Look At Me - That's Not What I Meant

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Sometimes in this social networking world, we forget how easy it is for our words to be misinterpreted.  We, especially us older folks, communicate with more than just words.  There is the voice infliction, the eyes, and body language.  In the world of interview and interrogation, we even measure respiratory and gastro-intestinal response.  How about sweating, stuttering, and twitching.  If you ever get a chance to interview a heroin addict, you’ll see a lot of face scratching.      . 

Technology folks speculate that in the near future, we’ll once again watch for all these things as the keyboard will slowly  disappear.  I read one article where the writer said he believes schools will put more emphasis on listening than on reading and writing.  Interesting.

Until we get the upgraded versions of Skype, Dragon Speaking, etc., we’ll have to continue in our attempts to make people understand what we are typing.

For years, I taught a police report writing class and letting the reader know what you’re saying is extremely important.  It could be the difference whether or not a District Attorney’s office will prosecute a case.  I can tell you for a fact, that if the attorneys don’t understand you, the odds of your having to testify go up greatly.  Without knowing you, they tend to judge you on your written words.  The better a report is written, the better chance of the defense wanting to plea a case.

Here’s a little example that I used in my classes.  I can’t take credit for this one.  I learned it in a Field Training Officer class years ago.

Read the following sentence.

I didn’t say the truck was red.

Now, let’s break it down putting emphasis on different parts of the sentence shown here as the underlined part.

I didn’t say the truck was red.

He did.

I didn’t say the truck was red.

You may have interpreted it that way but I never actually said it.

I didn’t say the truck was red.

I said the car was red.

I didn’t say the truck was red.

I said it was a yellow, and I said it was the same color as that yellow fire truck.

How do we get past this communication gap?  If you’re the writer, proof read and if there’s a place where you feel it’s important, tell your reader what you mean.  If you’re the reader, ask questions.  Never take someone’s written word for it.

Curtis Martin - 2012 Pro Football Hall of Fame Enshrinement

Over the years, one of the annual staples in my life is the pro football hall of fame inductions.  I absolutely love hearing the life stories of these famous, successful people.  Not only on the field but off.

In 1997, Mike Webster was introduced by Terry Bradshaw.  For those who don’t know, Mike was Terry’s center during the Steelers dynasty.  Mike suffered from the beatings his body and brain took during his career.  He became homeless and suffered from serious depression. Terry’s speech that day was so fabulous that I never thought it could be bested, ever.  Sorry, I couldn’t find a copy of that speech for you to view.

Then came the class of 2011.  Marshall Faulk’s speech was fantastic.

http://www.profootballhof.com/multimedia/inductions/2011/8/6/marshall-faulk-enshrinement-speech/

I thought, that’s as close as it’ll come. 

Then,  Neon Deion Sanders bested Terry’s speech by far.

http://www.profootballhof.com/multimedia/inductions/2011/8/6/deion-sanders-enshrinement-speech/

Then out of no where, Shannon Sharpe, who my friend calls "gravely mouth" gave a heart felt speech that completely eclipsed Deion's.  There is no way anyone could give a speech to match Sharpe’s.  It was that dang good.

http://www.profootballhof.com/multimedia/inductions/2011/8/6/shannon-sharpe-enshrinement-speech/

The class of 2012 was today August 4^th, 2012.  There were some great speeches and as it came to the end, I thought to myself, yep “Shannon Sharpe can’t be beat.”  It will last a life time, if not, at least as long as Terry’s speech lasted as my minds best for 14 years.

 That’s when Curtis Martin came to the podium.  Words can not explain it.  You’ve got to see it for yourself.

Friend's of Steve McQueen

One week ago today, Memorial Day,  I was on the road.  I stopped to get gas in Shamrock, Texas. 

When I got back in my 05 Corvette Red Racer, the DIC (an appropriate name for the display) told me “low on oil.”  I checked it out and sure enough I was a full qt low.  I immediately became a hater of those measuring pumps that they use to add oil from 50 gal drums because I had just had the oil changed before leaving on the trip. 

So, back inside the station to ask for some Mobile 1.  Sorry, they said, you might try the ACE down the street.  Off I go but they don’t have any either.  This went on for several stops and I finally ended up at a Conoco station.  They didn’t have any either so I stood in line so I could ask the attendant where I could get some synthetic oil, preferably Mobile One in Shamrock, Tx on a holiday.  He gave me the now familiar head shake and said he didn’t think I could find any unless I headed on to Amarillo.

 

I was just about to PANIC when to my surprise, the guy in line behind me joins in with  “I got some in my trailer.”  I followed him out. 

On the side of his trailer the logo said “Friends of Steve McQueen.”  In the SUV pulling the toy hauler , sat a patient wife and family.  The guy opens the trailer’s side door, then a cabinet, and pulls out just the oil I need.  He wouldn’t take any money but I forced him to take ten bucks anyway.  Then we discussed the season finale of Alcatraz where they recreated the Bullitt chase. 

He and his family drove away while I poured the oil in the Red Racer.  I gave a hearty waive and they all waived back. 

Back in the cockpit and the DIC was no longer on.  I got back on the road wishing I had got his name and an email.  I realized that I’ve always been a fan of Steve McQueen, but now I am a really big fan of the Friend’s of Steve McQueen.  This guy was definitely a fantastic representative of the organization as well just a great guy!

My opinion about "Occupy"

Bear with me cause this is a very touchy subject. I'd just like to give some food for thought.

I don't agree with the Occupy crowd. I think if you protest, you have an agenda and you attempt to accomplish something. This is the most disorganized mess I've ever seen for a protest, and it has turned into a "protest the police" protest. My friends on facebook have given me many reasons why they back the protesters and tell me what agenda the group, as a whole group, have. Unfortunately, I have not heard any of it from the group itself.

But, that's not the reason I want to give my opinion. The reason is from the recent events where the police have used force. Many people have made the police the bad people and called the use of force "chilling." So here goes:

You can protest peacefully and nobody will stop you. As a matter of fact, it is encouraged in our society. But, you gotta follow the rules.

The protesters at UC Davis, Berkeley, Oakland, etc. knew the rules going in and decided on civil disobedience. If that's the decision you make, here's what happens.

First, you are asked to leave. Not by the police, but in front of the police by those in control of the property that has the rules. Even on public proerty and public places, there are rules. These rules are passed by owners of private property. By Commissions, Boards, Cities, States, or the Federal Government, or by "the People" for public property.

If you do not leave, you are now trespassing. That means you have now committed a crime. You are no longer a peaceful protester, you are now a suspected criminal. This is not about your right to free speech. You have moved past that and on to purposeful criminal actions.

You are then told you are under arrest. This arrest can be as simple as a "ticket" or you can be taken into custody. You will get your day in court. But you still have to leave.

Instead, you lock arms sitting down or other so called passive resistance (some call it "peaceful" resistance in an attempt to make it seem less criminal. Whatever.) You are now committing another crime, resisting arrest. Like it or not, the police now have to decide how to take you into custody.

Use of force experts decided a couple decades ago that oleoresin capsicum (pepper spray) was a good non-violent compliance tool for passive resistance.

Under the FBI's nationally recognized "use of force continuum," and in Supreme Court cases (Graham vs Connor being the most important so far), the amount force necessary is what the "reasonable officer on the scene" feels is needed to effect the arrest. If batons are needed to disperse a crowd, it is authorized. After it's done the lawyers, media, and we can take all the time wanted to disect it.

That being said, I often preach "risk management." Think out the risk, before taking the action. If you are someplace you're not supposed to be, doing something you're not supposed to be doing, don't be suprised when bad things happen. I believe each of these incidents could have very easily been avoided by following the rules. Some absolutely hate the comparison, but the Tea Party protests are a good example. Some occupiers know this and did it anyway, because they knew what would happen. They also knew that the media and the liberals would use it to their favor in redirecting the blame to the big bad "authorities."

I've always been told that when you complain, try to have a solution. If you think the police used excessive force, give a viable alternative method that you feel would work better. Ignoring the law breakers is not a viable option. Email me.

Oh, What A Voice….

In late 2000, early 2001, while downloading a few songs on Napster, I accidently ran across a song called "I Thought About You.”“ The singer was a female artist named Susannah McCorkle. Upon hearing her sing, I thought “this is someone I could listen to.” Her voice was sultry and jazzy like Cassandra Wilson or Diana Ross. I then started looking for other Sussannah McCorkle songs.

Susannah sang many Billy Holliday tunes and others that I classified as nightclub music. I liked her singing so much, I decided that I would watch and hoped she would do a concert in Southern California. So I started checking the internet. Much to my shock and disappointment, I found that she had passed away in May 2001.
It was reported that Miss McCorkle had been fighting depression for years and it finally got the best of her. She died from suicide. She jumped from the balcony to the street below at her 16th floor Manhattan apartment. She left a detailed suicide note and it is rumored that there was a note in her pocket asking that someone check on her cat.
There was a nice article about her in the NY Times May 24, 2001

I heard she had recorded over 3000 songs. So, my question was why hadn’t I heard of her? Seems most of her work was done in Europe. Too bad, because as you’ll hear…. Oh, What A Voice!

Here's one of my favorites: Waters of March

Day Trading Follow Up

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So, it’s been about 7 months since I last wrote about Day Trading. Since then, I have read more than 15 books on the subject and countless internet articles. I opened an account with Trade Station who let me trade on a real-time simulator for practically free this entire time. I have yet to make a real live trade.

So, here’s the deal. To become a pattern day trader, I must fund my account with $35,000.00. I can trade futures for much less, but the trading will be pretty much the same.

Have I determined if I think I can make money. Yes I have, and yes, I believe I can. BUT, do I think I can make enough money to make it worth it. By “it”, I mean my time, my efforts, and my well being. Hmmm. I can see where I possibly could become a successful trader. But, for now, No!
Right now the market is soooo volatile that it is crazy to think a long term trade is worthwhile. That same volatility makes short and “active” trading very unpredictable. One day the trades win and do exactly what I think only to be slapped back down the next day.

Let’s say I did fund the account to $35k. I would only have to make an average of about $8.75 a day to make more than what I currently get on that money (fixed rate account.) But, is that worth sitting in front of that computer 5 days a week from 05:30 (gotta do pre and post-market) to 13:30 every day of the week?

At this point, I have to say no, it is not. I mean the thing is, that’s why I retired so I wouldn’t have to put in those hours.

My friend (and mentor) has been trading for several years now and he, along with everyone else I’ve talked to tell me that it’ll take a good year or more to become proficient enough to be consistently successful.

The thing is that if I worked at minimum wage for those same hours, with no investment (and possible losses,) I could make the wage and still make what I’m currently making on that fixed account.

Dam, I was hoping this may be my “lottery.” Maybe it still will be, but for now, it’s not.

Later,
Non-Day-Trading- Uncle R

Milk Cartons to the Rescue

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I don’t know where I read it, or maybe someone told me about it.  The theory is that to save energy cost, keep your refridgerator full.  The refridgerator is one of the highest users of electricity, next to the air conditioner.  I remember reading to fill up unused space with newspapers.  This would give the fridge/freezer less space to keep cool.  Then I heard this idea.  Fill up milk cartons and make ice.  It serves the fill the freezer idea plus it keeps it cold.  If you lose power, you’ve got it covered.  I then use the ice whenever I fill up the cooler.  Haven’t bought ice forever.  You can use both the plastic containers or the wax ones.  I prefer the wax.  That way when I need ice, I just bang one on the ground a few times to break it up and pour the ice in the cooler.  It destroys the carton but since we drink dairy products here at Uncle Ron’s, there’s always plenty.  If you use the plastic, bang it til it breaks up, then cut it open.  Be careful, it can be tricky.

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Day Trader

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Just a little over a month ago (Jan 2011), I ran into a former coworker/ friend. He was looking at a house in my neighborhood. We got to talking and I ask what he’d been up to. He said he had become a Day Trader and had been day trading stocks now for a couple years. All the sudden it hit me, I had no idea what he was talking about. None. I knew a day trader traded stocks but other than that I didn’t have a clue.

He had me over to his house and showed me his home office. He had four monitors on his desk. One was a tv screen with CNBC on it. The other three had charts and graphs and looked like Christmas with red and green graphs with yellow, white, and blue lines running every which direction through the graphs. He explained some of it to me, but I was lost.

One thing that we talked about was that he was making a comfortable living being a day trader. Now, like most people, he didn’t talk actual figures and I didn’t pry. I know he has a public service retirement, so a comfortable living I assume can be anywhere between 25 and 100 thousand smackeroonies a year. In our talk that day and numerous talks since then, I’m guessing it’s beyond the high end of my estimates.

So, now my curiosity is peaked and I want to know what I don’t know. I love to learn, especially if I believe it will benefit me later. He invited me over to watch him work, but asked that I didn’t ask any questions until he was ready to talk because he needed to concentrate. He talked as he worked and walked me through what he was doing. He had CNBC on the TV again and they were showing the opening bell and the usual morning shows that I usually ignored, preferring more traditional news.

My friend told me that the first thing he did before I got there was check the news to see if there was anything that would affect the stock market in general and the stocks that he traded. The stocks he was paying close attention to were a technology stock, a precious metals mining company, a Las Vegas casino, and a few others. He also had charts showing the S&P, the Dow, and the NYSE.

After the opening bell, he just watched and kept changing the size of his graphs, drawing more lines on them, and talked about support and resistance. After about 20 minutes of this, he starts clicking the mouse on a spreadsheet type screens saying he’s shorting and has to put his stop here and his target is there. Within a minute it was all over and he announced that it didn’t do as well as he thought it should have and he got “stopped” out. He said after commissions, he made about $30 on that trade.

I watched him do this for the next few hours. He made several more trades saying that he made money on some but lost a few bucks on others. Finally, he said, “that’s it for today, it’s too choppy.” Now he was ready to talk.

I still had no idea what he had done. He explained that he uses a trading “platform” to make his trades directly to the stock market and doesn’t use a broker. That muddied the waters even further. How does he do this? I asked the only question I knew to ask. “Where did you learn how to do this?”

He said he got into trading a couple years ago because one of his friends did it. He said he had no idea what he was doing when he got into it. He said when he retired, he had a deferred compensation plan and knew it wasn’t making him much interest. His friend told him to “roll it over” into a trading account. So he did. Said his friend showed him how to avoid the risk with a four to one profit loss ratio. He said the first year, he thinks he lost more than he gained but it was mostly because of the commissions. Then he took a class. It was a full seven day class and cost him $6000. He said since then, he has been making more and more money. His goal this year is to make 100% of his “bank.”

I left his house confused but with this thought of “I wonder if I could do that?”

So back home and on the world wide net to see what I could find. There’s lot’s of stuff but nothing makes sense. I called my friend. What books should I read to decide if I should take the class. He knew I was seeking knowledge but also knew I wasn’t ready to shell out six g’s for a seven day class.

We’ve talked to great lengths since then. My wife calls him my new best friend. I also read a book called “Strategies for the Online Day Trader.” It is designed for someone who has already been trading, so although it gave me a lot of info, I didn’t understand what I was learning. Now, I’m reading the “Beginners guide to Day Trading OnLine.” It makes a lot more sense and I’m slowly learning more and more. I’ve already got a few more books in the wings.

So far, I’m really enjoying what I’m learning. It’s all so new, and the thought of making a few extra dollars to add to my income is exciting.

I figure in about six months, I’ll have enough information to decide if this is something that I want to do. The best part of it is that even if I don’t do it, I’ll have enough information that I’ll be able to make better decisions on my current investments. I’ll keep you informed.

Carnival Dream - water slide - theTwister

The Carnival Dream has a 104 ft water slide called the Twister. It goes up about 3 floors then spirals around and round and dumps you out in a trough full of water about 2 ft deep. This stops you but if it didn’t, there’s a spring board at the end of the trough that’ll do the trick. Now at 57 years old, it’s probably not the smartest thing in the world to go down it. Barbi and I watched as a little girl probably 3 ½ or 4 followed her brothers up the staircase to the top. She barely made it to the “you must be this tall to ride this slide” sign. Once on top, she started crying and started back down the stairs. Her big brother yelled at her and she started back up. Dad, who was watching from below yelled up “she doesn’t have to if she doesn’t want.” She started back down. Dad started up. Big brother ran down to her and said something. She went back up and went through the tube. She liked it so much, she did it again. So on our first full day at sea, ol’ uncle Ron went down the Twister. You grab hold of this bar and give yourself a good shove into the tube. Now you are a human toboggan. Every ten feet there is a connecting tube. That connection acts as a speed bump on your back. Every twist and turn tries to roll you over and your whole body tenses. It only takes maybe five to ten seconds to get to the bottom, but that’s long enough to cramp up every muscle you got. Then you are shot out into the trough. Hitting the water, you immediately get the enema of your life. The only reason you don’t let go is that your swim suit is shoved up there right behind the water. Then the water continues to the face where it tries to drown you by going up your nose and into your mouth. Those orifices, acting as human speed brakes stop you and you immediately sit up. Now everything comes running out your nose including whatever has been up there holding on, and now it’s dangling like the mousse from “Something About Mary.” Now you would think that a ship with facial recognition technology for their picture taking, and security for getting on and off the ship would have something equally techie for the slide. But no, they have a young girl at the bottom holding a sign. One side is stop and the other go. When you come shooting out the tube into the trough, she holds up the 'stop' sign. When you get out of the trough with your swimsuit to your neck, she flips it to the 'go' side. So, as if your not anxious enough to get out of that trough, now you have more incentive. So you stand up. You are cramped, there’s snot hanging off your face, and your waistband is nipple high causing the roughest wedgy you ever had. All your friends are standing there cheering and asking “How was it?” You try to answer “Cool!” but all that comes out is a gurgling sound as water jets from your mouth like Linda Blair’s projectile vomiting in the Exorcist. I shoulda known better. But ask me how I liked it, my response will be “Cool!”
Video on You Tube

Wrist Wand

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In 2001, I was the information technology supervisor for a city police department. In that position, I was in charge of telephones, radios, and computers, but my main job was the implementation and project management of a dispatch and records database program. Therefore, I worked very close to dispatchers and records people who used that program to so their daily jobs. There was another supervisor in charge of those personnel. My office was next to his. He also had a project. He was the project manager of a new dispatch center. That required me to work closely with him.

One of his responsibilities was the ergonomics of dispatch center. He had to not only order chairs and furniture but had to ensure that furniture would last throughout it’s depreciation period as well as ensuring safety and comfort. Dispatchers routinely worked 12 hour shifts and would often work overtime past those hours.

Two injuries often occurring in dispatchers is back problems and repetitive motion injuries (carpel tunnel.)

The chairs and work stations adjusted in everyway possible. There were foot rests and back cushions. If an employee can stay healthy, that employee will not miss work, will not complain, and will not get work related injuries.

Exercise was encouraged and the city provided for all it’s employees a gym membership.

Repetitive Motion is a whole science in itself. Anyone working long hours on a computer was highly encouraged to exercise. One item in particular was issued, a “Wrist Wand.”

The “Wrist Wand” is a simple device. It’s a 1” dowell approximately 10” long. It has cushioned grips on the ends resembling the soft grips of a racing bicycle. There was a video each employee had to watch and sign that he/she had watched it in order to be issued a device.

The video showed a simple exercise and recommended that this exercise by done hourly throughout the work day with a single repetition of ten.

I always thought it ironic and strange that to combat repetitive motion injuries, a repetitive exercise would be prescribed.

All dispatchers and records personnel were issued one. I, as a computer systems supervisor was also issued the device. Like most everyone else, I watched the short video, signed the paperwork, took possession of the device, then threw it in my desk never to be seen again.

As I promoted and transferred, that device was moved from desk to desk and ended up in my wall locker. When I retired, the locker was cleaned out with me throwing the contents, including the “Wrist Wand” in a box and then transferred to attic storage at my home.

After I retired, I bought a foreclosed fixer upper custom home. The home is magnificent but my wife and I decided there needed to be some upgrades. Most of the upgrades I did by myself including laying approximately 2000 square feet of tile.

I had to remove the old flooring and prep the floor for the new tile. The new tile had to be set, then grouted. The grouting was a rigorous task and consisted of pressing the grout into position with a rubber trowel, then removing excess grout, after which a sponge cleaning was done. This left a chalky haze on the tile, and a hand polishing followed. The three months I worked on the installation of this tile caused repetitive motion injuries to both my hands and wrists.

I thought since I was no longer doing tile work, the injuries would heal. A year later, I still hurt. Every time I went to do something that required grip, it killed me. I considered that I would have to make that dreaded doctors appointment and get myself fixed. That’s when I remembered the “Wrist Wand.”

I went on the interenet and found the website and watched the video again. At first I couldn’t even do the full exercise. You start with the wand in front of you in your hands, palms up. The you bring it to your mid section palms to your chest, turning your hands downward and straightening out your arms as they go down towards your waist, palms once again out. Then keeping your arms straight, you lift your hands over your head as far up as they’ll go. It stretches your wrists and shoulders. Watch this video to get the idea of what I’m talking about. The manufacturer http://www.wristwand.com/ removed his video because people found out you can make your own. What was happening though was that without the soft grips it puts a lot of pressure on the thumbs and people were complaining about bruises.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ndSmIR3evn0

I couldn’t even keep my grip as I pushed down to the waist, let alone lift up in the air above my head. I didn’t do this every hour. I did it once a day in the morning for ten half reps. After about a month, I could do a full half rep and another month a full rep for ten reps. A year later, I do 30 full reps every morning and my pain is gone. I could do more but this is enough to keep me well. I feel fantastic. It really is a magic “wrist wand.”



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Finding Treasure

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After I retired in 2008, my wife and I decided to start walking for exercise. We walked 3 to 5 miles a day for almost a year. One of the things we did while walking was to search for treasure. It truly is amazing what people leave lying around the street. We have found silverware, tools, knives, jewelry, a whole assortment of trinkets, and money. We would take our treasure home with us and place it in a big jar. On one of our walks, we found a lid for the jar. There’s a chicken on top of the lid that appears to be from some type of canister set. We moved up on a hill and adopted a stray dog. The dog wasn’t leash trained and we didn’t want him following us through the busy streets, so now we work out at home, and don't do much walking. But, whenever we’re out, if we happen upon a worthy piece of treasure it still comes home to it’s new home in the jar. That is especially true for money. We’ll come out of restaurants and stores and find coins on sidewalks and in parking lots. That money is placed separate usually in my wife’s purse and always gets placed in the jar. We find that in finding money, we can judge the economy. When the economy went south, we pretty much quit finding anything. Lately, it must be getting better, because we are starting to find the money again. This morning, I found two one dollar bills in the hardware store parking lot. My guess is that it popped out of someone’s pocket as they pulled out their keys. When I got home and told my wife of the find, she watched closely to ensure I placed it in the jar. Maybe she doesn’t trust me. Anyway, I got to wondering just how much is in that two and a half year old treasure jar. So, I emptied it out, counted the money, and then put it all back in the jar. Here’s what we got:
one $10 bill, three $1 bills, 16 quarters, 74 dimes, 29 nickels, and 389 pennies totaling $30.14. At today’s high interest rate of maybe 1%, we would have had to have had about $1,200 in the bank for those whole 2 ½ years to get that kind of a return. Not bad for finding treasure and it’s not even buried.
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Some Things Are Worth Mentioning

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If I have something I like, I like recommending that item to my friends.



In 1974, I bought a Sanyo oscillating fan. It has a metal cage and a blue clear plastic blade. The parts that make it oscillate have long worn out but that fan is still working 36 years later.



The house I live in was built in 1988. The people who built it put in six Victorian style Casablanca ceiling fans. Twenty two years later, they all still work great. I’ve had to have two flywheels replaced but these fans look like new and should last forever. I love them!



My Nissan hardbody pickup is a 91. I bought it in October of 90 brand new. I paid it off when some accounts came due in January 91. Twenty years later, it runs fantastic. I’ve only put 75,000 miles on it. I’ve replaced the battery four times and the tires twice. Recently, I put on a new muffler. The first 15 years, it was garaged, but the last five it has set out. Except for when the battery died (four times), it has never failed to start. The ac works great on it. I’ve used it many times to haul gravel, appliances, and furniture. I would buy another one.



The last item I would like to mention is an ink pen. Until 2005, I had never had an ink pen last until it ran out of ink. How many times have you picked up a pen and went to write something and the ball was frozen. If you didn’t rip the paper, you had to grab something else and try scribbling with it until it started writing, if it ever worked again. Anyway, in 2005, my work bought some Pilot pens. They are clear and say Pilot BETTER Retractable Medium. Not one of these pens has ever failed to write and I’ve personally run at least ten of them out of ink.



Things you are happy with are worth telling people about.
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.Follow up Nov 15, 2010 - You can no longer find the Pilot BETTER pen.  Luckily, the Dr. Grip by Pilot uses the same "revolutionary ink."  It's a #77227 refill.
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For Those With Pets That Have Had To Make The Tough Decision

'nough said...

(click on picture before reading, then click again if you need it just a little bit bigger)

Lifetime Continuous Learning

Facebook is great. You get reacquainted with old friends and old aquaintances. Plus, it’s a sounding board. Especially for politics.

Recently, though, I learned a valuable lesson that I learned years ago. Somehow, I just forgot. That lesson “Nobody, I mean nobody cares what I think. Not anymore than I care about what they think.” So why do we continue pushing our thoughts towards others?

Maybe, we have this deep inner feeling that by shoving our opinions down peoples throats that we will miraculously save them from being wrong. They definitely need to see my way….. or do they? Turns out, they think they’re smarter than me, and they want to miraculously save me from myself because they know that I’m a complete moron.

That’s ok, please try to convince me. I love learning new ideas, but from now on, don’t expect me to cram my ideas down your pie hole. I know better.

Several years ago, when I wanted to be successful, I studied the greats. Norman Vincent Peale. Napoleon Hill. Dale Carnegie. I even listened to the new guys. Anthony Robbins. Brian Tracy. I can honestly say, I think it worked. I think I’m successful. I own two houses out right. I have a Corvette, a Mustang, and a truck, all paid for. I am debt free and I retired at 54 from a second career. I don’t consider myself rich, but I do think I have succeeded in my career goals. I would still like to better my financial position, but who wouldn’t.

One thing I prided myself in was problem solving. I believe that every situation, once over, should be analyzed. What did I do right, what wrong? How will I react next time. I honestly believe this has kept me from harm’s way in both careers.

I always believed in listening to both sides (or more) before making a decision. Of course, in police work, you sometimes have to make a snap judgement and act, even if it turns out wrong. Then you analyze.

Lately, though, I have become an asshole. I became the people I hate. You know, the ones who think they are smarter and better than you. They bore you with facts to show their superiority and so you can see how smart they are. They interrupt when your talking and interject their thoughts because they are obviously more important than yours. Yup, bad news, that’s me. Luckily, I have realized this to some extent and pray that I can learn from this and change back to the old me.

Back to re-learning and continuing on a lifetime of education.

Publicize My Thoughts?

I have published my thoughts on this blog and have done so for some time. Before the internet, I used to blog, but it didn’t have a name and they weren’t posted where strangers could happen upon them. But do I publicize them now? Tough question.

Way back in 1970, there was a guy named Vic who was a senior on the track team and I, a junior. We both were high jumpers. I can’t remember ever beating him. One meet, I finally hit 6’0”. I think Vic may have gone 6’1” at that meet. I’m not sure if he ever knew, but I was kinda jealous. Vic was leading the way. The way I wanted to go. I wanted to be #1. He was.

I haven’t seen Vic since then (1970) but he has appeared one again in my life via facebook. I love technology.

Well, here’s the deal. Vic is once again leading the way. Vic has a blog. He writes on it often and it’s very good. Plus, he’s got followers and he wants people to read it. Do I follow the path that he has created or do I continue to write for myself? Do I let people in on ME, what I’m all about. Tough call. I’m not sure. Scares hell outa me.

Let me think about it. We’ll see if I’m that brave. I know, I know. 20 years plus in the military, 20 years as a cop, what have I got to be afraid of? Rejection, failure? Like I pondered before, letting people in?

Still thinking.

Smog Test

I went to get my smog test. $39.99

I went to my normal guy, Joe who has been doing my smog testing for years. He and a guy named Mike aka Shorty (cause he’s about 4 foot nothing) used to do it in the 90’s when I had our Olds Cutlass and on the truck. They had a shop in Hemet. They split up and Joe moved his place to San Jacinto.

So every two years, I go see Joe. Well, Joe’s machine broke and it’ll cost over $30K to replace it. He says then in 2012, the laws change so he’ll need to put another $50k into the business for udated equipment. He says he makes less than $20 per car, so he would have to do over 4000 cars just to pay for the equipment, and that’s not counting the rest of his overhead.

So now, Joe no longer does smog testing. He sent me to Kurt at Hurley’s. Kurt is a guy I worked with at the PD’s brother in law.

Kurt says that he is a smog repair station and I need to go to a test only place to get the test done and he can’t recommend anyone, but since I had been with Joe so long, had I seen Shorty’s place.

So I went to Shorty’s which is called Juan’s Test Only Smog Station. I almost died. I had to go into a dry cleaners, Juan’s, to set up the test, then drive around back. There was Mike/ Shorty right there.

They had a garage around back of the dry cleaners. Juan was the original owner of the dry cleaners and he and Shorty partnered in the smog testing. Shorty bought out Juan and now he and his daughter run the dry cleaners and the smog place.

Shorty was wearing a shirt that said “if it has wheels or a skirt, I can’t afford it.”

So I got my smog test done. Now I gotta pay DMV fees and I’ll be legal.

The Good and Bad Haircut, No Difference

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August 18th, 2010
So, this morning I screwed around too long. The dog got me up early and wanted out and threw the whole schedule off. Put the coffee a little late, therefore delayed the workout…..

I’m definitely a creature of habit. I had planned on going down to the Chevy dealer today and talking about a recall on the Vette. Nothing exciting, a 20 minute job. But, you know how these poop heads are they won’t make it easy on ya. You gotta drop the car off and leave it all day for the 20 minute job.

So, anyway, I decided to sand the cabinets instead, then Barbi came in and said “It’s already 85 degrees. Gonna be a hot one.” Scrub the cabinets idea.

So I decide I needed a haircut. I pulled out the clippers, cleaned out the sink, etc. Barbi says “No, you need to go get a haircut.”

So after lunch, I head out. I go to the usual place cause it’s close. I like another place better but it’s a drive and the guy that does my hair is semi retired meaning he closes whenever he decides, so ya never know if he’ll be there or not.

Anyway, I get up to the door and there’s a sign “Be back at 1:30.” It’s already one. So instead, there’s a place close to where I was (right across the street in a strip mall) and I head over there. This strip mall is situated in such a way that you almost have to drive around the block to get in from where I was. It’s a timing thing and my timing was off so I was kinda stuck in traffic and finally did drive around the block to get there. Now, I’m wishing I had just trimmed it up myself or gone down to Chuck’s (the semi retired guy) hoping he would be there.

So, I finally get in the parking lot and there’s no place to park. It’s one way and I’m not about to go back out on the street just to drive back around the block. I pull over the best I can and start backing up, making people pass me. I finally get parked and walk over to the barber shop. I walk in.

Something looks wrong, but a heat wave hit me upon opening the door and I couldn’t figure out why the hell it was so hot. When you walk in from outside, it’s supposed to hit you with cool.

A voice asked if she could help me. I look up and realize what’s different. The barber shop was now gone. The barber chairs were still there but the racks by the chairs got beauty products instead of car magazines. I say “Oh, I was gonna get a haircut.” She, a 70 year old Hispanic gal says “Come on in, we do both men and women.” I think WTF, let’s get this done.

She motions me in the chair and wraps the usual apron/ cape around me and walks off. I’m looking at this place. Someone had wall papered the cabinets and it was a real shitty job. The whole place looked like a dump and I kinda felt like I was in Tijuana or Juarez or maybe a third world country.

Then this little cute dog comes out of nowhere and jumps up on me wanting attention. I start petting him/her and think, why is it so freakin’ hot in here. Then I look up and see the lady over at the fuse panel turning one of those timers like in a tanning booth. I feel a blast of air come out of the vent above me.

So I tell this lady I’m just looking for an inch off the top and a nice taper on the sides and back. The dog goes and lays down in the corner, the lady starts on my hair and the world is good.

The air starts getting a tiny bit cooler. She is taking her time and doing a pretty good job. But, she’s very slow. What should have taken maybe 15 minutes has now run into a good half hour and I’m still hot and now I’m falling asleep.

Just when I’m thinking to myself that she may be finished, she grabs a hand full of clear goop and starts massaging it into my hair. It felt very good. Then she wipes her hands and I think she’s gonna grab the comb, but oh heck no. She goes back to the massage and boy did it feel good. Kinda reminded me of the barbers in Japan. She does a good massage. Gets the scalp, gets around the ears real good, then the neck, then the shoulders. I was stating to get worried when she finally stopped.

I’m thinking ok, let’s get the hell outa here. But oh hell nooooo, she pulls out this big flash light lookin thing and turns it on. It was an infra red massaging vibrating dildo. She pops this baby on the back of my neck. OK it felt good. I’m really getting worried now. I’m praying someone else will walk into the shop. I’ve been in there close to an hour by now.

All along, I’m making small talk, Boy, that sure is relaxing, I wish I didn’t have to go back to work and anything else that popped in my head. Plus it’s still hotter that hell in the place. I think the timer went off.

She finally finishes up and unsnaps the cape around my neck. Thank god, I can get out. Nope, now she’s gotta put shave cream around my neck and get those little hairs that was under the cape.

I was really starting to tense up again and was afraid she would start massaging again. She trimmed up the eyebrows. Finally she combs my hair again, pulls off the cape, holds up a mirror behind my head so I can see in the mirror and says “What ju thin.”

Fantastic, how much do I owe you, I gotta get back to work. She shyly says “$10” in that tone like ya know, that’s not too much is it? Jesus, that’s not bad. I gave her $12 being the generous sole I am. Hey that’s 20%! Don’t judge.

I was just glad to get outa there. As I walked out, the cool 95 degree air from outside hit me like a cool breeze. I almost ran to the car and headed home. Holy smokes, what an experience.

I got home and Barbi just gushes on how that’s probably one of the best haircuts I’ve had and how good it looks. I went up and washed the goop out and shampoo’d. Not bad, I guess. Barbi still thinks it looks good. So I started thinking, maybe I’ll go back there next time. The price was right.

Don't Judge Too Quickly

I watched this video this afternoon and read and listened to all the "outrage" from the public.




http://www.ktla.com/news/landing/ktla-deaf-shoppers-tackled,0,6097535.story

It's a shame, but don't be so fast to judge.

My Mom has a saying, "Don't believe anything you hear, and only half of what ya see."

I stopped a guy in 1992 for one of those stupid right turn only violations on Florida Ave. He pulled into Furrs parking lot and drives around, then pulls back out onto the street.

Red lights and siren, calling for failure to yield on the radio. Blood pressure shooting through the top of my head. Mind is racing like a big dog.

Finally he stops. All four doors on the car open up. The drives starts running at me while reaching inside his jacket. He came real close to being "dead right there."

Turns out, he was a deaf Canadian congressman on vacation visiting some relatives. The others all jumped out of the car to tell me he was deaf.

I mean, we're talking nano seconds to me pulling the trigger. I'm yelling stay in the car, then put your hands up, then stop, stop, stop.

He was reaching for his diplomatic passport. Ya think that wouldn't have caused some outrage. I would have been the bad guy and would have had to live with that the rest of my life.

I figured what the hay, this guy almost died, so I gave him a warning. Then I got in trouble. You mean you had to pull your gun and didn't even write the guy a ticket?

Back to this security guard. I'm sure the tackle came after a tug on the arm and some resistance.

Or maybe the security guard woke up this morning and said "Boy, I hope I get to wrestle with some deaf guy today, and ruin my whole freakin life. Maybe I'll get lucky and get fired and maybe even sued! Woohoo!"

Never be too fast to judge. That's what the courts are for.

Remember this, the media is there to SELL the news. If it doesn't create sensationalism, it doesn't sell advertisement.

Ask a newsman how much reporting he'd do if he quit getting paid. Think back over the past year. Flu pandemic, BP worst oil disaster in US history, the cops acted stupidly in Cambridge,.... and on and on....

Undercover Boss

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In 1986, my wife and I lived in Lake Forest, California. At the time, the address was El Toro. Down on Rockfield Blvd there was a pizza place. I don’t remember anything special about this place except that it was one of those places where you ordered and picked up your pizza over here, and over there you got your drinks. We had ordered our pizza and my wife found us a pretty good table and I went to get the drinks. There were several people in front of me and a lady directly in front of me who I’d say was about 55 years old. She didn’t strike me as being special. She was dressed just like the rest of us in jeans and a tee. She did have an empty pitcher in her hand. We all waited silently and if any contact was made at all, it was just a polite smile or a nod. Finally, it was her turn in line. There were two guys at the drink bar. One was younger taking orders and the other in probably his late 20’s was filling those orders. The lady popped the pitcher on the bar and politely asked “can I just get half a pitcher?” The young man immediately responded by saying “I’m sorry, we can only sell by the mug or by a full pitcher.” She then said she’d take a whole pitcher. The older guy filling the orders, turned and said, “for you, we’ll make an exception,” and presented her with a half pitcher and continued “it’s on the house.” She then thanked the young man, grabbed the pitcher and turned to walk away. I thought to myself “How cool was that, maybe I can get some free beer, too.” Before I could order, the older guy leaned to the younger guy and said “that lady owns this place.”

In 1960, there was a Bing Crosby movie “High Time” where Bing was a successful owner of a chain of burger restaurants. Once he got successful (MILLIONAIRE successful) , he decided to fulfill his dream of getting his college degree. Bing joins a fraternity and decides to treat his college friends to what he said were the best hamburgers ever. When they got there and ordered, the burgers came out horrible. Bing told the waiter so. The waiter was kinda snobbish and begged to differ. Bing then announced who he was and then gave the waiter and the cook a much needed lesson on how the burgers were supposed to be cooked and how his restaurants are run.

I have a friend who owns two chain fast food restaurants. He is also retired from another successful career. I ask him one day why he went into the fast food restaurant business when I know he makes a pretty decent retirement check from that previous career. His reply was “Visions of Grandeur.” He told me he thought he could buy the already successful restaurants, hire someone else to run them, and sit back counting his cash. He’s owned them over ten years now and still can’t find anyone he trusts enough to turn the business over to. He gets up everyday and goes in and runs his business. Even when he’s not there, he’s continuously on the phone to his managers.

I have the same dream of owning a place where I don’t have to do anything but kick back and count the cash. Once in a great while, I can pop in for a surprise visit. What lessons can we learn from these three stories?

If you love baseball…

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Today, I watched the induction ceremonies for the 2010 baseball hall of fame. One of the inductees was Andre Dawson, an outfielder who played 21 seasons for four different teams.

The “Hawk” as his uncle nicknamed him as a youngster, had blown out a knee in high school from what sounded like playing a different sport. Bad enough that he had to have an operation. He then went on to play college ball wearing a brace. He must have done well cause he was drafted by the Montreal Expos.

He played ten years in Montreal on artificial turf at exhibition stadium. He blew his knee out again during that Montreal stretch and had to have another operation. After that tenth season, he decided there was no way he could continue playing on artificial turf, (plus he was offered a pay cut) so he became a free agent. Unfortunately, no one wanted him.

When it came time for spring training, he was still not signed. Andre wanted to play baseball. Every one told him he’d had it and it was time to move on. But, Andre still wanted to play. So, his agent, Dick Moss came up with a brilliant idea. They arrived at the Cubs spring training and approached them with an offer. Let Andre try out with the Cubs and Moss handed them a contract with all the numbers blank. Give him what you feel he’s worth. It was dubbed the “blank check contract.”

The Cubs gave him a half million bucks, cutting his pay by 2/3’s. The Hawk responded by hitting 49 homers, making the All Star’s, and being the league MVP.

Andre went on to play another 10 seasons after that for the Cubs, Red Sox, and Marlins. Along the line, he had another knee operation and after baseball had both knees replaced.

During the Hawks induction speech, he made this statement many times. “If you love baseball, baseball will love you back!”