Loner

The Florabama Lounge. It ain't fancy.

I am not what you’d call a “loner.” At least, I do not call myself one. In fact, I have disdain for people who identify themselves as such, mostly because I think it’s a poor rationalization by a social misfit with a personality so unpleasant that others can’t stand to be around him. Usually it’s their own damn fault.

Come to think of it, I do like to fly alone, like to live alone, like to be alone.  And I like to ride my motorcycle alone. Even as I type those words I realize how it makes me sound: Like a social misfit with a personality so unpleasant that others can’t stand to be around me. I'm not anti-social...or at least I try not to be. Having said that, I usually eschew group activities, like group motorcycle rides. I really don't like them. "Simple" stops for gas turn into torturous, protracted affairs. I like to just gas and go!

In an effort to be more sociable, the other day I agreed to go on a motorcycle ride with three acquaintances who also ride. The weather here in northwest Florida is turning nice, and I’ve been so busy lately that I haven’t been able to take the Harley out much. So I agreed to the invitation, even if it meant violating my Prime Directive. (Thankfully, the third person backed out at the last minute.)

The first guy is Colin. He rides a Suzuki Hayabusa, which is a “crotch-rocket” with a monster motor. A real hotrod. Suzuki introduced it in 1999 to counter the other musclebikes from Honda and Kawasaki. I don’t know what year Colin’s bike is; suffice to say it’s not brand-new.  It looks rough.

Colin’s Hayabusa is highly modified. It’s got an elongated swingarm, which lengthens the bike and reduces its tendency to pop wheelies under hard acceleration. He’s also installed what is probably the world’s loudest, most obnoxious exhaust system. While these changes are neato at the dragstrip, they make the bike rather ill-suited to general street riding. Consequently, Colin is always blasting away from us in sudden, blinding bursts of acceleration. We catch up with him at the next traffic light.

Then there’s Elton, who rides what is probably the world’s rattiest and ugliest Honda Goldwing. Soichiro Honda would weep uncontrollably in his grave if he knew. It’s probably ten or so years old (they all look the same). The metal bits are horribly corroded, the seat is torn, the paint is faded and the plastic windshield is frosted over like a bathroom shower door. Personally I would be ashamed to ride the thing, because it looks like he never takes care of it (he doesn’t). It’s got a good, loud stereo though!

Colin's white Suzuki Hayabusa and Elton's Blue Honda Goldwing.
They look good until you get up close.

My 2005 Sportster is getting old now, and although I keep it shiny and clean, it’s starting to show its age. It’s accumulated a few dings here and there, and the front forks are severely pitted from all their exposure to the elements (like the hood of an old car that’s spent a lot of time on the Interstate). Even a good polishing isn’t going to help these babies. Replacement is the only answer. Fortunately, they’re not terribly expensive. Point being, most Harley purists would recoil in horror if they saw my bike. Their bikes usually look showroom-new, like they’ve never been ridden. Mine looks, well, ridden. Ridden hard. It ought to, with 25,000 miles on the odometer. But even mine looks like an award-winner compared to Colin's and Elton's.

My pride and joy.

We all met up early at Colin’s house and rode along the beach, across the coast to the Florabama Lounge. It’s a unique place right on the state line (you can guess which two states, I’m sure). It used to be out in the middle of nowhere. But in the last 20 years tall condos have sprung up all around it, leaving the club a curious enigma nearly lost in a sea of high-rises. I guess the owner is just too stubborn to sell out.

Colin is big, burly, (shaved) bald, and kind of obnoxious. Multiple tattooes…you know the type - “love” on the knuckles of one hand and “hate” on the knuckles of the other. He doesn’t play well with others and doesn’t really get along with people. Among those we work with, he’s not well-liked. He knows it and doesn’t care. He’d rather talk about himself and his accomplishments than anything else in the world. In his mid-40’s, he's had a number of "careers." He admits to being married three times and having seven kids total. None of the divorces were ever his fault though (insert eye-roll here).

Tall, lanky Elton is another talker. Nice enough guy, but he never shuts up. I mean never. More often than not he's talking about homself.  I originally thought Elton was older than me. He must “track” older than he is, because he mentioned in the conversation that he just turned 52. I would have thought 60, at least.

Turned out I was the old man of the group. Whoa. Yet I felt like the youngest. I still feel (and often act) like a damn teenager, even though the image in the mirror says otherwise. Oh, and I only thought I liked to hear myself talk – as anyone who knows me can testify. But I’m a rank amateur compared to Colin and Elton.

In a perverse sort of way, I like being around people who’d rather talk about themselves. They usually never ask me about my life or background, which I’d prefer not to talk about anyway. So all I have to do is listen. Not that I’m an obsessively private person, but I just don’t feel the need to tell people all about Bob. You wanna know? Hey, read the blog.

The ride out to the Florabama and back was fairly pleasant, actually. Colin did his typical drag-racer thing, while Elton and I putt-putted along like a couple of old geezers. We sat out on the back porch that overlooks the beach on what turned out to be an absolutely gorgeous day: not a cloud in the sky, and warm but not too warm for the leather jacket. It’s amazing how great a good fish sandwich, some chili-cheese fries and some ice-cold beer taste on such a glorious day. Makes you forget how unhealthy it all is. As I’ve gotten older I’ve become a very in-the-moment kind of guy. Didn’t use to be.

I go on rides like these to reinforce my preference for riding…and being…alone. Colin and Elton are all hot to make these rides a weekly, or at least a regular thing. Me, ehhh…I’m not so sure. When it comes to motorcycles and riding, I'm kind of a one-man-show. 

Maybe I am kind of anti-social.

That Damn Internet

Oh, some stories are just too precious for words! Like this one: Apparently a 62 year-old British guy by the name of Paul Marshallsea and his wife were working for a children's charity in Wales; had been for ten years. Back in January this man was on some sort of sick leave from the charity, claiming "work related stress" as the reason. The man and his wife took a stress-relieving vacation to...of all places...Australia. I mean, I'd love to see Australia as well, right, but it's halfway around the damn world from here! And it is from England too - even further!

So while Marshallsea was there "recuperating" and presumably reducing his stress level, he went to the beach. And wouldn't you know it, a shark was spotted very close to shore. A sick shark, probably, not really aggressive. Still, a shark is a shark (of course, of course).  It had to be a stressful situation for all beachgoers that day. Not for Big Paul the Charity Guy from Great Britain!

Marshallsea bravely strode into the water, grabbed the tigershark by the tail and pulled it away from shore, "guiding" it to deeper water. It apparently took the hint and didn't bother people on the beach anymore. Good sharky, run along now, off you go!

Well there happened to be a TV camera crew there, and they filmed the whole thing.




Needless to say, the video of man-fighting-shark went viral. And back in Blighty, the man's employer saw it. As you might imagine, he (and his wife) were fired. They learned of this when they returned home, hopefully rested and de-stressed. We can imagine the note that greeted him.

Welcome back! 

Hope you had a nice trip! 

Saw you on YouTube. 

You're fired.

In what must be the ultimate display of cheekiness, the man is quoted as telling the London Telegraph newspaper, "You think being in charge and running a children's charity, they would have patted me on the back and congratulated me. But to sack us both without any sort of discussion first is just disgusting."

People never cease to amaze me. Instead of being chagrined or even just embarassed at abusing his employer's sick-leave policy and getting caught, he became indignant and self-righteous.

On the other hand, what did the charity want him to do whilst on sick leave: stay at home in quiet contemplation listening to new age music and drinking a lot of tea?

I dunno... All I do know is that Mr. Marshallsea, if he actually was so stressed-out that he had to take sick leave should probably have chosen to go a nice quiet place - maybe a tropical isle in the Caribbean like St. John. Not on vacation to Australia.  I hope he didn't blow his retirement savings on that trip!  


Read the Yahoo News story HERE

George Zimmerman: Will He Walk?

FROM ABC NEWS: Zimmerman Waives Right To "Stand Your Ground" Hearing

There is no question that George Zimmerman shot and killed the unarmed teenager, Trayvon Martin in the famous altercation that took place a year ago in a Florida subdivision. From those skimpy details many, many people have leapt to the conclusion that Zimmerman is guilty of…well…something. You can’t just shoot people in this country and get off scot-free…can you?

Zimmerman’s lawyers initially used Florida’s unique “Stand Your Ground” law to justify the shooting. This law says that when confronted, you don’t necessarily have to retreat before defending yourself, as had been the case previously. Personally, although I’m no lawyer, I thought invoking “Stand Your Ground” was a mistake. I thought it was a simple case of self-defense. Now, Zimmerman’s lawyers apparently agree. According to the ABC News article linked at the top of this post, they have dropped that particular aspect of their defense.

Let’s go back to that fateful night. Zimmerman was in his truck, following the “suspicious” teen, Martin. The boy obviously knew he was being followed, and went down a pedestrian path between two lines of condos upon which Zimmerman could not drive. Zimmerman was by this time already on the phone with “911.” Listening to the actual full tape of that call is interesting. Zimmerman had gotten out of his truck and began to follow Martin on foot, but the 911 dispatcher says to him, “Yeah, we don’t need you to do that.” At which point Zimmerman replies, “Okay.” Then he coordinates where to meet the inbound police, settling on his own house within the subdivision. His heavy breathing dies down, indicating that he was not involved in a foot chase anymore.

Martin is gone and Zimmerman by his own admission has lost sight of him. So the “chase” is over at that point. But that wasn’t the end of it, oh no.

As we know there was a subsequent confrontation. Did Martin return to demand of Zimmerman an explanation? Did they meet randomly as Zimmerman was on his way back to his residence and Martin returned to the house in which he was staying? We don’t know. What we do know is that they ended up fighting on the ground, with Zimmerman on the bottom and being pummeled. That has already been established. Zimmerman pulled his gun and fired one shot. Martin died.

In fact, there is a lot that the public does not yet know. Like, where was Zimmerman when he called off the initial chase at the 911 dispatcher’s urging…and where was he when Martin and he tangled? Same place? That would mean that Martin quickly circled back. Martin took off running but we do not know why. A reasonable man would assume that in such a case the person would keep on going, not stop and come back to confront someone (in this case a security guard) who may be armed (this is Florida, after all).

Zimmerman’s attorneys will say that he did not initiate the confrontation and fight that ended in the death of the teenager; that it was Martin who did. They will use the 911 call and witness statements as supporting evidence. Simple self-defense. The trial is scheduled for this summer, which is a huge mistake but nevertheless ought to be interesting!

I suspect that Zimmerman will prevail. This will prove, as if it needs to be proven again that yes, if you feel that your life is in danger you can shoot someone and get off scot-free.

The War On Guns

Father Of Newtown Victim: Ban Assault Weapons

So I guess the families of the victims of the December shooting at that school in Connecticut are determining our country's gun policy now. Every time a misguided, misinformed sobbing parent testifies somewhere he or she gets paraded in front of a national audience by the liberal, anti-gun media in an attempt to garner sympathy and get our anti-gun juices flowing.

Just such a sobbing parent was the focus of that Associated Press article linked at the top of this post.

Okay, I get it. Really. You lost a child. It is a horrible, unbearably painful thing. You have my deepest, most sincere sympathies. I am sorry for your loss. I cannot even imagine how you must feel.

During his inauguration speech, President Obama mentioned gun control. “Gabby” Giffords should have a vote, he said. The families of the Newtown, Connecticut shooting victims should have a vote, he said.

Well...why only them? What about me? Don’t I get a vote? I and the other millions of NRA members…don’t *we* get a vote? What about all the millions of gun owners in the country who don't happen to be NRA members...don't they get a vote?

How come it seems that the only people the president wants to have a vote are those who oppose guns? How come the president wants us to think that every American now considers guns to be bad and that “it’s time” to change the laws on what guns the American public can…or should…own?

Not all of us do.

Not all of us think that guns are evil. Not all of us want to see them banned. Or even restricted. Not all of us live in cities full of sophisticated, snooty, highly-educated people with lot of police around to enforce the law…you know, places like New York City, and Washington D.C., and Chicago.

Wait - hang on. Don’t those cities already have some of the strictest gun laws in the country? How come the rate of gun violence is so high there? Oh right, because CRIMINALS DON’T OBEY LAWS. Heh, silly me.

Gun violence is no higher now than it’s ever been. It’s just that every single shooting anywhere in the country gets on the national news networks faster than you can say Adam Lanza, making us all think that these shooting are becoming rampant.

The shooting in Newtown, Connecticut is not a “tipping point” as far as I’m concerned. We do not have an “epidemic” of school shootings…or even mass shootings (in which more than four people are killed). We do not need to change any laws; we have enough of them, thank you very much.

And we continue to hear calls for the government to ban “assault weapons” even though this is an incredibly dumb concept. Many, many rifles that do not qualify as an “assault weapon” have the EXACT SAME semi-automatic characteristics, shoot the EXACT SAME bullets and have the EXACT SAME (or higher) magazine capacity. The “assault weapon” classification is arbitrary at best. Basically, the government wants to ban the evil AR-15…presumably because it’s so scary-looking but not because it is any deadlier than any other rifle that shoots the tiny .22 caliber bullet.

Are you people really that stupid? Really?

My Walmart/Old People Rant

Dear Mr. or Mrs. Old Person in front of me in line at Walmart:

You’re going to pay by check. I know it just by looking at you. We both know that you don’t trust these newfangled electronic credit cards and ATM cards that every bank issues with every checking account. Too easy for someone to steal your identity, you think. You prefer to pay by a good old-fashioned paper check. Okay, I get it. Pay by check if you like.

But if you know you’re going to pay by check, and presumably you do, then why in God’s name do you wait until the last item has been scanned and the cashier has given you the total before you even pull out said checkbook? Is it too much to ask that instead of standing around oblivious to the world that you get your fucking checkbook out ahead of time and start filling in some information…like the date and putting “Walmart” in the payee line? And could you maybe sign it? Am I out of line for suggesting these little time saving techniques that will help speed of the line of losers impatiently waiting behind you? Walmart even gives you a little platform right there (next to the credit card scanner) for such a purpose!

See, that way all you need to do is put the total amount down and then hand the check to the cashier. And you’d be gone…out of my life! Instead, you scrutinize the total, making sure no mistakes were made, and only THEN do you pull out the checkbook and start writing. It’s as if actually paying for the crap comes as a total surprise to you. Thanks a fucking bunch, gramps.

Alternatively, if an old person does use plastic to pay at Walmart, when the prompt comes for their signature they write as slowly and carefully as if they’re in a penmanship competition. Hey people, here’s a clue: WALMART DOESN’T CARE WHAT YOU WRITE. Your bank doesn’t care what you write! Nobody at Walmart headquarters monitors each of the millions of purchases made on those things every day, making sure your signature with that little stylus pen matches the one your bank has on file for your account. Nobody cares. Really. Walmart only makes you sign so that if there ever is a dispute about somebody using your card after the fact you can look at the chicken-scratch and go, “Yep, I signed it!” or, “Nope, wasn’t me!” You could put a big “X” there. I just put a big “B” and leave it at that.

One story that made the rounds on the internet was about a guy who, over the course of six months, whenever he’d use his credit card he’d put various things that were not his name (most of them were profane) in the box. It backfired on him one day when he drew a picture of a penis. End result? Everyone had a laugh, then they voided it and made him sign again. No big deal. They didn't even check his ID! They just made sure the signature on the card reader was similar to the one on the card.

Moral of the story? Your signature on the machine doesn’t need to match anything. Just scribble something recognizable on there (just don't draw a penis) and get the hell moving before I follow you out into the parking lot and bash your headlights with my shopping cart.

Here’s what I do - really: As the Walmart cashier starts scanning my stuff, I swipe my card. I hit “Debit” and then enter my PIN. I hit “No” on the cashback option and then I wait. As the bags fill up I stick them in my cart. As soon as the cashier hits the "Total" key the screen flashes "Approved!" She tears the receipt off the machine, hands it to me and I’m outta there. See? So easy even an oldster can do it!

DeWayne Wickham Is A Big Black Racist

If you need any proof that racism is alive and well in this country, you need only read the idiotic scribbling of newspaper columnists like this DeWayne Wickham who is published by USA Today and syndicated into our local birdcage liner, the Pensacola News Journal.

In his column on Wednesday, February 13th, Mr. Wickham addressed the issue of “gun violence.” He writes:

Only a nation impaired by selfish individualism can long ignore the bloody carnage that links Trayvon Martin to Hadiya Pendleton.

Let's leave out the fact that this nation was built by rugged individualists not effete newspaper columnists whose only real work involves their dainty fingers tap-tap-tapping on a computer keyboard.  And, “bloody carnage?” Okay, we’ll leave that little tidbit alone for the time being too.

Ms. Pendleton was a 15 year-old girl who lived in Chicago and was shot and killed in a neighborhood park, the victim of apparent gang violence. A case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, evidently.

Of Trayvon Martin, Wickham writes:

Martin was killed a year ago as he walked the streets of a gated community in Sanford, with the hood of his sweatshirt pulled over his head during a light rain. George Zimmerman, a self-appointed neighborhood watchman who was armed with a 9-mm handgun, thought the black teenager looked suspicious and followed him. During a brief struggle, Zimmerman pumped a single bullet into Martin’s chest.

Do you see what Wickham did there? By calling Zimmerman a “self-appointed” neighborhood watch guy, he gives the impression that Zimmerman was just some sort of random vigilante. Wickham makes it very clear that he believes it was Zimmerman who initiated the confrontation that lead to the struggle/fight with Martin.

According to the taped 911 call that Zimmerman made to the police, it is not at all clear who initiated that fight. Just before Zimmerman terminated his call to the cops, he said that he’d lost sight of the boy as he went down a pedestrian path on which Zimmerman could not drive. As I have suggested before, perhaps Martin circled back and confronted Zimmerman. We don’t know. What we do know from witnesses is that the two men ended up on the ground with the teenager on top of Zimmerman. We do know from the extent of Zimmerman’s injuries that it was he who was taking the brunt of the beat-down.

But many people…especially many black people have accepted the false-reality that this white, racist, lone-wolf, Rambo-wannabe faux-security guard hunted down a pure and innocent, unarmed black kid and shot him dead in cold blood for no good reason. People get this impression from reading bullshit like that written and published by DeWayne Wickham.

Wickham goes on in his column to decry gun violence without addressing the real problem. In other words, he continues to blame the gun.

This slaughter…is inextricably tied to the members of Congress who kowtow to the National Rifle Association even as the epidemic of school shootings proves that there is no haven for any of our children from unchecked gun violence…

Uh-huh. “Epidemic of school shootings.” School shootings have reached “epidemic” proportions now? Does Wickham himself really believe this crap? Speaking of gun violence in general and that “bloody carnage” that Wickham sees happening in epidemic proportions around the country, he concludes:

...this bloodshed is a cancer that – if left unchecked – will spread to the cul-de-sacs and bedroom communities into which those who think this is not their problem have retreated.

In other words, lookout, you white honky, guns are comin’ to yo’ 'hood!

Oh please. Where do they find jerks like DeWayne Wickham? If I were USA Today I’d fire his ass. Not for being racist (which he so obviously is) but just for being stupid...and for presenting as fact something that has not yet been established or determined but happens to fit into his racist agenda.

Doritos Super Bowl 2013 Commercial: "Goat 4 Sale"

You know how I am about television commercials. And if you don’t, I’m crazy about them…well, the good ones, anyway. When you think about it, how difficult must it be to come up with a short little blurb to sell your product? It has to grab the viewers attention and convey a memorable message. The poor ones are awful (but ironically memorable in a bad way sometimes). When done right, they can be awesome. In the past I’ve highlighted a few of the really good ones in this blog.

Each year the Super Bowl brings a passel of new commercials. Advertisers know they have a humongous captive market, and they try to capitalize on it. They pay dearly for commercial time during the game, and so they want each second to count.

There are plenty of websites on which you can view the best and the worst Super Bowl commercials. The usual suspects populate “the best” list: Volkswagen, Chrysler, Budweiser…and of course, Doritos, all of whom have consistently given us little 30 and 60-second works of art. And oh yes, I do believe these are works of art!

Take Doritos. They always make fun, memorable spots. This year they held a competition to see who could come up with the best commercial for their product. Of all the entries received, the winner is called, “Goat 4 Sale.” If you saw it during the game you probably laughed - it is "laugh out loud" funny. But you probably missed a lot of it. For it is only after repeated viewing that one can appreciate all the talent and work that went into this incredible spot.

Obviously the commercial is about a goat. For the humor in the commercial to work, one must know in advance that goats can make some very human-like sounds. A quick YouTube search of “screaming goats” will turn up some hilarious clips. Like this one… (Relax, it’s only 7 seconds long.)



Now to the Doritos commercial.

It starts with a bearded man walking down the street eating a bag of Doritos. He comes upon a guy sitting in a chair in his front lawn with a goat next to him and a handmade sign propped up beside him that says, “Goat 4 Sale.” We notice that the goat seller is in a neckbrace and there’s a crutch laying on the grass next to his chair. The goat is also eating from a bag of Doritos. In the very next shot we see the bearded man sitting at his kitchen table with the goat; both of them are enjoying a bag of Doritos. The man opens the pantry, showing the goat shelves stocked chock-full of bags of Doritos. Cut to a night shot: The man is building a balsa wood or popsicle stick bridge – the goat is with him, still eating Doritos, up to bag number 42. Next we see the man lying in bed, trying to get to sleep with the goat working his way through bag number 156. The camera then zooms in on the man’s annoyed face as the sound of incessant Doritos chomping grows louder and louder and louder…

Black screen with the message: “The Next Day.”

We see a close up of the goat as it screams. Camera angle switches to reveal a completely empty pantry. The goat screams again, louder and longer. Cut to a framed picture of the goat’s new owner – a goat hoof smashes the glass. The then angry goat jumps on the popsicle stick bridge, destroying it. From inside the man’s bedroom, the door is flung open…kicked open by the goat. Switch to a shot of the startled man in his pajamas, holding a bag of Doritos. In fact, the bedroom is full of them. We see that he’s also in the process of making a sign that says, “Goat 4 Sale.” The goat slowly enters the room and they cut to a shot of the just the goats legs. One of his hind legs kicks the door shut…from the inside. Then they cut to a shot is of the man’s very frightened face as the commercial fades to the Doritos logo.

Some fun details: When the goat realizes that the pantry is empty, watch his eyes during his second scream. Also, pause the video on the picture of the man just before the goat hoof smashes it. You can see the reflection of the goat’s face in the glass. When the goat kicks the man’s bedroom door open, watch how the Doritos fly out of the bag he’s holding as he jumps. Finally, notice that the camera’s point-of-view is outside of the bedroom as the door closes, preventing us from seeing what happens next, which is left up to our imagination. But we know! Because we remember the first scene…the guy with the neck brace and crutch.

For me, it all works exquisitely. It’s a hilarious, creative, memorable commercial that I watch over and over…and laugh at each time. I appreciate the work that went into dreaming it up and making it. I wish all advertisers put as much effort and care into selling their stuff. Because when I’m standing in front of a vending machine, trying to decide what to select, you can bet that if there’s a bag of Doritos in there, I’m going to remember the goat, chuckle and buy it (unless I’m having a huge craving for something chocolate).

Here's the commercial! (X-out the little "vote" popup thingee and restart the commercial for full effect.)