My Debating Skills (and ensuing rant about religion)

You could put me in a debate competition and give me the position of defending the statement “The earth is round”, and I would get eaten alive. Every single time in my life that I have tried to conflict and argue a subject, even one that I am fluent in, I get torn to shreds. Especially amusing is when I try to debate politics. Hahahaha!!!!! When growing up, my brothers and I were never allowed to argue, my dad would tell us to “be quiet and try to get along”. Excuse me for my tear jerking therapy statement, but it is true. I bet this certainly has something to do with my debating skills.

One time I was discussing religion and my stance was that Christians are pretty pompous and egotistical because they believe that their beliefs are right and all the other religions in the world are wrong. Check out this quote from an independent group that gathers statistics:

A comparative survey of churches and religions - AD 30 to 2200: there are 19 major world religions which are subdivided into a total of 270 large religious groups, and many smaller ones. 34,000 separate Christian groups have been identified in the world.

It seems even the Christians are unable to agree with each other. So anyway, in my discussion with this person, I asked “why did you pick Christianity out of 270 choices”. “Because it is the best choice and only one that is right” was his answer. Considering the fact that Christianity represents only 30% of the world, his answer seems rather pompous and rude. As always, I went on to lose this debate since religions are based on faith. You can’t argue facts with faith. If you get a religious person in a corner they usually just start ranting versus from the bible until you wander off. But I’m no different, I’ll continue to use logic until I’m blue in the face.

Have you ever seen anybody change their mind in a debate based on the other person’s argument? “Bob, you are right! I never thought about that, I now I see I am wrong and you are right”. It’s never happened. People debate and argue, never giving in even to the death. I’ve never seen a single person back down and change sides.

In summary, my debating method now consists of just agreeing with everybody even if I know they are dead wrong. My motto is “unless somebody could get hurt, there is no advantage to arguing with people”. Aggressively trying to convince other people of your opinions is really just an act of insecurity. Those who are secure with where they are in life usually sit back and watch the fight while smiling. Now, quickly I would like to point out an exception to all this; if you are simply goofing around with your friends and say something like “bush is a no talent ass clown”, that’s more of a fun sport among friends. Obviously you cant prove that bush has ever been employed by a circus. Additionally, sometimes it is a good idea to start a debate with a loud opinion in order to get people stirred up and thinking. Sometimes the ensuing arguments can bring new facts to the surface.

My neighbor Arnold, World Champion of Torturing Inanimate Objects.

Arnold lived next door to use when I was growing up, and was highly skilled at torturing anything that did not have a pulse. He was a very kind kid to anything living, especially animals, but if you were a screwdriver, you better run for cover.

Arnold’s earliest influence was his hero, “Jody Dade”, who lived a few doors down. Jody once took a saucepan out back and shot it full of holes with a 9mm pistol because “it burnt his beans”.

Here are a handful of stories and events about Arnold and his skills.

When around 16, he was driving his grandfathers 1960 pickup and it died at a stop sign and would not start. He jumped out and grabbed the jumper cables. Did he proceed to jump start the truck? HA! He took the cables and begin slinging them on the hood in a violent whipping action while shouting “SHIT TRUCK! SHIT TRUCK! SHIT TRUCK!” as loud as he possibly could. He family still has this truck, the scars of it’s past can still be seen on the hood.

He got a “new” truck soon after, a 70s model, and was quite happy with it until one day it stalled at the red light when he pressed on the gas pedal. “Oh, you want to be a city truck, huh?”. From then on, at each light, he would hold the brake and when the light turned green, he would floor it while holding the brake and then release the brake launching it hard. He would run it wide open until the next light when he would wait until the last minute and then stand on the brakes as hard as he could.

In addition, in the mornings, he would would start the motor and immediately put it in gear and floor it, giving the engine no time to warm up.

Small objects that misbehaved, such as nails that bent when hammered, little things that hid from him, and so on, were sentenced to his torture chamber. This special place was an area on the exhaust manifold on his truck engine, the part that gets very, very hot. These objects were taught a lesson by spending various length sentences being burned hot. The severity of the crime committed would dictate the length of the sentence. There were several objects that were “in for life”, but most items got a pardon after a few months or so.

“Abrasion” was a very popular torture method at started up later in his life, maybe in his mid 30s. If you say, drop a screwdriver while working on something, when you lean down to pick it up, you drag the tip on the concrete for a couple of seconds before going back to work. This teaches the tool to not make the mistake again of “jumping out of your hand”.

Once I came home from work and Arnold was out on the patio with some small can with a fire blazing away in it. I walked up in a way that he was not aware that I was watching. I heard him talking to the can. “I’m sorry picante sauce, but if you would not have jumped off the table, I would not be having to set you on fire”.

ANYTHING that ARnold knocked over and made a mess was tortured mercilessly.

Once Arnold got sick with a sore throat. “I’m gonna teach this baby throat of mine a lesson” he announced. He went out back and started gargling with lemon juice and Tabasco, hoping that the acid would damage his throat. But it did not end there. He would gargle, and then start screaming as loud as humanly possible to further damage his throat.

Many objects were destroyed, but if it was essential that it “stay alive”, like a tool, Arnold would use a bit of abrasion or hammer damage, but keep it alive because “It has a job to do”.

Arnold’s “city truck” like all pickups, tended to not handle so well because the back of the truck would bounce quite a bit if the bed were not loaded. This is typical of any truck. Well, Arnold did not think this bouncing was acceptable, so he filled these 3 steel pipes with 300 pounds of concrete and welded them on the rear of the bed to “make it behave”.

Arnold had kind of wavy curly hair, and when it would get a bit long, his bangs would start to hang down around his eyes, so he would get his mom’s sewing scissors out and cut off his “fag curls”. His mom of course would kick his ass for using her sewing scissors.

The lawnmower that arnold used was an old beat up thing. Arnold used to say that lawnmowers were worth no respect and should be worked hard with never an oil change or spark plug cleaning or a wash-down. This mower of his of course started running not too well, and on occasion, the engine would die if you hit high grass. It did this one too many times and Arnold announced "I have had enough of you!". He drained the oil out of the engine and started it up. He then put the throttle at maximum so the engine was just screaming away.

He calmly went inside and enjoyed a sandwich while listening to the sound of agony coming from the tortured mower. After a couple of minutes, the engine go so hot (remember there was no oil in the crankcase), that it seized up and ground to an immediate halt. The next morning it started up fine and has been running ever since.

One time Arnold’s mom set him down on the kitchen counter when he was like, a year old, and while she was talking on the phone, he ate a whole stick of butter. to this day, he still likes to eat butter and also raw meat.

Me and Arnold played golf a few times together when we were in our mid teens, and arnold, as you can guess, did not show the best sportsmanship if things went wrong.

Once, on a par 4 hole, Arnold hauls off and whacks one, big hitter, long. He sent it into the bottom of a 10,000 foot glacier. Oh wait, that’s from CaddyShack. in reality, the ball dropped in a muddy ditch halfway to the green. In normal golf, this is called “casual water”, and you can take your ball out with a 1 stroke penalty. Well, Arnold starts whacking away at the ball, and I stop him and explain the concept of casual water. “NO! I AM GOING TO PLAY FAIR!! He keeps burying his club deeper and deeper in the mude “SEVEN, EIGHT, NINE....”. I walked back to the other guys at the green. “...SIXTEEN! SEVENTEEN! EIGHTEEN!”.

We made him stop at 22 so we could move on. He had successfully dug a pretty nice little pond.

Tennis was similar. With each bad shot, Arnold would whack the ground with the side of his racquet. After a while, the raquet was pretty much square, I am not kidding. And the edges were beat beyond recognition.

When Pizza Hut first came out with their pan pizza (thick) back in the 70s, Arnold started calling them "Dough Hut" and refused to eat there ever again.

The agony of the 2009 albuquerque gas race

The 2009 gas race was a no-go thanks to weather nonsense that cropped up right at the worst possible time: smack dab in the middle of inflation.  The gas committee weather man Randy Lafavor called the winds to be 6-8 knots during inflation, and our private weatherman Don Day called the same thing.  There was a last minute change in the low down in the south that “packed up the gradients” as don said and caused a ridiculous amount of wind; some 25 knot gusts that caused holy terror for us.  Randy beat himself up for this error but it was totally not his error, he did the best he could.  Weather is not exact or well behaved, as we all know.  

Brian and I drew the lucky bean and were first to launch, so 10 minutes before the start we dropped the diffuser in preparation for launch.  Well, we tried to drop the diffuser.  Thanks to me, the ropes were not properly positioned inside the appendix and they got all knotted up on the diffuser while still installed. When we opened the appendix and lowered the diffuser, it was a complete mess, requiring the exciting and embarrassing visit from the manlift.  Our crew member Mick Heim climbed aboard the manlift and successfully got it all untwisted.    Dropping early was our second mistake.  Before dropping, we should have confirmed that launch was on schedule, but we did not.  They put us on a 30 minute hold which meant we were now no longer able to add gas to the balloon.  To make things much, much worse, was that I did not properly tie off the diffuser closer line which allows us to seal the bottom of the bag so the gas does not escape or get mixed with air.  Well, within 10 minutes, we lost the whole bottom of the bag of gas.  We tried to grab the line with people jumping in the air as the balloon swung down near the ground.  Yes, it was that windy, and that ridiculous looking.  The line was short because the bottom of the line was tied in one of those stupid “daisy chain” knots that I have despised since 1985.  They are unnecessary and cause issues since many crew members do not know the secret trick to getting them undone.  I realize that I am alone in this opinion.  All the cool teams use daisy chains.

Out comes the manlift again, and once more Mick climbs up and gets the closer line down.  This was far more difficult than it sounds since the balloon was banging around back and forth like a hootchie mama on a trapeze.  We were now able to seal the appendix, but at this point it was too late.

Now, what might not make sense to any of you that do not fly gas, is that the loss of gas is not an issue for flight.  When gas balloons rise, the gas expands and fills the bottom anyway.  Our situation would have simply meant that we would have climbed about 3,000 feet without having to ballast.  In fact, the balloon actually climbs smoother with a soft bottom.  The reason the gas loss was such a problem was that it allowed the bottom of the bag to essentially become a sail and reeked hell by letting the bag swing all over the place:  A full bag is far more stable in the wind.  Things got so bad that at one point Bert Padelt’s envelope was rolling on the ground, and this is substantial because Bert is a highly skilled gas pilot.

Our basket got a real workout, but you would too if you had 2,000 pounds of sand tied to you in a 25 knot wind.

John Kugler had enough sense to pull early, and the rest of us pulled after the officials called the race around 730ish.  Hearing $60,000 worth of helium release into the atmosphere was truly depressing for both the teams and the gas committee.  The amount of work to get this event off is extraordinary.  We start planning and preparing two months in advance, pouring an embarrassing amount of money into the gear and such for the race.

From the time we got to town the weather guys were already sure that Saturday was probably our only chance and even then the weather was going to be problematic during the entire flight with all sorts of thunderstorms and other various forms of hell to entertain us along our journey.  The winds were so fast up top that 60 hours could  be too fast getting to the east coast.  Best guess trajectories showed landings in or around the Carolinas and Virginia.  This of course means crossing the appalachian mountains with landing possibilites in forested valleys.  Looking back at the weather, there were indeed substantial thunderstorms which very likely would have resulted in a short flight to Kansas or so.  That’s about two bucks a mile.

A really annoying thing that happened right off, was that when we arrived at our launch site after briefing, our launch area was full of hot air teams still partying away.  I think fiesta should have probably gone out there an hour earlier and got them to move off, but this did not happen so we were unable to start our work until they packed up and moved out.  Once again Brian and I drew the lucky bean because in the middle of our launch square was a monster special shape chase commander and about 20 sauced up people and a very busy margarita machine.  The officials went over and explained the situation and asked them to move as quickly as practical because preparing the gas balloons can take all afternoon right up until launch time.  Well, 10 minutes later I walked over to their scene and they had not moved an inch:  they were all still sitting down and the margarita machine was flowing well.  The race official had to go over a 2nd time to get them moving.  Only then did they slowly, very slowly begin to fold up their chairs.  20 minutes later I walked over and they were all standing around outside the monster-commander doing nothing.  I asked if they would mind driving off the site and they informed me that they were traveling with another team and were waiting for them to finish packing.  Again, they only needed to drive about 50 feet to clear the gas area.  5 minutes later, they finally chugged their chase commander out of the way.  There were several other groups that behaved in the same way, seeming to have no concern whatsoever on their actions.  This is not only rude to the gas teams but also to the race officials who had to keep asking them to please cooperate.  I find this discouraging because these teams who think they are entitled to special treatment make a bad name for the balloon community in general.  I like to party on the field as much as any of them, but being rude is never an acceptable behavior.  We asked for no special treatment, only courtesy in helping us out by moving the party over just 3 launch squares.  In Stark contrast Many of the other hot air teams were polite and immediately packed up and were off the area within 5 minutes.

During the wind from hell, Brian held down the fort and I went around to each of the pilots giving them the weather information I had got from Don:  things were going to stay bad for at least an hour and we could hope for 10-15 steady at best for launch.  I found that all the teams were very pessimistic and ready to pull.  Andy Cayton’s basket sustained serious damage.  Mark Sullivan said his basket was now “much shorter than it used to be”.

After Wally Book told us the event was scrubbed, the bag hit the ground, and instead of depression, we all felt relieved and almost happy.  The stress and known weather dangers ahead weighed heavily on us and we were grateful to be on the ground.

The gas inflation teams, put out an extraordinary effort, worked tirelessly from 1pm until we were packed up at 9pm.  They stayed at our sides and did any task that was asked of them, including going to buy me a hat at concession row so i did not get a redneck.  

We went back to the hotel and ate pizza and drank a cooler full of premium Lone Star beer.

It took me 40 minutes to copy a driver file from XP to a Vista machine

And I never got the file transferred

The details...
I needed to copy a driver file for a USB device I have from my xp machine to my vista machine.

1. i cant find a single memory stick.
2. i try to email it to myself.
3. gmail wont let me because it is an executable
4. i rename it to a .txt file and email it. gmail is too stupid to know it is really an .exe
5. I am reminded that Obama really wants moms to return to school
6. i go to vista and download the file but i dont see the extension so i cant change it from .txt to .zip.
7. i dont know how to set vista to show extensions
8. i go back to XP and use a CF card (as a thumb drive)to copy the files.
9. i go to vista and it wont recognize the cf card.
10. i go back to xp and use yahoo to xfer the file
11. I go back to vista, open yahoo email and dont see the file.
12. I realize i did not even have the correct device plugged in.
13. I plug in the correct device that i need the driver for.

The driver installs normally.

I pretty much hate everything right now. I have little life left and i just wasted 40 minutes of it because of the despicable morons in Redmond. i hope microsoft goes out of business and steve balmer commits suicide.

The Segway, Amazing Invention, or Worthless Crap?

If you have never seen a Segway, it is this little two wheeled "thing" that is supposed to me a personal transport vehicle. A long time ago some inventor got the idea for a very small vehicle that people could use to get around instead of a big car. It would respond to simple body movements; lean forward, it goes forward. pull back, it stops and then goes backwards. Word on the street is that this guys spent a pile of money developing this thing, maybe 200 large, maybe a million, but it does not matter, it was a shitload of money.

when I was bored to death in Montreal waiting for the Bjork show to start, I decided to go give one of these things a try at a rental place. For fifty bucks you get to ride around a little bit for maybe 30 minutes. But of course they dont trust you so one the guys there has to go along with you.
They start out giving you a little traing course and yes, it was pretty easy to figure out. I was the only one there, and for good reason, it started raining. they were nice enough to give me a raincoat for the ride. I asked lots of questions while riding, like "How do you lock it up if I want to park outside a store and go inside?". "You can't lock it". "Well, what keeps anybody from stealing it?". He informed me that it was designed to roll inside the store. It did not matter if you took the key with you, I could pick up this thing and throw it in the back of a pickup truck pretty easy.
The inventors actually thought that people would drive this thing right through the front door, into the elevator, then to their desk, work the day, and then ride it home.
It has a pretty short range, I think under an hour for sure. It costs a lot of money, I think $4,000 or so.
The best complment I can give this thing is
"A worthless toy"

The History of my Pathtic Choice in Vehicles

Most folks take time and figure out what sort of car they need, go buy it, and live happily ever after. Not me, and it is not surprising; it's in my genes. My dad actually paid money for a Ford Pinto. My brother Robert bought a Chevrolet Vega. These are two of the worst automobiles (and i use that term loosely) that ever came out of Detroit.
I'll discuss three vehicles here that all started when I bought my first hot air balloon in 1986.
1. Gray truck
So I needed a truck to haul the balloon around in. I found a pretty darned nice looking one, gray, with seats with no rips. Only one problem; six cylinder. Load up the balloon and two people and 60 was pretty much max speed. Then it got worse, much worse. I bought a new balloon and it came with a trailer. Towing the trailer now meant a maximum speed of about 50 or 55 with a best gas mileage of about 10. Yes, ten miles per gallon. We did a trip from Tennessee to Albuquerque, 22 hours in this lumbering thing, never exceeding 55.
2. Jeep Cherokee
HA!! This is a worthless piece of shit of a car. I thought the word "jeep" would mean a rugged vehicle with a big engine and skid plates, and tow hooks, and big gas tank, and all that, making my gray truck look like a mommy car. Well, It's not. This thing also had a six cylinder, 4 speed, 18 gallon gas tank, no skid plates, plastic everything, and so on. I have no idea why i bought it, but back then i was really relentless about not changing my mind. Hook up the trailer, and yep, it would do 55 i 4th gear, and if you floored it in 5th gear, you could get 65. That is, until you approached a hill at which time it would promptly grind to a stop unless you downshifted back to 4th, which meant max speed of 55 again. It also tended to overheat when pulling the trailer so I would come barreling into the parking lot of a balloon race, smoke bellowing from under the hood, with the back end looking like a ghetto car. YEs, that was another thing, the suspension on these things are meant for "mommies" to take their kids to soccer practice. We called it the "sag wagon". I had to go install air shocks just to get the rear end up enough so it did not rake the muffler on small bumps.
3. Ford Explorer
Finally a REAL vehicle i thought!
Whatever, it is a cushy mommie car as well, narrow (not built on a real truck frame), underpowered, sags in the back, small gas tank, but I will say that it would pull the trailer pretty well at 65. Crappy mileage when hauling the balloon of course. This thing was really expensive and had all sorts of unnecessary options like "puddle lamps".
4. Miata.
enough said

Finally, after two decades, I bought a real vehicle; a ford pickup (f150), which happens to be the most popular vehicle ever sold in the US. Good reason; it is a real vehicle. The V8 engine hauls my balloon at 90 if I want. Suspension is solid, plenty of power, 18 mpg even with the balloon in the back, 25 gallon tank, and so on. I is white, sleek, and means business.

Oh, i forgot, i also bought a scooter, that RULES. it is a yamaha vino, gets 75 mpg, looks sleek, and allows me and my shortie to go downtown and park right in front the restaurants and bars.

Major flaws in Famous Movies

Contact: My favorite movie of all time, but there is a huge flaw in the ending. The review board essentially calls Elli a liar on her description of the time travel trip. Hello, the ball landed safely in the net below and clearly is ready for another run. Put Mr. Skeptical in the ball and give him a spin. I mean, I am sure this big machine uses a LOT of gas, but you would think the human race could afford the cash for another run.

Star Wars episode 4 (the first one): In the Death Star destruction scene, a small handful of fighter pilots head out toward the death star in a certain suicide mission to place a missile-bomb-thing in a hole the size of a basketball while cruising at near mach speed. On the way out, "Red leader" comments on the radio "Man, look at the size of that thing". "Cut the chatter Red Leader" barks the big fat leader. So here they are on the way to certain death and Red leader cannot even make a simple comment. If I was Red leader I would have manueverd behind Fat leader and launched a photon torpedo right up his rude ass.

The HoneyMooners
Ralph has a fulltime job as a bus driver. they have no kids, and yet his wife sits at "home", which is a shack apartment. They have not even a single picture on the wall or any furniture. what does alice do all day long? Norton works in the sewer, but his apartment is all painted up nice and looks great.

The Doberman Gang
HAHAHA!!! This movie is a riot! A group of bad guys decide to rob a bank using a pack of trained dogs. They send the dogs to the bank with notes tied around their necks telling the tellers to put lots of money in their saddlebags they are wearing. Well, they come barreling in the bank and start raising all sorts of hell and guess who happens to be standing there; a bank guard with a..... GUN. Boom boom boom, story over. nah, one of the dogs bites the guard on his "gun hand" so he cannot shoot them. Hmm, I bet I could shoot a gun with my left hand if i tried.
It's a stupid movie, but worth the pain for all the laughs.

The accidental Tourist
The flaw in this movie is that IT SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN MADE. Will Hurt plays a role that is so depressing and boring that you need red bull injected directly into your veins to tolerate him. Gina Davis plays one of the most annoying characters you can imagine, especially that nauseating "cluck" sound she does with her mouth. What a pile of shit.

I don't like Kirk anymore

James Kirk is an asshole, and here is why.

First, check out this picture of him from the movie posters:
Pretty evil looking, wouldn't you say? I would place him as a prime suspect in any serial murder mystery. Or a cocky smart-ass bastard. In stark contrast, William Shatner was a jolly sort of fellow.
In the latest movie, they show kirk as a cocky kid driving a vintage mustang off a cliff and essentially ridiculing a policeman. The policeman should have taken this spoiled brat and beat the living crap out of him to let him know the meaning of the word "respect". Then cuff him, beat him again with a club, and then throw him off the cliff.
So in the movie he reprogrammed the computers so he would not have to do the "face death" scenario during the testing. he cheated death and thus failed at the most important situation a captain can be in. It seems that kirk is one of those people who enjoy "getting away with things". Spock and the counsel should have run his ass out the door right then.
It is beyond me how he managed to stay in power.

The history of my "Technicals"

In gas ballooning, you have several things in the basket that require electrical power from a battery, and you need some sort of distribution "thing" to run the power from the battery to each device. For my very first race, I was all uptight about having everything perfect, and the only technical I had ever seen was Willie Eimer's box. See Fig 1. Below

Fig 1. The "Eimers" version

It looks like something that should be on the dash of a 767 Airbus. I made an exact replica of Wilies, thinking that since he was such a veteran that he must have come up with the optimal solution. Well, it turns out he just likes to tinker. Anyway, This one was a rats nest of wiring on the inside, complicated to hook up, and hard to deal with at 2am.

So I decided to simplify. See Fig 2 below. I figured all I really needed was the connectors on the bottom and a main switch, but I added a new feature, a switch on the front to select one of 4 batteries that are under the seat.

Fig 2. The "MacNutt Multi Battery" version
This looked and worked great, but for some reason my radio would stop working sometimes due to lack of power. After two years of irritation, I figured out that I had too many thin wires with all those battery selections, and it was starving the radio.

This year I had had enough of this shit, and came up with the optimal solution; See fig 3 below.
One very thick cable from the box to the battery, a simple digital voltmeter, and 3 cig sockets for accessories like cell phone chargers.

Fig. 3 The "Finally Something Reasonable" version

It weighs nothing, has almost no wiring on the inside, and provides solid power to the transponder and radio.
I wish I was clever like other people who get things right the first time, but I am a dunce.

just blah

How a single sentence derailed Jewel's career
When Jewel first hit the scene, she released a decent song "who will save your soul" which had a really good video; gritty, saturated colors, etc. People loved her because she had those cute slightly crooked teeth like linda rondstaht, and also the story that she used to live in her car. Well, then all of the sudden she starts putting out these whiny songs about lame stuff, and then wham, she writes "you were meant for me", an absolute nightmare of a song. Dripping with whine, and the one line that put her career to a dead end... "Put on my pjs and hop into bed". The public no longer had money to buy her albums because they had to spend it on anti-nausea medicine. Violent vomiting was reported to be widespread across the country when this song hit the radio. AT the point when she uttered this pathetic line, you could see car doors opening all down the highway with people hurling out on the road.


HALF BLOOD PRINCE??
what a stupid name for a movie.

I have determined that the unemployment rate in Austin runs around 35%.
you can go around town at any time during the middle of the day in the middle of the week, when everybody SHOULD BE AT WORK, and the roads are clogged solid. that means nobody is working.

one of the WORST songs ever done was that incredibly stupid "she's gonna be somebody's baby tonite..." song. i dont know who wrote it, but they should be beat and then shot. HOLY SHIT! this is by that moron jackson browne too! same as the stupid pretender, lender, sender, legal tender song. well, it is official, this guy is a total loser.

Out of all the cities I have been to in the world, I found Boston to be the most boring, and annoying. there are a list of historic sites to see and they are all separated by many many city blocks and sometimes having to cross under traffic jammed interstates along shitty roads and such. the restaurants in the center city were jammed and smokey and hot and irritating.
the traffic there is even worse that Austin, which is saying a lot.

this guy "Jackson Brown" which is basically two last names has this song where he rhymes like every possible thing he can think of:
pretender, sender, lender, legal tender, mender, gender, fender, and so on.
It's a stupid song and that's all i have to say about that.

I have tried SO HARD to like Radiohead. They are my heros because they made that no-talent ass clown miley cyrus look like the complete childish spoiled idiot that she is, but I just cannot seem to get into their music. I find it droning and bland. And yes, i know that it is totally hip to like Radiohead and no doubt they are talented, which discourages me because that means I am not hip. But I like Daft Punk and the Racontes, does that count??

GOOD news! I was out running on town lake trail and had a one hour rant on how stupid these middle aged jocks look (late 30s to mid 40s) trying to act like they are speedsters because they dress hip. HAHAHA! they are big fat nobodys. They are hardened with chisel jaws and a rough looking haircut with a mean look on their face. They wear overly trendy shoes that are expensive and have like a 2 inch heel full of gel and air and all sorts of nonsense. They hang out with bimbos sometimes. They wear those slinky silky running shorts that look mostly like girls panties. If they wear a shirt it is usually some sort of muscle shirt so they can show off their fat. Body fat runs in excess of 12% with a heavy look. They work ouyt at the gym excessively resulting in a huge lumbering body.

The REAL runners look totally different and I shall describe them now.

The real runners fall into two catagories:

1. Aged seventeen through mid twenties. skinny as a rail, pale, almost-racing-flat shoes, no shirt, and a serious look on their faces. They have a "six pack" stomach not because they waste time in the gym, but because they have no body fat to hide those muscles. Probably in the 4% range. They run in groups and blow by the middle aged oakley-sunglass wearing jocks like a hurricane. These guys turn low 30s on a 10k and sixteen flat on a 5K.

2. The elite. You rarely see them on the trail because they have no time or interest in running near people. Usually very tall, very black, and even thinner and more serious than group one with a body fat of about 2%. They wear racing flats because their heels never hit the ground. These guys hit upper 20s on a 10k and in the fifteens on a 5K. They make the middle aged spring-shoe wearing jocks look like senior citizens rolling around in scooters shopping at HEB.
I'll see if I can find some pics of the chisel jaw guys.

The agony I went through to see Bjork

I've been fascinated with Bjork since about 2001 ish when Vespertine came out. So when I saw she was touring North America, I snatched a ticket for the show in Montreal, which was the closest place she was playing to me. That's a long way to travel to see a show, but I had miles and thought it would be nice to hang out in Montreal for a couple of days.

I got to the park in the morning thinking I would hang out most of the day and then get in line for the show. Well, around noon, there were already thousands in line. I wanted to get as close as possible so i got in line. After 5 hours of sitting doing nothing and listening to the people around me all having fun speaking french, they finally opened the gates. It was like stampeding cattle. People all crammed up against each other to make sure that not a single person got past them.

After taking our tickets and passing through security, we were released to the back of the show area, a hundred acres outside with a stage at the far end. Everyone, including me, took off faster than Carl lewis for the stage. I got there in time to get pretty close, maybe about 20 people back from the stage. This is where it starting going downhill. I was already tired from hanging around this park all day with absolutely nothing to do and nobody to talk to (I don't speak french), so I decided to sit down as other folks were doing. But as more and more stampeding cattle came up, they were all jamming up against the back of us reducing my sitting area to literally the size of my butt. In order to sit down or stand up, I had to vertically rise in a space no wider than my body. i had nothing to drink or eat, thinking i would be able to get these things during the show.
After a couple of hours I asked the girl next to me if she had anything to drink and she gave me a apple juice box. That was the last thing I had until 11 pm.

After another hour or so, things started happening on stage so everyone stood up and packed even closer. This pretty much ended the chance of sitting down again.
Well, out came the warm up "band", which consisted of this hillbilly named "Will Oldham".

He and his straggly beard started playing an autoharp and playing some of the most boring and annoying music I have ever heard. He tortured us for an hour. When he announced he had one more song, the audience burst out in applause and sounds of joy. I would have rather watched drunk orangutans eating fish guts and vomiting all over each other, then licking the vomit out of each other's hair.

Another 45 minutes or so went by and we were all getting all geared up for Bjork. My body was killing me and my legs had divorced me an hour earlier.


Well, out comes.... the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Yes ANOTHER warm up "band". These guys are another one of those hipster bands that think they are too cool to have a bass player. The band consisted of a drummer, lead guitar, and a girl singer dressed in a ridiculous outfit with purple tights.
They finally started banging away and making all sorts of irritating noise. The first couple of songs were fun and a welcome relief from Will "Valium" Oldham. But after a few songs, this band showed their real colors. They were childish and were just doing the same old crap song after song, and it became apparent that they were rather amaturist. The singer had to keep pulling up her tights, about every minute or two, kind of like infants do with their diapers.

Finally, finally, they quit. Another 45 minutes. It was probably 8:30 or so, about 3+ hours or more since I was first crammed in. I was now running on fumes but certainly could not give up now. When Bjork walked out, the crowded crammed up again to the point where I was unable to move in any way at all. It was a vice from all directions. Bjork starts playing and it is absolutely stunning, which temporarily made much of my pain go away. Then it happened, at the end of the first song, the guy RIGHT next to me sticks his fingers in his mouth and lets out a long, screaming, ear piercing whistle that pretty much destroyed whatever hearing I had left. His head was no more than 1 foot away from my ear. It was impossible to move even 6 inches away because I was packed in so tight. This guy let out a airhorn after every single song, so I had to plug up my ears for about a minute, usually missing the end of the song.

So then the guy on my other side sticks his camera up above the crowd and starts snapping shots which of course is not allowed. The body guard by the stage saw this and pointed his super high beam flashlight right into the guys lens so he could not get a shot. Now I had a blinding white light in my face and a bone crushing whistler vibrating my head. I finally asked the whistler demon if he would stop. He just looked at me and went right back to it. The camera guy continued to snap pictures each time the bodyguard took a break with the light, the light went back up, the camera guy waited, then started it all over again. This continued to the end of the show.

Near the end of the show I had had enough and turned around to leave. It was impossible. The people behind me could not move a single inch out of the way because they were so pressed in. And I mean not an inch. I turned around and stood there not evening listening, no longer having even the slightest interest in this disaster. FINALLY, the show ended and the sardines around me slowly, ever so slowly started to move back. I now had room so I started walking. My knees gave out and i hit the ground in a hard thump. I had to sit there for probably 10 minutes before I could even get up. I walked to the beer stand, ordered two beers, and drank them both in 20 seconds. I had not eaten or drank in 7 hours.

I will never go to a concert again.

A flight that I enjoyed less than an aerobatic ride

I'll cut to the chase; in 1986 during a flight lesson, my instructor and I hit a powerline.

I like articles that get right to the point. Most articles would have opened like this...

"It was a warm morning, not unlike any morning in south Louisiana, a slight settling of mist in the rich green fields. The beauty of a certain green field was interrupted by the rainbow of colors of our hot air balloon, tethered to the ground, anxious to ascend skyward, anxious like a horse ready to ride..." and a bunch of crap like that.

This flight was my third lesson and only fourth time to be in a balloon at all. Prior to my lessons, I had only crewed 3 times and flown once as a passenger. This is rather unusual I think; most pilots have a substantial amount of exposure to ballooning prior to their flight instruction.

My lessons took place in south Louisiana near Hammond, a densely forested area that in retrospect is not a very good place to learn how to fly. The only good part was that it forced me to learn how to land in very small places, usually just a hole in the trees where a house was.

So our 3rd flight was routine and after about 45 minutes, I was getting rather fatigued. I was at treetop learning a bit of contouring when it was clear that i had over-valved and we were headed directly into a tall pine tree about 20 feet from the top. My instructor, who I will call "Todd", (his real identity is unimportant for this story), sat down in the bottom of the basket and said dryly "I don't want any part of this" just as we crashed into the branches at about 8 knots. After we pulled all the limbs out of the basket he suggested that I take a break for a little while, which I wholeheartedly agreed with. Todd took over as we came directly over the I10 interstate, and thanks to a wind change, were now flying right down the middle of the median with 2 lanes on each side of us. Now, this was a very wide median, so there was no real danger of whacking side mirrors off the cars, so I did not see any problem, but let's remember that this was my 3rd lesson and did not realize how illegal and stupid it is to fly along with cars on a high speed freeway.

Todd decided to do a rather stupid thing; a few touch and go's down the median. Once approach was fine, then on the 2nd one, about 30 feet off the ground we heard an explosion overhead and saw a big fireball. Later we both agreed that we thought the burner had exploded. The powerline was the worst kind in that the poles were buried completely in the trees on each side of the interstate, completely invisible from any point of view. We had contacted the wires right at the skirt while in a descent. This is pretty much the worst way to hit (i think). Immediately upon impact the wires arc'd, blew some sparks, and my suspension cables starting popping. This balloon was a Barnes and had 18 cables. By the time the fireworks stopped, 14 had been severed leaving 4 to hold the basket. The problem is not the ability of the cables to hold, but instead, that they were mostly on one corner which makes the basket tip down in a rather steep fashion. Each cable has a tensile strength of roughly 1,100 pounds.
Todd immediately closed all tank valves which is the precise action that should be taken at this point. We were lucky that the power system breakers did not automatically reset as we jumped from the basket to the ground, a drop of only about 8 feet if I remember correctly.

I was rather shaken and sat on the ground for a few minutes until chase arrived. Hot on their tail were the police and two TV news crews from Baton Rouge. The news cameras were on us within seconds. Todd went and sat in the truck with the window closed, leaving me to deal with them. It was at about this point that I realized I had made a poor choice in an instructor. The news crew made sure to show all the damage and sensationalize the whole situation as much as possible. This is a news crew's job, make something out of nothing. As proof to this, let me divert the story with proof of my opinion.

Three years ago, my copilot and I did a gas flight out of Albuquerque and landed two days later just outside of Biloxi Mississippi. We were tired and low on ballast so we decided to do a standard landing in a tree'd area in a forrested area which is a safe place to be (no powerlines). In gas, any landing is a good one, and they most often are not pretty. We came in at tree level, saw a clearing, threw out the trail rope and popped the deflation port. The landing was gentle and of no danger. We could care less about the trees, but when ABC showed up, all they could talkl about was the "crash" no matter how many times I told them that gas landings are purposly executed in this manner. Well, the camera went live and the Reporter started out; "So tell me about this balloon crash". I responded "Well, this was not a crash, it was a standard gas landing". She just kept it up, repeating the word "crash" over and over again, with me correcting her each time. She realized that I had ruined her interview and stormed off. So back to the main story here.

My brother was on chase and being a rather responsible person, begin following the wire directions to see what sort of businesses and houses might be affected. He saw a concrete plant and took off running that way. The guys at the plant claimed that I had just ruined an entire batch of cement and would be suing me for the loss. Little did they know that my brother just happen to work in the concrete business (no kidding) and let them know that this was BS and promptly showed them how to water the mix to keep it viable.
We got everything cleaned up, gave the finger to the news crews, and headed home. Todd got on the phone and had a new set of cables overnighted to my apartment. The short story is that two days later I was back in the air. I could not get the balloon below 3,000 feet. Todd calmly told me that if we were to land, I would have to get a little closer to the ground. Over the next half hour I was able to get down to tree top level and started an approach. At this point I did not care what the landing spot looked like; I just wanted to get down. Well, I should have cared at least a little bit because the landing field was a muddy mess with dozens of cut off stumps. the mud/water was about about a foot deep. The envelope was draped over all the stumps and was a complete mess. It took an hour of staggering and tripping and falling through the mud and stumps to get the balloon out. It was hot and miserably humid. We went home, Todd got on a plane and headed home, and I just sat in a chair in my apartment, alone, and rather discouraged. I don't think it could have been any worse except for the fact that we escaped a wire strike with our lives.
A week later I got in contact with Dave Koenig, an excellent pilot, to continue my lessons. Dave took good care of me and after 3 more lessons I soloed and got my ticket about a month later. I now have 22 years and 800 accident free hours under my belt including a gas rating.

The worst mistake you can make if you are writing a blog/article/book

Ask your friends to read it.

First, most of them will only do it out of obligation. For some folks you will have to hold a gun to their head or threaten to beat them with a rubber hose or make them stand in an ant bed or something.

Second, you are not as good as you think you are, so this puts your friends on the spot. If they even respond, they will have to lie and say it is great or something.

If you want to write an article for the paper, write it, send it in, and don't tell anybody.
If you run a blog, let people keep up with it on their own and never ask them to go read anything on it.
if you want to write a book, well, the odds of getting it published are about 100,000 to 1.

I read the above about 10 years ago in an article about non-writers trying to write. It was much longer (and much more entertaining) but this is the gist of it.

Scientist unearth Missing link in Redneck Evolution

Tickfaw Louisiana-

A project effort from leading scientists from LSU and Tulane Universities have discovered possibly the most important fossil remains of homoredneckus, the south Louisiana redneck. The find was accidentally discovered by Troy "T Bo" Skallens while pulling the straight six engine from his 1967 Buick. "The damn hoist snapped right when the motor was up in the air and the whole shootin' match dropped down in the mud. I had to dig a pit around it in order to run the hoist chain underneath and when ol' Cletus stuck his shovel in the mud, he hit something that went kinda "crunch". We got an hold post hole digger and commenced to gettin' all that mud out and damned if we didn't see this skeleton lookin' thing. I gotta buddy that does drywall work down at the college (LSU -ed) and asked him to get one of those science guys to come take a look. Shit, he was here faster than a bulldog in heat." Scientist Mathew Salmon comments; "I received a phone call from an old acquantiest describing a skeleton he found and it sure sounded like the missing link we have been searching for for decades. Could it be homorednecknus, the link between apes and rednecks? I was so excited i wet my pants. Well, I changed and rushed to the scene. It was hard to find because the road signs on all those gravel roads out there are full of bullet holes, and from my amateur forensics, i would say a 12 gauge loaded with #2 shot.  I made it to the scene, located which car in Mr. Scallen's front yard had the dig, and almost wept when I saw the find."  Salmon called the archaeological team at LSU and organized the extraction process, moving the skeleton into a temporary sealed tent enclosure similar to the one used on the movie "ET".  Upon closer study it became apparent that these remains are indeed the link they have been looking for.  Careful examination shows the mullet style haircut, poor posture, and excessively long fingernails so common among modern day rednecks. But Salmon is quick to point out characteristics that cloud the issue. "It appears that all teeth are intact and appear in good shape, a definite departure from the modern homoredneckus.  Additionally, there does not appear to be any bullet holes caused from accidental shotgun misfires in the feet or lower limbs". Still, Salmon is convinced that there is no question to the authenticity of these remains.
"Leap of faith"
There has been a frenzy of activity among the rednecks who claim that they can see an image of Jeff Gordon, famous NASCA driver, in the skeleton (see image above).  "This is where science crosses over to myth, and is utterly ridiculous", says Salmon.   "In order to keep riots from occurring, we plan to prove this as a scam, not unlike that "Shroud of Turin" nonsense.  Still, the rednecks are convinced in their belief. "Shit, Jeff is the greatest ever, and we ain't nuts or blind. Look your self!".  Rednecks from six southern states have assembled in Tickfaw demanding to see the skeleton first hand. "It was rough" says State Trooper Ernie Trout, "So far, we have confiscated over 700 shotguns and 2,000 knives of various length".

The skeleton, "Bubba" has been moved to Washington DC for further examination

Some Technological "Advancements"

My friend Jeff likes to quote a famous saying from back in the early days of the computer frenzy.  "Computers are going to improve our efficiency and we will have much more free time".   People now spend most of their waking life (and ALL of their free time) in front of a computer.  By the way, Jeff is a pilot and flies one of those "aerobatic" airplanes, the ones you see at airshows that are spinning around in all sorts of ridiculous ways in an apparent attempt to rip the wings off a perfectly good aircraft.  Jeff took me up one time for some "fun", in a Cessna 152 Aerobat.  These old Cessna planes are small, rickety, underpowered, and annoying to ride in, much less have to drive.  So anyway, we get up in in the air and jeff starts all that violent maneuver nonsense, and of course i start feeling sick right away.  I find the experience akin to closing yourself up in a small closet and then  slinging yourself against the walls in violent and random fashion, upside down, after taking ipecac (drug that induces nausea).  Jeff starts doing these things called "lazy eights", and then the "Hurl Guarantee" move, a "negative G pushover".  There went lunch, right out the window.  When we landed i had to clean the spew off the side of the plane with some ditch water and a greasy rag.

Doesn't that all sound like fun?  It's as bad as parachuting, no, I think worse.  A big mystery is why these high performance (and very expensive) aerobatic airplanes have propellers.    Pretty lame compared to a plane with a real powerplant, a JET ENGINE.  You wanna have some fun and get some attention?  Come in 20 feet off the deck at 400 knots with a jet in full afterburner.  THAT, my friends, is real fun and entertainment.    

(Left: Cesna 150, shame of the aviation community,  Right: F15 Eagle, a real aircraft)

A final note, my friend Jeff is a really good aerobatic pilot.  He won first place at the US National Championships as well as lots of other prizes.  He's also a safe pilot, I would fly with him anytime (as long as the wings stay level to the ground haha).

Technological Advancement #1, the Food Processor

Left, 1950s food processor, Right 2000 food processor.

My 1950s food processor has a handle, 3 blades, and one moving part.  It is fast, easy to use, and cleans up in about 10 seconds.

The 2000 processor consists of about 20 parts that must be all 1)dragged out of the bottom of the cabinet, piled on the  counter, assembled, and plugged in before it is of any use whatsoever. After chopping up 3 onions, you then have to dissasemnble it, put all the pieces in the dishwasher, and put the motor part back under the cabinet.  Also, since you the motor base is electric you cannott wash it, so oer time it starts getting all sorts of disgusting crud built up in the cracks and crevices.  After the dishwasher finishes you unload the parts and put them back in the cabinet.  After a couple of years you go buy a new one because they are designed to have short lives (which is a necessary thing in order to keep consumerism, the cornerstone of our country, alive).

#2 - the mobile phone.

Prior to this lovely device, you only had to endure the pain of talking on the phone when you were home and felt like it.  Now you are able to enjoy this agony 24 hours a day, no matter where you go, it follows you.  Visits to the doctor's office used to mean an escape, nobody could find you, and you could relax in the waiting room.  no more.  Nobdy seems to understand the rule "Just because it rings does not mean you have to answer it".  People grab for their phones like it was on fire.  A person could be doing CPR on you and if their phone rang, they'd drop you like a hot potoato "just a sec, i really need to get this".  Whoever invented the cell phone should be quartered and drawn, keelhauled, chopped up and fed to the rats.

#3 the riding lawnmower.

FOlks used to have to push a small mower for hours to get their grass cut.  they would expend a couple of thousand calories in the process as well as toning up those muscles.  We now sit our fat asses on a riding mower and then go inside and write a check to the local gym for $60 a month so we can go work out to expend calories and tone up muscles.

#4  The Moden Plastic Vacuum Cleaner

As a kid i remember my grandmother "vacuuming" the rugs in her house.  Her vacuum was basically a box thing that was on the floor and a handle.  The box had two of those brush rollers just like modern ones have, but they were mechanically driven with gears or something.  As you pushed the thing, the rollers worked against each other and forced the brushes against the carpet, picking up all the crud in the rug.  It was tough to push because you were using your body strength to drive the rollers instead of a motor.  Every couple of minutes you would empty the box into a trash can.  Her rugs always looked and smelled clean.  Oh, and it worked quite well before electricity was run to their farm house.  I think she must have used it for 40 years.

Today, vacuums are made of extraordinarly cheap plastic and now they look like rocket ships (i.e. "dyson" see above left photo).  They have lame underpowered motors that last about a year or two.  The handles, hinges, bolting points and such are all plastic and are designed to break a day after the warranty expires.  AFter a few months of use, the plastic pieces dont fit together so well and if you bump the vacuum while running, you can see little clouds of dust escaping.  hepa filter shmepa filter.  its BS marketing.

After a few minutes of marginally effective vacuuming, you write the check to the gym to get the exercise that you did not get pushing a real vacuum device.

I will say that the first electric vacs were pretty well built.  They were all metal, and built like tanks.  And unlike the garbage you buy now at walmart, these units were designed to be serviced and repaired.  My 92 year old neighbor Naomi put her 1950s Royal out at the curb because it quit working.  I grabbed it and popped it up on my bench.  After a minute or two of dissasembly, i found the problem, the motor bearing just needed some grease.  I added grease, reassembled, and turned it on.  It worked perfectly.  I brought it back to Naomi and she was so happy that she baked me a sour cream apple pie, which is possibly the best desert I have ever had.  I am going to ask her to add me to her will (for the royal). I bet it will last me 30 more years.

The questionable use of "Dr." for Chiropractors

I have a good chiropractor scam story to tell. These folks call themselves "doctors" but I was always suspicious of this because I thought that they never went to medical school. So I did some research. Turns out I was totally right, here are the requirements: TWO years of college, 3 years at a chiropractor school, and one year of bending people under supervision. In comparison, the requirements for a real doctor are : A four year college degree with a substantially high GPA (like near 4.0), four years of medical school, two years of internship/residency, then another couple of years in specialization.

Now let me quickly say that chiropractors are essential in helping many people with spine problems, but mostly what they do is the mechanical part, i.e, the actual bending and snapping to get things back in line. From the diagnostic perspective, any MD is just as capable.

Here are two experiences I have had with chiropractors. I expect a deluge of hate mail from chiropractors on this . "There are of course bad apples in our profession, you are an idiot for deriving an opinion based on just two experiences".
The most common complaint is that regardless of what is wrong with you, they will always recommend a "lifetime of adjustments". That appears to be how they stay in business.

Experience 1
I sustained a rather severe knee injury when I was 18. One day I was hanging out with my friend George who is a chiropractor; my knee popped and I limped a bit.
"What's wrong with your knee?"
"Oh, it just goes out sometimes"
"I can fix that".
He didn't even know what was wrong.
That's a rather cocky attitude if you ask me. If I could go back in time, I would have replied "George, I don't even have a leg, my prostheses just needs the bearings greased". There is not an MD on this planet that would have made such a statement without hearing what caused the damage, X-rays, and a thorough examination. Only then would they let me know if they could do any sort of repair.
A short while later it got worse so I went to an orthopedic surgeon. He did a full examination and found that substantial arthritis had set in and the kneecap was damaged. The only chance at a repair would involve surgery, which he did not recommend. Chiropractors are not allowed to have any knives, much less a scalpel in their clinics.

Experience 2:
One February I started back running after a lapse in the winter. After a few runs I begin having hip pains when I ran. I had a race coming up soon and my cube mate at work told me he had the same thing and that a chiropractor might be able to fix it quickly with onef those "adjustments" and get me back in the race. I made an appointment and went in. I was worried right away when the only thing i saw were fat people and rows of bizarre looking couches. The first thing they did was take about 40 X-rays; I did not even meet with the chiro first. After they developed them, the chiro came in, put the xray of my back up on a light box and proceeded to start drawing all sorts of lines on it with a ruler and grease pencil. After a few minutes and about 50 lines, she finally started talking to me.
"Here are the problems with your spine". She went on to discuss many of these grease lines and telling me what was wrong using big words.
"So... um, can you fix my hip?"
"I am setting you up with daily adjustments for the first two weeks, then 3 adjustments for the next two weeks, then once a month from there out".
"Um, that's a lot of visits, is that really necessary?"
"Your spine has to be proper in order for you body to work right".
"How long do i have to do these monthly visits"
"oh, forever of course".
"That's a lot of money...."

I ran from that clinic (located between a tuxedo shop and a Quizno's), and went to see a sports doctor located in the same building as a shoe store. I was seated in the exam room when the door busted open and a guy in short polyester "coaching shorts", white ankle socks, white running shoes, a polo shirt, and "handsome man hair" came in. "Doctor Chuck Schick, damned glad to meet you !!!" he barked out, while shaking my hand, crushing every bone. Following right behind him was a girl dressed the same has him with bleach blond hair and from her looks, I would assume had a night job at Hooters. She had this high tech looking roll-around stand with a laptop on it. She was typing everything he said, probably even the "Chuck Schick, damned glad to meet you" comment. "Doctor" Schick was loud and boisterous, kind of like salesmen are. I told him about my hip pain and he asked me to lower my jeans down so he could look at it. Right in front of miss bimbo. I think this is illegal but I have to do some research on it. Regardless, this was highly inappropriate if you ask me. "You'll need to stop running on this for a while until it completely heals, maybe a couple of weeks or more". and blah blah blah. I paid my money and ran.
FINALLY I came to my senses and did what I should have done in the first place; I went to my regular physician, a real M.D. We chatted a bit and I told her the same thing I told those other idiots. "William, how many miles are you running a week?". "Oh, about 20 I think, I have a race coming up soon". "Cut that in half and give me a call in a week". I did as she said, the pain went away, and never returned.
Oh, and regarding the Chiroscammers; that was 15 years ago and to date, I have never had any back pain in any way, shape or form. My MD says my back and spine are just fine.

If you use the term "To be sure," you are a complete idiot

(note: after re-reading this entry, i don't think it is very entertaining. I'll probably leave it here for a while only because I love to talk about "chumming for sharks", but after I get tired of that I'll pull it.)

This phrase has been surfacing more and more in articles recently, which I personally find quite disturbing. It is both unnecessary and wastes the readers time. I think the author is trying to convince you that the statement following "to be sure" is A MILLION PERCENT ACCURATE AND SURE. Well, it is either a fact or speculation, and facts have no variance so there is no need to shore it up any further. If it is speculation, you simply need to state that it is speculation. I think these authors are trying to be cute and act like they are better than they really are.
Let me give you an example:
Let's say you make the statement "To be sure, sharks are able to eat 80 buckets of chum".  If you actually went out on a boat, threw in 80 buckets and they seemed full and content, then you need only say "Sharks can eat 80 buckets of chum".  BUT, let's say that you only went out with 60 buckets, threw them out and the sharks were still banging against the boat wanting more.  If you were convinced that they could eat at least 20 more buckets, you could only speculate and say "Sharks are capable of eating 60 buckets of chum and I speculate that they can eat at least 20 more buckets before being content".  Typing "To be sure" before either of these statements does nothing to change the validity of either statement.

While on a literary rant, annother stupid thing that many people say is "irregardless, ....".
From Wiki...
The origin of irregardless is not known for certain, but the speculation among references is that it may be a blend of irrespective and regardless, both of which are commonly accepted standard English words. By blending these words, an illogical word is created.

You need only say "regardless", so don't waste my time with illogical prefixes.

IMPORTANT NOTE: I personally make no claim to be a good writer as I am a product of the Louisiana school system. I make all sorts of pathetic mistakes in both grammar and spelling, so that tired phrase "Don't talk bad about other people unless you can do better yourself" does not apply. It never really applies since you are totally ok to insult other people for doing stupid things "regardless" of whether you can do better or not. The fact still remains that that person is doing stupid things.   If you see a quarterback throw 10 interceptions in a row, you totally can say "that quarterback sucks" regardless if you can play football or not.

I LOVE to paint!!!!

This is the phrase emitted from your friends when they find out you are moving to a new place.  “I’ll come over and work on painting for you!”

What this translates to is “I want to come over and do the easy part and get instant gratification with minimal outlay of effort”.

Rolling paint on a wall is as hard as walking, and is by far, the most trivial and easiest part of “painting”.

Now, these people mean well, and totally sincere in their offers;  they just don’t understand the process of painting.  For those of you who are not aware of this process, I shall outline it now.

Figure out color.

Go to store, get a quart of your color.

Paint a little on wall, don’t like it, return to store for another quart.

Repeat five times, each time in heavy traffic.

Buy gallons according the spread rate on the can.

Spend a half a day on the floor taping plastic to cover the floor and other things.

Tape all trim in house.

Remove all outlet plates and light switch plates.

Tape up around or remove ceiling fans

Caulk all trim joints in entire house.

Repair problems, holes, etc.

Friends call, “can we come paint now?”

Purchase and arrange several pans, rollers, and brushes for the crew.

Gather 100 dollars to order pizza for the crew for their “work”.

Friends start painting walls since ceiling is boring white and offers no gratification.

They very rapidly finish all walls (for 3 people, probably  2 hours total).

“Oh just look at that new color!”.

Feed crew.

Crew goes home.

Begin process of 2^nd coat.

Clean all brushes, rollers, pans and such, a lengthy process, trust me.

Paint ceiling.

Get trim brush and start cutting in the color at the ceiling.

Paint with brush around every piece of trim.

Do 2^nd coat of trim paint.

Fix all drips.

Clean tools.

Color all light spots on wall missed by crew.

Remove and dispose of all plastic drop cloths

Re-install all wall plates and outlet plates.

Remove tape from all trim.

Final coat of wall paint to cut in where tape got on wall.

I'd say that the task of rolling paint on the walls represents about 5% of the total task of painting.