Jimmy found me on one of the social networking sites. He’s a couple years my junior and was my next door neighbor when we were growing up.
His older sister contacted me a few years ago. She was always vivacious and fun, and still appears to be. When she didn’t mention Jimmy in our first few exchanges, I asked. He’s estranged from her and their mother. Never was a father in the picture for very long.
Not a big surprise that she didn’t bring him up. He was a bright kid, although a bit odd and up tight. Always involved in issues. Think of the guy George got into it with over snack chip dipping at a funeral on “Seinfeld;” that’s him, right down to appearance, mannerisms and even the nickname. I was the “big kid” next door and realized that had some importance to him. I tolerated his quirks and played bodyguard, mindful of his lack of a male parent. His varied pursuits made him interesting, anyway.
His second email to me asked if I had any idea what became of Sarah. He'd really like to find out about her. I groaned out loud.
She was my neighbor on the other side, and his age. Chronologically, that is. Mentally, she was a canny and manipulating maneater, a less theatrical Mae West. She exuded savvy, self confidence and sexuality like a bonfire emits heat.
Physically, she also resembled Ms. West, although more natural. She had honey-colored hair, olive skin, sapphire eyes and a smile that could light the Rose Bowl.
I had a brief fling with her in the puppy love vein but, fortunately, moved on to a girl my own age. Even in my callow youth, I recognized that messing with her was simply flying too close to the sun. If I hadn’t pulled out of that dive, I’m sure I would’ve been one of many shattered hearts left in her wake. Even with a couple years on her, I was close to overmatched. She could cock her head flirtatiously, flash that smile fraught with promise of unplumbed delights and own your soul. If I hadn’t escaped, I’d be wondering about her, too, almost fifty years later, like Jimmy. I’m certain he is far from the only one who remains under her spell.
But, he did pique my curiosity. I had tracked down my high school sweetheart (as told in a previous blog) and take a little pride in investigative skills. I could probably locate Sarah if I wanted to.
I did and I did. I have met or known of very few women that outright intoxicating and it seemed worth a go. It took a while, but I ferreted out a few sites that contained some information about her, including one with a photo.
Going into the search, I assured myself it would be “safe.” Surely time had taken its toll and, at 59 or so, she had lost her hypnotic powers. But, there they were, beaming right through the flat screen.
In the picture, she’s posed in front of a mountain range in Wyoming, hands on hips, elbows akimbo, head thrown back and to the side, eyes smoldering and lips parted in that killer smile. She’s wearing a t-shirt and jeans, and I mean wearing them. Not possible at this age, but there it is. The sheen of her eyes and hair remain undiminished. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, she has dozens of cowboys falling over each other to do her bidding.
The question is, do I tip off Jimmy and make him a present of this data that he desires? While he still seems on the edge, he’s managed to cobble together a small business and family. But, I could see him chucking it all to pursue the white whale, so to speak. On the other hand, he’s an adult and can make his own decisions.
What to do, what to do.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Friday, August 27, 2010
Odd Pricing
Odd pricing strategy is the practice of pricing your product ending with an odd faction of a dollar to enhance consumer response. In other words, $59.97 is going to sell more than $60.00. In similar fashion, $197 will do better for you than $200.
This occurs to me because I just searched waterproof watches on the web and came up with a Zenith Defy Xtreme Sea Tourbillion Titanium priced at $87,711.99. I admit I haven’t seen their market research data, but I’m going to hazard a guess that response to that vs. $87,712.00 isn’t going to be that great. “You know, I thought $87,711.99 was reasonable, but just can’t swallow the seven twelve.”
What makes a watch cost so much? The ad says, “This timepiece features a visible tourbillon, chronograph and luminous hands.” Oh well, for a transparent face and glow-in-the-dark hands, I’d expect to pay the price of a condo.
It is water resistant (not water proof) to 3,300 feet. You’d be the thickness of a credit card at that depth but would have had the comfort of knowing your watch lives on.
You can spend the money with confidence because it carries a one-year limited guarantee. For that kind of bread, I’d want them standing behind it until we colonize Mars.
They urge you to buy now because the risk of their selling out is very high. I’ll take my chances.
This occurs to me because I just searched waterproof watches on the web and came up with a Zenith Defy Xtreme Sea Tourbillion Titanium priced at $87,711.99. I admit I haven’t seen their market research data, but I’m going to hazard a guess that response to that vs. $87,712.00 isn’t going to be that great. “You know, I thought $87,711.99 was reasonable, but just can’t swallow the seven twelve.”
What makes a watch cost so much? The ad says, “This timepiece features a visible tourbillon, chronograph and luminous hands.” Oh well, for a transparent face and glow-in-the-dark hands, I’d expect to pay the price of a condo.
It is water resistant (not water proof) to 3,300 feet. You’d be the thickness of a credit card at that depth but would have had the comfort of knowing your watch lives on.
You can spend the money with confidence because it carries a one-year limited guarantee. For that kind of bread, I’d want them standing behind it until we colonize Mars.
They urge you to buy now because the risk of their selling out is very high. I’ll take my chances.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
More news during the full moon
Michael Enright, accused of stabbing a cabbie for being a Muslim, has been a volunteer for the past year at Intersections International. That’s a group that is dedicated to religious tolerance.
The web libeler of a Bengals cheerleader was nailed for $11 million in a court judgment, of which $10 is punitive. I suppose one could ask if being of that ilk wasn’t punishment enough.
A request was submitted for federal money to help offset the $128 million cost of the first phase of development for a Cincinnati streetcar system that will run from downtown up the hill to the University of Cincinnati area. I repeat, first phase. I enjoy trips to Asheville, N.C. and cannot help but note that their streetcars are privately owned and operated (paying taxes, not consuming them) and circle the entire metro area.
Chad Ochocinco, a repeat offender of NFL (the organization that enables him to earn millions annually) rules, was fined $25,000 for his latest infraction. He “apologized” to the commissioner, addressing him as “Dad” and asking him if the next time they might just try a timeout. Smart move, showing that the fine doesn’t deter him from anticipating a next time. I’m guessing that penalty will not be a timeout and that he has guaranteed that it will be of sufficient magnitude to gain his attention.
The web libeler of a Bengals cheerleader was nailed for $11 million in a court judgment, of which $10 is punitive. I suppose one could ask if being of that ilk wasn’t punishment enough.
A request was submitted for federal money to help offset the $128 million cost of the first phase of development for a Cincinnati streetcar system that will run from downtown up the hill to the University of Cincinnati area. I repeat, first phase. I enjoy trips to Asheville, N.C. and cannot help but note that their streetcars are privately owned and operated (paying taxes, not consuming them) and circle the entire metro area.
Chad Ochocinco, a repeat offender of NFL (the organization that enables him to earn millions annually) rules, was fined $25,000 for his latest infraction. He “apologized” to the commissioner, addressing him as “Dad” and asking him if the next time they might just try a timeout. Smart move, showing that the fine doesn’t deter him from anticipating a next time. I’m guessing that penalty will not be a timeout and that he has guaranteed that it will be of sufficient magnitude to gain his attention.
I'm missing something
Either I’m missing something here or I don’t think like a bureaucrat (tax funding belongs to them, not us). Hamilton County has joined a suit against on-line travel booking sites to collect additional occupancy taxes on hotel rooms.
As near as I can discern the issue from newspaper reporting (always suspect) and applying the assumption of a $100 room and 10% tax, you would be billed $110 by the travel site. Assume a 20% commission and they pass along $88 to the hotel, which pays $8 to the county for the tax.
The suits by the taxing authorities contend that the travel sites are pocketing the extra $2 due to them. The sites are saying they’re not hotels and aren’t obligated to collect and remit the tax, so they don’t owe it. Hello? You are billing and collecting it.
The bigger question, in my mind, is why the taxing authorities are going after the money in their own behalf? If the consumer is being billed $10 for the tax and, in reality, the tax is only $8, isn’t that a fraud perpetrated on the consumer? Shouldn’t the government entities charged with the welfare of the citizens be pursuing the cash in behalf of those bilked instead of seeking to fatten their own coffers?
As near as I can discern the issue from newspaper reporting (always suspect) and applying the assumption of a $100 room and 10% tax, you would be billed $110 by the travel site. Assume a 20% commission and they pass along $88 to the hotel, which pays $8 to the county for the tax.
The suits by the taxing authorities contend that the travel sites are pocketing the extra $2 due to them. The sites are saying they’re not hotels and aren’t obligated to collect and remit the tax, so they don’t owe it. Hello? You are billing and collecting it.
The bigger question, in my mind, is why the taxing authorities are going after the money in their own behalf? If the consumer is being billed $10 for the tax and, in reality, the tax is only $8, isn’t that a fraud perpetrated on the consumer? Shouldn’t the government entities charged with the welfare of the citizens be pursuing the cash in behalf of those bilked instead of seeking to fatten their own coffers?
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Us and them
We were watching a documentary of a small group being given a tour of a Hawaiian volcano. It opened with them scaling the steep side on a drizzly night. The camera took an angle from above and the group leader came into view. He was on the high side of 50, but made the ascent effortlessly. His shirt was stylishly open to mid-belly, showing his tanned and flat torso. Its sleeves (and those of his open rain parka) were perfectly rolled up to just below his elbow. In spite of the rain and smoke, he looked fresh as a newly bloomed daisy. “That’s you in a week,” my companion observed, referring to a trip I’m leading.
“No, wait a minute.” The leader looked into the camera and spoke French in a perfectly modulated baritone. The voiceover translated the summary of the group’s purpose. He moved easily past the camera. The group members followed, stumbling under the weight of packs, helmets, goggles, gas masks and assorted other gear. They were fully attired and zipped up in soiled and rumpled garments. As they lurched up the incline, you could see that they were sooty, wet and disheveled. “That’s me.”
The next shot was at the rim of the crater, overlooking the lava lake. The leader stood casually on the rim’s edge, talking to the camera and still looking like a model in the L. L. Bean catalog, albeit with a continental flair. The group clung to large rocks, using their arms to shield their faces from the heat and flying ash. A geyser of lava sent them scurrying, but the leader didn’t flinch.
The next day, they were at the foot of the hill, entering a lava tube. The leader strolled through bare-headed. The group staggered, banging helmets on stalactites.
There’s one or maybe a few in every outing I’ve been on. I’m loaded down with about everything I own and still run short halfway through the trip. They don’t appear to be carrying anything and look unsullied every day. Their clothing fits perfectly, is just right for every condition we encounter and miraculously repels dirt. Mine binds or flaps around, is the wrong material at the wrong time and looks like a collection of mechanics’ rags ten minutes into the expedition. They are comfortable and serene throughout the trek while I’m frazzled and sweaty. The right implement seems to fall to their hands immediately and I’m constantly digging through duffle bags to find what I urgently need and that won’t surface until we pack up to leave.
The camera panned away from Frenchy’s smiling kisser and zoomed in on one of the group. He was exhausted, bedraggled and looking daggers at the cool customer.
Yeah, I hear you brother.
“No, wait a minute.” The leader looked into the camera and spoke French in a perfectly modulated baritone. The voiceover translated the summary of the group’s purpose. He moved easily past the camera. The group members followed, stumbling under the weight of packs, helmets, goggles, gas masks and assorted other gear. They were fully attired and zipped up in soiled and rumpled garments. As they lurched up the incline, you could see that they were sooty, wet and disheveled. “That’s me.”
The next shot was at the rim of the crater, overlooking the lava lake. The leader stood casually on the rim’s edge, talking to the camera and still looking like a model in the L. L. Bean catalog, albeit with a continental flair. The group clung to large rocks, using their arms to shield their faces from the heat and flying ash. A geyser of lava sent them scurrying, but the leader didn’t flinch.
The next day, they were at the foot of the hill, entering a lava tube. The leader strolled through bare-headed. The group staggered, banging helmets on stalactites.
There’s one or maybe a few in every outing I’ve been on. I’m loaded down with about everything I own and still run short halfway through the trip. They don’t appear to be carrying anything and look unsullied every day. Their clothing fits perfectly, is just right for every condition we encounter and miraculously repels dirt. Mine binds or flaps around, is the wrong material at the wrong time and looks like a collection of mechanics’ rags ten minutes into the expedition. They are comfortable and serene throughout the trek while I’m frazzled and sweaty. The right implement seems to fall to their hands immediately and I’m constantly digging through duffle bags to find what I urgently need and that won’t surface until we pack up to leave.
The camera panned away from Frenchy’s smiling kisser and zoomed in on one of the group. He was exhausted, bedraggled and looking daggers at the cool customer.
Yeah, I hear you brother.
Wouldn't you really rather have a BMW?
Our president and government decided to bail out two domestic automobile makers who were teetering on the brink. They suffered from mismanagement and the perception that our products are inferior to foreign makes.
While the industry is integral to our economy, one could legitimately question this decision. That’s a subject for another time.
Regardless, the taxpayers are up to their eyeballs in underwriting this, including the reversal of the negative image. General Motors is one of the beneficiaries of our largess.
So, I’m bit surprised by the recently unveiled Buick advertising campaign for the new Buick Regal that credits its advantage to being German-engineered. How’s that again?
Forget for a moment the obvious question. “If German technology is superior, then why wouldn’t I buy a completely Teutonic product instead of a partial copy?”
More pertinent is that we plowed untold millions into enhancing the image of American vehicles to put them on a par with foreign competition. I didn’t anticipate that the money would be used to promote the idea that foreign technology is superior. Or, farming out employment beyond our shores.
Then again, why am I surprised?
While the industry is integral to our economy, one could legitimately question this decision. That’s a subject for another time.
Regardless, the taxpayers are up to their eyeballs in underwriting this, including the reversal of the negative image. General Motors is one of the beneficiaries of our largess.
So, I’m bit surprised by the recently unveiled Buick advertising campaign for the new Buick Regal that credits its advantage to being German-engineered. How’s that again?
Forget for a moment the obvious question. “If German technology is superior, then why wouldn’t I buy a completely Teutonic product instead of a partial copy?”
More pertinent is that we plowed untold millions into enhancing the image of American vehicles to put them on a par with foreign competition. I didn’t anticipate that the money would be used to promote the idea that foreign technology is superior. Or, farming out employment beyond our shores.
Then again, why am I surprised?
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Caliente
When I was in my formative years, it immediately struck me that many of the explorers we learned about in world history were Spanish. I assumed it was because they had the most wealth at the time, and also had numerous ports and the skills to use them. Watching television tonight, I’ve arrived at an alternative explanation.
The Spanish are crazy. Loco. Flat out.
These are people who think fighting bulls is fun and running with them is even better. You say a few hundred people get hurt every year in the run? Magnifico! Where do I sign up? But, what I saw tonight topped that.
Las Fallas (“the fires”) is an annual fiesta that lasts days. Ninots are constructed and placed at over 350 intersections in Valencia. They are large, satirical and sometimes bawdy effigies constructed of wood, paper mache’, cardboard and plasterc, some of them several stories high. They remain in place until March 19th, the day known as La Crema’ (“the burning”).
Yep, they torch them. A mere match isn’t enough for your average Spaniard, apparently. First, they stuff them with fireworks. You can see nearby buildings shielded by fireproof tarps. It would seem that the right side of the tarp to be on is the hind. But, the crowd is in front and as close to the ninots as permitted.
What made this scene especially newsworthy this time was that explosives were deemed insufficient by the executioner of one ninot. He hosed it down with gasoline, too. At this point, I see myself checking flight schedules for London, but not this mob. They’re pressing closer to get a good view of the carnage.
It doesn’t burn, it explodes into a mammoth fireball. Fireworks and gasoline; who could’ve seen that coming? It was difficult to tell if the people were applauding or dousing each other’s flames, but they definitely enjoyed it.
Well I’ve never been to Spain, but I kinda like the abusing. Say the people are insane there, and they sure know how to lose it.
Just pack your Nomex suit.
The Spanish are crazy. Loco. Flat out.
These are people who think fighting bulls is fun and running with them is even better. You say a few hundred people get hurt every year in the run? Magnifico! Where do I sign up? But, what I saw tonight topped that.
Las Fallas (“the fires”) is an annual fiesta that lasts days. Ninots are constructed and placed at over 350 intersections in Valencia. They are large, satirical and sometimes bawdy effigies constructed of wood, paper mache’, cardboard and plasterc, some of them several stories high. They remain in place until March 19th, the day known as La Crema’ (“the burning”).
Yep, they torch them. A mere match isn’t enough for your average Spaniard, apparently. First, they stuff them with fireworks. You can see nearby buildings shielded by fireproof tarps. It would seem that the right side of the tarp to be on is the hind. But, the crowd is in front and as close to the ninots as permitted.
What made this scene especially newsworthy this time was that explosives were deemed insufficient by the executioner of one ninot. He hosed it down with gasoline, too. At this point, I see myself checking flight schedules for London, but not this mob. They’re pressing closer to get a good view of the carnage.
It doesn’t burn, it explodes into a mammoth fireball. Fireworks and gasoline; who could’ve seen that coming? It was difficult to tell if the people were applauding or dousing each other’s flames, but they definitely enjoyed it.
Well I’ve never been to Spain, but I kinda like the abusing. Say the people are insane there, and they sure know how to lose it.
Just pack your Nomex suit.
Friday, August 06, 2010
Time crawls
All packed and ready to go. Time is crawling.
Bon Voyage party tomorrow night and I'm looking forward to that. But, after that, I'd just as soon fast forward to the trip.
The problem is that all the advanced planning for these trips incorporates a waiting period. I can't figure a way around that since the trips do require the preparation.
But, it's still always worth it.
Hold the broccoli
I was cranking one of the machines at the gym this morning and watching the scrolled text at the foot of each silent flat screen made available for our viewing. The morning show right in front of me was headlining a feature, “Gymnasium or Germnasium?” It concerned all the fungi and bacteria infections you can pick up at your health spa. Great. Just what I wanted to see. I shift my gaze to the next screen.
“Study shows that sex on a regular basis is good for your health.” And the envelope please, for the Nobel Prize in medicine. When valuable information like this is available, how do those idiots advocating broccoli, pilates, or air cleaners as a path to vitality merit any air time at all?
Always open to learning, I focus on the interview with the researcher. Oh yeah. I’m guessing she didn’t have a lot of trouble recruiting subjects for the study.
Regular sex is good for the cardiovascular system. Check. It bolsters self esteem and mental wellbeing. Check. It’s relaxing. No question about it. Can we get this incorporated in the national health plan? How about coverage for getaway weekends to those cozy cottages with the double bathtubs? C’mon, this is proven stuff!
Keep your broccoli, pilates and air cleaners. I’ve found a doctor worth listening to.
“Study shows that sex on a regular basis is good for your health.” And the envelope please, for the Nobel Prize in medicine. When valuable information like this is available, how do those idiots advocating broccoli, pilates, or air cleaners as a path to vitality merit any air time at all?
Always open to learning, I focus on the interview with the researcher. Oh yeah. I’m guessing she didn’t have a lot of trouble recruiting subjects for the study.
Regular sex is good for the cardiovascular system. Check. It bolsters self esteem and mental wellbeing. Check. It’s relaxing. No question about it. Can we get this incorporated in the national health plan? How about coverage for getaway weekends to those cozy cottages with the double bathtubs? C’mon, this is proven stuff!
Keep your broccoli, pilates and air cleaners. I’ve found a doctor worth listening to.
Thursday, August 05, 2010
In high gear
Ten days until we launch for the Apostle Islands kayak journey. Brace yourself for some written drivel displacement activity. I’m antsy to get it on.
My standard resolution is in place: I have more than enough gear and am not buying anything more for this trip. And, I followed standard procedure: I bought gear for this trip. Of course, I have rationalizations.
Item #1, bear spray – I’ve paddled and camped other places roamed by bears, but they are more than ample on the Apostles. They became problem enough this summer for the rangers to relocate some of them. Plus, the news has been filled with stories of attacks by bears, sharks, alligators and assorted other wildlife. It’s only a matter of time before someone on the web sniffs out a conspiracy. But, just in case, I bought the bear spray. A cheaper alternative would’ve been a can of tuna (to smear on someone else’s tent), but I’ll try the spray. I was given a bear bag as a bon voyage present and am not counting that as a purchase.
Item #2, water purifier – I have an old one and have used it so seldom, I don’t know if it’s still functional or sanitary. With the possibility of us being marooned several extra days in the islands by storms, I’ll part with the money.
Item #3, towline – In the past, I considered the possibility of a disabled paddler and simply took some line. However, in preparation for this trip, I took an advanced course and learned several applications and needs for the real thing in rescue situations. The high cost of education.
Everything is packed and ready. Except for the kayak. The cargo exceeds its capacity by about 25%. Now, it’s a process of winnowing down the load. In between sentences here, I’m peeking at a Lake Superior web cam and the waves are running five feet. Ballast gives you some stability, but I like to be able to maintain a good angle in following seas. Lighter is better for that.
We had our pre-trip meeting last night to eliminate unnecessary duplication of equipment. I suspect I’ll wind up taking all the on-board safety gear anyway. You never know when you’ll get separated on big water.
The meeting was also an opportunity to take a measure of the participants. You pre-screen to ensure that everyone has the proper skill level and boat for such an undertaking. You also gauge their strength, physically and mentally. Pressure brings out the cracks and this trip could well create pressure situations. Can’t afford to have a real weak link.
The end result looks very good. They are confident and eager, but still attentive to the procedures. The atmosphere was relaxed and jovial. We’re ready for a great time.
Except, there’s still ten days left.
My standard resolution is in place: I have more than enough gear and am not buying anything more for this trip. And, I followed standard procedure: I bought gear for this trip. Of course, I have rationalizations.
Item #1, bear spray – I’ve paddled and camped other places roamed by bears, but they are more than ample on the Apostles. They became problem enough this summer for the rangers to relocate some of them. Plus, the news has been filled with stories of attacks by bears, sharks, alligators and assorted other wildlife. It’s only a matter of time before someone on the web sniffs out a conspiracy. But, just in case, I bought the bear spray. A cheaper alternative would’ve been a can of tuna (to smear on someone else’s tent), but I’ll try the spray. I was given a bear bag as a bon voyage present and am not counting that as a purchase.
Item #2, water purifier – I have an old one and have used it so seldom, I don’t know if it’s still functional or sanitary. With the possibility of us being marooned several extra days in the islands by storms, I’ll part with the money.
Item #3, towline – In the past, I considered the possibility of a disabled paddler and simply took some line. However, in preparation for this trip, I took an advanced course and learned several applications and needs for the real thing in rescue situations. The high cost of education.
Everything is packed and ready. Except for the kayak. The cargo exceeds its capacity by about 25%. Now, it’s a process of winnowing down the load. In between sentences here, I’m peeking at a Lake Superior web cam and the waves are running five feet. Ballast gives you some stability, but I like to be able to maintain a good angle in following seas. Lighter is better for that.
We had our pre-trip meeting last night to eliminate unnecessary duplication of equipment. I suspect I’ll wind up taking all the on-board safety gear anyway. You never know when you’ll get separated on big water.
The meeting was also an opportunity to take a measure of the participants. You pre-screen to ensure that everyone has the proper skill level and boat for such an undertaking. You also gauge their strength, physically and mentally. Pressure brings out the cracks and this trip could well create pressure situations. Can’t afford to have a real weak link.
The end result looks very good. They are confident and eager, but still attentive to the procedures. The atmosphere was relaxed and jovial. We’re ready for a great time.
Except, there’s still ten days left.
Tuesday, August 03, 2010
Hot enough for ya?
“Darn, it’s a hot summer,” said Carol. “Do you know how many days more than last year over ninety we’ve had compared to last year?”
Not enough, I thought. Last year was pleasant, but I like summer so hot you can’t wait to get into the water. Heat evokes associations with fun in the sun. That is, my childhood recollections are of blistering hot summers and cold and snowy winters. I’m not alone in that. It feels more moderate, now.
It got hot long before the official start of summer. I recall hot days in an urban multiple story brick school with no air conditioning. They didn’t call off school for the temperature back then. The family car was an oven and the coveted seat was right beside that small triangular vent window. It was not unusual for someone in the neighborhood to lose a window to the heat by leaving them all rolled up. There wasn’t much relief at night because all the masonry of the city retained heat. I would sometimes sleep out on the fire escape (aka burglary assistance structure).
I worked in a garage, fixing cars and installing tires and batteries. By the end of the day, I looked like a streaky Al Jolson. Few things felt better than the shower that followed. On Saturdays, “Five O’ Clock World” (The Vogues) would be streaming through my mind in anticipation as I did that in preparation for dates. Still does, sometimes.
So, yeah, it’s sizzling out. And, I don’t think it’s coincidental that the fun is non-stop. It’s summer. It’s supposed to be hot.
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