The L-word

No, not that one. I'm not talking about anything remotely amusing. Recently, Richard Blumenthal, candidate for Senator from Connecticut, was accused of misrepresenting his military service. In fact, the term "misrepresented" gets tossed around a lot in politics. I don't like it at all. There is a far simpler word, one that carries the full meaning of the act: Lie. I don't like this spin. I think that the word "misrepresent" is used to dull the impact of one of the worst things a human can do. Let's call things what they are stop with the sugar coating. When you say something that is not completely true, whether by omission, exaggeration, minimization, or outright fabrication, that is called lying. You are no better by saying that you misrepresented something or that you misspoke... in fact, you're worse, because now you refuse to take responsibility for what you did.

I'm really disturbed that Blumenthal's numbers did not tank. He got caught lying and nobody cared. What kind of Twilight Zone episode am I in? A guy lies to me and he's done. Why are people so cool with this? Why do we not take offense when people who want power from us lie to us? Perhaps we deserve our lying leaders... only thing is, I never vote for or support liars, so I think I deserve better.

The Ice Cream Truck

It's finally looking like winter has let go. All kinds of animals are showing up after long winter's naps and trips to Mexico. Birds, prairie dogs, ice cream trucks...
For some, the ice cream truck is a fond memory of childhood or a tasty slice of Americana. I am not one of those people.

My first real exposure to an ice cream truck came in May of 2003. Yes, that's right. I only had fleeting contact and dim awareness before then. I grew up in northern Vermont... I lived on a dirt road that at one time connected on little village to another little village. When I lived there, it lead from a one little village to a sight that said something to effect of "U.S. Army Installation. Keep out. We shoot big guns here all the time." The sign was not really needed since you could hear the Vulcan 20mm cannons burping away and 120mm HE rounds whumping the hell out of the hills. That's where we lived. If we wanted ice cream, we'd walk to the general store. It was nice, I liked it. Now you see my perspective.

In May 2003, I was in Texas... San Antonio... Lackland AFB. It's where all Airmen get their basic training. The Air Force calls it BMT. In BMT, aspirant Airmen get to spend a lot of time marching, standing, and exercising on a vast expanse of asphalt and concrete called a drill pad. It is not a place feels much like any kind of pad, but there is definitly a lot of drill going on. Now, when you are standing in the middle of a pack of fifty-odd men, it's not comfy. Add dark uniforms, superconducting boots, blazing sun, and little wind and it's miserable. Put all that on either mirror-like concrete or burning charcol-like asphalt and really sucks. Did I mention that it's also really humid? So I'm standing there, not used to Texas weather at all, sweating my nuts off, when I hear it...

I'd heard an ice cream truck once or twice before. I'd been at my friend's house in Colorado Springs when I heard a loud, poorly tuned, music box with a bit of a warble to it. It was playing something really intensely irritating. I asked what the hell it might be and my friend told me about this wierd truck that was loaded with ice cream and that kids would go buy from the driver. It struck me as creepy even then... and I had not even seen the driver...

...I'm out there, bored out of my skull, mad as hell at most of my flight for being so dense and slow, irritated at my weak-minded and ill-tempered TI, miserable in the baking heat with basting humidity, and I hear the ice cream truck. It was playing a super slow, extra crappy version of "The Entertainer." It sounded like something from a killer clown flick... but I knew what the cargo was. Cold... sweet... creamy... It could have been Good Humors or crappy knock offs, just the thought of some nice, cold, ice cream... it began to drive me nuts. That truck was patrolling just the other side of the fence, seemingly never leaving the one street that was nearest... taunting... tantalizing... Yeah, I'd have braved killer clowns for some ice cream about then.

The next day, at 1500, it was back... It was there every day I was out on that pad, its sweet cargo taunting me, its obnoxious and creepy music driving me nuts... Some say that in BMT, you'll like any music you get to hear because it's music. Well, to a point. I liked the country our good TI kicked when we were folding clothes... and I HATE country. I liked the raps that some guys in the bay did... and I LOVE country compared to rap. THIS music, though, was not nice in the slightest. It was awful. I began to fantasize about the effects of various projectiles and bombs on a thin-skinned ice cream truck. How long would it take for me to destroy it with an M60? Where would be good spot to hit it with a grenade? How cool would it be to watch it play chiken with an AT-4 rocket? Yeah, I was bit disturbed.

BMT seems like a lifetime ago. Now I'm married, long gone from the dorms, and I live in a tasteless subdivision... at least I bought when the market was cratered... there are no less than six distinct ice cream trucks that prowl these streets. SIX! Each has its own annoying song, each has a unique "Chester Molester" van with kid bait theme... and the drivers are all creepy looking, like they are trying too hard to appeal to kids. I don't think I'd let my kid anywhere near them. Fortunatly, that's not an issue at the moment.

In 2003, I couldn't spend a miserable afternoon of drill without being tormented by the damned ice cream truck. Now it's 2010 and six of them pester me while I'm doing yard work.
Lovely.

Terraforming Earth

I wonder how much water it takes to keep my neighborhood green to the HOA spec. Seriously, we live in Colorado, and just so you know, only a few places near Cheyenne Mountain actually look anything like the in town shots from SG1. No, Colorado is a dry, dry place. It's very windy and the humidity is low. The end result is an environment hostile to most plant life, especially lawns.
So I live in a subdivision with an HOA. They like us all to have lush, green lawns so passers by will think, whoa, that's a nice place. I wish I lived there. The HOA also runs the water company. In that capacity, they tell us to conserve water and not to water every day... for crying out loud, which is it? I'm getting ready for some xeriscaping... but most native plants are not allowed. Where are these HOA types from, anyway?
At very least, I've learned that HOA's are bad. In a few years, the Air Force will move me to other projects and I'll never live under an HOA again.
In the mean time, I think it's time to take a hard look at where we all live and landscape accordingly. A lush lawn is not something that belongs in the American west, for example. This is not Virginia.

Fight For Your Right...To Deficits?

Oh for crying out loud, I can't believe this. People protesting and getting killed... they are upset over the fact that the Greek government is cutting spending. Whoa... The Greeks have to cut spending because they have too much debt... Far out! So their creditors and other voices of sanity are demanding some fiscal changes... Radical! 

Why the hell are people protesting this? Why do people think that their government should spend money it doesn't have? Why are they so attached to having deficit spending? This is life in the big city, folks. There is no magic fairy to give you everything you want. Life's been pretty good in the Western world. Perhaps we've become accustomed to spending in our own lives and by our governments that is unsustainable today. Like the tech boom, it was only a matter of time before the crazy ride we all just fell off of came to an end...

So here we are... we all have a certain amount of money and then all that we want to do with it. When the money runs out, do we sit down like adults and suck it up, realizing that we can't have all that we want, or do we act like a bunch of whiny little spoiled brats and throw what amounts to a tantrum over the fact we don't get any more candy?

Grow up, people.