A little about a lot - this and that

Wonder why these truckers do not monitor the height of their loads?   They are always crashing into overpasses and bridges, despite signs and warnings?   Can there not be some standardization of bridge heights and/or load sizes?    Every one has an excuse from the drivers  (they just hook up and haul)  on up the chain.   Can no one take respnsibility for this expensive, ongoing debacle?   Seriously?  Ridiculous.

So ther are three accomplices to the Boston bombings.   Good, lock them up and throw away the key.  Thou shalt not blow people up, nor help those who do.

The Keystone pipeline helps no one but the oil companies.   Why not build a refinery in Canada?  They figure it is somehow easier to ship the oil 3,000 miles south and then refine it?   Hmmm.   Yeah, let's pollute the Oglala aquifer, where the entire midwestern US draws drinking water from.   Who needs clean water anymore - we can sip crude and breathe gas.  Yeah.

We somehow need to go in and prevent the Syrian government from using poison gas on their people.   And we need to bomb Iran to protect Israel.   We can't even keep Afghanistan under control.   What if we declared an invasion on the U.S. and did some nation-building here at home.  Repair decaying bridges and roads, but also enhance our energy grid, and help renovate inner-city housing.   Help make the US a modern country - again.   

Just wondering.

Earth Day 2013

You call this progress?

We have planted trees all over the city,

Oftentimes right up next to each other.
Recycling bins are ubiquitous,
education programs rampant.

But 40-acre or 160-acre plots still vanish,

trees and grass bulldozed for massive
family fitness centers with spacious
parking lots.   For all those big SUVS.

Enormous data centers come in to

suck our power and water resources,
employing a few lucky or unlucky souls.
The mantra of economic benefits gets chanted.

Their secrecy is understandable considering

what they take from future generations,
and what they offer as compensation.
Environment thieves do not openly advertise.

Hope that future generations enjoy

poking their gadgets and playing games,
while they breathe some foul soup that will pass for air,
and wonder where all the real trees and real angry birds
disappeared to, once upon a time, before they were born.

-end

Conquering Virus Day Three

The misery sneaks up on you,

one minute you feel okay,
the next a barrage of sneezes escape;
Nose drips steadily as you run for a tissue.

Thinking feels clear even though sinuses hurt,

head stuffed with cold crud instead of ideas sought.
You keep thinking, “why bother?   May as well watch TV”
But then who would know about your second bad cold of this year?

Someone has to document the misery, the intensifying sneezing,

scratchy throat, headaches, malaise.    Who better to tell it
than the person who is sick with it?

Rhyming lyrical style is beyond your patience today.

Just want to get it down before dashing for another
tissue, cold pill, coffee or even cookie.
Whatever it takes.
Damn cold.
Yuck.


 - end

Here we go again

So here we go again.   Another series of bombings, more bloodshed, tragedy, disaster.   Hand-wringing and soul-searching, and asking why.   Don’t have any answers here, just questions.     How can we allow dangerous weapons to proliferate on our streets, like gasoline in a burning village?    How can we allow members of a religion into our country, when every time there is a terrorist attack, it is by a member of this same religion?   Why we cannot hold a normally festive event like a marathon any more without being fearful?    Don't know.

 

     My heart is greatly saddened today.    While I realize that our nation was never perfect, and always has had difficult times, it seems that these days there is so much more random killing and senseless violence.    It just defies logic.  But it is the world we live in, however depressing.   Hang in there, everyone.    And hug a loved one tonight - they probably need it.

 

 

Tinpot

Look at the porcine little dictator,

strutting about and uttering threats.
Thinks he is a big, bad alligator,
this tiny person, so pathetic.

A laughing stock outside his borders,

would be the object of pity if it were not
for his built-up military that follows orders.
There is a time for peace, if it can be got --

Is it  time for the rest of the world to get together

and wipe this scourge of stupid swagger off the map?
We can all agree he is full of threats and bluster,
Time to teach him a lesson, give his knuckles a rap.

Rub his piglike snout in bloody grime of defeat,

Enjoy teaching the lesson, our victory complete.



-end

Inspired Perspiration

     I was watching an old biography of Thomas Edison on TCM channel.   It was fascinating to watch him just travel to a big city  (New York), and talk his way into a good job.   Of course, it also helped that he repaired an early stock ticker  (or “indicator’ as it was called).    That set me to thinking, how would someone like that do in this day and age.

     Of course, a modern analogue might be Steven Jobs.    Tinkerer, inventor, highly driven.    A young Tom Edison might hitchhike out to Sunnyvale, California, and talk his way into some company or other.  I have no doubt he would get himself hired, and then rapidly move up.   At least if the tales of the past are any indication.  

 

     He might observe someone writing a C++ program, and suggest a better algorithm.   Or at the very least, suggest a more efficient way of burning in new EEPROMS.     Whatever, the driven young man would establish himself, and prove his worth by working long hours, doing whatever it takes to get to a good result.   He would probably be well on his way to a Billion in net worth by age 30. 

 

      The commonalities between the 1870’s and the present day are multiple.   Willingness to put in long hours.  Willingness to call on a high manager, and not take no for an answer.   Willingness to offer someone a solution to their problem, and then work night and day to make it a reality.   99 percent perspiration and one percent inspiration, and both are crucial.    A man like Edison can create a lot of careers underneath all of his efforts.   Here is hoping someone like him will stop in Des Moines someday, and hang his hat up here for good.   That old movie about him even inspired me to write about it.  Thanks for reading. 

-end 

 

Cannot colonize on ideas alone

We can’t colonize the Solar System on ideas alone

 

     Space colonization is on more and more peoples’ minds these days.   There have been two companies started recently for the purposes of mining asteroids alone.    Planetary Resources, Inc. and  Deep Space Industries, Inc.  are hoping to launch probes to first survey, and then mine, heavenly bodies near and far.  Other companies have plans for private stations, like Bigelow Aerospace.    One Dutch group named Mars One has plans to establish a colony on the Red Planet by 2023.  So there is a lot of interest in the subject.  Many people look outward, and see exciting possibilities.

      Disclaimer

     [ Before proceeding any further, I hereby state up front that this is an opinion piece, and may contain some errors.   If you want cold, hard facts, there are plenty of textbooks or web sources out there.  This is simply a reflection on the state of space exploration in 2013, and what it will take to keep it going.    The principal sources of my information are space.com, spacedaily.com, and associated press articles that come out announcing one or another space milestone.     For further inquiry after this article, see the sources listed below.]

      In Earlier Times

      During the time of the wave of exploration in Europe, many expeditions set out to find, at first an easier route to the west indies, and later, trips to the “new world”.     All of these early missions required funding sources.   Columbus and others trudged across Europe, trying to raise money for their trips.   Spanish, Portuguese and eventually, English governments of the day funded such missions.    Once word was brought back, along with samples of things like tobacco, cocoa and other items, the funding and interest really picked up.   But these early missions required big money for the day.  A simple commoner, no matter how bright, could not just go it alone.

      The British sea expeditions, notably the Beagle carrying Charles Darwin, made significant discoveries, excited public imaginations, and pushed back the boundaries of human knowledge.   Other countries also contributed.  Humanity found out what lay beyond the known edges of the world.   Imaginary dragons gave way to real tales of the north and south poles, the strange peoples and creatures that lived there.   At some point, ever more accurate navigation techniques were developed and employed.     One person, or even a local group of “fans of the sea” or some such, could not have done this alone. 

      Present-Day Efforts

       It is the same today.   For all the talk about students learning STEM  (science, technology, and Math) skills, they still require government or other large-scale funding to carry off space missions.   And these missions themselves generate the excitement, the dreaming and visioning that propagate other kinds of economic growth.    Governments and large corporations have to stand behind long-duration space exploration and colonization skills, in order to bring them off, and help move humanity outward. 

       Now, many people recognize the importance of exploring, developing and colonizing our Solar System.   The expanded living room offered.  The knowledge of our local space environment, especially the dangers that exist, is crucial.   Being aware of comets and their potential for destroying Earth regions seems pretty important.    Learning how to operate out there, to eventually deflect the interplanetary troublemakers  would be of great benefit.   The spate of private companies popping up is indicative of the interest out there.  Some businesspeople are putting their fortunes on the line to turn some of these space ideas into reality. 

       But it will still require governments to stay with it, to keep promoting and encouraging this progress.   Eventually things will reach a critical mass, and the space industries will support themselves.   But not for a good while, perhaps even hundreds of years.    So much energy is required to propel an object out of Earth’s gravity well, to make orbit, and then to escape orbit.   This in turn requires huge rockets, which require governmental funding, or at the very least, major corporate funding.   Advances are being made here, but space is still a costly, risky business.  Of course, there could be a game-changing technology that arises - one never knows.

      Why Space Exploration Matters to Us

      While there are of course many pressing needs here on Earth, it is still vitally important that we maintain a presence in outer space, preferably an expanding one.    It gives people a distant goal to look towards, something other than the humdrum, day-to-day grind.   It provides a wholesome alternative to our governmental science and engineering labs - space exploration is preferable to warfare.   It gives the young something to look forward to, something to dream on, to fire their imaginations.    Not to mention the mountains of valuable resources that ply stately orbits around the sun.    But to get there, we need the help of governments, and will for a long time to come.

      Today, NASA funding is giving companies like Orbital Sciences,  SpaceX and Deep Space Industries, Inc. the support to pursue some novel technologies for continuing the quest.    This in an important example of governmental underpinning, that will be needed for the foreseeable future.   Thanks for reading.

 

For further inquiry, see these websites:

 

http://www.space.com

http://www.spacedaily.com

http://mars-one.com/en/

http://www.deepspaceindustries.com

http://www.planetaryresources.com

http://www.spacex.com

 

-end

 

 

New Collection soon available.

Pre-order your copy of this new collection, featuring a story by yours truly.

http://www.hadrosaur.com/kepler.html

Hope that one and all had a happy St. Patty's day.

Close Call

Woman with coffee in a hurry to cross

 

She eyed me coming in my red car, stopped

as I slowed and considered stopping.

I changed my mind and sped up and on,

just as she walked into my car, continuing to cross.
As if she had a death wish, and I a kill wish.

I passed through the moment and wondered

what had come over us both.

What happened to courtesy, why could I not stop?

What happened to common sense, why didn’t she?

No, we were both stubborn,

we both went, and risked a collision
that never happened.

Never checked if she spit or listened for a curse;

I just had to get away so I could re-assess it all.
I can still see her eyes, and feel the situation.

 

 - whew

To celebrate MoMath

In honor of the Mathematics Museum opening in NYC...

Their days are numbered 

     Sitting in his easy chair, Three ran through the probabilities for his evening.  He said to himself,  “It’s time to blow this buffer and transmit myself elsewhere!”   He made himself presentable, and then translated out to the main bus.  He glided along that,  and got off near the Downtown area.   He sensed One coming from the opposite direction, and they fell into synch.

Three greeted one genially.

     “How are things in the numberverse?”

     “Just digi-riffic,” replied One.  “Been scaling up vectors all week.”

     “Good.  Our bosses will be pleased.  Say, want to have a drink?”

     “Sure, why not?  Let’s go to that new place on First street, “ said One.

     “You mean the Irrational Cat?  Been meaning to check it out,” said Three.

     “I talked to Four, and he said he would be out tonight.  He is after  a new One.”

     “Him and his hot Ones,” said Three.

     So Three and One wandered downtown and soon located the Irrational Cat, located on First and Main.   They tried to enter, and almost collided with Nine. 

     “Hey, how are you guys doing?  Long time, no calculate.”  Nine slurred his words a bit.

     “Oh, just been marking time, I guess.  We’re going in for a drink - care to join us?”  said Three.

     One looked at him, perhaps thinking that Nine was already pretty sloshed.  But he stayed silent.

     “Sure, why not?  Lead the way, gents.”  

     The three numbers made their way through the portal into a dimly lit room.  A long bar ran down most of the length of it.  To their left, the bar curved around, and the room opened up into an area with pool tables, and beyond, a small dance floor.

     Three, One and Nine approached the bar.  Four was seated there already, sipping on a quantum fizz.

     “Hey, Four!  Good to sense you here,” called Three.  Four turned and waved a few digits.

     “Hi, guys.    Wondered if you would show.  Just waiting for my Hot One to get out of the restroom.”

      Three, One and Nine plopped down on barstools on either side of Four.   They ordered Higgs Lights, with Stringshot  chasers.  It was going to be a festive evening, Three could tell that already.    He felt glad he had ventured out of core tonight.

     Four spotted his hottie making her way around the bar, exiting the restrooms.   He motioned to Three and One, and said,  “There she is.  Fellows, could you make room for my sweetie?”

     “Sure,” they chorused.   They shifted positions, and Three ended up contending with the Hot One’s purse wedged between the stools like a painful punctuation point.   Meanwhile, Five,  Nine’s racetrack buddy, had just walked in.  He wanted to chat with Nine about the results of the last race.    But Nine was gracious enough to move down a stool, so that Four wouldn’t have to subtract his place.   

     The Bartender took Five’s order, a Gamma Gulper.   Finally getting all of them served, he stood a moment, smiling, listening to their idle chatter traffic.  Then he came out from the other side of the bar, and made his way around the front, checking on a sticky door hinge, his flash memory racks, and other Nano clutter.  At one point he looked at the digital dudes iterating along the barstrip.

 

   He thought to himself, 

“Jeez.  With Three, the Hot one (with jutting purse between her and Three), Four, One, Five and Nine here, this is going to be one irrational place.  Who else could possibly show to make it worse?”

      Just then the door opened, practically right behind him, and he heard more Euclidian gibbering.   ‘Oh no.  It was Two and Six...’ he thought glumly.  There goes the neighborhood!

 

Pi end

 

www.momath.org

 

 

Grazed

One inch, two inches, three and four...
This system should miss us, scratch
at our back door, maybe an inch or so;
Then Mother Nature upended everything.

Spinning tires, crunching metal, screaming curses.
Here we go again, this time without warning;
Plans disrupted, finances disrupted, commutes destroyed...
Acute sense of very real pains of winter, oh so unpleasant.

Thought we would skate through to April without
any or many more serious blizzards.  Fat chance of that.
Like the gridlock in Congress, or teenage manners,
Things delight in amazing us with their stabbing jabs --

A corner of my mind can visualize a beautiful spring day,
flowering crabtrees, crocuses and daffodils grace green grass.
Memory promises a lot of rain and flooding, oh yes we need it,
but please oh lord just give us a few nice days in the balance.

I remember in 2013

500 days

The pundits said it could not be done,

humans cannot survive such a journey;
Proving them wrong has been fun,
We finished the trip a few days early.

We’ve seen more radiation on an Earthside beach,

Feeling fine, better as the Red Planet grows;
Our bold dash has extended humanity’s reach,
Perhaps an expensive undertaking, heaven knows.

Now we can exult in the view, whether or not

we make it back alive - all that matters is we arrived;
We will relax and enjoy the trip, because we got
the ultimate prize for humanity, from a dream derived.

When determined individuals go after a prize,

Step aside, you may be in for a big surprise.

 

 

 

-end

 

Snowstorm a'Coming

Better go grab those groceries,

gas up the car, stuff it with supplies;
Make sure the snow-blower works, or
have a shovel handy when the snow flies.

Central Iowa is having another major snow event,

We’ve been warned about it since last Sunday;
There is nothing we can do to avoid or prevent
this catastrophe, except await the fateful day.

The commute will be slow and messy,

Something we all know from before;
No parking on streets, fines will be heavy,
Shovel your drive so plows can deposit more.

Winter agonies in February do persist,

Six inches is a holocaust, if you insist!


-end

Here It Comes

Tax Time Once Again

 

Retirement planning was duly addressed,

checking statements pored over with care;
Financial gyrations can leave one depressed,
overwhelming numbers result in stupefied stare.

Daily manipulations are only a prelude,

The big event looms ominously ahead;
April 15th will be the big hullabaloo,
a date I try to prepare for, with dread.

Yet every year I somehow get through this

trial by tax code, whether or not any is left;
Afterwards am left with a feeling of bliss,
And personal belongings, not totally bereft.

Springtime comes, and mood and steps are light,

Taxes have been paid, so no need to take flight.

 - end

In Search of the Way

 

The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn,

Progenitor of dozens of offshoots;
Devout followers were not docile pawns,
Their dynamic temples rapidly took root.

Alpha et Omega carried on the traditions,

With some changes in ceremony and ritual;
Sex-magic was practiced in an early edition,
Christianity became dominant, doctrines scriptural.

Builders of the Adytum is an American brand,

The HOTD threads still stretching onward;
Philosophical adepts argue and take a stand,
Pronaos groups propagate truths outward.

Society of the Inner Light another carry-forward,

Founded by Dion Fortune, ex-Christian scientist.
Her twenty-four books introduce straightforward
magic and pagan elements for aspiring  young tanists.

The Temple of Starlight brings in Western science,

Psychotherapy, hypnosis, neuro-linguistic programming;
Ina Custers Van-Bergen leads this group presence,
To bring spiritual traditions back, via internetworking.

The Avalon and London groups continue strict tradition,

Only British citizens need apply, and they must be moral;
willing and prepared for rigors to be brought to fruition.
King Arthur’s quest for the Grail continues sans quarrel.

Chaos Magic brings together many disparate kinds,

From Ordo Templi Orentis, Druid and Wiccan traditions;
Yet CM escapes the hidebound to explore new lines,
Practitioners collaborate to understand contradictions.

Heathenry and the Northern Tradition add

The Norse pantheon to the eclectic mix;
Odin, Thor, Freya and even Loki make glad
many hearts, that long for Asgard’s kicks.

Freemasonry remains a secret society,

Rituals, methods and meetings concealed;
After you peel away all the obscuring piety,
An agency that promulgates charity is revealed.

Those are some of the secret religions,

Enlightening and inspiring us plebeians to go on;
Founders were not just about contrition,
Producing informative works , new spirit songs.

It is up to the reader to decide what is right,

Though it helps to know the choices out there;
Find your own path, follow it into the light,
You may find a way to relinquish all your cares.

 

- end

 

 

Confrontation - a short story

     The sun beat down on el Calle de Hernandez.  Little dust devils were the only thing that dared to venture out, kicked up by an intermittent breeze.    In Norte Americano the gringos would call it the Santa Anna.     In sheltered recesses on both sides of the street, watchers peered from windows.    Gun barrels probed the hot air just outside ancient crumbling windowsills.   But their wielders were at ease, trying to endure the heat.  No one would try anything funny at this time of day.  It was too damned hot.   Who wanted to get shot to death all sweaty like?  Might not look good at the funeral.

      And there would be funerals - many of them.  On this particular day, two opposing gangs were ostensibly on high alert.  They had been trading words at the stoplights, at markets.   Everyone knew a big battle was coming, just not when.

      So when Fernando’s little brother got ahold of one of the new Bushmasters, and decided to take a stroll down the steamy Calle de Hernandez, without his brothers permission   (and the rest of the gang always had to ask Fernando for permission), all hell broke loose.

      Juan had admired his tall, muscular brother ever since he could remember.  He who always knew the answers, he who took care of Juan and their mother so well.   He who provided them a good-sized hacienda, when so many others lived in tiny hovels.  

      Juan knew his brother handled weaponry, and other, more mysterious substances.     There was almost a daily litany in the house:

      “Dear Fernando, por favor.  I know I cannot keep you from dealing in these weapons of death, and the killing white powders.  But Por dios, please keep these things from the sight of your little Hermano, Juan.  At least let one of you be free from this scourge,” she would say.

      “Madre, you know how much money I provide.  You are really not in a position to cast blame, since you enjoy the fruits of my work.  But don’t worry, I will try and keep things from Juan’s eyes.”

      It would go on a while, then eventually cease.   Juan could only see glimpses, since Fernando mostly honored his promises.  But he wanted to handle one of the weapons so very badly.   They seemed to hold such power!   

      On this particular day, Fernando was in their garage, tinkering with his new SUV.   Mother was in the kitchen.   And Juan was able to sneak into the room adjoining Fernando’s bedroom - a room normally locked, but not on this day.  He went in, and gazed in wonder at the rifles lined up or stacked on the floor.  He handled one, and then another.  He finally grabbed a futuristic-looking American weapon, and hefted it.  It was so light, almost like one of the toy guns his mother forbade him to play with.  He managed to sneak it outside, around the back of the house.  Then he took a stroll down the Calle, aiming his new toy at imaginary foes.

      He made it about halfway up the Calle, when a challenge was called out.  Little Juan just shrugged, and smirked.  After all, he had the American wonder gun.  No one would dare mess with him.  He just said,

      “Awww.    Que Paso, Cavrones?   Mira!”  And he held up the rifle.  Then, he cradled it in his arm, and pretended to aim it, waving it back and forth. 

      The rival gang members were all looking.     Fernando, remembering that he had left his room open, had come out looking for Juan.  He saw him, halfway up the street, and began screaming.  

      “Juan!  Juan, come back here now!    Please do not shoot him, he is just playing!”   

      Juan turned, and waved at his brother, as if to say, don’t worry.   There were voices on both sides of the street calling out, in short order.  Threats began to be issued back and forth. 

      “Do not shoot; he is merely  a boy playing!”  said Fernando’s soldiers.

      “Who is this?  We should kill him, yes?”  yelled the opposing gang.

      Juan slowed to a stop.  He looked back and forth.  The voices stilled.   And then he slowly began walking again.   He raised the rifle, and pointed it, straight ahead.  And then he turned slightly left, aiming it at a house.  The house was full of opposing gang members.   The minute one of them, a Carlos, saw the sun glinting off of a deadly barrel that had just swiveled his way, he could delay no longer.  He took aim with his AK-47 and let loose a full burst.

      Several slugs tore into Juan’s body.  His finger involuntarily pulled, and his own rifle let off a burst, spraying the side of the house ineffectually.   His body spun around, the rifle flew out of his hands, and he fell to the dirty street.  His body landed with a thud that resounded off of the homes on both sides of the Calle.  He was dead by the time he came to a rest in the blood-spattered dirt and gravel.  

      The shouting died out.  No one else fired.  And then Fernando began wailing, and crying,  “No!  No!  No!”

      It only took a few moments before he grabbed a couple of rifles, and told his lieutenants,

     “Come one, it’s payback time.”  

     They said “wait, wait.”

       But Fernando would not be deterred.  And it was their duty to follow him, no matter what.   So they trailed him out into the dusty Calle de Hernandez, their own weapons trained.  The other side also emerged.

      Their leader, Victor Ivich, stood in the middle of the Calle, cradling an M-16.   Fernando stopped about ten yards away, cradling his own AK-47 set on full automatic. 

       Victor met Fernando’s gaze, and yelled,

      “This was your little brother, Fernando?  This was an accident.   I regret this deeply.”

      “Not nearly as much as you will, Victor.   You killed my only brother, and you know what this means.”

      “Many will die, and not just on our side, Fernando.  Do not do this, I warn you.”

      “Adios, Victor.”

      In one sweeping motion Fernando raised his AK and fired;  his lieutenants followed suit.  Soon, slugs were flying in all directions, as Victor’s gang returned fire.   Pistols barked, shotguns blasted, automatic rifles and machine guns rattled.  Smoke hung thick, and screams rang out.   The smell of cordite and burned human flesh soon permeated the area.   Both Fernando and Victor perished out on that bloody, dusty Calle de Hernandez.     Many others also fell, cut down in a bloody fusillade.

      By the time it was over,  there were fifteen dead, and at least twenty more wounded.   The Calle was more red than brown, more blood than dust.  Just another summer day, in a suburb of Mexico City. 

      Meanwhile, weapons manufacturers had a very profitable quarter that year.

 

                                                      - The End

 

 

A Musing Day

Gomer Pyle got hitched

 

All those years,

safely hidden -

 

In the closet,

love blossomed.

 

28 record albums,

 TV shows,

guest appearances.

 

About affectations,

not one peep.

 

Then in his eighties,

A marriage,

the truth blazes forth.

 

“Well, gosh, Sarge,

it just seemed like

the right thing to do.”

 

-end

 

The Eagles

The eagles soar, circle and perch --

eye crowds of humans gathered below,

on bridges and in the woods,

snapping photos, taking videos.

 

They might be thinking

Have you not seen hungry birds before?

Can’t we eat in peace?

Don’t you have anything better to do?

 

The people ooh and ahh and point.

Look at the majestic wingspan,

the regal white cap, glittering eyes,

the amazing talons that shoot out,

grab unwary carp or bass destined for

baby eaglets grumbling stomachs.

 

Like certain fictional characters in Tolkein’s books,

they rule the skies and dominate imaginations.

It is interesting to contemplate these bird emperors

are relatives in the Vulture family.  

 

Beauty resides everywhere.

 

- end

Need a Poetry Fix?  Here is a place to get yours - thank you for looking.

http://www.createspace.com/4113022

Fiscal Cliff thoughts

     This thing we are approaching is so ridiculous.   Democrats and Republicans alike have to grow up and get real about this.  It is throwing a cloud over everyone’s future.   We are supposed to be world leaders in some aspects, although I realize that is fading.  But nevertheless, can we not try and get this done?  Here are a few of my ideas for what it’s worth.

       - Restore the payroll tax to 6 percent.  We made it on that before, we can do so again.  It is no big deal - and this is coming from a guy that made 21,000 last year.   If I can do it, everyone should be able to do it. 

      -Place a.5 percent tax on most stock purchase or sale transactions, effective as soon as possible.    Little investors won’t notice, and the big institutions are wealthy enough to absorb it.  Day traders will have to absorb it.  It is only .5 percent, for the survival of our national economy.  Also raise the capital gains tax back to what it was in the early 1980’s.   Please.

      - Make some modest cutbacks to Medicare.   Leave Social Security alone - it is supposed to be self-funded. 

     - Make cutbacks to Defense, and every other program - modest ones.

      - raise taxes slightly on the top 2 percent of wage-earners.

      -Impose a national sales tax of 1 percent, and earmark every last penny of that to deficit reduction.

      - no more stimulus funds, for now.  Things are moving along better. 

      If these things are done, and done swiftly, the reaction on world financial markets should be positive.  We are finally getting our act together and dealing with our financial problems.     Then we wait a year and see how things play out.   

      Our housing market is in recovery, and we are discovering new supplies of energy.  Our electronics and aerospace, as well as pharmaceuticals and consumer goods sectors are all doing good.     If we take the modest steps outlined above, we can stop borrowing every day to make a budget, and get ourselves back on track.  Worth a shot.   But nothing is sacred, whether it is Defense, Entitlements or whatever.  Nothing.   Those are one working-class  guy’s ideas.   Thanks for reading. 

-

In the Wayback Machine - Again

 

When 3.5 floppies were the standard, files were smaller, and it was a novelty to connect a digicam to a computer.   Then something called a Zip drive came along, and all of a sudden we could store up to 100 megs on a cartridge, or 250 megs later.   About the same time, the first commercial CD writers came on the market.   These rapidly sped up, so 1x became 2x and 4x and 8x and so on.  

 

     Now we could store up to 700 megs of data on a CD, or write up to 70-80 minutes of music.   Amazing, to a generation that had cut its teeth on the 5 1/4” floppy things, containing something like 360 kilobytes of storage capacity.    If one of us could jump ten years in the future from this time, around 1998-99, to 2010, they would be pleasantly astounded.

 

     The cd had morphed into a 4 Gigabyte DVD, then a 25 GB blue-ray disk.    Now you could store tons of pictures and videos, many taken on the compact new point-and-shoot cameras coming out in droves.   Kodak was flirting with bankruptcy, film cameras were by now all but dead.  

 

     And then the flash drives  (or thumb drives) increased rapidly in storage.  In 2007, a 4 GB version could be had for around $70.00 in a local office supply store.  But I recently purchased a 64 GB one online for much less, around $40.00 (in 2012) .     I can load it up with music, and go out to my car, a 2010 model, and plug it directly into a USB port on the console and play music for a couple days if I want.   My 1999 self would be very happy indeed, to have that kind of capacity, erasable and re-writeable, portable “Ram in a stick” in a quantity that would make early mainframe builders drool.   

 

Perhaps a virtual tombstone is in order.   “Here lies the CD-RW.   1997-2012.  Once the most cutting edge technology, now relegated to history.    No technology caught the sunlight or held drinks as well.”

 

Perhaps in the future instant wireless access to the Internet from the car will render thumb drives obsolete.  Even now, cellphones linked with cars can grab music and play it on demand.    And those 3.5 floppies?  Hopefully being recycled, more likely taking up space in landfills.    But perhaps some of that will be revived for the cache, just like vinyl records are now.   Do the bits look better coming off of a magnetic media?  I doubt it, but  beauty is in the eye of the beholder.     

 

;-) thanks for reading.

 

A new website that is still under construction

http://dycen-alexander.webs.com

Amazing the authors that I know...

The Last Debate

Opponents are seated this time,
Positions and questions rehearsed;
Prepared for rebuttals in kind,
In all facts and figures immersed.

Television crews are positioned,
Moderator is well-prepared;
Coaches have made their decisions,
Weaknesses and strengths compared.

When they go at it a nation will watch,
or at least a good portion thereof;
An election might hang on this match,
Each trying to propel himself above...

Republican Romnesia or Obamacare economy,
The outcome will determine our final legacy.

Election 2012

     Well, it is finally almost over.  A couple more visits by the two candidates, and then on Nov. 6th anyone who did not vote absentee can vote real-time so to speak. 

     I have never seen so many imploring, grasping, begging emails - would have never thought something like this was possible.   It made me perturbed with both parties.   Grabbing for dollars like that, just so they can run another foul advertisement slamming their opponent.   With prices going up on everything, it is hard enough to make ends meet.  And now this grabbing monster of a political process wants to shake every loose coin out of our pockets.  It is disgusting, and I wish there were some way to change it. 

Work fantasy

At work today, the world ended, or seemed to.

No one would speak to me - they talked into their phones, and occasionally glanced my way - but did not say a work.  They could have been looking at air, or a painting on the wall.

 

I continued in my rounds, numbed, upset.  They usually ask me how I’m doing, or say something.  Not this time.

 

     And then I saw it, over by the window on the far wall.  The glowing shape.  Was it a trick of the eyes?  I looked away, and then back again.  It was still there.

 

     They had been talking about the strike.  But they never talked about who the owners were.

 

Apparently, the owners had sent a representative to negotiate.   And I, who had glided around there making fun and laughing, I was being shut out.  And it scared the hell out of me.

     The light-construct appeared on every floor that I went to.  I uttered no more jokes, I drew no more funny pictures on the elevator lumber.  I meekly made my rounds.  And when it came time to go home, and I had to leave through that rear door, the sun seemed much brighter than usual.   Mustering all of my courage, I walked through that pastiche of light    (“how dare they imped me, a contractor, anyway?”) 

I tingled all the way home, but otherwise seemed none the worse for wear.    Darned out-system union busters.

                                             *** the end***

 

Well, I just completed what will be my last weekday bike ride for quite awhile.  It felt great to get out there, and soar down the trails, underneath a gorgeous canopy of colored leaves.   Lots of others were out enjoying it as well.   From now on, I'll try other, more compressed exercise routines, like stair-climbing, running or just calisthentics.  Anything to keep the weight off. 

     The one thing I don't care for is lifting weights.  It is difficult;  and it builds muscle that must constantly be maintained, or it will turn into flab, and then you are worse off than if you never put the muscle on in the first place.  But, to each their own.   It is just nice to get out there and be a part of the ebb and flow of life, along with all that youth out there.   Invigorating.