to a boss out here to try to smooth things over, but one never knows exactly what may happen. So I may spend my time chauffering and... and responding to emails from work. Ugh. That's the problem with being able to connect to the email system on the road; now that we can do it, everyone expects us to. It's like I haven't left at all! How neat! Ahem.
But the guys I brought up here are getting T-38 rides, so that's a good thing. Two of them went earlier this morning, two more are in briefings right now, and I'm driving another guy over to the squadron here in a few minutes for his ride. The boss at the T-38 squadron (the 49th, not the 435th; the 435th hasn't been quite as accomodating) says he wants all the guys to get at least two flights while they're here, so that's good news. And while some of my friends haven't been around to say hello to, it's nice to be back in the big V all the same. I really do like this town.
06 February 2006
Dinner
Okay, so, those of you who cook:
What do you do when you cook something that's really not good? I mean, it's dinner. I made dinner. A catfish fillet (the rice and vegetables were great and are already gone). I love catfish. I've never ruined a piece of catfish.
But tonight I ruined the catfish. It's not overcooked or anything; all I did was sprinkle a little lemon juice and dill and pepper on it and put some Arabic Garden salad on the top (peppers, tomatoes, and cucumbers) and stick it in the oven. And let me tell you, some combination of those things made it taste really fishy.
I know, I know: you have to wonder about a food that people really like except sometimes it tastes like what it is. Still, it tastes fishy. It takes like the Hillsborough River fishy.
So, fellow bachelor cooks: what do you do in this circumstance? I certainly don't feel like cooking anything else. I'm not going to thaw out another fillet and try again. I don't really have anything else easy to fix. I feel terribly, terribly guilty any time I throw out food, especially this much food. Especially food I know the cat would enjoy (he'll get a little). But I don't really want to choke it down, either.
Oh well. I haven't ruined a dinner in a long time. I guess one misstep isn't that bad. Time to boil up some edamame and make a protein shake. Mmm! Dinner!
What do you do when you cook something that's really not good? I mean, it's dinner. I made dinner. A catfish fillet (the rice and vegetables were great and are already gone). I love catfish. I've never ruined a piece of catfish.
But tonight I ruined the catfish. It's not overcooked or anything; all I did was sprinkle a little lemon juice and dill and pepper on it and put some Arabic Garden salad on the top (peppers, tomatoes, and cucumbers) and stick it in the oven. And let me tell you, some combination of those things made it taste really fishy.
I know, I know: you have to wonder about a food that people really like except sometimes it tastes like what it is. Still, it tastes fishy. It takes like the Hillsborough River fishy.
So, fellow bachelor cooks: what do you do in this circumstance? I certainly don't feel like cooking anything else. I'm not going to thaw out another fillet and try again. I don't really have anything else easy to fix. I feel terribly, terribly guilty any time I throw out food, especially this much food. Especially food I know the cat would enjoy (he'll get a little). But I don't really want to choke it down, either.
Oh well. I haven't ruined a dinner in a long time. I guess one misstep isn't that bad. Time to boil up some edamame and make a protein shake. Mmm! Dinner!
Anticlimactic
In several ways, no less.
Today I went for my FAA flight physical so I could start flying again. But that's going to require a doctor's statement that I no longer need to take Wellbutrin. So... not that getting the letter is hard. It just means I didn't get the certification today and I can't start flying on Saturday. So, next week then.
And today I got my acceptance letter from Virginia! Yaay! Okay, so, it's not a surprise or anything any more, but it's totally cool anyway. I'm going to have more Sangiovese.
Tomorrow I get to go on a little trip up to Valdosta, Georgia. I did the first half of my pilot training there, at Moody AFB, and I'm taking a group of second lieutenants up there for a few days to get free incentive rides in the T-38 and take a look at the base and the town (they'll all be starting their pilot training at Moody in the next few months).
I'm really looking forward to this trip, even though I learned today that I won't be able to get a T-6 ride, which is what I really wanted. I can do a T-38 ride--and I intend to--but my squadron Director of Ops did not tell the guys at Moody to reserve a ride for the "escort." (Which is me; not sure if I like that term, but, not sure what else to do.) I can't believe he sold me out like that! I was going to chastise him today, but he was never in his office long enough to say anything. Still, I will get a T-38 ride because one of the seven guys who was scheduled to go on this trip backed out, so I can have his spot.
I'll also get to see some of my friends who are still living up in Valdosta, so that'll be nice. And I'll even be able to post here while I'm gone. I'll tell you all about the T-38 ride.
Today I went for my FAA flight physical so I could start flying again. But that's going to require a doctor's statement that I no longer need to take Wellbutrin. So... not that getting the letter is hard. It just means I didn't get the certification today and I can't start flying on Saturday. So, next week then.
And today I got my acceptance letter from Virginia! Yaay! Okay, so, it's not a surprise or anything any more, but it's totally cool anyway. I'm going to have more Sangiovese.
Tomorrow I get to go on a little trip up to Valdosta, Georgia. I did the first half of my pilot training there, at Moody AFB, and I'm taking a group of second lieutenants up there for a few days to get free incentive rides in the T-38 and take a look at the base and the town (they'll all be starting their pilot training at Moody in the next few months).
I'm really looking forward to this trip, even though I learned today that I won't be able to get a T-6 ride, which is what I really wanted. I can do a T-38 ride--and I intend to--but my squadron Director of Ops did not tell the guys at Moody to reserve a ride for the "escort." (Which is me; not sure if I like that term, but, not sure what else to do.) I can't believe he sold me out like that! I was going to chastise him today, but he was never in his office long enough to say anything. Still, I will get a T-38 ride because one of the seven guys who was scheduled to go on this trip backed out, so I can have his spot.
I'll also get to see some of my friends who are still living up in Valdosta, so that'll be nice. And I'll even be able to post here while I'm gone. I'll tell you all about the T-38 ride.
03 February 2006
Worth the Wait
This is the only bottle of wine I've ever kept long enough to actually collect a significant amount of dust. I've been hold on to it for some sort of special occasion.
Some of you might suspect what has occasioned my opening of this bottle. For the rest I'll tell you at the bottom. Let me just say, however, that this wine was worth the wait. This is Val Verde Winery's Sangiovese. They only make about 200 bottles a year, and they generally sell out in the first few weeks. They don't even offer samples; there's just not enough of it to waste a bottle for samples. I bought this in August 2003, just before I left Del Rio, Texas, for the last time, not knowing whether it would be any good. But I knew I wanted to have it on a special occasion, so it's been sitting in the house unopened for two years and change.
Let me say, it's terrific, starting with the glorious color. The nose includes notes of blackberry and pomegranate, and if you close your eyes even a hint of a nice juicy steak--really. And it works. Low alcohol content--only 11.5%--makes it sublimely drinkable (unlike most of the California reds I've had lately), yet it's still very dry. And the taste--oh, forget it. It tastes like extremely good red wine. I can only do the wine snob thing for so long (I'm going to have to work on that before my Nebraska Hedonist trip this summer). Let's just leave it that this stuff is outstanding and if you're ever in Del Rio in late summer, you should get some.
Today was one of the wettest days in Tampa history, the fourth wettest on record as of 5'30 this evening--but it's still raining. We've had about 8 inches so far in downtown, 10 out at the airport; MacDill saw seven. Parts of South Tampa have seen as much as a foot of rain. Roads were closed, cars flooded. But in Tampa we got off easy; part of Pinellas County across the bay saw 15 inches of rain in the 8 hours between 9 and 5 today--and as I said, it's still raining. At one point today it was raining at the rate of 4 inches per hour. And this is coming with thunderstorms, embedded hail--we were even under a tornado watch for most of the day. Amazing for February; good thing I like rain.
It was funny, though, around 11'30 or so out at MacDill we actually got a break from the rain. The clouds parted for just the briefest moment, and the sun shone through. A sunbeam landed directly on my cell phone, and it rang. And it was the University of Virginia, calling to tell me I'd been accepted.
And that was the special occasion.
Some of you might suspect what has occasioned my opening of this bottle. For the rest I'll tell you at the bottom. Let me just say, however, that this wine was worth the wait. This is Val Verde Winery's Sangiovese. They only make about 200 bottles a year, and they generally sell out in the first few weeks. They don't even offer samples; there's just not enough of it to waste a bottle for samples. I bought this in August 2003, just before I left Del Rio, Texas, for the last time, not knowing whether it would be any good. But I knew I wanted to have it on a special occasion, so it's been sitting in the house unopened for two years and change.
Let me say, it's terrific, starting with the glorious color. The nose includes notes of blackberry and pomegranate, and if you close your eyes even a hint of a nice juicy steak--really. And it works. Low alcohol content--only 11.5%--makes it sublimely drinkable (unlike most of the California reds I've had lately), yet it's still very dry. And the taste--oh, forget it. It tastes like extremely good red wine. I can only do the wine snob thing for so long (I'm going to have to work on that before my Nebraska Hedonist trip this summer). Let's just leave it that this stuff is outstanding and if you're ever in Del Rio in late summer, you should get some.
Today was one of the wettest days in Tampa history, the fourth wettest on record as of 5'30 this evening--but it's still raining. We've had about 8 inches so far in downtown, 10 out at the airport; MacDill saw seven. Parts of South Tampa have seen as much as a foot of rain. Roads were closed, cars flooded. But in Tampa we got off easy; part of Pinellas County across the bay saw 15 inches of rain in the 8 hours between 9 and 5 today--and as I said, it's still raining. At one point today it was raining at the rate of 4 inches per hour. And this is coming with thunderstorms, embedded hail--we were even under a tornado watch for most of the day. Amazing for February; good thing I like rain.
It was funny, though, around 11'30 or so out at MacDill we actually got a break from the rain. The clouds parted for just the briefest moment, and the sun shone through. A sunbeam landed directly on my cell phone, and it rang. And it was the University of Virginia, calling to tell me I'd been accepted.
And that was the special occasion.
02 February 2006
Not a lousy post
Today at work was no better than yesterday, nor do I expect tomorrow will improve matter (though it will be cut short!).
But I did make progress on something else today! I have a doctor's appointment! Yaay!
Okay, so, not really a big deal. I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow, but she's a psychologist, not really a regular doctor. No, the doctor's appointment I'm excited about is on Monday, with an FAA flight doctor. I'm getting a flight physical! Huzzah!
This means I'll be able to fly again! Well, civilian. I still can't and won't be able to fly military aircraft, but I have this private pilot's license with multi-engine commercial and instrument ratings and I haven't exercised the darned thing since 2001. Seriously. Can you imagine? If you had a pilot's license, wouldn't you use it more than once every five years? I mean, really. I feel like such a schmuck.
Granted, I had a job flying for most of the last few years, but really since last summer the writing's been on the wall about them not letting me fly any more, and I really should have started using the license last year.
I set a goal for myself, that I'd fly to a wedding I'm planning to attend in April, so I have to get back in the saddle and confident before then. But today I discovered another goal, with a much tighter timeline. I want to get my CFI (certified flight instructor) certificate, and one of my coworkers can help me do that. But he's leaving MacDill for Hurlburt at the end of April, to join the spec ops world. I'm jealous. I wonder how his wife feels? I don't have a wife yet; why can't I get a cool job that my wife would hate? Anyway, I want to get the CFI with him before he leaves--or at any rate I want to be pretty far along.
This'll be about three flights this month plus a checkride and oral exam, and I'm going to need to do a lot of studying. It's been a long time since I read through the civilian flight regs.
That's just to get a single-engine add-on to my commercial certificate (I can't fly a single-engine plane commercially, only a multi-engine. I can fly a single engine noncommercially. Don't worry if this doesn't make sense to you. It doesn't make sense, period. But that's the way it goes.
Anyway, after the single-engine commercial add-on, then we start on actual CFIC training, which will be about 10-12 hours of flight time plus more ground instruction.
This means it'll be a busy couple of months. I don't have to get the CFI by the wedding, but it might be nice to try.
So this is going to occupy whatever spare time I might have for the next couple months. Of course if I keep working 7-6 every day there won't be any spare time at all. So let's all hope work slows down a bit!
But I did make progress on something else today! I have a doctor's appointment! Yaay!
Okay, so, not really a big deal. I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow, but she's a psychologist, not really a regular doctor. No, the doctor's appointment I'm excited about is on Monday, with an FAA flight doctor. I'm getting a flight physical! Huzzah!
This means I'll be able to fly again! Well, civilian. I still can't and won't be able to fly military aircraft, but I have this private pilot's license with multi-engine commercial and instrument ratings and I haven't exercised the darned thing since 2001. Seriously. Can you imagine? If you had a pilot's license, wouldn't you use it more than once every five years? I mean, really. I feel like such a schmuck.
Granted, I had a job flying for most of the last few years, but really since last summer the writing's been on the wall about them not letting me fly any more, and I really should have started using the license last year.
I set a goal for myself, that I'd fly to a wedding I'm planning to attend in April, so I have to get back in the saddle and confident before then. But today I discovered another goal, with a much tighter timeline. I want to get my CFI (certified flight instructor) certificate, and one of my coworkers can help me do that. But he's leaving MacDill for Hurlburt at the end of April, to join the spec ops world. I'm jealous. I wonder how his wife feels? I don't have a wife yet; why can't I get a cool job that my wife would hate? Anyway, I want to get the CFI with him before he leaves--or at any rate I want to be pretty far along.
This'll be about three flights this month plus a checkride and oral exam, and I'm going to need to do a lot of studying. It's been a long time since I read through the civilian flight regs.
That's just to get a single-engine add-on to my commercial certificate (I can't fly a single-engine plane commercially, only a multi-engine. I can fly a single engine noncommercially. Don't worry if this doesn't make sense to you. It doesn't make sense, period. But that's the way it goes.
Anyway, after the single-engine commercial add-on, then we start on actual CFIC training, which will be about 10-12 hours of flight time plus more ground instruction.
This means it'll be a busy couple of months. I don't have to get the CFI by the wedding, but it might be nice to try.
So this is going to occupy whatever spare time I might have for the next couple months. Of course if I keep working 7-6 every day there won't be any spare time at all. So let's all hope work slows down a bit!
01 February 2006
A lousy post
I'm actually too tired to write. This has, to my knowledge, never actually happened. I've been too irritated to write (I'm sorta there as it is). I've been to sad to write. But I've written until I nodded off; I just don't get too tired to write. But this was a tiresome (not necessarily tiring) day. I just felt the need to bitch.
We had an exercise today. Of course, yesterday afternoon at about four thirty, right at the end of the day, the guys who run the deployment process at the base (I run it in my squadron) sent an email informing me that they had added about 40 lines to a program called LOGMOD that I had to assign personnel to, as part of a project we've had since early January and which had to be completed by the end of the day today. 40 lines in LOGMOD takes, conservatively, about an hour and twenty minutes. It's a slow outdated program, like most of the programs the Air Force uses.
I hate LOGMOD. I had already done the earlier part of the project. I figured, if they're going to basically double the project, the day before it's due, they'd at least extend the due date.
Nope.
Okay, so today I had to do this project, had to do it. I get in the car to be in by 0730, get to the base, and realize I don't have my wallet. So I have to turn around and come back home, get my wallet, and drive all the way back. I get to work by 0840. The exercise is due to start at 0900. I get maybe three names put in LOGMOD before we're told we have to "Shelter in Place." This means run to a room in the middle of the building and sit there. And not work.
I brought a magazine. We got out of the Shelter just after 10. Everybody had to move their cars away from the building as part of our "exercise threat level," so I had to open the flightline gate (one of the more glamourous parts of my job) and check IDs as people I work with every day drove their cars through to park on the flightline (our parking lot is too close to the building). Yaay! Just as we were wrapping that up and I was ready to get back to work--at this project that had to be done today--it was announced that we were supposed to still be in the Shelter. Somebody had messed up. Back to the shelter. I finished most of the magazine. We finally got out of the shelter just after noon. I finally got back into my office, grabbed my sandwich, took one bite, and loaded up LOGMOD. And then...
Then we receieved an evacuation order. It's now 1220. We had to evacuate the building. Our evacuation location was across the flightline, so off we went in a convoy of privately owned vehicles (which are NOT supposed to be on the flightline in the first place) to the Deployed Unit Center, back in the woods. There, we discovered that there were NO computers that could patch into the base network, so I wasn't the only person who couldn't work. We stood around talking for a while. Most people hadn't eaten anything yet. Tempers were wearing thin.
Around one, we found a stash of DVDs, including the original Star Wars. We put that in and watched it. The whole damn thing. We didn't get out of that thing until after 1500. Still, nobody had eaten (except me! Being cheap has its advantages; 70% of my coworkers go out to eat four or five days a week).
I ran to the office and, with the Weeds soundtrack as my guide, managed to finish my task by the official close of business, 1630 (that's four-thirty. Many people work later than that, but it's the official COB for convenience. Half the base leaves by 1530 so it's not really that great anyway). Then I went to the gym. It was packed (this is why I like to go at 1430 instead).
I got back in the car at 1738. There was a message on the office phone. Problems with the deployer, which surely must have emanated from my office since, as far as the deployment folks are concerned, I'm the only person in the 91st. So I ended up staying at work until after six.
Ah. Well. I feel better now. It's good to get that off my chest. Tomorrow will surely be a better day.
We had an exercise today. Of course, yesterday afternoon at about four thirty, right at the end of the day, the guys who run the deployment process at the base (I run it in my squadron) sent an email informing me that they had added about 40 lines to a program called LOGMOD that I had to assign personnel to, as part of a project we've had since early January and which had to be completed by the end of the day today. 40 lines in LOGMOD takes, conservatively, about an hour and twenty minutes. It's a slow outdated program, like most of the programs the Air Force uses.
I hate LOGMOD. I had already done the earlier part of the project. I figured, if they're going to basically double the project, the day before it's due, they'd at least extend the due date.
Nope.
Okay, so today I had to do this project, had to do it. I get in the car to be in by 0730, get to the base, and realize I don't have my wallet. So I have to turn around and come back home, get my wallet, and drive all the way back. I get to work by 0840. The exercise is due to start at 0900. I get maybe three names put in LOGMOD before we're told we have to "Shelter in Place." This means run to a room in the middle of the building and sit there. And not work.
I brought a magazine. We got out of the Shelter just after 10. Everybody had to move their cars away from the building as part of our "exercise threat level," so I had to open the flightline gate (one of the more glamourous parts of my job) and check IDs as people I work with every day drove their cars through to park on the flightline (our parking lot is too close to the building). Yaay! Just as we were wrapping that up and I was ready to get back to work--at this project that had to be done today--it was announced that we were supposed to still be in the Shelter. Somebody had messed up. Back to the shelter. I finished most of the magazine. We finally got out of the shelter just after noon. I finally got back into my office, grabbed my sandwich, took one bite, and loaded up LOGMOD. And then...
Then we receieved an evacuation order. It's now 1220. We had to evacuate the building. Our evacuation location was across the flightline, so off we went in a convoy of privately owned vehicles (which are NOT supposed to be on the flightline in the first place) to the Deployed Unit Center, back in the woods. There, we discovered that there were NO computers that could patch into the base network, so I wasn't the only person who couldn't work. We stood around talking for a while. Most people hadn't eaten anything yet. Tempers were wearing thin.
Around one, we found a stash of DVDs, including the original Star Wars. We put that in and watched it. The whole damn thing. We didn't get out of that thing until after 1500. Still, nobody had eaten (except me! Being cheap has its advantages; 70% of my coworkers go out to eat four or five days a week).
I ran to the office and, with the Weeds soundtrack as my guide, managed to finish my task by the official close of business, 1630 (that's four-thirty. Many people work later than that, but it's the official COB for convenience. Half the base leaves by 1530 so it's not really that great anyway). Then I went to the gym. It was packed (this is why I like to go at 1430 instead).
I got back in the car at 1738. There was a message on the office phone. Problems with the deployer, which surely must have emanated from my office since, as far as the deployment folks are concerned, I'm the only person in the 91st. So I ended up staying at work until after six.
Ah. Well. I feel better now. It's good to get that off my chest. Tomorrow will surely be a better day.
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