because it is none of your business.

I just heard retired U.S. Army Lt. Col. Robert Maginnis indicate—with regard to the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy employed by the U.S. Armed forces for discriminating against homosexual service-people—that “when you raise your hand to swear to defend the Constitution, you are giving up some of your rights to free speech.”1

Really?

I don’t remember seeing that in the constitution. Listen to the full discussion on the Diane Rehm Show.

———

1 Diane Rehm Show, 24 July 2008

n. - the opposite of innovation.

Yah, I made up a word: sue me. Actually, don’t sue me. I can’t afford that right now. Between preparing to move out of the country and writing chapter 4 of my thesis—a job I do for very little pay—I’m not in any position for an out-of-court settlement.

More to the point though. I caught the following quote this morning, and this was the word that came into my brain.

It’s not the genius who is 100 years ahead of his time but average man who is 100 years behind it. -Robert Musil, novelist (1880-1942)

It is absolutely true, by the way and it reminded me of a discussion that I had with my dad after my last post regarding the state of innovation in our current economic and social climate.

What we decided was that the best thing for a struggling economy/company/city is to let it fail, unless it is willing to change.

Case in point: General Motors. Old, good company. Makes cars. Could be substituted with any of the other major American automotive companies. They haven’t really committed any serious innovation in the past century. Cars are, with many bells and whistles aside, primarily the same as they were 100 years ago. They still operate under the same principles, for the most part, and the end result is the same. If you disagree with this, then you haven’t looked under the hood of any car. I would suggest then that you find a Model-A and dismantle it. Then, find a late model Mustang and dismantle it. Put both of the back together. You’ll see what I am talking about.

Now, there are some companies which have committed innovation. Any company that is putting a solar panel on the top of a car to give extra power for the air-con—Toyota—is innovative in this climate. Running cars on hydrogen fuel cells, hybrids, electrics, and plug-in models are all innovative.

General Motors—our present case-study—has done none of these things. And I don’t want to hear that GM has the Volt, an electric concept car. It is too late for concept cars. Please move to the back of the line.

Back to the crux of this line of argumentation: GM has made no major innovations of late, possibly ever, and yet they and their investors are worried and scrambling to figure out/fix their current financial problem. However, nothing they do will make any difference.

They already have the only solution to their problems, but it is just a concept car. They could save the company and generate a huge amount of business if they were just to release that car, and all problems along with it. It wouldn’t be for everyone, of course. At first it would only be for the brave who don’t mind being late because their battery died or something. It would be for those who are willing to test and try and see how it works. The deal that would have to come along with it, of course, is that the dealers would have to service anything that went wrong with the car free-of-charge and immediately. Throw in 24-hour tow-from-anywhere-and-take-you-home service: brilliant.1 They would change everything.

The only other thing to do now is to simply let it die, which is more likely. Maybe the market fallout from that will take the other big two with it. We can only hope.

I know, I’m a horrible bastard for wishing such fates on American companies. “Do [I] know what effect that would have on so many Americans’ lives?” Yes, I do. But, do you know what else would happen? Some genius young engineer, right in line with his time, will be able to step up and do something brilliant. This time, though, he won’t have the added innovative hurdle of having to either out-shout the “Big Three” or be subsumed into them and destroyed by their contrary interests. Jobs and economic development to follow.

We haven’t seen a Thomas Edison, Alexander Graham Bell, George Washington Carver, or any of their ilk in such a long time that we wouldn’t know an innovator if they punched us in the face. Maybe it is time for some knock-outs, but they won’t come until the big, stupid brutes die off to make way for the skinny, malnourished geniuses.

———

1 This idea was lifted directly from a phone conversation with my dad yesterday. Dad: it’s a great idea.

that I am turning into my father

Not that it is a bad thing. Quite the opposite, in fact. However, my dad seems to have this weird set of things that happen to him. For a long time, I admit, I thought that it was because he is just particular or fussy in certain, strange ways. For instance, he used to tell us that he believed that he had a sign on the top of his car that was invisible to him—but visible to assholes—which indicated that people should drive like assholes when they are around his car.

The scary thing is that it does sometimes seem that way.

Another seemingly odd thing is that my dad will only wear Jack Purcell sneakers. Now, this wouldn’t be odd, except that the late, great Hunter S. Thompson also only wore Jack Purcell sneakers, and that they have become increasingly hard to find. My mother, bless her, goes to relatively extreme lengths to procure said sneakers for my dad. Or at least she did until the advent of really good internet commerce. Now I think that she buys them online.

This is not the only thing that my dad has trouble finding though. It seems that almost everything that he likes simply goes out of business, becomes unsupported, or disappears completely. Other things, like hand-held computers—which I argue have just evolved in ways that have made them unrecognizable, though Dad has compelling arguments as to why this is not the case—have gone out of vogue to the point of non-existence. Certain very good spam removal software, cordless 18v power tools, computer peripherals, et al have simply ceased to exist once my dad has taken a liking to them.

Now, this has happened to me to some degree in the past. Something that I buy once, and then like, seems to not be available when I go back to get more. It has usually been something that I could take or leave: nothing too important.

Until today.

This morning I went to buy deodorant. I have a brand and type that I particularly like because it has no aluminum in it and yet it still acts as a deodorant. It is Adidas brand Cotton Tech antiperspirant produced by COTY. When I left for Egypt last fall I took 8 sticks of it with me because I like it so much.

Now, it isn’t that this is just a brand or a type that I particularly like, but it is the ONLY antiperspirant on the market that doesn’t use aluminum. It uses some other stuff, like powdered cotton, and it is the best deodorant I have ever used, and the only one that has ever really worked.

The ONLY ONE on the market, keep in mind.

So, I go to the store today to get that and a few other things. I don’t see it. Finally, I spot the Adidas brand deodorants. I look at the labels. Those labeled “deodorant” have no powdered cotton stuff in them. Those labeled “antiperspirant” ALL have aluminum in them. Then I spot one that boasts about cotton something. I pick it up, thrilled—though the packaging is very different than what I am used to—and swiftly realize that it is not what I am looking for.

This antiperspirant has the same cotton stuff that my old one did AND is has aluminum zinconium—or some equally heinous-sounding shit—in it.

Damn, I thought, and decided that I would just check at a different store. I did, and they didn’t have what I was looking for either. They had the women’s variety, though.

So I figured that I would just come home and look online and then buy it on the internet.

Oh no. No, no, no.

I looked EVERYWHERE for this stuff. I even copied the information off the label of the last stick that I have. Nothing. NOTHING.

It is not jsut as though this stuff doesn’t exist, it is as though it has never existed. There is no evidence of it ever having been sold anywhere.

Fickle internet.

So here I am. Without deodorant—though I know that I left about 3 sticks of it in Egypt and am now fiending to have it when I go back in a month and a half. I have exhausted every online source for deodorant and I can’t find a single stick. Even if I could, I wouldn’t be able to buy enough of it to keep me in aluminum-free antiperspirant for the rest of my life, which is what I would need.

So, I am furious. The problem, again, is not that I liked the brand or that type or anything and could easily replace it with something similar. The problem is that there is ABSOLUTELY no other similar product on the market.

So, my options are as follows: 1) Find this stuff and stockpile it if it is the last thing I do. 2) Write an angry letter, receive no response. 3) Find an alternative that doesn’t even come close to doing the same thing. 4) Stop wearing deodorant altogether. 5) Learn more chemistry. Find the ingredients on the label of the one remaining stick that I have in my possession—read: cold dead hand. Create a concoction based on these ingredients and then use the ol’ trial-and-error method to sort out the proper proportions and method for making it.

I carry the curse of my father: the curse of liking brilliant things that are destined to either fail or simply disappear from the consumer market.

I suppose that I will go back to writing my thesis now, just sweaty and smelly.

Damn.

Itchy and Scratchy

I came down with a rather bad case of poison ivy last week. I was absentmindedly pulling weeds and likely picked it up then since I wasn’t wearing any gloves, which is abnormal.

In any case, I usually don’t have any problem with it. The point of contact is itchy for a few days, I put calamine on it, it goes away. This time is totally different.

I have had it since last week and it has been spreading. I think that this occurs while I am sleeping so I am reduced to sleeping in a burqa to keep myself from making contact with my own skin.

The funniest part about this experience, though, is the advice that I have found for getting rid of it.

I was, against my better judgment, trolling Google last night looking for remedies. I found the usual sort: calamine, steroid shots, vitamins, etc.

Then I found a treasure trove of insanity. There were recommendations that poison ivy victims use everything from hair dryers to cool whip to saran wrap on their poison ivy. They went something like this:

“I had poison ivy a few years ago, and it was so bad and nothing worked so in desperation I mixed together a paste of bleach, oatmeal, furniture polish, and baking soda. Then I spread the mixture on my poison ivy and wrapped it with saran wrap for five hours. Then I removed the saran wrap and used the hair dryer to dry the mixture into something just shy of concrete and then sanded it and the rash off my skin with a belt-sander. I never got poison ivy again.” – Ralph, Oklahoma, 2001

“When we were little, and got poison ivy from playing outside in the woods, my grandma would draw us a really hot bath, as hot as she could get it. Then, she would pour kettles of boiling black tea in it and tell us to get in. It scalded something terrible, but when our skin finally healed from being scalded, the poison ivy was gone too!” – Sally, New Jersey, 1997

“I get poison ivy every summer because my cats play outside and then come in and I pet them and end up with it all over my hands and neck. Every summer! I don’t know, I just love my cats! So, now I take 8000mg of vitamin c and 10000mg of zinc and wash it down with a tea made of poison ivy leaves, cat hair, and acetone. It works like a charm! I have to carry my liver around in a bag from all the vitamins, but I haven’t had poison ivy in 10 years!” – Gertrude, Idaho, 2006

The moral of the story: don’t google your symptoms, or about any sort of home remedy unless you want to be amused. People are crazy! For now, I am sticking with the way that has worked for me in the past, that my grandma recommended to me one time: cover my entire body in a paste made of baking soda, cut a clove of garlic in half, put one half in my mouth and bury the other half in the yard where the poison ivy is, do a little dance, and take a hot shower, then a cold shower, then a hot shower, then a cold shower, then a hot shower and then dry myself off with a hair dryer with a diffuser attachment.

Then I am going to judiciously apply calamine and aveeno, remember to take my vitamins and hope it goes away by the end of the week.

Wear gloves and long sleeves folks.

The 8th Annual

Likely, you already know about the Fruity Rum-Drink Party. If not, check out the site that went live this week: fruityrum.com

Well, I’m shocked.

This article in the Washington Times week takes a whimsical look at a new piece of technology which is of interest to our very own Department of Homeland Security.

Briefly, this device would replace the boarding pass with a simple bracelet worn around the wrist, including the following:

1. Your personal information
2. GPS capability to track your movement and the movement of your luggage throughout your flight.
3. A high voltage shock device to shock the wearer into immobilized submission, should it be necessary.

Seriously. Look into it.

Don’t forget to check out the video.

Look into it and then write your congressman, your dog-catcher and any other public official you can think of.

I for one would rather die in a fiery plane crash than slapped with a shock collar every time I get on an airplane. Terrifying. Looks like I will have to start looking more seriously into transport on freight ships for overseas travel.

Hopefully DHS is reading this and bumps me up on the list.

Any thoughts?

[Update: This made the Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me news quiz this weekend. 12. July 2008]

Eleven score and twelve years ago brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

After that, some things went terribly wrong. But really, is it the first time that we had tried and failed a little. No. We got through most of the worst bits and things seemed to work out alright.

Today we’re still limping along, economy in shambles, war-torn, demoralized. No matter! Behold our pluck! We still celebrate the advent of this great nation by hurling explosives skyward, searing the flesh of animals, and drinking vast oceans of beer until the urge to lie down and groan with bloated discomfiture takes us. That, after all, is the American way.

Keep hurling Americans. Happy Independence Day.

Okay.

I guess my last post was a little more rancorous in tone than I had thought. I don’t really hate weddings that much. And I failed to mention that once engaged in a wedding, I always find myself enjoying myself. I think that what I dislike the most is the amount of time/energy that goes into fighting with family members/caterers/clergy over the preparations. You can see it often on the faces of brides and families that they are not enjoying themselves and are rather just panicking and freaking out.

That said, I had a great time at the wedding yesterday, unsurprisingly, as I have so often done in the past. It also helped that the bride was the sister of one of my best friends, who was the maid of honor for this particular festival of freakouts. However, she delivered the following toast, which had me on the floor. Sometimes all it takes is a few well chosen words and I melt like butter.

Now that you’ve found happiness and love with each other, there remains one question: how will you make love stay?

Here are some ideas [with some help from Tom Robbins]:

1) Tell love you are going to Hinkle’s Bakery in Otsego to pick up a cheesecake. If love stays, it can have half. It will stay.

2) Tell love you want a memento of it and obtain a lock of hair. Burn the hair in a dime-store incense burner with yin-yang symbols on 3 sides. Face southwest. Talk fast over the burning hair in a convincingly exotic language. Remove the ashes of burnt hair and use them to paint a mustache on your face. Find love. Tell them you are someone new. It will stay.

3) Wake love up in the middle of the night. Tell it the world is on fire. Dash to the bedroom and pee out of it. Casually return to bed and assure love that everything will be alright. Fall asleep. Love will be there in the morning.

And with that I’d like us to raise our glasses in a toast to making love stay…

So, after that, I woke up this morning hung over, but smiling. I just need to read this the next time I get a wedding invitation to remind me of why we do these things.

I’m dyin’ here

I have another wedding to go to today and I’m not overly enthused about it.

I am not attending any more weddings this year, possibly ever.

So, if you’re getting married, don’t send me an invitation. I won’t come. It’s not because I don’t like you. It is because I want my life back.

I may or may not send you a card, or postcard, but I will not show up to sit through an hour-and-a-half ceremony or to drink the booze that your parents paid for.

It’s not that I have anything against marriage—though I do believe it to be an arcane and now purposeless social contract which we hang on to in order to make having sex seem legitimate, which shouldn’t be a problem in the first place—it is that I have a problem with the wedding part of the marriage. There are so many ways to go about it that don’t inconvenience your family and friends and yet so many people choose the way of significant inconvenience.

Plus weddings have become boring and tedious.

Why can’t everyone just go to the courthouse and have the quickie elopement that works so well. I know what you are going to say; “But John, it is a way of affirming our commitment and making our marriage stronger by involving our family and loved ones,” or “You have to have a ceremony with your friends or your marriage will not be as good as other marriages.”

Bull. Shit.

My parents, and many others, went to the courthouse, got married in ten minutes, and are still happily married today. I’m sure that you can still convince your friends and family to send you gifts and cash. Maybe some moron will even send you a silver knife and spatula to cut the wedding cake that you will never have. I would recommend using these as gardening implements.

“Lovely silver garden shovel…”

“Oh, why, thank you.”

I know, I know. I sound like a mean, curmudgeonly bastard. Well, that’s because I am a mean, curmudgeonly bastard. Big surprise that I sound like one.

There are so many more interesting and important things that we could do with the money that we spend on weddings. Is it really necessary to go through all that hassle so that you can claim your tax benefits and file jointly? This mean, curmudgeonly bastard certainly doesn’t think so.

Whatever. If you are reading this and have just gotten married or are thinking about getting married and it made you feel bad or pissed you off: good. That is your right. Good on your for exercising it. However, if you agree—or if you don’t, I don’t care—then watch the video below.

Now with more firearms

I was listening to NPR’s report about the Supreme Court ruling to overturn the handgun ban in Washington, DC which indicated that the mentally handicapped and felons would still not be allowed to purchase handguns.

“But,” I thought, “how will they defend themselves from the now-gun-toting, law-abiding citizens?”

Everyone should be required by law to carry a gun and have a license for it. The problem would take care of itself.

I’m going to take a nap now.