Archives for February 2005

Well, I didn’t watch most of The Oscars last night, but I caught a bit of it. Clint Eastwood is as good as you get in Hollywood, and from what I know of him, he’s a real human being. Glad he took a couple of the top prizes. My wife & I just happened to see Million Dollar Baby the night before, and I’d recommend it. Glad to see Jamie Foxx get top actor for his unbelievable performance in Ray, my personal favorite film of the year.

But, of course, Hollywood is never in short supply of Useful Idiots. At Oscar time, it’s as veiled as they can make it. Hell, they even managed to keep that fat, obnoxious liar Michael Moore out of it entirely this year. So, I guess they had to make up for it elsewhere, and the natural place is to be found in the short films, documentaries, foreign language films, or obscure artsy fartsy films.

Did anyone notice what won best original song written for a motion picture? It’s called Al Otro Lado Del Rio and it’s from The Motorcycle Diaries. It was performed by Antonio Banderas singing and Carlos Santana on guitar. I thought it sucked, musically, in spite of Cosmic Carlos’ legendary talent. The performance was introduced by Salma Hayek, and rather than say that The Motorcycle Diaries is a film about two commies, one of whom was Che Guevara, responsible for the deaths of hundreds of thousands of Cubans and the deaths of hundreds of thousands of other innocent people in Latin America, she said it was a film about "two idealists."

Damn, and I really liked watching Salma, too. Very pleasing to look at, and now all I’m going to see is another run of the mill Hollywood Useful Idiot.

OK, I’ve expressed my rage over our treatment at the hands of the TSA (Yea, like I’m going to deny that it’s rage? The proper distinction is between mindless and principled.). Having read the comments thereto, let me expound in greater detail and in a calmer tone.

First, I don’t get into proposing alternate (but more “efficient”) ways of disposing of your natural freedom. I don’t contrive to identify groups it would be “better” to steal from or deny freedom to. So, I won’t be proposing that you “call your congressmen” with my pat solution. I demand freedom for all human beings on the sole condition that they act as human beings, which means that they recognize all of the freedoms inherent in all others, and all that it implies.

I reject the notion that there is a thing in the world too risky, too costly, or “socially unjust” about unbridled human freedom. Yes, let freedom ring. And that’s all. The issue is not that we’ll be better off if we do. It’s just what we must do, for no reason other than that we’re human beings—or supposed to be, anyway.

It is not my problem that you don’t feel safe to get on an airplane unless you and your co-passengers are frisked prior to boarding (under federal mandate, imposed by force). Using “safety” as an excuse to violate rights is logically untenable (utterly so). Just take one moment to think of the myriad ways that terrorists could make your life a living hell when they set themselves purposefully to the task. Here’s just one: four or five simultaneous suicide bombers in a huge indoor shopping mall. Hell; make it 20—and make it 50 shopping malls around the country at the same time.

In truth, the planning and preparation for such an operation would be child’s play compared to what was carried out on 9/11. I could go on, and if you’re honest with yourself, you know that I can.

So the simple and obvious fact derived from the above is that the TSA has nothing in the world to do with safety, and your insistence on clinging to it as some magic bullet is simply irrationality motivated by fear. You’re just not thinking clearly. Understandable—people do their stupidest things when in fear mode. That, however, does not alleviate your basic responsibility to think. It also does not absolve you of your culpability in supporting such an abomination as the TSA.

The Big Lie at work here is in the ‘we’, as usual. It’s “our” national air-transportation system, you see, so “we” have to keep it safe for “our” sake. Et cetera. And while I’m at it, the white-collar-hoax pipsqueaks that man the boardrooms and executive offices of these major airlines are just as at-fault—if not more. The very first thing the shit bags did after 9/11 was not to step up and tell you: “We messed up, and by God, we’re going to do better. We pledge to do the best that can humanly be done to get you safely to your destination.” Not at all. The first thing they did was to point fingers of blame and whine about how they needed a federal bailout.

This should have been a clue to anyone thinking about the issue. The airlines, and by proxy, their shareholders wish to be absolved of a portion of the very thing that you contract with them to provide you—safe passage to a destination. Why on earth should they be responsible for the material safety of their aircraft (which they do very well), but not the skies in which they fly (I’m taking a shot at the FAA, here, in case you didn’t notice), or the comportment of the passengers they carry?

In the end, it all comes back to laziness. Laziness is at the root of each and every collectivist scheme. Nature has blessed us with human beings who benevolently produce far more than they could ever consume—in spite of every obstacle thrown at them by the do-nothings. This fortunate circumstance has its double edge, as no good deed goes unpunished. The lazy are, at once, incentivized by democracy and plunder.

Everyone wants to escape their responsibilities. Who is naturally first in line in the chain of responsibility for keeping you safe on an aircraft? You are. You look around. You use your senses and mind, and in a rational world, you’d be able to pick an airline (and probably pay more for the ticket) with an excellent safety record in all aspects of travel, from the time you step into their boarding area at embarkation, to the time you exit at your destination. Second in line, as implied, it the airline you’ve contracted with. Who’s next? Nobody is next. The contract is between two entities—you and the airline. Those are the only two entities with any business in the matter.

Instead, all the lazy have together made passenger security the responsibility of neither party to the contract. No one with any business has any responsibility. The lazy have made it the “government’s” responsibility, which means, everyone is responsible for everyone else’s safety, which means, no one is responsible for any one’s safety.

As I said at the beginning, the TSA has nothing in the world to do with safety. It can’t, since no one is really responsible or accountable. Instead, it operates as a gauntlet of intimidation so that people unaccustomed to thinking can feel safe.

Well, first, my wife and I go walking the dogs over at the local high school. In addition to Rotor, our rat terrier that I walk 3 miles every morning, we’re taking care of Rosie, my brother-in-law’s boston terrier, while he’s trying to sell his house.

We’ve taken care of her before. While she’s protective when someone knocks on the door, she’s never been a problem over at the park running off leash. I’m so used to letting Rotor run around without keeping too close an eye on him that I let my guard down. Before I know it, I hear a noise and see a woman crouched over holding her hand, with Rosie hanging by her teeth from the woman’s jacket.

There’s a fair amount of blood, and a finger wound that will likely require stitches. Damn! In such a situation, there’s nothing for a real person to do other than just be as helpful as possible. I ran to get my car and drove the woman the several blocks to her house. What great fun, looking her strapping teenage son and husband square in the eye. But you do what you ought to do, and you don’t give it a second thought. The woman, her son and husband were all very calm and reasonable. In other words, though a serious situation, they were not blowing it out of proportion. I appreciated that.

It’s not my dog that attacked, and I’d personally never own a dog that attacks without clear provocation (I may never dogsit for one again, either). Still, that’s little consolation, for me. This dog has bitten before (a UPS guy making a delivery—very minor bite). Though I wasn’t around, I knew of the previous incident and should damn well have been more circumspect. On the other hand, sometimes shit just happens and you do the best you can with it.

But if this all wasn’t enough, Bea & I then head over to the local Original Pancake House for a late breakfast. There’s a wait. Once we’re called, Bea & I get up and head directly over to the counter. There’s a bit of a crowd milling about, but no one bumping into one-another.

But just as I get to the counter, some 260 lb. fathead with a girl of about 2 yrs. approaches me and says, “You ought to watch where you’re going. You almost knocked my daughter over.” Almost? I hadn’t touched a soul, and I had not behaved in any fashion reasonably likely to result in harm to anyone. This guy wanted to pick a fight, or to show off in front of his wife or girlfriend, or whatever. But it had nothing in the world to do with me.

Well, I don’t envy telling an organism to Fuck Off in front of its offspring (because she’s still human), but I really had little choice. I was dealing with an irrational wild animal walking on two legs and pretending to be a human being. When you’re dealing with such creatures as that, there’s no way to have any confidence about what they’ll do next. You can reasonably assume that human beings will act predictably, wich is to say rationally, but when you encounter a wild animal, you need to watch yourself, and in this case, my only course of action was to send a clear signal that I was not going to be trifled with.

On the way out of the restaurant, for the first time in five years of living in this neighborhood, a panhandler hits me up for money.

As I said: a bizarro day.

I just returned from a weeklong trip to the Hawaiian island of Kauai. In company was my wife, her parents, and my parents (yes, we all get along swimmingly). It was a great trip, all in all, not marred by one single unfortunate event.

But it was tarnished, nonetheless—purposefully and willfully—by a group of loathsome people with the effrontery to call themselves “public servants.”

The first incident came right at the start, leaving from San Francisco (SFO). I don’t travel a lot, per se, but I’ve made two business trips to Chicago and one to DC over the past few months. I try to block it out—the absurdity of it all—and typically I get through “only” moderately inconvenienced. I’ve never taken off my shoes, have never been compelled to do so, and have never set off the Citizen Inspection Device.

So, as I’m disassembling myself (belt buckle, watch, wallet, pocket change, laptop computer, etc.), a TSA goon walks up and asks about taking off my shoes (classic Converse All-Stars with 1/4” soles, at most). I ask if it’s mandatory. He says no, “not if you have lots of time.” Since I knew I wasn’t going to set anything off, I proceeded through the Citizen Inspection Device, and as typical, didn’t set it off. Notwithstanding, I am immediately pulled aside. My high-end laptop, leather Hartmann carry-on, and other valuables—including a very expensive watch—are just sitting there unattended, having come through the Property Inspection Device. I ask, “Is anyone going to attend to my valuables?” “Yes,” he replies, and then just looks away. Another half minute passes and other people’s stuff is stacking up against mine. Finally, I discreetly motion my wife, she gets the clue, and comes and collects my stuff.

I wait another three minutes, there, Temporarily Detained in Federal Custody, and in all that time, not once did any “Authority” look to make sure my property was secure from theft or damage. Finally, a Comrade Interrogator arrives with the express purpose of assaulting me, in person and in dignity, for the crime of Non-Immediate and Non-Cheerful Submission to the faintest suggestion or admonition of “The Authority.” This is where I get to endure the spread-‘em pat down in front of my family and the whole world.

Then there was the trip back. This time, like a Good German, I took off my shoes. But my dad, age 67, failed to heed the sign about putting his video-camera into a separate bin and was taken into Temporary Federal Custody for Search and Interrogation. My father-in-law, age 74, was taken into Temporary Federal Custody for the Crime of having a film canister and pack of gum (foil wrappers) in his pocket.

You know what? Fuck the TSA. Fuck George W. Bush for spearheading it. Fuck Norman “the moron” Mineta. And Fuck every last one of his goons, including even the TSA bitches currently out on maternity leave. Every last one of them can be God damned, and then they can Kiss My Ass. I’m serious.

There’s not one scintilla of a microgram of redeeming value in the TSA. Not one bit. Not for any rational purpose under the sun. Its sole reason for being is intimidation, and in so doing, the Gorillas make all the chimpanzees feel nice and “safe.”

Update: See TSA – Part 2

I wrote briefly about, and posted some photographs of, our just-concluded week in Kauai here, here, here, here, here, and here.

Because of the quite surprising level of very nice and complimentary comments and emails, I promised to put up a good collection of the images in full high-res at Club Photo.

Promise delivered.

Now I can get back to a little rage. It should be no surprise that my first topic will be the TSA.

The tour with Safari Helicopters was fantastic. Note to Commander Preston Myers, USN (Ret.): from one former Navy officer to another, your operation is ship shape from top to bottom. Your offices (even the head), your staff, your shuttle vans, your aircraft and your all-ATP-rated pilots performed superbly, and as for the personnel, each and every one demonstrated a high degree of pride in what they do. Well done, sir.

Here are a few pics (and then I’m off to the airport for the trip back). You may recognize the first one from one of the Jurassic Park flics.

Well, we didn’t take the helicopter tour yesterday. Scheduling conflict. It should go down today.

Relatively quiet yesterday, and we topped it off with a Luau that our traveling companions treated my wife and I too. I’ve always resisted going to one of these group things, but this one was put on by a family who’s been doing it for decades. There’s nothing in the world like competence.

Three pics today. This first was quite a lucky shot, I think, of a peacock trying to impress. I used the flash and it really brings out the colors.

I forgot the name of this tree, but its bark is sure interesting.

Some newly hatched chicks having a conference between two parked cars. I’ve learned that the reason for all the chickens is the hurricane that struck the island in 1992. Apparently, because of the climate, it’s an ideal place to breed, raise, and train chickens for cockfighting around the world. The hurricane came through and blasted apart all the coops around the island.

It goes without saying that we’re having a wonderful time. Today is helicopter tour day: Waimea Canyon, Na Pali Coast and whatever else they have in store for us. Pics tomorrow.

In the meantime, let’s get to yesterday’s pics. Thanks for all the kind comments and emails, and to answer the questions, yes, there are dozens more photos. Once I get back on Saturday, I’ll throw most of them up on Club Photo and announce it here.

Six pics for you today. The first is one of the four Macaws perched in the atrium of the Hyatt Regency Kauai.

Next, we have the view out of the Hyatt’s open air atrium. This is an exclusive place. 2005’s published rates for rooms are from $455 – $785 per night. Suites start at $1,300 per night, and the presidential will set you back $4,400 (yes, per night).

Here we have an attempt at an artsy fartsy pic. It’s using the flash, looking out through the ferns at the Fern Grotto.

Below is looking up from the grotto. I went back a few minutes later to take another, but the effect of the sun reflecting through the spray of the water was gone.

Here’s another looking up from the grotto.

I’m told this plant is called "red ginger".

So far…so good. Three days—and I’ve yet to have to suffer through some pretentious, teachy spectacle showcasing the “vast superiority” of the native Hawaiian culture to that of Western Civilization. And; you know, how much more “harmoniously” they interacted with nature, et cetera.

I’ve got three pics today. One is from the beach on the southwest of the island, just north of the Navy’s missile rest range. There’s Waimea Canyon, said to be “The Grand Canyon of the Pacific,” or something like that. Finally, a little of the “wildlife.” Seriously though; there are thousands and thousands of chickens running wild on Kauai. This suggest two truths: there are no natural predators for either the chickens or their eggs, and, neither are the human inhabitants of the island starving.

I’m really pleased with our choice of Kauai for this trip. We previously did a week in Maui, which was fantastic (do the bike ride from the top of Haleakala: 40 miles, all downhill, with only about 200 yards of peddling), and a day in Oahu, which was enough (though I’d like to explore the north and interior).

Yesterday, we explored the east and north side of Kauai. Here’s a couple of pics (I’d do more, but I’m on dialup, so you know how that goes):