Gravity and the News

Four people died in Phoenix when two news helicopters collided with one another while filming a fleeing suspect. I have no idea why the news helicopters were filming it at all. Do people really need to see the live action thrill of a car chase so much that it needs to be covered by five news helicopters? Five? You know who needed a helicopter there? The cops. That's it. If a news station has a helicopter, then it also has a station owner who has severe issues with his penis. Or her penis, as the case may be. There was another big ol' car chase in Texas yesterday. We were watching the news while eating lunch, and the reporter said: "We don't know exactly where this is, or whether it's a man or woman driving, or why they're being chased, but here's the chase." It's like a nation of magpies attracted by shiny objects. Ooooh, a speeding car! Let's watch! Um... why? Maybe it's the NASCAR gene, which I thankfully lack. People like to watch speeding cars for whatever reason. Or speeding anything. Chariot races, cars, whatever. I guess watching things move around in a circle is hypnotic. Toddlers get the same effect watching water (and such) get flushed down the toilet.

You see the metaphor here, right?

Anyway, regarding the Phoenix crash... the driver who was being chased (not chaste) may be charged with the deaths of the four people who crashed in the helicopters. Yes, the person on the ground may be charged with the deaths of the helicopter pilots and passengers who were in the air and crashed into each other. I think that's ludicrous. If anyone should be charged with their deaths, it should be the station owners who sent them out after a friggin' car chase in the first place. (Somebody grew up watching too much CHiPs.) There was another incident a week or so ago where a robbery or some such was committed, and the officer responding to the call died en route. The robber was charged with the death of the officer. If you're going to use that logic, don't just stop with the robber. I mean, come on! This is America! There are many more people to sue, and many more people to blame for your own actions! We can blame the robber's parents for screwing up at their parenting job. We can blame the car manufacturer for not including enough safety measures in the cop car. We can blame the cop's supervisor for not ensuring that the cop take his requisite defensive driving classes. We can blame the cop's parents for not providing good enough genetic material to give the cop superhuman cop reflexes. Of course, if the cop collided with another driver, there's a whole tree of blame to follow. If the cop collided with a stationary object, there's yet another avenue of litigation and finger-pointing to traverse.

Personally, I'm going to blame the city of Phoenix for the helicopter crash. I mean, really... why isn't the entire city covered in soft, spongy foam?

I Want To Buy A Ghost Town

Really. How cool would that be? Nice and isolated. Quiet. Scenic. Sure, I'd have to farm. Or have supplies air-dropped in. Satellite internet, of course. Solar and windmill for electricity. Oh, did I mention the land mines? And the giant moat filled with electric crocodiles? See, I want to keep the stupid out. I'm not sure how else to do that. What the hell am I talking about? Deb was taking a break from our marathon shop-maintenance stuff, and she was flipping through channels of suck. I went in to see what she was up to, because my wife can find her way to mischief quickly. (Oh wait. That's me.) She had stopped on the new Candid Camera show. I have no idea what it's called, but it's a hidden camera show, where they set up people with all manner of wacky shenanigans which results in a family-friendly laugh riot for young and old. Feh. I shouldn't call it Candid Camera, because Candid Camera had personality. This one was made by mimes, because nobody talks. Only goofy music that Benny Hill rejected. Anyway, the bit was that an old woman needed help carrying a box of groceries to her door. The unsuspecting victim was carrying the box. The wacky bit came into play when a skunk was released into the old woman's front yard. (See! Comedy gold right there! How could you not love the show?) The part that made me sit up and curse was that they had digitally blurred out something on a woman. Not on her clothing, and not to mask an expletive.

They blurred out the cigarette in her hand.

I'll say it again: They blurred out the cigarette in her hand. I do not smoke, yet somehow I doubt that the wee children watching the funny camera clip show are going to run out and grab a pack of Lucky Strikes because they saw the skunk lady hold one in her friggin' hand! Now there's a push to make movies that depict smoking have an automatic R rating.

Maybe it's because I listen to old radio shows so much. Everyone smoked, everyone drank, and everyone was quick to commit murder. I honestly don't think that everyone who listened to these old shows went out on a killing spree, nor do I think they plotted and schemed in order to get their rich uncle's fortune by pushing him down a flight of stairs/giving him 18 doses of sleeping powder/playing a recording of ghost sounds in order to give his weak heart that final push over the edge in his haunted mansion. In fact, I think a very small percentage of radio listeners ever killed anyone. Fewer still inherited anything. People smoked. People drank. People died. You know what? If you don't smoke and you don't drink, you're still going to die. You might live longer, but you're going to be boring as hell and won't have any good stories to tell. So you'll be boring, dead, and people will smoke and drink over your corpse. That's a life well lived, right there.

"Why do we care about this?"

I realize I'm a bit late to the party on this one, but it's been jangling about in my head. Time to set it free...

Our television consumption consists primarily of watching the news. CNN Headline News to be specific. Why? Well, it's one of the channels we get that's in English, and does not have Judge Smurfy or whatever the hell their names are on 24/7. It's good for about ten minutes, which is pretty much all of the entertainment news I can stomach. Oh, they'll occasionally hit on a story and not tell you the whole thing, but then they're off on three or four stories in succession about what some Hollywood person is having for breakfast.

Which brings me to this: Last week, the story they were incessantly looping was the one about David Beckham joining a professional soccer team in California. I think. I'm not about to look it up, and I don't care. See, it's soccer. Not "football". We're in America, and it's called soccer. By the same token... we're in America and it's soccer! Why is this on the news? I don't mean the sports segment, I mean the news segment! Building burned down, war going on, school bus full of nuns and blind orphans crashed, and soccer?!? Yeah yeah yeah... most popular sport in the rest of the world... blah blah blah. It's a bunch of guys in shorts and knee high socks who run back and forth. It's great for little kids, as they need to run around and get tired and sleep and shut the hell up. But I mean... really... professional soccer in America? The most interesting thing I've ever seen in a soccer match is when that Zidane guy rammed his forehead into that other guy. (Again, don't care who. Don't care where. Remember: Soccer = more boring than baseball.) Apparently, he wasn't supposed to do that. But I'll tell you, if they made that a play, and had a point system surrounding the move, we'd watch it.

For some reason, the media wants us to care. My better half saw something that sums it up nicely. She was watching newscasters discuss this Brit soccer whosis, and the newscasters started laughing and saying words to the effect of "Why do we care about this?" Exactly. I miss the days when I could get news by watching the news. Now it's just entertainment interspersed with the occasional shooting. I don't think I'm going to watch the news anymore. I'll just read the good stuff online.

Books, Flowers, and Fruit

It was our anniversary today, so we decided to break with tradition and go out to eat. We put on our Hawaiian shirts, and headed off to the local Tony Roma's. We had been there twice previously, and heartily enjoyed our meals. We even had a coupon! We were set for some fine dining. When we pulled in to the parking lot, I remarked: "Gee, there aren't any cars here." Sure, it's a weekday, but it was only a few minutes before noon. There should have been some sort of lunch crowd. The lights were off, and there was a single piece of paper taped to the main entrance. I got out and read it, and came back to the car laughing. The paper did not just inform the reader that the establishment was closed, but rather that the building and all of its contents had been seized. I guess business wasn't booming for them. It wasn't even mildly fizzing.

Luckily, Tucson has more restaurants than cacti, so we trundled off in search of an anniversary meal. We traveled roughly 200 feet and went to another restaurant, had a lovely meal wherein I stunned yet another server with my ability to drink my weight in soda, and left. In another break with tradition, we paid the bill before we left the restaurant. Not as exciting, sure, but there's less running involved. I don't like to run when I'm full. Or empty, for that matter. (It's friggin' Arizona! I won't run unless guns are involved.) (Even then...)

Oh, as for the "Books, flowers, and fruit"... those are the traditional gifts for a fourth wedding anniversary. The modern equivalent is electronic appliances. So, if you're shopping for a guilt gift, get us an electric tomato-flavored page turner that smells of chrysanthemums. Covers all bases.

Eight Random Things

OK, Sam, you asked for it...

1 - I started reading at age two. I haven't stopped yet, and it's probably the main reason why typos leap off the page and stab me in the head. Relentless practice.

2 - My hands occasionally shake uncontrollably. Calm or relaxed, without warning. They've been doing so for years. I have no idea why, and I don't want to know. Call it fear, call it stubbornness, call it both. Whatever.

3 - The second thing on this list makes me amazingly angry, because I feel that, if nothing else, I should be able to have at least some control over my own damn hands.

4 - I am starting year three in Arizona, and I still have not made any friends of any natives. I have not made the attempt. I have no desire to. After years of being the guy who heard "Thank god you're here!" from people he never met before, in different friggin' states, I'm enjoying the anonymity.

5 - I don't miss my hair. Really. Though I am a bit annoyed that grey hairs have started to sprout in my goatee.

6 - I saw a UFO when I was about 13. As far as I know, I have no implants. Again, I don't want to know.

7 - I am not religious by any means, but there was a time in my life when I went to church every day. (Only one person who reads this blog knows what the hell that means. Who's ready?)

8 - There was a time that I wanted to draw comic books. Mainly because it's as close as I'd ever get to having actual super powers. (Heroes is a good show. I was pleasantly surprised.) (Hiro.)

There you go, Sam. I'm not tagging anyone else, though. So there.

What Do Vegetarian Zombies Eat?

Graaaaaainnnns... Graaaaaiiinnnssss...

I know, I know. I didn't write it, I just laughed at it.

The above picture is my submission to a contest at J!NX, of which Sam informed me.

In less surprising news, I received two more hits from the IRS this week. Someone looking at the archives. I'm tired of being angry about it, so instead I'll just start posting IRS secrets. Hey, I'm beyond my two year "vow of silence" they make you take. Most people who take it probably don't even remember doing so. I do, because that's the way my brain works. I remember all sorts of crap I don't need, and forget where I left my pants. (Yes, again.) I won't post anything too drastic. Just little things. Like tolerance amounts. Hey... maybe I can post it in code! That'll drive them wild trying to find it, and subsequently decode it! Cool! Better drink your Ovaltine, kids. Gotta get that decoder ring. Not that it'll help, ya bastards, but who can resist rich chocolatey Ovaltine?

I Still Tilt

As you know, we're on a CafePress bent of late. (Which sounds painful, but it isn't.) On a whim, and my chair, I searched their site for LEGO-based products. I wanted to see how many people had zero regard for copyright and/or intellectual property. There were quite a few responses. So, I did what any normal LEGO fiend would do... I wrote to LEGO and told them all about it. It took a while for the information to get through to their legal department, but eventually a search for "LEGO" on CafePress comes up with zero results. Unfortunately, a search for "LEGOS" still comes up with something. A follow-up letter to the fine folks at LEGO was sent, and now I'm just waiting.

Can you tell I don't like it when people use someone else's creativity to make money? I still tilt at windmills. I guess that will never stop. I guess the difference is that people are listening now, so I'm actually accomplishing things. It's a nice change.

First Day Of Summer

From the ForecastFox weather alert on my happy browser window:

"THE NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE IN TUCSON HAS ISSUED A HEAT ADVISORY.WHICH IS IN EFFECT FROM 1 PM TO 6 PM MST THURSDAY.

STRONG HIGH PRESSURE ALOFT WILL BRING THE HOTTEST TEMPERATURES TO DATE FROM TUCSON WEST. HIGH TEMPERATURES ON THURSDAY ARE FORECAST TO BETWEEN 108 AND 114 DEGREES...WITH THE HOTTEST TEMPERATURES IN WESTERN PIMA COUNTY AND IN SOUTH CENTRAL PINAL COUNTY. THESE HOT TEMPERATURES WILL HANG AROUND INTO FRIDAY AND SATURDAY.

A HEAT ADVISORY MEANS THAT A PERIOD OF HOT TEMPERATURES IS EXPECTED. THE COMBINATION OF HOT TEMPERATURES AND HIGH HUMIDITY WILL COMBINE TO CREATE A SITUATION IN WHICH HEAT ILLNESSES ARE POSSIBLE. DRINK PLENTY OF FLUIDS...STAY IN AN AIR-CONDITIONED ROOM...STAY OUT OF THE SUN...AND CHECK UP ON RELATIVES AND NEIGHBORS. DO NOT LEAVE
ANYONE OR PETS UNATTENDED IN A VEHICLE."

If you need us, we're going to be spending a couple days in the freezer. I'm not sure if the computers will work in there, but I really don't care.

Pirate Gecko

I woke up at 5 A.M. yesterday. While that is considered "sleeping in" by my family, it's really friggin' early in my book. So early, in fact, that for a long time I considered 5 A.M. as "almost time for bed". My early rising had nothing to do with the hippie with the leaf blower. If that were the case, the hippie would have gone from gardener to mulch in a hurry despite my attempts at becoming a more mellow member of the Arizonan populace. (Oh, and I still dislike the terms "Arizonan" and "Tucsonan". They're very boringan.)

The point of the matter is that I seem to come up with anthropomorphic non-mammalian critters when I've been awake for great swaths of time. I don't know if it's just the heat, or some deeper psychosis. If anyone out there would care to study this, I'll happily take grant money so that I can be studied. There may be a direct inverse proportion to the order of the species compared to the number of wakeful hours. I came up with a squid last time, and this time it's a gecko. If I stay up longer, who knows what could be next? Goldfish? Dragonfly? Or if it's a really, really long time, maybe a dinoflagellate* cowboy. That'd sell like hotcakes. Or paramecium cakes. (Not as filling, but you get more maple syrup that way.)

*Unrelated to anything: Blogger has no problem with the word "paramecium", but it doesn't understand "dinoflagellate". Don't make me test your spell checker, boys. I know phyla.

Technorati Madness

Technorati Profile

It's best if you don't ask.

Camouflage

No Cursing This Time

For the curious as well as the indifferent, our CafePress store has moved. It is now located here: http://www.cafepress.com/stargazerdesign.

If you're reading this from work, you're required to go to the store and buy something. Unless you work for a governmental agency. If that's the case, you're required to buy ten things. Or more.

Lots more.

Don't Look, Mom.

Dear DoD: Stop fucking wasting my fucking tax fucking dollars and get the fuck back to fucking work instead of using fucking StumbleUpon on my goddamn dime.

(If you delete all the curse words, this post is four letters long. It's math in action!)

My apologies to my legions of fans for the foul words. This kind of thing really, really, really pisses me off to no end.

Moment of Power

You know how it is... you're driving along, and another car makes a special effort to pull out and get in front of you... only to drop down to a speed so slow you could be passed by a parade of Shriners in their Hoverounds. In reverse. Or perhaps you're in the supermarket, and another shopper has combined the witdh of their cart and the width of their person to block the aisle completely. Are people just that self-absorbed? Do they truly exist in such thick bubbles that they are blissfully unaware of any other people around them? Maybe some of them are, but I think that most people do it on purpose. Why? Power. For that moment, however fleeting, that person is in control of someone else. Their actions directly impact the daily lives of another. They are in control, and they have your attention. Sure, the attention may be in the form of a string of expletives shouted at ear-shattering volume, but it's an affirmation of the degree of impact they have made. They may be the bottom rung of the corporate ladder, or the parent of the kids who never listen, or the one who is always compared to the more successful member of the family, but in that moment they are the ones who make the decisions. They know it, they revel in it, and it may be the only time they actually get to feel anything approaching control. It may not be a good feeling, but it's something other than powerlessness, so it'll do in a pinch.

With this line of reasoning in place, I find it much easier to deal with these encounters. Don't get me wrong. It certainly does not mean that I curse any less. (I'm from New York, baby. Cursing is an art form, not to mention a law.) It just means that the footnote of my reflexive expletives is laughter. After all, if the best they can do to feel good is inconvenience others, that's pretty pathetic. Mockingly so.

Maybe I'm wrong, and people really aren't doing it willfully. Maybe they are just rock stupid, and so deeply mired in their own little worlds they have no idea that anyone else exists. I'd rather accept evil in its most minor form than stupid, even though I've had more than my fill of both.

After all, I used to work for the government.

Winter

This one has annoyed me for one simple reason: I cannot stop typing the title as "Wintar". That's what happens when a nickname collides with reality, I guess.

Autumn

It doesn't really show up on these, as I had to make them relatively tiny for the sake of my family and their steam-powered internet connection, but I really liked how the skin came out on her.

Summer

She looks a trifle miffed. Probably because we've reached the stage where we get consecutive days of triple-digit temperatures. In other words: her flowers are screaming as they burn to cinders.

Spring

I realize I'm a little late in the season, but "Spring" is the title that popped into my head after this image was made. It's almost certainly going to turn into a traditional series, so prepare to be confused as to which equinox is closer.

Death Upon Death

We went on one of our excursions today. Actually, this was a "do over" of a previous excursion, because we really screwed up the first time around. We were looking for the ruins of Sasco, and despite internet resources aplenty we missed it by a good 20 miles or so the first time around. The "roads" we were driving the first time were more like ideas of general direction which didn't have quite so many plants as the other bits of the desert. (I don't care what the "Ironwood Forest National Monument" signs said. That's a friggin' desert. It's a "forest" like I've got hair on my head. Sparse, short, and depressed in its singular loneliness.)

Today was different, in that we looked at one of them there newfangled things called a "map". Perhaps you've heard of it? It's a cartographic dream! Thanks to the map, we found Sasco with no difficulty whatsoever. The ruins are in relatively good shape. The cemetery had a headstone with a date as recent as 2006, which took some of the mystique out of the whole thing. A cemetery for a ghost town shouldn't have anything more recent than the early 1900s to be chill-worthy. Most of the markers had no names or dates. They were apparently somewhat mass-produced, in a homemade sense. Concrete crosses formed in a mold, and placed at the heads of the graves. Some were original, though, so that made up for the recently departed. This particular image is of a nameless tomb that had a nameless cactus take hold and grow in the concrete. The fishhook barrel cactus, though small, was still strong enough to crack open the concrete in search of nutrients and moisture. It found enough of both for a while, but eventually it died as well. Now, an unmarked grave in the desert in a ghost town has only a sun-blackened cactus to distinguish it from the other graves.

Death doesn't fool around in Arizona.

Smite, Smote, Smottled

7:05. A.M. That was the time I heard the sound of the gas-powered leaf blower. The earliest time to date. When you've been having trouble sleeping for a few days and finally drift off a little after 3, the last thing you want to hear is the grinding whine of a two-stroke engine right outside your window. Well, maybe in the top ten, in the general vicinity of Mariah Carey in a yodelling competition.

In other news, I've been dabbling in alchemy. No, not because I've got gold fever, or even Saturday Night Fever. (Though I did wear the suit once.) It's because some of our plants have a bit of an infestation. They're impatiens. So I had to hurry. (Ba-bing!) It turns out that the infestees, spider mites, don't like garlic or hot pepper. Since we live in Arizona, it's a state law to have both on hand. Not literally, of course, but in the kitchen. So the little buggers have been subjected to "Wontar's Mist O' Delicious Death" for two days now. I think it's working, but it's still too early to tell. All I can say for sure is that the balcony smells fantastic.

If it works, I may fill a few water balloons with the stuff and chuck them at the maintenance monkey the next time he wakes me up with that damnable leaf blower.