Whenever a bartender flags you down you know things are going to be bad. Either a too-drunk patron had them call for a cab, or they’re throwing somebody out because they’re too drunk.
Like bartenders, hairdressers, priests and legitimate therapists, we cabbies are often called upon to dispense advice. Why on earth people would presume that I would have any words of wisdom for them is beyond my meager powers of comprehension. I’m a goddam cab driver fer cryin’ out loud.
With that in mind, I’m cruising up Palafox Street in downtown Pensacola last night when a guy hails me outside of the Helen Back bar. He gives me the, “Wait one,” hand gesture and goes back inside. That’s when I spot his t-shirt with the “Helen Back” logo. I think to myself, “Just drive away, Bob, just drive away.” But no.
Subsequently he comes back, and he’s just about carrying this little blond woman. Skinny thing, tiny…late 20’s or early 30’s. He plops her unceremoniously in my front seat and wordlessly shuts the door. Uh-oh. She immediately turns to me and says, “I am NOT going to get sick in your car.” Then she gives me an address that’s not too far away. Hardly reassured, I drive off. I keep a blue plastic pail (the kind kids play with on the beach) within quick reach in the event the drunks I carry have any accidents.
Before we get far, she’s sobbing. Against my better judgment, I ask her what’s wrong? She doesn’t answer, just alternates between sobbing and mumbling incoherently. And she seems vaguely pissed at me for some reason, saying that I don’t really care about her. Which I don’t, to be honest. Ten minutes from now she’ll be out of my cab and out of my life.
As we motor toward her house she suddenly sits straight up and angrily informs me I’m going the wrong way. “I guess that’s your plan, huh…to charge me as much as you can?” One has to be careful when insulting a cab driver. We’re likely to pull over and kick your drunken ass out. There is no law that says I must get people to their destination. Anyway, she quickly realizes her mistake, but does not apologize.
Finally she starts making sense. Between her sobs I learn that she’s all alone in the world. Her husband left her, she’s estranged from her son, they don’t talk to her…she has no family, and all of her “best friends” have turned out to be not friends at all but merely coworkers. All alone. And…of course…she misses her dead father terribly; he died thirteen years ago, she says.
We get to her house. The fare is eight dollars. “Can you please just show me some compassion?” she verily demands. “Can you please just say SOMETHING to me…give me SOME advice?”
Hey toots, I'm just some fuckin' guy, you know? But okay, you axed for it. I start off as gently as I can, kind of knowing how this conversation is going to go. “Ma’am, it’s been my experience that if you have a relationship with God, you’ll never be alone in life…you’ll never be lonely. No matter what happens, God is always with you.”
Before the words are even out of my mouth, I hear the tongue-cluck and the sigh. I knew they were coming. “Oh, I don’t have a relationship with God,” she spits. “I have a relationship with pantheism.” I don’t have time to ask her to explain because she quickly adds, “I tried the God-thing.”
The God-thing. I’m tempted to ask, “How’s that working out for ya?” but I don’t. She starts fumbling around, pretending to look for her purse. I decide that it’s time to help her out of the car, whether she actually gives me any money or not. But she finds the purse, pulls ten crumpled dollars out and makes a big show of dumping them on the floor between the seats.
“Thanks for nothing," she hisses as she walks away.
I feel sorry for people like her…people so wrapped up in themselves and their own misery and self-pity that they drive others away. From the very brief glimpse I got of this young woman’s life, I completely understand why she’s all alone and bitter. I get back in my cab, shake my head and I drive away too.
Who Am I?
- Bob Barbanes:
- A nobody; a nitwit; a pilot; a motorcyclist; a raconteur; a lover...of life - who loves to laugh, who tries to not take myself (or anything) too seriously...just a normal guy who knows his place in the universe by being in touch with my spiritual side. What more is there?
29 March 2014
19 March 2014
Risks We Elect To Take
So here we are, a week and a half after the disappearance of Malaysia Airlines Flight 370 and there is still no sign of it. The plane just vanished. Speculation runs rampant, especially on the all-news TV channels. Most of it is just inane-bordering-on-stupid. I can’t even watch CNN anymore.
Personally, I knew almost immediately that it did not crash at the point where it disappeared from radar. When searchers went to that location and found no wreckage I smelled a rat. Big airplanes like the Boeing 777 leave evidence behind when they crash. Something would’ve been on the water. But it wasn’t. Ergo, airplane not there; airplane somewhere else.
Where? Somebody knows, and somebody isn’t telling. I read today that Thailand’s government admitted that their military radar tracked the jet. Thai officials sort of disingenuously claimed that they never said anything about this because…get this…nobody asked. Yeah, right.
Big jets like the 777 do not just evaporate into thin air. It went somewhere, and it either landed or crash-landed. My sneaking suspicion is that it went somewhere and landed, and if it is still flyable it is now in the possession of some group. And my other sneaking suspicion is that the assigned flight crew did it…”stole” it…aviation’s version of “The Hunt For Red October.” Why? Who knows. It’s the stuff of adventure novels for sure. And it’s going to make a great movie.
The other aviation incident that made national news this week was the crash of a TV news helicopter in Seattle. It was apparently taking off from a rooftop helipad when something happened and it crashed onto the street below. Both people in the helicopter were killed, and one man on the ground was seriously injured.
Immediately after a bad accident like that, I knew there’d be a lot of speculation, just like with the 777 disappearance, especially on the internet. People want to immediately know what happened: What caused the helicopter to crash? This of course is impossible to know. Nevertheless, self-proclaimed “experts” are always throwing out their theories as fast as their pudgy little fingers can type them. Maybe it makes them feel better to be looked at as an authority by others. Older pilots like me refuse to even make an educated guess as to what would cause such a crash – because there are too many things that can go wrong with a helicopter operating from such a pad.
These two events hammer home the point to all of us that aviation is still a potentially dangerous endeavor. Nothing is perfectly safe, no matter how hard we try to make them so. Airline travel is “fairly” safe to be sure, but there is always an element of risk that cannot be denied or ignored or wished away. And the fact that there are X-number of successful airline flights all over the planet ever day does not lessen the associated risks one little bit.
Helicopter flying is perceived by some as “dangerous” but really it is not. I could not have survived over 30 years of flying these contraptions if they were dangerous. More than that, I wouldn’t have done it. I mean, come on, I’m no fool. I understand that helicopter flying is riskier than staying in your nice, safe apartment or house all day. But I work very hard at keeping the risks as low as possible when I’m flying.
The other night I was driving my taxi on a four-lane, divided highway. A confused (drunk?) driver pulled out from a side road right into my lane going the opposite direction. Head-on and coming fast! I confess that my initial thought was, “I wonder if my airbag is gonna work?” I yanked the wheel to the side and managed to get my car into the next lane just as the other car same zooming by, accelerating hard as he went the wrong way, looking for a place to get back on the proper side of the highway. We missed each other, but hoo-man! It was close enough that I got that metallic taste in my mouth that you get when you’ve had a really close call.
I chucked to myself, “And they say FLYING is dangerous??”
Personally, I knew almost immediately that it did not crash at the point where it disappeared from radar. When searchers went to that location and found no wreckage I smelled a rat. Big airplanes like the Boeing 777 leave evidence behind when they crash. Something would’ve been on the water. But it wasn’t. Ergo, airplane not there; airplane somewhere else.
Where? Somebody knows, and somebody isn’t telling. I read today that Thailand’s government admitted that their military radar tracked the jet. Thai officials sort of disingenuously claimed that they never said anything about this because…get this…nobody asked. Yeah, right.
Big jets like the 777 do not just evaporate into thin air. It went somewhere, and it either landed or crash-landed. My sneaking suspicion is that it went somewhere and landed, and if it is still flyable it is now in the possession of some group. And my other sneaking suspicion is that the assigned flight crew did it…”stole” it…aviation’s version of “The Hunt For Red October.” Why? Who knows. It’s the stuff of adventure novels for sure. And it’s going to make a great movie.
The other aviation incident that made national news this week was the crash of a TV news helicopter in Seattle. It was apparently taking off from a rooftop helipad when something happened and it crashed onto the street below. Both people in the helicopter were killed, and one man on the ground was seriously injured.
Immediately after a bad accident like that, I knew there’d be a lot of speculation, just like with the 777 disappearance, especially on the internet. People want to immediately know what happened: What caused the helicopter to crash? This of course is impossible to know. Nevertheless, self-proclaimed “experts” are always throwing out their theories as fast as their pudgy little fingers can type them. Maybe it makes them feel better to be looked at as an authority by others. Older pilots like me refuse to even make an educated guess as to what would cause such a crash – because there are too many things that can go wrong with a helicopter operating from such a pad.
These two events hammer home the point to all of us that aviation is still a potentially dangerous endeavor. Nothing is perfectly safe, no matter how hard we try to make them so. Airline travel is “fairly” safe to be sure, but there is always an element of risk that cannot be denied or ignored or wished away. And the fact that there are X-number of successful airline flights all over the planet ever day does not lessen the associated risks one little bit.
Helicopter flying is perceived by some as “dangerous” but really it is not. I could not have survived over 30 years of flying these contraptions if they were dangerous. More than that, I wouldn’t have done it. I mean, come on, I’m no fool. I understand that helicopter flying is riskier than staying in your nice, safe apartment or house all day. But I work very hard at keeping the risks as low as possible when I’m flying.
The other night I was driving my taxi on a four-lane, divided highway. A confused (drunk?) driver pulled out from a side road right into my lane going the opposite direction. Head-on and coming fast! I confess that my initial thought was, “I wonder if my airbag is gonna work?” I yanked the wheel to the side and managed to get my car into the next lane just as the other car same zooming by, accelerating hard as he went the wrong way, looking for a place to get back on the proper side of the highway. We missed each other, but hoo-man! It was close enough that I got that metallic taste in my mouth that you get when you’ve had a really close call.
I chucked to myself, “And they say FLYING is dangerous??”
27 February 2014
Cab Driver
After I got out of high school in New York City, I drove a taxi for a short time. This was before the TV series, “Taxi." Even so, lots had been written about cabbies in the Big Apple (which wasn't even called that yet). They are kind of a legend unto themselves. And…I don’t know…I wanted to see if any of it was true. So I got my “hack license” and found a company that would hire me. It was not difficult.
I didn’t do it for very long and really have no interesting stories to tell. I never got robbed, never got hijacked, nobody ever jumped in and said, “Follow that car!” and nobody ever had sex in the back of my cab as far as I knew. I did sometimes get propositioned. I never did take anyone up on it. All in all, from what I remember it was a routine and mundane, unglamorous job.
Flash forward a bit to the time I found myself flying helicopters out in the Gulf of Mexico. We “Gomers” often referred to ourselves as glorified taxi drivers…because that’s really what we were. (In fact, until fairly recently the FAA referred to a company that did that type of work as an “Air Taxi” (wording which has since been changed to “Commercial Operator”). We air taxi pilots picked people up here, and took them to there. It too was a routine and mundane, unglamorous job. The only difference was the fact that my helicopter taxi flew instead of drove.
After over 30 years as a pilot I’m nearly retired now. No more full-time flying for me. I have my little summer gig, the cherry-drying thing up in Washington State. The job usually requires three months of my time – although last year I stayed up there for six full months. This leaves me in a bit of a quandary when I return to Pensacola. The cherry-drying gig pays pretty well, but I still need to do something to keep busy and make a little money the rest of the year. But don’t want to take a full-time job…and seriously, who would hire a guy who could only work from November until May? (And before you ask: No, there is no part-time work for helicopter pilots here in Pensacola.)
So instead of being a Walmart greeter I decided to lease and drive a taxi. It’s strange – it’s like a return to my roots, although admittedly driving a cab here in Pensacola is a lot different from driving one in New York City.
Oddly enough, I may have found the one job for which I’m particularly well-suited. I mean, what guy doesn’t love to drive? And get paid for it? Sweet! Plus, I get to meet tons of people. Yet I only have to interact with them for short periods of time; our trips are generally 20 – 30 minutes or less in length. Much of the time I am the first contact visitors have with this area, which I love. It makes us taxi drivers something of ambassadors for Pensacola.
And so a new chapter opens up and once again I find myself in yet another routine and mundane, unglamorous job: Cab Driver. But it is interesting, and has already provided me with plenty of stories. I’ll share some of them with you in this space.
I didn’t do it for very long and really have no interesting stories to tell. I never got robbed, never got hijacked, nobody ever jumped in and said, “Follow that car!” and nobody ever had sex in the back of my cab as far as I knew. I did sometimes get propositioned. I never did take anyone up on it. All in all, from what I remember it was a routine and mundane, unglamorous job.
Flash forward a bit to the time I found myself flying helicopters out in the Gulf of Mexico. We “Gomers” often referred to ourselves as glorified taxi drivers…because that’s really what we were. (In fact, until fairly recently the FAA referred to a company that did that type of work as an “Air Taxi” (wording which has since been changed to “Commercial Operator”). We air taxi pilots picked people up here, and took them to there. It too was a routine and mundane, unglamorous job. The only difference was the fact that my helicopter taxi flew instead of drove.
After over 30 years as a pilot I’m nearly retired now. No more full-time flying for me. I have my little summer gig, the cherry-drying thing up in Washington State. The job usually requires three months of my time – although last year I stayed up there for six full months. This leaves me in a bit of a quandary when I return to Pensacola. The cherry-drying gig pays pretty well, but I still need to do something to keep busy and make a little money the rest of the year. But don’t want to take a full-time job…and seriously, who would hire a guy who could only work from November until May? (And before you ask: No, there is no part-time work for helicopter pilots here in Pensacola.)
So instead of being a Walmart greeter I decided to lease and drive a taxi. It’s strange – it’s like a return to my roots, although admittedly driving a cab here in Pensacola is a lot different from driving one in New York City.
Oddly enough, I may have found the one job for which I’m particularly well-suited. I mean, what guy doesn’t love to drive? And get paid for it? Sweet! Plus, I get to meet tons of people. Yet I only have to interact with them for short periods of time; our trips are generally 20 – 30 minutes or less in length. Much of the time I am the first contact visitors have with this area, which I love. It makes us taxi drivers something of ambassadors for Pensacola.
And so a new chapter opens up and once again I find myself in yet another routine and mundane, unglamorous job: Cab Driver. But it is interesting, and has already provided me with plenty of stories. I’ll share some of them with you in this space.
12 February 2014
More Commercial Fun, 2014
As you all know by now, I hate television but absolutely love television commercials that are done really well. Off the top of my head I can recall a number of specific ads, some from years ago for products: Like (of course!) the more recent, “The Most Interesting Man In The World” ad campaign for Dos Equis beer.
Or how about the dark, moody commercial from ten years ago! for the VW Cabriolet that showed four young kids cruising around one romantic, summer night in their VW convertible to the tune of Nick Drake’s “Pink Moon.” I still love that spot - probably one of the best commercials ever made!
Or the brilliant “Adventureland” commercial for Little Friskies cat food that showed us what possibly goes through a cat’s mind during the day? Instead of using someone else’s song, the producers went ahead and wrote their own song specifically for the commercial. …And not just a short jingle – a whole song! Awesome!
Or the commercial for GE and the one for Saab automobiles that both used Donovan’s wonderful song, “Catch The Wind” (Sadly, the Saab commercial seems to have disappeared from the internet.)
I look forward to the Super Bowl every year because I know we’ll get to see some really creative commercials. Advertisers know that there is only a short time to grasp the viewers’ attention. Many of us use the breaks in programming to get up and do other things. Devices have been designed that allow us to eliminate having to watch commercials completely. So there has to be a reason to stay and watch them.
Most television commercials are vapid and stupid, barely tolerable. But sometimes…sometimes a company will push the boundaries, break “out of the box,” and do something unpredictable. They’ll spend the extra money and hire truly creative people who’ll produce little 60-second masterpieces of advertising art. Commercials are at their very best when you not only remember the ad itself but the product it is promoting. Like those mentioned above.
Two new commercials recently caught my attention. They are strikingly good. The first is one for Chrysler cars. Last year, Chrysler used (in)famous Detroit hip-hop artist Eminem. This year, they’ve snagged Bob Dylan of all people, talking about things that make us “American,” as opposed to, say, the Canadians or Mexicans who also could (but don’t) claim the title.
Dylan’s little poetic paean is accompanied by a subtle instrumental bed of his wonderful song, “Things Have Changed,” and some iconic photographic images (like Marilyn Monroe, James Dean, and the “Rosie The Riveter” poster from WWII). The ad evokes all of the good things about this country and our rich cultural heritage. Yeah, it takes a few…um, liberties. It implies that Americans invented both the automobile and the interstate highway, which we did not. We merely perfected and made them our own.
And okay, so maybe American cars aren’t perfect. But that’s not the point, nor is it the point of the commercial. The point is that we have a lot to be proud of. We are a unique, diverse culture that’s had a long love affair with the automobile and the open road. Dylan growls, “Yeah. Detroit made cars, and cars made America.” The commercial celebrates that heritage, instilling pride and patriotism. In the voice-over portion Dylan says, “Let Germany brew your beer. Let Switzerland make your watch. Let Asia assemble your phone…” Then they cut to a shot of Dylan in a pool hall, backed by a line of what are obviously UAW workers. He leans toward the camera and declares, “WE will build your car.” Damn!
For me, it works. It’s inspiring. It shows us that if you can look past your cynicism and disillusionment, for all the faults this country has, it’s still a great place to live and work. Thank you, Chrysler, for reminding us that “America” is not finished, and we should all be proud to live here.
The other commercial that really caught my eye was one for Heinekin. The beer producer has run a series of bizarre ads that border on action films. Their latest is this film that begins with a castaway climbing a rope to board a cruise ship underway on the high seas. Once on deck, the “castaway” progresses through a series of various and wacky antics (from doing the limbo to ballroom dancing – you just have to see it) – under the stern glare of ship’s captain. Although it is ostensibly the same guy throughout, they clearly used more than one actor for all of the stunts. At the very end, a beautiful woman asks the captain who the man is. The captain replies with great suspicion, “That can’t be just one man.” Then they cut away to reveal all of the actors who portrayed the character in the various bits.
During the three-minute commercial, clickable links appear that allow you to see the hilarious, short (one-minute) casting sessions for the various roles. If you were to watch all of them you’d be sitting at your computer screen for over 45-minutes…which is what Heinekin wants, of course.
The spot is ingenious because it’s so compelling to watch. And as you do, you'll say to yourself, “They put all this energy and time and money into a commercial for beer?!” Yes, yes they did! Hey, works for me!
There are other noteworthy commercials, of course. You undoubtedly have your favorites. And I’d love to hear about the ones that you think are memorable or entertaining or worthwhile. Because although I don’t like cats, don’t drink Heinekin and probably wouldn’t buy a Chrysler, I appreciate it when some company puts effort into getting me to watch an ad for their product. Sadly, most don’t even try. Kudos to the ones that do!
Or how about the dark, moody commercial from ten years ago! for the VW Cabriolet that showed four young kids cruising around one romantic, summer night in their VW convertible to the tune of Nick Drake’s “Pink Moon.” I still love that spot - probably one of the best commercials ever made!
Or the brilliant “Adventureland” commercial for Little Friskies cat food that showed us what possibly goes through a cat’s mind during the day? Instead of using someone else’s song, the producers went ahead and wrote their own song specifically for the commercial. …And not just a short jingle – a whole song! Awesome!
Or the commercial for GE and the one for Saab automobiles that both used Donovan’s wonderful song, “Catch The Wind” (Sadly, the Saab commercial seems to have disappeared from the internet.)
I look forward to the Super Bowl every year because I know we’ll get to see some really creative commercials. Advertisers know that there is only a short time to grasp the viewers’ attention. Many of us use the breaks in programming to get up and do other things. Devices have been designed that allow us to eliminate having to watch commercials completely. So there has to be a reason to stay and watch them.
Most television commercials are vapid and stupid, barely tolerable. But sometimes…sometimes a company will push the boundaries, break “out of the box,” and do something unpredictable. They’ll spend the extra money and hire truly creative people who’ll produce little 60-second masterpieces of advertising art. Commercials are at their very best when you not only remember the ad itself but the product it is promoting. Like those mentioned above.
Two new commercials recently caught my attention. They are strikingly good. The first is one for Chrysler cars. Last year, Chrysler used (in)famous Detroit hip-hop artist Eminem. This year, they’ve snagged Bob Dylan of all people, talking about things that make us “American,” as opposed to, say, the Canadians or Mexicans who also could (but don’t) claim the title.
Dylan’s little poetic paean is accompanied by a subtle instrumental bed of his wonderful song, “Things Have Changed,” and some iconic photographic images (like Marilyn Monroe, James Dean, and the “Rosie The Riveter” poster from WWII). The ad evokes all of the good things about this country and our rich cultural heritage. Yeah, it takes a few…um, liberties. It implies that Americans invented both the automobile and the interstate highway, which we did not. We merely perfected and made them our own.
And okay, so maybe American cars aren’t perfect. But that’s not the point, nor is it the point of the commercial. The point is that we have a lot to be proud of. We are a unique, diverse culture that’s had a long love affair with the automobile and the open road. Dylan growls, “Yeah. Detroit made cars, and cars made America.” The commercial celebrates that heritage, instilling pride and patriotism. In the voice-over portion Dylan says, “Let Germany brew your beer. Let Switzerland make your watch. Let Asia assemble your phone…” Then they cut to a shot of Dylan in a pool hall, backed by a line of what are obviously UAW workers. He leans toward the camera and declares, “WE will build your car.” Damn!
For me, it works. It’s inspiring. It shows us that if you can look past your cynicism and disillusionment, for all the faults this country has, it’s still a great place to live and work. Thank you, Chrysler, for reminding us that “America” is not finished, and we should all be proud to live here.
The other commercial that really caught my eye was one for Heinekin. The beer producer has run a series of bizarre ads that border on action films. Their latest is this film that begins with a castaway climbing a rope to board a cruise ship underway on the high seas. Once on deck, the “castaway” progresses through a series of various and wacky antics (from doing the limbo to ballroom dancing – you just have to see it) – under the stern glare of ship’s captain. Although it is ostensibly the same guy throughout, they clearly used more than one actor for all of the stunts. At the very end, a beautiful woman asks the captain who the man is. The captain replies with great suspicion, “That can’t be just one man.” Then they cut away to reveal all of the actors who portrayed the character in the various bits.
During the three-minute commercial, clickable links appear that allow you to see the hilarious, short (one-minute) casting sessions for the various roles. If you were to watch all of them you’d be sitting at your computer screen for over 45-minutes…which is what Heinekin wants, of course.
The spot is ingenious because it’s so compelling to watch. And as you do, you'll say to yourself, “They put all this energy and time and money into a commercial for beer?!” Yes, yes they did! Hey, works for me!
There are other noteworthy commercials, of course. You undoubtedly have your favorites. And I’d love to hear about the ones that you think are memorable or entertaining or worthwhile. Because although I don’t like cats, don’t drink Heinekin and probably wouldn’t buy a Chrysler, I appreciate it when some company puts effort into getting me to watch an ad for their product. Sadly, most don’t even try. Kudos to the ones that do!
26 January 2014
Sum Ting Wong With TV News
I woke up laughing this morning. One of the last things I read last night before going to bed was that Southwest Airlines has terminated the captain of that Boeing 737 that landed nose-first at LaGuardia Airport in New York City back in July of 2013. Apparently the copilot was making the approach, but the captain took over when the aircraft was only 400 feet in the air. SWA says it was a violation of its policy for the captain to do something like that.
Well I woke up thinking about that crash, and my thoughts drifted to the Asiana Airlines Boeing 777 that crash-landed at the San Francisco International Airport also in July of last year.
You remember the Asiana crash: It was the one in which the local San Francisco TV station KTVU erroneously and hilariously put out the names of the flight crew as: Captain Sum Ting Wong along with crewmembers, Wi Tu Lo, Ho Lee Fuk and Bang Ding Ow. The KTVU female newscaster read them with the gravitas you’d expect of a professional delivering a tragic news story. She said that the names came directly from the NTSB. If you’d like to see and hear it again, click HERE.
The NTSB quickly issued a correction, giving the somewhat weak excuse that they were put out by a “summer intern.”
Regardless of how the names were generated and released, it says much about the current state of television news that the station had to rush them on the air. Nobody, from the assistant who called the NTSB to the line producer to the person who typed them into the teleprompter to the air personality herself had the sense to read them and go, “Uhhhhh…this doesn’t sound right - let’s double-check this.” In fact, the station later apologized and gave an even weaker excuse than the NTSB’s: They admitted that no one actually read the names out loud. Really? Are they trying to make us believe that no one could have read those names and not realized that they were bogus? Come on…
Alright, all of this is old news. What struck me as funny this morning was that *if* the NTSB’s story is true, then the “intern” who purportedly perpetrated this hoax must still be laughing about it as well. I’ll bet he wakes up every morning laughing his ass off. For he not only manipulated a television station, but he created a minor international incident, as the Koreans were highly and understandably insulted.
What was the pedal-to-the-metal rush to release the names of the crew? It’s not hard to imagine a news producer at a TV station yelling at his staff to get as much information on an event as possible and get it on the air, NOW!...before the competition can get it out, of course. But could not somebody have said, “Whoa- hang on a tick!” Nope! Not in this day and age. Which is why I have such disdain for the media…all media.
Ho lee fuk, there is sum ting wong with TV news, all right! Every time they do something like this I just laugh and laugh.
Well I woke up thinking about that crash, and my thoughts drifted to the Asiana Airlines Boeing 777 that crash-landed at the San Francisco International Airport also in July of last year.
You remember the Asiana crash: It was the one in which the local San Francisco TV station KTVU erroneously and hilariously put out the names of the flight crew as: Captain Sum Ting Wong along with crewmembers, Wi Tu Lo, Ho Lee Fuk and Bang Ding Ow. The KTVU female newscaster read them with the gravitas you’d expect of a professional delivering a tragic news story. She said that the names came directly from the NTSB. If you’d like to see and hear it again, click HERE.
The NTSB quickly issued a correction, giving the somewhat weak excuse that they were put out by a “summer intern.”
Regardless of how the names were generated and released, it says much about the current state of television news that the station had to rush them on the air. Nobody, from the assistant who called the NTSB to the line producer to the person who typed them into the teleprompter to the air personality herself had the sense to read them and go, “Uhhhhh…this doesn’t sound right - let’s double-check this.” In fact, the station later apologized and gave an even weaker excuse than the NTSB’s: They admitted that no one actually read the names out loud. Really? Are they trying to make us believe that no one could have read those names and not realized that they were bogus? Come on…
Alright, all of this is old news. What struck me as funny this morning was that *if* the NTSB’s story is true, then the “intern” who purportedly perpetrated this hoax must still be laughing about it as well. I’ll bet he wakes up every morning laughing his ass off. For he not only manipulated a television station, but he created a minor international incident, as the Koreans were highly and understandably insulted.
What was the pedal-to-the-metal rush to release the names of the crew? It’s not hard to imagine a news producer at a TV station yelling at his staff to get as much information on an event as possible and get it on the air, NOW!...before the competition can get it out, of course. But could not somebody have said, “Whoa- hang on a tick!” Nope! Not in this day and age. Which is why I have such disdain for the media…all media.
Ho lee fuk, there is sum ting wong with TV news, all right! Every time they do something like this I just laugh and laugh.
21 January 2014
The Diet
A while back I wrote about my “diet” in a post titled, "The Fat Guy." I don’t like calling it a diet because, well, it’s not – at least not in a formalized way. Diets are great, but people who announce they’ve started one sometimes have to admit later than it didn’t work and they gained the weight back. Me, I just decided that I needed to lose weight.
When I got home from Washington at Thanksgiving my weight was 202 pounds. But I felt heavier than that. I felt awful- no energy and no stamina. Worse, I looked like a lard-ass. I’ve been wearing pants with a 34” waist for a while, but up in Washington this past summer I had to buy new ones with a 36” waist. And even they were tight. Yikes.
So I decided to do something about it. I cut out sodas and alcohol and junk food, and kept my daily caloric intake to less than 1,500. And I started exercising. Instead of draconian cuts in food types, I just tried to use some common sense on portion size, and being more careful about combining foods that don’t play well together. (Have the steak and vegetable, but lose the baked potato with butter and sour cream.) I have not completely cut out coffee…leave me one vice, willya? And I still allow myself an occasional glass of wine or beer, although the days of “going out drinking every weekend” are over. As they should be for an old guy with an old guy’s metabolism.
I don't walk around hungry, which is strange, because I thought I would. However this new lifestyle takes some discipline. With a pocket full of dollar bills, if I pass by a vending machine it’s awfully hard to not impulsively grab something yummy. But then I think about last summer and how we all just sat around drinking Pepsi and eating Twinkies…and I know that I never want to return to those days. So I walk away. I think…I hope…that I’ve changed my eating habits permanently.
I have not been weighing myself every day. For one thing, I don’t want to obsess about it, and I know that weight fluctuates up and down to a degree. No need freaking myself out if I gain a pound instead of lose one. What I was looking for was a trend.
And I’m happy to see that my weight is finally down in the 180’s…the upper 180’s to be sure, but solidly enough in the 180’s that I can report it with confidence. That’s a loss of fifteen pounds since Thanksgiving. The initial target is to get down into the 170’s. That’d be great. Beyond that, I’m not sure…not sure I’ll ever get down to 150 again…or even if I could. That might take a real diet.
I still don't look any different...at least I can't see any difference in the mirror yet. But I’m back in my 34” waist pants! And even they are loose enough that I need a belt with them. Is 32” a possibility? Maybe so! Hopefully the downward trend will continue.
When I got home from Washington at Thanksgiving my weight was 202 pounds. But I felt heavier than that. I felt awful- no energy and no stamina. Worse, I looked like a lard-ass. I’ve been wearing pants with a 34” waist for a while, but up in Washington this past summer I had to buy new ones with a 36” waist. And even they were tight. Yikes.
So I decided to do something about it. I cut out sodas and alcohol and junk food, and kept my daily caloric intake to less than 1,500. And I started exercising. Instead of draconian cuts in food types, I just tried to use some common sense on portion size, and being more careful about combining foods that don’t play well together. (Have the steak and vegetable, but lose the baked potato with butter and sour cream.) I have not completely cut out coffee…leave me one vice, willya? And I still allow myself an occasional glass of wine or beer, although the days of “going out drinking every weekend” are over. As they should be for an old guy with an old guy’s metabolism.
I don't walk around hungry, which is strange, because I thought I would. However this new lifestyle takes some discipline. With a pocket full of dollar bills, if I pass by a vending machine it’s awfully hard to not impulsively grab something yummy. But then I think about last summer and how we all just sat around drinking Pepsi and eating Twinkies…and I know that I never want to return to those days. So I walk away. I think…I hope…that I’ve changed my eating habits permanently.
I have not been weighing myself every day. For one thing, I don’t want to obsess about it, and I know that weight fluctuates up and down to a degree. No need freaking myself out if I gain a pound instead of lose one. What I was looking for was a trend.
And I’m happy to see that my weight is finally down in the 180’s…the upper 180’s to be sure, but solidly enough in the 180’s that I can report it with confidence. That’s a loss of fifteen pounds since Thanksgiving. The initial target is to get down into the 170’s. That’d be great. Beyond that, I’m not sure…not sure I’ll ever get down to 150 again…or even if I could. That might take a real diet.
I still don't look any different...at least I can't see any difference in the mirror yet. But I’m back in my 34” waist pants! And even they are loose enough that I need a belt with them. Is 32” a possibility? Maybe so! Hopefully the downward trend will continue.
15 January 2014
Motorcyclist? Nope, Motorcycle-less!
I sold the Sportster. I know, I know…my pride and joy. And I really did like that bike. But it was not the Sportster for me. So I will get another one: The one I really want.
The Harley Davidson Sportster model was introduced in 1957. Since then the bike has stayed pretty much the same, although it has undergone evolutionary changes and improvements. In other words, it still has a V-twin engine, and general overall look of the bike has stayed fairly consistent. Below are some photos of Sportsters. The first is a 1958 model (a fairly ratty '58 at that). The second one is a pretty nice 1968 model. The third one is my red 1986. God, I loved that bike. Finally, it's my blue 2005. You'll see that they all retain the same design elements: bare-bones motorcycle with the staggered-dual exhaust pipes, and a small "peanut" gas tank. (I replaced my front fender with a chrome one, and dear Lord, I wish I had spoke wheels! Next time...next time...)
Over the years, Harley changed the cylinders from cast iron to aluminum alloy. They also added another gear to the four-speed transmission. And they substituted a belt for the final drive chain. That’s about it. At some point they made the gas tank bigger, keeping the same iconic shape but increasing the capacity from 2.2 gallons to 3.3. However over the years the bike has gotten heavier. My 2005 model weighs about 50 pounds more than my 1986. And yes, the rider can tell.
The basic V-twin configuration of the engine doesn’t just lend itself to vibration, it guarantees it! It’s complicated to explain, but it has to do with how it’s difficult to get an even firing order from an engine with two cylinders spaced 45 degrees apart. (Ninety or 180 degrees would be better.) Thus, Sportsters have always vibrated a lot, especially on the highway.
Newer ones (from 2004-on) have engines that are rubber-mounted which quells the vibrations to a degree. But there’s only so much you can do; on the Interstate the thing still pounds like a jackhammer. I’ve taken both of my Sportsters on long trips. Even I’ll admit that Interstate travel is not their forte.
But let’s be fair – the Sportster was designed before the Interstate Highway System was built. On curvy back-roads and secondary roads at 60 mph, all Sportsters are sweet-running machines. You have a lot of highway riding to do? There are bigger, better bikes for that. For me, the Sportster is the best all-around motorcycle.
Although I loved my 2005 Sportster, I actually wanted one of the earlier models – one of the lighter ones. So I decided to sell this one. It was a tough decision, but I’ve found that I’m not riding it as much as I’d like. So I put it on eBay and Craigslist. The response was immediate.
The first person to come look at it was a woman about my age. She’d been a rider a long time ago and was looking to get back into it. But she was a short, skinny little thing, and had trouble putting both feet on the ground while sitting on it. (Harley does make a model they call the Sportster “Low” which is designed for shorter people.) In talking with her, I got the impression that my bike was not the one for her. Although she tried to give me a deposit, I declined to take it. Honestly I just did not want to sell it to her. I told her to go home, think about it overnight and call me the next day.
But the next day I had another appointment scheduled. This guy used to ride as well. On the phone he told me that he would buy it, period. He came to the house on a Thursday with cash, took one look at it and bought it. He didn’t have a trailer, so I volunteered to deliver it to his house.
In his 40’s, this guy had a full disability from the Army. He said he didn’t think he’d ever be able to walk again, much less ride. But now he could, and he wanted a Sportster! I didn’t ask about the particulars. To be honest, he seemed a little PTSD to me (which he eventually sort of admitted to). But hey, maybe the motorcycle was therapy for him? Who knows. He gave me what I was asking for the bike, and I agreed to deliver it on Saturday.
The day was perfect for a ride: One of those crystal clear NW Florida days…just cool enough for the leather jacket and full-face helmet (hey, it is January here). The bike ran flawlessly. It took about forty-five minutes to get to his house, and I thoroughly enjoyed getting the chance to take it for one last spin. I’d like to say I was overcome with remorse at selling the bike…but I wasn’t. It’s not that I disliked the bike – oh no! But it just wasn’t the “perfect” Sportster for me. And that’s the beauty of owning a motorcycle that they’ve been making since the 1950’s: You can find the exact model you want.
Footnote: Oh, and I'm not exactly motorcycle-less. I still have two Kawasaki Z-1's in the garage which I promise to get around to restoring...soon. Here is a picture of a *much* younger me (on the right, with the Z-1R I still have) and my friend Mark Leuthner when we took a trip through the Smokey Mountains back in...could it be?...1990 or so.
Here's a better shot of it...
The Harley Davidson Sportster model was introduced in 1957. Since then the bike has stayed pretty much the same, although it has undergone evolutionary changes and improvements. In other words, it still has a V-twin engine, and general overall look of the bike has stayed fairly consistent. Below are some photos of Sportsters. The first is a 1958 model (a fairly ratty '58 at that). The second one is a pretty nice 1968 model. The third one is my red 1986. God, I loved that bike. Finally, it's my blue 2005. You'll see that they all retain the same design elements: bare-bones motorcycle with the staggered-dual exhaust pipes, and a small "peanut" gas tank. (I replaced my front fender with a chrome one, and dear Lord, I wish I had spoke wheels! Next time...next time...)
Over the years, Harley changed the cylinders from cast iron to aluminum alloy. They also added another gear to the four-speed transmission. And they substituted a belt for the final drive chain. That’s about it. At some point they made the gas tank bigger, keeping the same iconic shape but increasing the capacity from 2.2 gallons to 3.3. However over the years the bike has gotten heavier. My 2005 model weighs about 50 pounds more than my 1986. And yes, the rider can tell.
The basic V-twin configuration of the engine doesn’t just lend itself to vibration, it guarantees it! It’s complicated to explain, but it has to do with how it’s difficult to get an even firing order from an engine with two cylinders spaced 45 degrees apart. (Ninety or 180 degrees would be better.) Thus, Sportsters have always vibrated a lot, especially on the highway.
Newer ones (from 2004-on) have engines that are rubber-mounted which quells the vibrations to a degree. But there’s only so much you can do; on the Interstate the thing still pounds like a jackhammer. I’ve taken both of my Sportsters on long trips. Even I’ll admit that Interstate travel is not their forte.
But let’s be fair – the Sportster was designed before the Interstate Highway System was built. On curvy back-roads and secondary roads at 60 mph, all Sportsters are sweet-running machines. You have a lot of highway riding to do? There are bigger, better bikes for that. For me, the Sportster is the best all-around motorcycle.
Although I loved my 2005 Sportster, I actually wanted one of the earlier models – one of the lighter ones. So I decided to sell this one. It was a tough decision, but I’ve found that I’m not riding it as much as I’d like. So I put it on eBay and Craigslist. The response was immediate.
The first person to come look at it was a woman about my age. She’d been a rider a long time ago and was looking to get back into it. But she was a short, skinny little thing, and had trouble putting both feet on the ground while sitting on it. (Harley does make a model they call the Sportster “Low” which is designed for shorter people.) In talking with her, I got the impression that my bike was not the one for her. Although she tried to give me a deposit, I declined to take it. Honestly I just did not want to sell it to her. I told her to go home, think about it overnight and call me the next day.
But the next day I had another appointment scheduled. This guy used to ride as well. On the phone he told me that he would buy it, period. He came to the house on a Thursday with cash, took one look at it and bought it. He didn’t have a trailer, so I volunteered to deliver it to his house.
In his 40’s, this guy had a full disability from the Army. He said he didn’t think he’d ever be able to walk again, much less ride. But now he could, and he wanted a Sportster! I didn’t ask about the particulars. To be honest, he seemed a little PTSD to me (which he eventually sort of admitted to). But hey, maybe the motorcycle was therapy for him? Who knows. He gave me what I was asking for the bike, and I agreed to deliver it on Saturday.
The day was perfect for a ride: One of those crystal clear NW Florida days…just cool enough for the leather jacket and full-face helmet (hey, it is January here). The bike ran flawlessly. It took about forty-five minutes to get to his house, and I thoroughly enjoyed getting the chance to take it for one last spin. I’d like to say I was overcome with remorse at selling the bike…but I wasn’t. It’s not that I disliked the bike – oh no! But it just wasn’t the “perfect” Sportster for me. And that’s the beauty of owning a motorcycle that they’ve been making since the 1950’s: You can find the exact model you want.
Footnote: Oh, and I'm not exactly motorcycle-less. I still have two Kawasaki Z-1's in the garage which I promise to get around to restoring...soon. Here is a picture of a *much* younger me (on the right, with the Z-1R I still have) and my friend Mark Leuthner when we took a trip through the Smokey Mountains back in...could it be?...1990 or so.
Here's a better shot of it...
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