Monday, April 30, 2007

THIS IS NOT A LINK

Heaven-forbid, if it’s all-caps someone might think it’s a link.
This is a debate we used to have at the mighty Mezz; how to have our web-site not turn off potentials users.
It arose out of the fact most at the mighty Mezz had Internet-Explorer 5.0 for a browser — only Matt Ried (the webmaster) and I had 5.1.
In fact my browser at first was 5.0, but I upgraded to 5.1 MYSELF (not a link). It was free; and the ‘pyooter-guru acquiesced.
The HTML-code for the web-site had been written by the webmaster; the way I probably would have done it: i.e. try something, and then see how it looks under his browser (5.1).
The end-result was the site looked FINE (not a link) under 5.1, but was all-over-the-map under 5.0.
A coworker would fire up the site with 5.0, and story-text bled off the screen, pictures didn’t appear, and huge blank white areas did.
You could hardly tell it was a site.
And so ensued the debate.
“The average Granny,” I said; “is firing up the site with a browser from the last century, on a PC held together with paperclips and bobbie-pins.”
“They’re getting it over a phone-modem. They don’t even have cable. We’re using a T-1.”
“Well tough!” the webmaster would say. “They need to upgrade. I can’t revise that web-site just to accommodate antiques.”
So now I guess I have to dumb down my content.
Heaven-forbid someone might mistake underlining for a link.
So okay if they did — in which case you try it.
“HMMMMMMMMMNNNNNNNNNNN......... Nothing happened. Must not be a link; ah-duh.”
And so the mastery of ‘pyooter-trickery gets sent packing; drowned by boring conventionality.
Obviously Marcy would only get everyone at FlagOut upset. Her blog has lots of HTML-formatting — which she can do.
I haven’t tried — why bother? No one reads blogs anyway, and the blog-site template looks acceptable.
So the blog will continue to have rudimentary HTML: underlining, bold, italic, red-fonts, bullets, etc.
Links too. Dave Wheeler’s blog has links galore — and they’re HTML h-ref tags; a blog-thing.
As I recall, the bluster-boy noisily accused me of a fast-one when I made text italic. (Oh, how the mighty have fallen.)
But that won’t happen any more on FlagOut. It might get perceived as a link.
Which I guess means no more attaching pictures to a text-post. The HTML button is verbotten. Hup-hup!

  • “The mighty Mezz” is the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper where I once worked.
  • The “‘pyooter-guru” was the computer-techy at the mighty Mezz.
  • I’m accused of too much underlining, which can be confused with a link.
  • “Marcy” was a coworker at the mighty Mezz. She worked in the cubicle next to me.
  • The “bluster-boy” is my macho younger brother-in-Boston.
  • RE: “Which I guess means no more attaching pictures to a text-post. The HTML button is verbotten.........” Our family’s web-site (FlagOut) will only attach pictures to a text-post if HTML is enabled.
  • Sunday, April 29, 2007

    “Tiger, Tiger, Burning Bright......”

    ........is a line of poetry, written by William Blake, the so-called Hasidic-Jew repeated to me often.
    The so-called Hasidic-Jew (Dave Wheeler), like me, also graduated Houghton, although 20+ years after me. He was an editor at the mighty Mezz.
    Apparently Wheeler had an English professor, William Greenway, at Houghton we also had. Greenway was just staring his career when we were there (Linda had him; I didn’t), and was about to retire when Wheeler had him.
    Wheeler had a Lit-tra-tchure class in a vast auditorium in Houghton’s oldest remaining building (Fancher Hall), and Greenway would slowly and ponderously recite this poem, putting everyone to sleep.
    Last night (Saturday, April 28, 2007) I installed OS-X Tiger on this here rig. Apparently my ‘pyooter came with OS-X Jaguar (10.2), but every software upgrade seemed to differentiate between Jaguar and Tiger (10.4), so I got Tiger.
    Other considerations applied, namely that:
    -My “Little Mac Book” was for OS-X Tiger.
    and......
    -My Jaguar was not giving me the option of getting the time from the dreaded Nist-site.
    But the main consideration was that software upgrades seemed to be delineating between 10.2 and 10.4. There was no sense upgrading to 10.2 softwares if some day I was gonna upgrade my OS-X to 10.4.
    “Here goes,” I said as I gingerly inserted the 10.4 DVD into the slot.
    Click-wirrrrrr. The drive was feverishly and almost silently spinning the disc.
    Suddenly a window appeared on the screen, so I hit “continue;” and apparently the rig restarted: (“Taa-DAAAAAAAAA!!!!”).
    But it appeared it was restarting from the DVD — the restart was taking as long as a disc-boot (about four times as long — almost two minutes).
    The process then dipped into a scan-disc, first of the OS-X installation DVD, and then the machine hard-drive (the destination-disc).
    Each scan-disc took about 15-20 minutes, so I left and perused my new Car & Driver magazine.
    Scan-discs finished, it began installing Tiger by itself, a process that took 10-15 minutes.
    Tiger looks a lot like Jaguar; just slightly different coloration on a few dock-icons.
    The upgrade also failed to find two dock-aliases (“shortcuts”) I had made: my Quark alias, and an alias to the system-preferences.
    I don’t know as I need that system-preferences alias, as it’s also an Apple-menu item, but my original Jaguar had it, and somehow it got vaporized, so I made a replacement.
    The “Find” function is also different, although mainly its display. Plus there doesn’t seem to be a “Find” button to initiate the search; just crank the file-name into the tiny search-window, and the system starts looking on its own.
    There also is some “spotlight” function to search for any line of text that ever appeared on your ‘pyooter. This sounds a lot like Linda’s Google-toolbar, which we used to make up for the fact MyFamblee’s search was so atrocious.
    There also are 89-bazilyun other bell-and-whistles I’ll never use — like four-way video-conferencing. —So what, pray tell, is wrong with using the phone?
    There also is something for organizing pictures — download your flashcard from your camera (digital), and then organize everything so that images are viewable as multiple thumbs.
    9.2 probably had that too, but what I used was Photoshop, which only displayed one thumb at a time. (But I needed Photoshop to fiddle the image: e.g., resize, tint [like to offset blue snow], and increase contrast. I also was removing red-eye with PS, and overwrote Elz’s knees.)
    Multiple-thumbs is easier to deal with than searching a folder one thumb at a time — or writing up the contents of a disc so I don’t hafta search.

  • Viewing a picture of Dave Wheeler, my sister-in-Floridy declared he looked like a “Hasidic-Jew.”
  • “Houghton College” is the college I graduated from in 1966.
  • The “mighty Mezz” is the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper, where I once worked.
  • “Linda” is my wife. She also graduated Houghton.
  • “Dreaded Nist-site” is the atomic-clock in Boulder, Col. They send out a time-signal over the Internet my ‘pyooter reads; so it is possible to align all my clocks with the atomic-clock; which my macho brother-in-Boston thinks is utterly stupid. I don’t care that much, but since I can, I do. My Jaguar was reading Apple-time, which was about 20 seconds ahead of the Nist-site.
  • I am a long-time subscriber to Car & Driver magazine; about 40 years.
  • “Elz” is my sister-in-Floridy (Fort Lauderdale). She once posted a picture that inadvertantly included her knees, which I replaced with adjacent beach-sand using Photoshop.
  • Saturday, April 28, 2007

    Flashdance

    At long last, an update of Adobe FlashPlayer is installed on this here rig. I think it’s 9,0,45,0.
    In pre-OS-X days, I wasn’t much for installing player updates. It was a reflection that WXXI, the local classical-music radio-station we listen to, wanted yet another RealPlayer to stream its audio-feed. (Every time I wanted to stream it, it wanted another RealPlayer.)
    I already had five.
    So every time a site suggested a player-update I passed. I wasn’t that desperate.
    Recently my friend CG e-mailed a .wmv (Windows Media-Player file).
    I had a WMP under 9.2; I got it so I could play Straight’s video of an Amtrak express blasting Claymont-station.
    But that WMP was old, and Apple had a new WMP on its downloadable software site.
    That there WMP wasn’t there when I went to download it, so I Googled Windows Media-Player, and downloaded it from a MicroSoft-site, I guess.
    It was free.
    It’s a freestanding app, so currently I play Charlie’s .wmv by opening with WMP (or double-clicking the desktop icon).
    So now Suzuki was suggesting an updated FlashPlayer.
    Okay; I’ve received enough other solicitations to update FlashPlayer.
    So now I open the Suzuki-site, and it prances-and-dances every which way. Fades and shade-rolls; the whole stinkin’ kabosh.
    I also went to some .wmv that took at least a minute to load-and-buffer.
    Whoop-de-doooooo! Screaming video of screaming cars. Inexplicably it ends in the middle of a river an SX4 is fording at 152 mph. (I have a hunch the wave had a glitch in it — I’ve had others do the same; and yet the audio continues.)
    Click the “Take-a-Tour” button and you get a bunch of baloney about “hard-charging life; you work hard, you play hard; shake up the status-quo.”
    All we want is acceptable function and no trouble.
    The update apparently updated all my browser FlashPlayer players.

  • “CG” is my friend Charlie Gardiner, whom I graduated from Houghton College with back in 1966.
  • “WMP” is of course Windows Media-Player.
  • “Straight” is my younger brother Bill who lives in northern Delaware. He goes by the nickname “Straight-Arrow.”
  • RE: “Amtrak express blasting Claymont-station........” Amtrak’s electrically-powered Northeast-Corridor goes through the old Claymont-station in northern Delaware. The trains go through at about 100 mph.
  • The Suzuki-SX4 is a car we’re considering buying.
  • My brother-in-Delaware has a turbocharged Volvo he claims will do “152” mph.
  • Thursday, April 26, 2007

    Suzuki SX4

    Suzuki SX4 station-wagon.
    It’s beginning to look like our car-choice to replace the CR-V will be the Suzuki SX4 station-wagon.
    No doubt this will prompt fevered blustering from West Bridgewater that I should purchase a gigantic gas-swilling four-door Chevrolet pickup-truck, even though what we’re trying to do here is get away from a cheer-uck.
    Suzuki SX4 for the following reasons:
    -Primary is the fact Toyota has discontinued its AWD (all-wheel-drive) version of its fabulous Matrix (a station-wagon), which is what I wanted to replace the CR-V with.
    -An alternative was the Subaru, but we road-tested a few a couple years ago, and they like to tightly confine the driver.
    -I’ve road-tested both the new CR-V and the Toyota RAV4. The new CR-V replaces the side-hinged rear-door with a top-hinged hatch, but the RAV4 hasn’t. —Why should I back a car in just to keep the rear-door from hitting the garage-door, when I can buy a top-hinged hatch that won’t?
    This makes as much sense as buying a bed-cover so that groceries don’t get snowed-on in an open pickup bed.
    Not to mention 80 bucks every week for a fill up.
    Plus Linda would be saddled with an aircraft-carrier instead of a car.
    I remember it took two moves to park the E250 at mighty Weggers.
    Here we are at the Canandaigua YMCA and a giant Ford dually was trying to exit the parking-lot.
    No wonder it was swilling gas. It took 20 minutes of navigating at idle — just to exit.
    Back up about three feet; spin front-wheels over to full left lock; pull forward about three feet; spin front-wheels over to full right lock; back up; and on-and-on it went — at least five moves.
    It took ten minutes just to get turned 90 degrees.
    Plus another ten minutes to pull out of the parking-lot. And perish-the-thought, if someone had the awful temerity and unmitigated gall and horrific audacity to come down the street, the dually had to back out-of-the-way and start over.
    What the guy needed was a crane to lift his truck outta the parking-lot (and then place it gingerly onto the street).
    Imagine trying to do all this without power-steering. Quite a few of our older buses lacked power-steering, which meant standing up to lever the wheel.
    -Both the new CR-V and the RAV4 are rather large. They also sit rather high. They ain’t cars......
    -I also need all-wheel-drive (AWD). If the Susy-Q weren’t AWD I’d pass. AWD means I can skip blowing out the driveway (in most cases — over eight inches it gets blown out).
    The girl who cooks dinner for the 93-year-old nosy neighbor traded her Jeep-Liberty for an SX4.
    So I asked to look at it.
    It’s a so-called “crossover;” but to me it’s a car.
    Folded up the rear-seats still partially block the rear-doors, but they also fill the gap like the CR-V did, plus the remaining floor is flat (a Sube ain’t).
    And the floor-height is nowhere near as high as the CR-V.
    It’s pretty much the same as the Matrix, only smaller; a fair approximation of the Faithful Hunda — the BEST car we ever owned.
    Who woulda thought 40 years ago I would eventually be buying a Jap car (“I can still see that oily black pillar-of-smoke towering above that ship”). We sure have come a long way since the Blue Bomb.
    But I have owned quite a few Jap cars. The Faithful Hunda was a Jap car, as is the Bucktooth Bathtub.
    And regrettably Chevrolet doesn’t make anything as good as a Jap car. I’d be interested in the Chevrolet HHR (we rented one at the shadow of the mighty De Land water-tower in Floridy), but it ain’t all-wheel-drive. (Plus it’s like driving a submarine. The windows are like gun-slits.)
    I remember years ago when Honda fielded its first car; a tiny 600cc mini. It seemed a joke, but now look at Honda.
    So now Suzuki is doing the same: making cars as well as motorbikes. That leaves Yamaha and Kawasaki — I predict I’ll be buying a car from them before I kick-the-bucket. Or maybe Chinese.
    Our next move is for Linda to test-drive the SX4 to make sure it isn’t a submarine to her. It means contacting the vipers at MarketPlace Suzuki on auto-row in deepest-darkest Henrietta. MarketPlace, represented by “Tony,” a tiny balding Italian, advertises all-the-time on local TV.
    There are only two Suzuki-dealers in the Rochester market. The other is Irondequoit Suzuki, represented by “Bimbo,” a big balding fat guy. Irondequoit Suzuki is too far away; MarketPlace Suzuki is far enough. (“Bimbo” is rather disgusting.)

  • “West Bridgewater” south of Boston is where my all-knowing macho brother Jack lives. To him the greatest vehicle on-the-market is the mighty Hummer.
  • RE: “Why should I back a car in just to keep the rear-door from hitting the garage-door.......” My brother-in-Boston noisily advised this is what I should do to counteract that the side-hinged rear-door on our CR-V hit the garage-door.
  • “Linda” is my wife.
  • The “E250” was our 1979 Ford Econoline van; the neatest vehicle we’ve ever owned.
  • RE: “a few of our older buses.....” For 16&1/2 years I drove transit-bus for Regional Transit Service in Rochester.
  • The “Faithful Hunda” was our 1989 Honda Civic all-wheel-drive station-wagon. “Hunda” because that was how a bus-driver pronounced “Honda.”
  • My wife’s 91-year old mother lives in a retirement-community in “the shadow of the mighty De Land water-tower” in De Land, Floridy.
  • The “Blue Bomb” was the car I learned how to drive in, a navy-blue 1953 Chevrolet Two-Ten two-door sedan with PowerGlide automatic-transmission and tinted-glass.
  • The “Bucktooth Bathtub” is the nickname for our 2005 Toyota Sienna van; “Bathtub” because it’s white, and like sitting in a bathtub; and “Bucktooth” because it appears to have a bucktooth on the grill.
  • Tuesday, April 24, 2007

    ‘pyooter wars

    Well CG, your comment about the dreaded PC versus MAC wars got me thinking*; perish-the-thought.
    As far as I’m concerned, the wars over PC versus MAC make as much sense as Ford versus Chevrolet.
    I’ve owned and driven both, including PCs and MACs, and don’t feel any is vastly superior, at least not now.
    I purchased a MAC mainly because the mighty Mezz was gonna go MAC, which I suppose was superior AT THAT TIME.
    My experience with PCs at the newspaper was very frustrating.
    The main problem was that our Rastorized-Image-Processor (the RIP) was a PC, and it had to translate everything for a MAC-based image-setter. Quite often it would hang and have to be rebooted.
    These hangs would make the paper late.
    So techy advisors suggested “what are you doing driving that MAC image-setter with a PC? Why don’t you just bite the bullet and drive it with a MAC?” (There were no PC image-setters AT THAT TIME.)
    The other thing was that at that time MAC seemed to be superior for graphic applications: Freehand, Quark and PhotoShop (the big three).
    I took a course about eight years ago in PhotoShop, and they had it on PCs. “Please wait while Windoze calculates the value of Pi. OOOHHHHHMMMMMMMM........”
    “Sorry about the PCs, students. We couldn’t afford MACs.”
    And then there was the time I visited an auto-dealer in nearby Honeoye Falls about replacing our Astrovan — this was three-or-four years ago.
    The salesman got on the dealership PC, and started to try to drive the GM-site.
    I finally walked out: “OOOHHHHHMMMMMMMM........ Please wait.”
    Admitted, I think the salesman was technically-challenged, but we seemed to be experiencing the dreaded PC pattern here.
    Last summer we visited my brother-near-Boston to attend his daughter’s wedding. This is the guy who continually trumpets the incredible superiority of Gates.
    We started dickering the vaunted Internet with his supposedly fabulous PC-laptop. Again: “OOOHHHHHMMMMMMMM........ Please wait.” 89 bazilyun versions of the hourglass, but hourglass-city.
    Moves were taking twice as long as I’m used to.
    On numerous occasions I’ve had to drive PCs, like at libraries and motels. One motel had a Red-Hat PC that appeared to be Linux.
    Linda has a PC too; that’s what her job used. And I drove it for the week-and-a-half the MAC was in the shop.
    As far as I can see, a MAC doesn’t have a leg up on a PC, although it might.
    “PhotoShop Elements” on her PC is not as fast as PhotoShop on my MAC — but fast enough.
    Mainly the frustration of driving her PC was unfamiliarity with the machine; and this has been the case with library and motel PCs.
    Plus things seem a bit more contorted versus a MAC.
    But a PC had one advantage over a MAC: mainly, it gives the path of the file you’re in.
    The MAC only does that after a “search.”
    This has been irksome in the past, since we never knew what file my Quicken was in. —So that updating, or archiving, was at-that-time a guessing-game.
    But we noticed that Quicken was saying what file it was in when it fired up, so that setting up Quicken under OS-X was easy.
    And I’ve yet to have OS-X crash — don’t know about Windoze.
    I had 9.2 crash enough. An app would hang, and take out the keyboard and/or the mouse. OS-X apparently segregates each app in system-memory, so that an app-freeze doesn’t blast the rig.
    I’ve had to force-quit often enough — particularly from Internet-Explorer, the browser that comes with OS-X. Maybe I could have force-quit the app under 9.2, but as I recall, the keyboard and/or mouse often bombed too; i.e. the entire rig.
    Don’t know if Windoze has finally advanced to this stage — perhaps with Vista they have.
    I remember Windoze was dragged kicking-and-screaming (or so it seemed) into the graphical-interface — an Apple idea.
    Our first ‘pyooter was a PC; a 386-40, with Windoze 3.0 at first.
    Later we upgraded to 3.1; and both were graphical-interface, but the graphical-interface commands were being translated into DOS-commands in the background.
    I guess Gates finally dragged into the graphical-interface, but all I remember was that our old RIP-PC, the onliest PC we had remaining when the paper was all-MAC, had Windoze-95, and it wouldn’t shut off unless you pulled the plug.
    A reboot — required fairly often — meant the whole stinkin’ kabosh: scan-disk, everything — “please wait.”
    The wars with my brother arose out of my saying the MAC was superior to the PC — which he had, and I was only driving a Tinker-Toy MAC. And since the mighty Mezz (like most newspapers; e.g. his vaunted Boston-Herald — and Limberger too) was driving MACs, that explained why the Messenger was so reprehensible.
    And AT THAT TIME, it seemed superior. Our image-setter problems, and late papers, were solved by switching to MAC. It probably cost us more than a general PC upgrade, but the Executive-Editor was tired of late papers.
    Plus right about that time, Apple began low-balling the IMAC, so that 89 bazilyun were purchased instead of PCs, allowing the reporters (and hourlies like me) to be MAC too.
    Classified and Subscriptions remained PC — same ancient rigs they had driven for years. (I remember their monitors were only low-tech cathode-ray with orange text; probably very low rez.)
    But Display-Advertising switched to MAC, mainly because that was better for the Big Three.
    Plus, as noted, the newsroom went all-MAC. Page-editors, who assembled the pages as a Quark-file for the image-setters (by then we had gone up to three — so we could fully ‘pyooterize) went to MAC G3 towers.
    My first MAC — our second rig — was a beige G3 desktop. My current rig is a G4 double-processor tower — I’m told a great workhorse for crunching graphics, like in PhotoShop.
    I got 1.2 gigs of RAM on this here rig, mainly because I was tired of getting the “not-enough-memory” message. The hard-drive is 60 gig, and yet to be streamlined; although I’m told the OS part was defragged when it was in the shop.
    So for text-files (like this), it’s overkill — but I’ve often done PhotoShop manipulation.
    Whether or not a browser played wave-files to me is a function of what players the browser points at — not what platform it is. To get my FireFox to point at my WMP is a question for a ‘pyooter-techy. Ya don’t toss the whole rig into Canandaigua Lake just because it won’t play waves.
    I poked around with my FireFox a bit yesterday (Monday, April 24, 2007), but I don’t see a player-pointer.

    RE: “*Thinking........”
    About 12 years ago I was loudly excoriated by a sports-editor because I made the mistake of saying: “but I thought that was what you wanted.” (I had started the sports-scoreboard page exactly as instructed, and then he went ballistic when his idea crashed mightily in flames.)
    “Ya gotta watch that there ‘thinkin’’ stuff,” he said. “I’m the editor; you’re just the hourly.”
    Finally I got tired of all his insane blustering, and shouted back at him. “So what is it that you want?” I asked. “Ya say ya want this, and then go ballistic when it doesn’t work, as if I were at fault for following your instruction. You want me to be Kenny Rush, which I’m not; so that you can let someone else do all your pagination. You’ve gotta stop treating me like some kind of imbecile!”

  • “CG” is Charlie Gardiner, whom I graduated from college with (Houghton College) back in 1966. Charlie drives a PC.
  • “Linda” is my wife.
  • “Windoze” is of course “Windows.” “Windoze” came from the MAC-evangelist at the mighty Mezz, the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper where I once worked. The “MAC-evangelist” was Bob Hartle, who worked as an artist in display-advertising, and was extremely ‘pyooter-savvy. (I don’t think he was ever paid what he was worth......)
  • “Limberger” is of course Rush Limbaugh. I call him “Limberger” because I think he stinks. He drives a MAC.
  • “WMP” is Windows-Media-Player.
  • “Kenny Rush,” the so-called “Golden-boy,” was the number-one paste-up hourly when I first started (as paste-up) at the mighty Mezz. At that time the newspaper was still pasted-up — not ‘pyooterized. Kenny Rush died a little over a year ago — Lou Gehrig’s disease. Same age as me.
  • Monday, April 23, 2007

    Precise language

    Yesterday (Sunday, April 22, 2007) we decided to have subs for supper (super?).
    We have to buy these outside at a sub-shop. Actually Weggers is pretty decent. They make their subs fresh like Subway.
    I’ve tried to find the Subway in Canandaigua, but apparently it’s in a secret location.
    And since I’m hitting Weggers anyway, it saves me a separate trip.
    One afternoon, when Linda was in Floridy, the Weggers sub-shop was closed, so I got my sub at a convenience-store.
    It was made fresh, but tasted like lead. Mostly it was the roll. Weggers bakes their own; I don’t think the convenience-store did.
    We’ve bought subs at mighty Sheetz too in Altoony.
    Sheetz has ‘pyooter-ordering, and I set out to try it when Jack and I rode motorbike to the mighty Curve.
    Jack barged in: “I speak English,” he bellowed loudly at a cowering clerk.
    On later occasions, without Jack, we used the ‘pyooter-terminals. They’re much faster than “English.”
    But I guess some are just intimidated by technology. (I wonder when mighty Weggers will catch on.........)
    So here I am at mighty Weggers, and the guy behind the counter at the sub-shop appears to be a manager — not the usual callow high-school teenyboppers.
    “Half. Roast-beef,” I said.
    “White, wheat or rye?” he asked.
    “White.”
    “Mayo, oil or mustard?” he asked.
    “Honey-mustard only,” I answered.
    He then set about preparing our sub, but without lettuce or tomato.
    “Wait a minute,” I thought.
    Upon delivery, I took the sub out of its wrapper, saying “I didn’t see you add lettuce or tomato.”
    “I thought you said you only wanted honey-mustard.”
    “Yeah; no mayo, mustard or oil — just honey-mustard.”
    It’s probably what I say to the teenyboppers, but they go on to ask about tomatoes and lettuce.
    Manager-man then had to reconstruct our sub; after which I arrowed placidly off into the store and promptly blasted a flimsy hair-conditioner display, spraying hair-conditioner cans all over the floor — the price of having to use a cart as big-as-a-Buick.

  • My loud-mouthed brother-in-Boston (“Jack”) once misspelled “Super-Bowl” as “Supper-Bowl;” and subsequently loudly insisted that is how it’s spelled.
  • “Linda” is my wife.
  • “Mighty Weggers” (Wegmans) is one of the grocery supermarkets we shop at.
  • “The mighty Curve” (Horseshoe Curve, in Altoona (“Altoony”], Pennsylvania), is by far the BEST railfan spot on the entire planet. Sheetz is a large convenience-store chain based in Altoona.
  • Sunday, April 22, 2007

    Hot-Seat Time

    Yesterday (Saturday, April 21, 2007). at about 6:30 p.m., before supper (“super”), I took the Killian-dog for a walk up-the-street, which I’ve successfully done all this past week.
    The sun is still high, so we can do it, despite the daily afternoon nap requirement, which I sometimes skip.
    Killian loves it. “I’m walking with The Boss.” He always returns with a gigantic smile on his face — although it’s more him walking me.
    Another lady was walking her dog as we went around (the Michael Prouty Park), and was loading her dog into her beige-metallic Jeep-Liberty as we started across the parking-lot.
    “Where’s your other dog?” she asked.
    HOT-SEAT TIME! Try to speak slowly and deliberately so as to not jumble anything.
    A long pause passed before I could answer.
    Unlike Motor-Mouth, or most normal people for that matter, speaking is not natural for me.
    I’m not using the speech-center I had before the stroke. That got vaporized by the stroke.
    What I say often doesn’t make sense. The constant correcting leads me to not say much.
    “Gone,” I finally said.
    I also don’t like saying anything for fear of inadvertently blurting out the wrong thing, as happened at the Honeoye Falls Veterinary with the lady there to put her cat to sleep.
    “Oh that’s too bad,” the dog-owner said.
    Her dog started serenading us loudly from the back; thankfully an excuse to end the encounter.

  • My loud-mouthed brother-in-Boston once misspelled “Super-Bowl” as “Supper-Bowl;” and subsequently loudly insisted that is how it’s spelled.
  • RE: “daily afternoon nap requirement.....” —Ever since my stroke 10/26/93, I’ve pretty much had to take a nap every afternoon. Brain-fatigue.
  • “Our other dog” is Sabrina, deceased about a month ago. (Both dogs are [were] Irish-Setters.)
  • I’ve also referred to my loud-mouthed brother-from-Boston (“Jack,” and “the almighty Bluster-King”) as “Motor-Mouth.” He’s always loudly blabbering, and making strident pronouncements.
  • Saturday, April 21, 2007

    The mighty Bloomfield water-tower

    The Keed.
    The mighty Bloomfield water-tower.
    Pictured is the mighty Bloomfield water-tower, and next to it a mighty cellphone-tower that was erected a few years ago.
    The mighty Bloomfield water-tower seems to be the same construction as the mighty De Land water-tower, although not as high.
    The mighty De Land water-tower is 100-125 feet high. The mighty Bloomfield water-tower appears to be 75-100 feet.
    The towns of East and West Bloomfield, as well as the village of Bloomfield, all get their water from the Rochester water-supply, which gets its water from nearby Canadice and Hemlock Lakes, the only two Finger Lakes that remain undeveloped.
    I.e. years ago, Rochester bought all the land surrounding those lakes to keep them wild.
    Now Rochester, in dire financial straits, is considering selling that land.
    People fear that land being sold to fat-cat developers, and those virgin lakes being sullied.
    The mighty Mezz is stridently reporting this; and rightly so. A fabulous natural-resource shouldn’t just be handed over to money-grubbing REPUBLICANS.
    Water is pumped east from the Rochester water-supply to East and West Bloomfield.
    The water for Bloomfield village and West Bloomfield goes into various water-columns (tanks).
    The mighty Bloomfield water-tower is probably the supply for the Town of East Bloomfield, although it might also partially supply Bloomfield village too.
    All the water-towers (water-columns, whatever) are higher than the locations they serve, so distribution can be by gravity.
    I’ve yet to see a pump-house like that massive one in Wilmington.
    The water-tower was up 17 years ago when we moved to West Bloomfield, but the cell-tower wasn’t.
    As you can see, there are also cell antennas on the water-tower, but the cellphone companies erected that tower in addition.
    I don’t remember noticing that tower being erected, and I suppose the reason is that it is adjacent to the water-tower.
    No doubt this was intentional — that water-tower would distract away from that cell-tower.
    When we use our cellphones we may be talking to this tower.
    There’s another tower in Honeoye Falls, but it’s farther away; although it’s not obstructed by hills. I.e. I can see it. The Bloomfield tower may be closer, but I can’t see it. So we may be talking to the Honeoye Falls tower.
    The cellphone companies wanted to build another tower up-the-street, but were skonked by the local citizenry — i.e. the cell-companies couldn’t get a zoning-variance.
    They even were going to hide it in a faux silo, but never in all my 63 years have I seen a farm-silo 150-feet high.
    The highest silos I ever saw were about 75 feet — plus this faux silo would have been standing out in the middle of nowhere.
    Probably the church-steeple up the street has cell antennas in it. It’s about 100 feet high. That steeple tilts a mite. (The church is ancient brick, and recently added a modern addition that is totally out-of-character.)

  • My wife’s 91-year-old mother lives “in the shadow of the mighty De Land water-tower,” a retirement complex under the water-tower in De Land, Floridy.
  • “The mighty Mezz” is the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper where I once worked.
  • “East Bloomfield” and “West Bloomfield” are both towns (townships); and “Bloomfield” is a small village in the Town of East Bloomfield. We live in West Bloomfield.
  • RE: “I’ve yet to see a pump-house like that massive one in Wilmington.” “Wilmington” is Wilmington, Delaware, where I lived my teenage years. No doubt my brother-in-Boston will loudly excoriate me for not remembering the exact street the pump-house was on.
  • “Honeoye Falls” is the next major town west. “Bloomfield” is the next east. Both are small, but Honeoye Falls larger than Bloomfield.
  • Friday, April 20, 2007

    Rochester-Chapter of the National Railway Historical Society

    Last night (Thursday, April 19, 2007) we attended a monthly meeting of the Rochester-Chapter of the National Railway Historical Society, almost all men (Linda was the only female, at first), with an average age of 70+.
    I have been a member of the Rochester-Chapter of the NRHS for eons. I joined to get their newsletter, but other than that have been inactive.
    Over that time I have attended one monthly meeting. The Rochester-Chapter meetings were the same night as the union-meeting, which we eventually changed to a 3 o’clock meeting, for us early-run guys, but by then we were out in West Bloomfield, which would have meant a yo-yo into Rochester.
    The Rochester-Chapter of the NRHS has a real-life Lionel-set: a museum with a small standard-gauge railroad they built over hill-and-dale.
    Their museum is the old Rush railroad-depot on the old Erie Rochester branch. That branch is still active, although now owned and operated by shortline Livonia, Avon (Ah-von) & Lakeville.
    That Erie branch is long abandoned south of Livonia; in fact, the LA&L doesn’t even reach Livonia any more.
    Years ago LA&L was a tourist-line, and even had a steam-engine; but now it delivers only freight — mainly tankcars of corn-syrup.
    They also have a short stub-ended section of the old Lehigh-Valley Rochester branch to a lumber-yard.
    From Livonia the Erie Rochester branch traveled south to Corning, N.Y. where it connected with the Erie main.
    A tiny railroad-yard is next to the depot, where they store rusting hulks of the various pieces of rail-equipment they have collected.
    This includes locomotives, including an ex Lehigh-Valley GM-powered Alco road-switcher, and various strange critters — including a small side-rod diesel that shunted hopper-cars at a Rochester Gas & Electric power-station.
    The depot sits in a narrow valley, hard by a hillside, but the Chapter laid track up the hill to a large pasture atop the hillside, where they could build a yard and restoration-shed.
    They extended their full-size Lionel-set to the nearby New York Museum of Transportation, and we rode it once — up-and-down over hill-and-dale, hardly any cuts or fills, about a mile at 10 mph.
    We rode in a restored Erie wooden caboose.
    The meeting started placidly enough; a boring business-meeting conducted under Roberts Rules of Order; the same gig the union-meetings were held under, and the Boughton Park Board — although union-meetings were much noisier; yelling and screaming and threatened fisticuffs.
    But then a youngish guy got up to report on the fact Rochester city-planners were considering reinstituting trolley-service to revitalize downtown.
    This is of course silly pie-in-the-sky. Trolley-track, and the messenger-wire, and the associated infrastructure, all have to be maintained. The whole reason trolley-service was begun was because it was better than horse-and-buggy on dirt. All the streets now are paved. —Trolley-service is wishful-thinking; attachment to a past practice that no longer has viable economic pretense — although individual highway-use is silly too.
    Young-guy said the planners wanted to visit the Rochester-Chapter trolley-“system;” the Rochester-Chapter has apparently built a small section of track, and wire, where it can exercise their trolleys.
    “System?” one wag commented. “Since when do six poles and two switches constitute a system?”
    And so the follies began.......
    The reason we attended this meeting was that a member was going to give a short PowerPoint presentation on the buildings remaining from the Rochester, Syracuse & Eastern interurban.
    An interurban is a railroad, but more a trolley-line between cities. It wasn’t much like a Pennsy or New York Central, and had individual self-powered cars operating over the railroad from an overhead wire.
    The Rochester, Syracuse & Eastern even had to use third-rail in one town, because the town wouldn’t allow overhead trolley-wire.
    (But the interurban-cars were bigger and heavier than trolley-cars.)
    The RS&E (which apparently went bankrupt a few times, and was reorganized under different names: like SR&E — and it never went east of Syracuse; kind of like the Pittsburgh, Cincinnati & Pacific) was apparently more than the norm for interurban construction, being all double-track, with expensive trestles and bridges.
    Most interurbans were single-track.
    Quite a few stations still remain, as well as many of the power substation buildings.
    As well they should; those substations were brick — and were converted to other uses. The substations bought AC-power and converted it to DC with rotary-converters (CUE BLUSTER-KING!) I.e. the converters were removed, but the buildings remained.
    First the presenter showed a depiction of the power substation remaining in Easta Rocha. An old geezer rose to his feet, started wagging his cane and bopping people on the head, and yelled “I was there when they built that railroad.”
    “Your parents weren’t even born yet,” he bellowed at the presenter.
    “Watch it,” the presenter said; “I got the light-saber,” waving his laser-pointer.
    “Them things cause cancer!” geezer bellowed.
    It got more outrageous.
    The picture of the East Rochester substation had the legs of a nearby water-tower in it. “Oh yeah,” somebody said. “There’s the water-tower.....”
    “Which one?” I asked. There were two; an original water-tower, and its replacement, the infamous Brown Bombers water-tower that still stands. (Water-tower #1 may have been taken down.)
    “Where’s the Wendy’s?” some guy asked. (The Wendy’s was built in the ‘80s.)
    “So orientate us here,” a guy said. “Does that bridge go over the Thruway?”
    “Are you kidding?” someone shrieked. “That picture is 1918 horse-and-buggy. The Thruway wasn’t built until 1951, and they had to close Route 31 to build it. The detour was (insert lucid street-by-street description of detour here). How could that bridge ever have crossed the Thruway?”
    Many of the interurban-stations were converted to gas-stations, and the presenter displayed an ancient picture of such a gas-station (Texaco) with a 1958 Ford station-wagon in front.
    “Now what year is that?” he asked.
    “1958!” I said. (Toy not with the master!)
    He showed another slide of where the RS&E crossed New York Central’s Auburn-Road near Rochester on a long trestle.
    “So are we in the Can-of-Worms?” someone asked.
    “No,” the presenter said.
    “Wait a minute,” I said. “If that’s the Auburn we’re in the Can-of-Worms.”
    (The “Can-of-Worms” is the world-famous intersection of I-490 and I-590 that was built in the late ‘50s where the original Erie-Canal turned south, east of Rochester.
    East of the Can, I-490 uses the RS&E right-of-way, and west of the Can, 490 uses the original right-of-way of the Erie Canal through Rochester — the canal was later rebuilt south of Rochester as the state Barge-Canal.
    590 south of the Can followed the right-of-way of the original Erie Canal; although the Auburn was parallel.
    The Can has since been rebuilt; I think Jack negotiated the original Can. The original Can had the challenge of also crossing the Auburn, and busy East Avenue (State Route 96).
    When the Can was recently rebuilt, the Auburn was removed, but East Ave. is still there.
    The original Can was a monster: lanes merging all over in tight confines. I think part of the reason the Can was rebuilt was also that the highway bridges were falling apart. One main overpass the abutments had spread about six inches.
    I remember shooting the original Can with a Park-and-Ride bus. David Jones, who eventually became Union-president, told me how to do it.
    “Just enter in the passing-lane, put on your right-turn signal, and put the hammer down!”
    “Utter insanity,” I thought.
    But it worked. Charging in from the passing-lane, you didn’t have to monitor the left side.
    And when the four-wheelers saw a bus changing lanes, they backed off.)
    Other insanities were:
    -A) A picture was displayed of the main-drag through Easta Rocha with the RS&E tracks (and cars) still intact, from atop a building in the center of town.
    “Oh yeah,” some guy said. “Debbie-Supply would be right up in that corner.”
    It would not!” someone screamed. “That’s St. Jerome’s church, but Debbie-Supply would be outta the picture. It’s way up the street!”
    -B) And then there was the picture that was used for 89 bazilyun postcards, and in 89 bazilyun different ways.
    Toward the end of the presentation was a photograph allegedly of the Clyde station after a blizzard.
    Earlier in the presentation was a postcard of the same picture, but identified as the Weedsport station, and the snow had been removed.
    Presenter was thereby loudly excoriated by all-and-sundry for allowing the obvious manipulation of a photograph to pass for the Clyde station, even though the Clyde station was not parallel to the tracks (but a station was parallel in the photograph).
    Obviously artists had removed the snow, but the same pik was being used. Artists were also painting out the trolley-wires: “Where were the cars getting their power?” someone asked.
    There also was the advice that perhaps that presenter could get that motorman into another pik; like with PhotoShop.
    “He’s in that window, I tell ya,” some guy bellowed, referring to a recent photo of a still-standing station — shades drawn.
    Here they were complaining that the wires weren’t in the picture.
    My wife wanted to go, probably to make sure I’d get there without crashing mightily in flames — which may impinge on my driving to the mighty Curve myself.
    But she’s glad she went, despite it meaning we had to leave the poor dog alone in the house.
    We were returning with 89-bazilyun tons of material. SWORD ALERT! (The pen is mightier than the sword.)
    Imagine 40+ experts instead of just seven.

  • “Linda” is my wife.
  • The “union” was my bus-drivers union, Local 282 of the Amalgamated Transit-Union.
  • “Boughton Park” is the nearby park where we walk our dog. A few years ago I was a member of the volunteer board that administered it.
  • My younger brother-in-Boston, “Jack,” and the “almighty Bluster-King;” tells me his employer, the mighty Exelon, still converts 60-cycle AC into 25-cycle AC for use on Amtrak’s Northeast-Corridor. This is despite my hearing that the Corridor was switched over to 60-cycle AC — but it may be that the locomotives used on the Corridor can use either 25-cycle or 60-cycle. The switch to 60-cycle was prompted by a desire to buy power from the outside, instead of generate their own. The Corridor uses electric power supplied by overhead wire.
  • The vaunted “Brown Bombers” are the East Rochester high-school sports-teams. Water-tower #2 is painted brown-and-white, the colors of the Brown Bombers.
  • For 16&1/2 years I drove bus for Rochester-Genesee Regional Transportation Authority (Regional Transit Service). Many of the runs I drove were “Park-and-Rides;” runs from the suburbs to the city. We had special “Park-and-Ride” buses; more of a suburban-bus.
  • “Easta Rocha” is East Rochester; very Italian.
  • Both “Clyde” and “Weedsport” are between Rochester and Syracuse; stops on the Erie Canal.
  • “Wires weren’t in the picture” refers to my once advising my all-knowing macho brother-in-Boston that he should be more careful about where his camera is aimed — he had posted pictures with wires in them, phonepoles coming out of people’s heads, distracting water-towers, mostly sky, blue snow, and pictures aimed at people’s faces cutting off their legs. And so began a mighty tirade that I was entirely clueless about photography, despite long ago having pictures published nationally.
  • “The mighty Curve” (Horseshoe Curve, in Altoona, Pennsylvania), is by far the BEST railfan spot on the entire planet. My siblings are considering holding a family-reunion there.
  • Tuesday, April 17, 2007

    HMMMMMMMMMMMMNNNNNNNN..........

    “Live from Hollywood;
    ‘Dancing-with-the-Stars;’ program pre-recorded”
    This some REPUBLICAN thing?
    Jackie Gleason was live — one time a Honeymooner set collapsed.

    tax-season

    And so another tax-season drifts into the filmy past.
    Our final income-tax, the Fed, will get mailed off this morning at the vaunted West Bloomfield post-office, certified, return-receipt requested.
    The New York State Income-Tax got mailed yesterday (Monday, April 16, 2007).
    We owe the Feds over $1,000 — the State owes us 400 smackaroos — for which reason we may get penalized by the Feds.
    Withholding amounts will need to be dickered: the Feds up, the State down.
    The amounts we set up earlier were a ballpark figure; but are obviously being thrown off by job-income at the beginning of the year.
    Our income was almost what it was when we worked — maybe $15,000 less. We didn’t have to hit our savings at all.
    Federal withholding will have to be increased against Linda’s pension (mine is a lot smaller), and/or our Social Security.
    I did the income-tax myself — unlike Bill (I guess, or like Jack), we don’t have 89 bazilyun sources of dividend-income. In fact, what income our 401(k) investments (they’re mutual-finds) generate is automatically reinvested, so we never see it. I.e. it isn’t declarable income.
    So our income-tax went fairly easily, and in fact kept getting put off because of that.
    Schedule-A just about fills in itself, since I have an Excel spreadsheet that gives me the totals — and it’s updated throughout the year.
    And there is the fact all the forms are fillable online PDFs, which put the kabosh to filling in forms by-hand, and possibly mucking-up.
    Linda did most of these. I did one, and all the pencil-throughs. The PDFs are just formalizing the pencil-throughs.
    Linda also made spreadsheets that totaled the entries on the forms: a way of verifying math.
    Now, you’d think the gumint could advance farther into the new century. If they can PDF the forms, they should functionalize the forms — even come up with your tax, instead of the taxpayer trying to make sense of a contorted table.
    You’d think they might want to do that, like to lessen the likelihood of taxpayer foul ups — but NO!
    Another advancement was that the PDFs cranked-in Linda’s Social-Security number automagically. Apparently the gumint has decided that Linda and I are married. (Almost 40 years.)
    And then there is New York State, which sloughed off W-2 (and 1099) information onto the taxpayer. “Do not attach W-2s or 1099s under penalty of law — include forms IT-2 and 1099-R which summarize your W-2s and 1099s.” (Visions of the mattress-tag police. Uniformed buzzcut minions eying us taxpayers warily with binoculars out of white idling antenna-festooned Econolines.)
    This despite strict admonition that part of the W-2 and 1099 are for attachment to the state income-tax.
    As a result, the state income-tax increases to four pieces of paper, thereby complying with Paperwork-Reduction by doubling the paper used.
    IT-201 (the New York State Income-Tax long-form) already doubled from one to two sheets (back-and-front means filling in four pieces of paper).
    Thankfully, no undecipherable hairballs this year.
    At first, the Social-Security worksheet seemed to have circular reasoning, but on further perusal it didn’t.
    No “amounts-less-than-zero.” I wrote a column about that that ran long ago in the mighty Mezz. To me that made no sense, because zero was as small as it got.
    There was a line of the 1040-Fed for figuring your tax-penalty, but that referred to another form (2210) from which I gleaned the gibberish I posted last night.
    We passed. Their advice was that the form was so undecipherable that you should let the gumint figure if you should pay a penalty — that it was only a way to justify not paying a penalty.

  • “Bill and Jack” are my younger brothers, and they consider themselves to be vastly-superior money-managers, and that Social-Security should be tanked; apparently including tanking any claim you have against Social-Security after paying into it so many years.
  • “Linda” is my wife.
  • “The mighty Mezz” is the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper I previously worked at before I retired.
  • Monday, April 16, 2007

    I’m not making this stuff up, chillen:

  • “Reasons for Filing.
    E: You filed or are filing a joint return for either 2005 or 2006, but not for both years, and line 8 above is smaller than line 5 above. You must file page 1 of Form 2210, but are not required to figure your penalty (unless box B, C, or D applies).
    (For Paperwork Reduction Act Notice, see page 7 of separate instructions.)”
  • “Ultimate Tehachapi”

    At long last I am finished my Pentrex “Ultimate Tehachapi” DVD; eight hours, two discs, over 300 trains.
    Warbonnet in front of two pumpkins through Tunnel Nine under the Tehachapi-Loop.

    It means I can move on to DVD number-two, “Cajon II,” (ka-HONE) apparently a DVD-production of a Video-Rails’ video shot in the ‘90s at famous Cajon Pass in southern Californy.
    As such, the content of Cajon II is Cajon before Santa Fe and Burlington-Northern merged, and before Southern-Pacific was taken over/merged/bought out/whatever by Union-Pacific.
    At that time, Union-Pacific had rights over Santa Fe’s line through Cajon — it was their way of getting into Los Angeles.

    The Keed.
    Pumpkins at Cajon.
    We visited Cajon about three years ago. By then it was BNSF, and a Union-Pacific freight was stopped in a siding at the top of the hill on Southern-Pacific’s old Palmdale Cutoff.
    Explaining here: Santa Fe’s line through Cajon is westbound; their way of getting into Los Angeles.
    The old Southern-Pacific Palmdale Cutoff, built in 1966-1967, paralleling the Santa Fe, is eastbound; a way for trains from San Francisco to bypass Los Angeles.
    The Cutoff ends at Colton Yard east of Los Angeles. Trains can continue east on the old SP Sunset Route across southern Californy and Arizona.
    The Gadsden Purchase, the final addition to the continental United States in 1853, which also includes a small southern portion of New Mexico, was to allow railroads to build a southern transcontinental railroad in the U.S.
    We stood atop the massive summit-cut Santa Fe installed a few years ago.
    The cut lowered Santa Fe’s summit about 60-75 feet, and also removed some difficult curves.
    Watching trains there was just like the mighty Curve. BNSF was fleeting eastbound; two could be seen far away slogging up the grade, as one passed through the cut below.
    And then there was that Union-Pacific freight holding the siding on the old Palmdale.
    The crew was very angry (I had my scanner), and wondered if the Los Angeles dispatcher had forgotten about them.
    Most of the Palmdale is single-track, but nothing had come up. I guess they were holding that siding some time.
    Santa Fe has two tracks through Cajon.
    One is the original line, and has a 3% grade. The westbounds descend that.
    “Track-uh Two-uh” is more circuitous but only 2.2%. It’s more northerly, but eastbound — the climb.
    Cajon II has the old Santa Fe paint-schemes. Most extraordinary is the infamous “Warbonnet” scheme: red nose on silver cab with a yellow Santa Fe shield-herald on the red.
    Santa Fe debuted this scheme in the late ‘40s on passenger-trains; passenger locomotives with fluted stainless passenger-cars. The locomotives had the Warbonnet-scheme. (Most famous was the Santa Fe “Super-Chief;” the preferred cross-country conveyance of Hollywood stars before air-travel.
    The Warbonnet-scheme was so beloved, Santa Fe started applying it to their freight-locomotives a few years ago.
    It looks fabulous; but there also are the pre-Warbonnet scheme: blue and yellow.
    In fact, I think the blue-and-yellow scheme looks as good as the Warbonnet-scheme. To me that’s the proper ATSF scheme.
    Many of the locos in Cajon II are pre-Warbonnet; plus the Southern-Pacific locos are their standard filthy dark gray with red — plus Rio Grande locomotives they got when they merged with DRG&W. Many of the SP (and DRG&W) engines are tunnel-motors.
    BNSF adopted a variation of the Warbonnet scheme; dubbed by railfans “the pumpkin.” That’s because it’s mainly orange, with a smattering of green. Most of the BNSF locos on “Ultimate Tehachapi” are that, although a few still have the Santa Fe Warbonnet-scheme.
    Video-rails was bought out by Pentrex. Video-Rails was a victim of the railroad video wars.
    I only have a few Video-Rails tapes — they tend to be overproduced.
    My favorite is one of 611. It has a long segment of pacing the side-rods that is fabulous.

    -By any means whatsoever all railfans should be required by law to visit Tehachapi at some time in their lives.
    We’ve been there at least twice, and every time I’ve come away amazed.
    Long ago Southern-Pacific (or maybe at that time Central-Pacific) descended the huge San Joaquin Valley in central Californy, and ended at Caliente; at the foot of the Tehachapi mountains.
    To get to Los Angeles from the San Joaquin the railroad had to climb over a mountain-range, and/or cross the high-desert east of L.A.
    For years people never thought a railroad would cross those mountains, but Southern-Pacific’s William Hood slung a horseshoe around Caliente’s neck, and built a railroad up the Tehachapis.
    His destination was Tehachapi-Pass, but to get there meant lots of tunnels, and winding back-and-forth.
    The ruling grade is 2.5%; but most famous of all is that the railroad had to be looped over itself during the ascent: the famous Tehachapi-Loop.
    The railroad climbs the Loop, so the the top track is 77 feet above the one below; but the Loop is tight enough for a train to travel over itself.
    We waited three hours last time, but never saw a train. Did see a few in the canyon approaching Caliente, and one departing up the hill toward the Loop, but that was all.
    What’s most amazing is the railroad itself — it twists and turns and wiggles back-and-forth.
    First north, then south, then north again, then finally west with that Loop.
    The ruling grade is 2.5%, actually a segment at 2.49%.
    Most of the ascent is a tiny bit less, but well over 2%; not impossible, but tough.
    The mighty Curve is 1.8%. Portions of the B&O’s West End go over 2.5%.
    What’s extraordinary is how the line yaws back-and-forth to surmount a seeming wall of mountains. Tunnels were required. 12 are left. They number through 17.
    A segment approaching Caliente is 2.5%. —Caliente is the base of the grade.
    The line was Southern-Pacific (now Union-Pacific); but over half of the traffic you see is Burlington-Northern-Santa-Fe. That’s because AT&SF negotiated trackage-rights on the line, after it was surmised that building a competing railroad was near impossible.
    The all-powerful Tim Belknap at the mighty Mezz, who apparently grew up in Africa, regales me with tales of the infamous “Lunatic-Line,” a line supposedly more challenging then anything I’ve ever seen.
    But far as I know, the Lunatic-line is only meter-gauge, which is a little more than three feet. Standard-gauge is four-feet-8&1/2-inches (Tehachapi is standard-gauge).
    Although the Lunatic-Line may be five-feet (for all I know); there were railroads built to a five-foot gauge. I think the Russian railroads were five feet; as are the Philly trolleys. Erie Railroad was originally built to a six-foot gauge; as was the Peanut.
    The Lunatic-Line has an incredible topographic challenge, mainly the Rift-Valley, requiring a climb of over 1,000 feet.
    Tehachapi climbs 3,000 feet according to my map.
    Tehachapi has always been an impediment to railroad traffic. Years ago Californians were considering tunneling under the mountains to replace the Tehachapi-grade.
    Hasn’t happened so far. Such a tunnel would be well over 20 miles long, and it would still have to climb to the high-desert.
    I have the feeling Tehachapi will remain in use; much like the mighty Pennsy’s assault of the Allegheny-range; which includes the mighty Curve. It’s already built, and doing any better would cost bazilyuns.

  • “The mighty Curve” (Horseshoe Curve near Altoona, Pennsylvania,) is by far the BEST railfan spot on the entire planet.
  • RE: “Track-uh Two-uh.......” I have used my railroad-scanner in hundreds of locations, and everywhere the dispatchers seem to imitate Marlon Brando’s Godfather-character.
  • “611” is Norfolk & Western Railway’s #611 4-8-4 steam-engine; perhaps the most phenomenal steam-engine of that wheel-arrangement ever built. It was restored and running a few years ago, but has since been retired. (It was built in 1950.)
  • “The all-powerful Tim Belknap at the mighty Mezz” is City-Editor Tim Belknap of the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper, where I once worked. I posted an e-mail of his that had a few spelling-errors, and my macho brother-in-Boston loudly declared the reason the Messenger was so reprehensible was that Belknap was the editor. He’s one of many.
  • “The Peanut” was originally the Canandaigua & Niagara Falls Railroad, built long ago, and now abandoned. It was eventually taken over by the New York Central, where the company’s president, a Vanderbilt (in the late 1800s), called it “a peanut” compared to the mighty New York Central mainline across New York state.
  • Saturday, April 14, 2007

    surfeit of signage

    The vaunted Canandaigua YMCA is awash in a surfeit of signage.
    Not permanent-looking professional signage by that little old sign-maker.
    But rather signs made by the staff on the office-‘pyooter with sign-making software printed with an inkjet onto 8&1/2 by 11 inch sheets of typewriter-paper, and affixed with two-sided tape.
    The background of these signs is always overlaid with a semi-opaque layer of gray toner, and the letters smudge if they get wet.
    The most notorious of these signs is the one on a door saying “this is not a door.”
    Sounds like REPUBLICANS were at work here!
    If it isn’t a door, what is it?
    Sure looks like a door.
    Another classic is the two signs on the men’s locker-room door; actually a combo.
    Affixed to the door is a professional-looking signmaker sign saying “Please keep door closed.”
    Right beneath it is a
    ‘pyooter-sign saying “Please open door slowly.”
    HMMMMMMMNNNNNNNNNN..........
    I already have violated sign number-one innumerable times. The onliest way to get into that there locker-room is to open the door.
    So the question becomes, how does one open a door that’s supposed to be kept closed?
    Other signs fall into what I call the “Yes, Mother” category: “—Please flush toilet after using;” “—Do not spit or deposit gum into water-fountain;” and “—No food in this area, as it only feeds the ants that dine at our facility.”
    A graphic of large ants pigging out on a cheese sandwich is on this sign.
    Most signs are reasonable admonitions: “—Follow Nautilus-circuit in order. Do not jump ahead;” “—20-minute limit on aerobic machines if busy;” “—Do not directly spray equipment. Spray paper-towel;” and “—Do not stand on radiators to open windows. Ask front-desk for assistance.”
    There also is an admonition to not use the same sneakers you walked in with on the exercise equipment. Salt damages.
    Other signs are more ordinary: “—Staff kitchen. Staff only;” and “—Washroom. Custodians only.”
    Heaven forbid the head of the Canandaigua YMCA access that washroom. He might lose his job.

  • The “Canandaigua YMCA” is where we work out.
  • Friday, April 13, 2007

    "Dubya-04"

    Today (Friday, April 13, 2007, Friday-the-13th), after attending the vaunted Canandaigua YMCA, and mighty Weggers, I was returning home on Lakeshore Blvd., Routes 5&20, south of Canandaigua.
    Proceeding west, Lakeshore intersects with the main-drag (north-south) through Canandaigua, and continues up a hill on the Canandaigua Bypass, a new road built a few years ago, so that east-west 5&20 traffic could avoid going through Canandaigua.
    That there intersection is huge; at least six lanes each side, with three each approaching. Each side is two lanes with a separate third left-turn lane, and each left-turn lane is separately signaled with a left-turn arrow.
    Since so many cars are turning left, the north and south are separately signaled; i.e. each side gets a separate green, so that only one side has a green at a time.
    Only the east-west traffic is signaled so that both sides can move; except that if a left-turn lane is occupied, only that side can move, so that a left-turn is not impeded.
    If both left-turn lanes are occupied, only the left-turn lanes can move.

    So here we are stopped on 5&20 (Lakeshore), and both left-turn lanes are occupied — meaning eventually the left-turn lanes will get arrows together, while the straight traffic will be stopped.
    The left-turn arrows activate, and a large Jeep Wagoneer starts gingerly through the intersection turning left, but all-of-a-sudden has to stop short.
    An ancient Sube has started straight across the intersection, running the red-light.
    Horns blare, and the Sube-driver gives the Wagoneer-driver the finger.
    I glanced at the rear hatch of the fast-disappearing Sube, and sure enough: “Dubya-04.”

  • “Mighty Weggers” is our supermarket: Wegmans.
  • A “Sube” is a Subaru.
  • Thursday, April 12, 2007

    4/12/07

    -Today (Thursday, April 12, 2007) and tomorrow (Friday the 13th), my wife has to work at the vaunted West Bloomfield post-office, as she did most of Monday.
    The regular postmaster had a family emergency whereby the alcoholic brother of her future son-in-law drank himself into oblivion and poisoned himself to death.
    So we dutifully got up at 6 a.m. to begin the morning ablutions. I was putting away the dishes from the dishwasher when Linda waddled in to make coffee for herself.
    She filled the teakettle and put it on a front burner and lit it.
    We looked at each other for a minute until I said “You put it there, and you have to make sure your bathrobe doesn’t catch fire;” which is why I always heat the teakettle on a rear burner.
    “Well, my bathrobe sleeves are short, but long,” she said.
    “Oh my golly!” I thought to myself. REPUBLICAN-LOGIC ALERT!” I said.
    She’s gone over to the Dark Side. Short-and-long sleeves make as much sense as $400,000 plus $400,000 equaling $815,000 — the strange world where two-plus-two equals five, a shovel becomes a “trenching-tool,” and DWI is “of little consequence” if you slaughter a ne’er-do-well.
    “For crying out loud,” I thought; “don’t give her the car-keys. She’s liable to run a stop-sign.”

    -Just prior to my final year at Houghton, ‘65-‘66, my senior-year, I showed up on campus a week early.
    As did Donna Malenke (Mah-LENK-key), a sophomore, who like me worked in the college dish-room at Gaoyadeo Hall.
    So for that week Malenk and I had the dish-room all to ourselves: Malenk racking, and me operating the dishwasher.
    Malenk was wild; sent to Houghton by her parents to straighten-her-out, which of course made her wilder still.
    Malenk had coupled with another sophomore, Don Dey (“Die”), who was very mellow, but also wild — another sent to Houghton by his parents to straighten-him-out, although it also made him worse. (Also a dish-room employee.)
    Malenk and I were on much different wavelengths, but since Dey wasn’t there yet, we became friends.
    Plus I had “The Beast;” a car that fit her personality to a T.
    One night we roared off to a lonely roadhouse-tavern in the desolate rural outback that is Allegany County, and tipped a few — probably no more than two each.
    It was a chance for Malenk to be wild without Dey; but little more than yammering for me.
    Why do I mention this? Probably because I was remembering Malenk this morning, and this pleasant foray.
    I remember driving there in the amber setting sun, through yellowing fall countryside. It was up the western hillside of the Genesee Valley — I think our destination was near Hume.
    It was a roadhouse Malenke knew of.

    -My sister Peggy is agreeing I can sling it extremely well. In fact, what she said was “I dare to say that you generate more verbiage/postings/bellowing/“hash”/random thoughts (whatever you want to call it) on this here web-site in one day than all of us combined do in one week.”
    I don’t mind a bit — I’m proud of my ability to sling it.
    Apparently my stroke was devastating. It left me no longer the person I had been before the stroke.
    So that now I am a feeble approximation of the person I had been, left with compromised speech and a tendency to fag out (I need to take naps).
    I no longer can take the lead as I had done; and have to farm out things I had previously done with great relish.
    A sterling example of this is our standby generator; a two-cylinder internal-combustion engine (it burns natural-gas) that generates electricity when the power dives.
    Before the stroke I would have had the cover off that thing the day it was installed: “what do we have here?”
    But it was installed after the stroke, so I’ve never had the cover off. I plan to some day; but I’m no longer the person I was — i.e. I’m not that inclined.
    Other examples are the storage-shed, house-staining and window-replacement. All these projects have been turned over to Linda.
    Whatever; I also discovered right after the stroke my ability to sling it was apparently not effected at all. It was like the “old-me” was residing in the ‘pyooter. I couldn’t talk as well as I could before, but I could sling it just like old times.
    I remember being assigned by the rehab-people to view a video-tape on a lift-equipped wheelchair-van, to write a review. The rehab people are always trying to figure out who you were, and get you back to doing things you once did.
    So I viewed the video-tape, and wrote a scathing review just like old times. And it was easy-as-pie. It was colored by my experience with wheelchair lifts on the transit-buses, and how the salt-and-grit would put them outta commission.
    My conclusion was the onliest place such a gizmo could ever work was southern Californy, where it never snowed.
    Then my brother-and-his-wife in Delaware set up this here famblee-site; where I found I could lob stuff willy-nilly.
    Then I made the mistake of disputing my macho brother-in-Boston’s recollection of where we got off I-80 during a motorbike trip to the mighty Curve, and the bombast wicked up.
    I’m accused of having a tender psyche, and that my feelings get hurt when the blowhard fulminates.
    Well, HEX-KYOOZE me, but if my feelings were hurt, I probably would have quit lobbing stuff onto this here site long ago.
    I think the one with the tender psych, who’s feelings get hurt, is my blowhard brother-in-Boston, who was number-one of his group of children, and is appalled by the fact I happen to be the oldest child of my famblee. —Like I’m some sort of a challenge to his supreme superiority — which the fact I had the awful temerity and unmitigated gall and horrific audacity to dispute his clearly erroneous recollection of where we got off I-80 apparently added to.
    So now the blustering is unending; I can’t say or do anything at all without him going totally bonkers. Everything I say is an affront — impetus to blustering.
    Which to me is pitiful — like our relationship has fallen into the same sorry abyss as that with my mother; unrepairable. —Although my mother at least felt bad about it; my brother-in-Boston just struts madly around beating his chest.
    It’s what I get for challenging a Harley-guy.

    -Yesterday, when we visited the vaunted Canandaigua YMCA, they had a different XM-radio station on. I think it was XM-49 — although the mumbling was so bad I thought it might be Pope John-Paul.
    Well, okay, Rolling-Stones, Def Leppard, and Lou Grammatico (Gramm) bellowing “Head Games” for Foreigner. (Grammatico is originally from Rochester.)
    Then all of a sudden, while cooling down on the treadmill: ZOOP; back to Flight-26, the XM-radio station the Y has done for eons.
    It was clearly the XM Flight-26 playlist; no more Rolling-Stones, Def Leppard, or Lou Grammatico.
    “You don’t love me; you don’t even care......” Not too bad to listen to while pumping iron, but Linda says it’s too loud.
    The last rock-n-roll group I bought was Def Leppard — none since. But the stuff on Flight-26 is better.

  • My wife “Linda” is a postmaster-relief (PMR) at the nearby West Bloomfield post-office; a part-time job.
  • My macho blowhard brother-in-Boston e-mailed coworkers about getting smokestack repairs done for a total of $815,000. Two smokestack repairs totaled about $400,000; and a third smokestack needed about $400,000 worth of repairs — equaling a total smokestack repair bid of $815,000 (REPUBLICAN-MATH ALERT).
  • On 89 bazilyun occasions I have witnessed Dubya-supporters making insane traffic-moves. (Run red-lights, run stop-signs, unsignaled sudden lane-changes, 152 mph, etc.)
  • “Houghton” college, in “Allegany County” of western New York, is where I got my BA-degree. (And that’s how it’s spelled: “Allegany;” not “Allegheny.”)
  • “Gaoyadeo Hall” was a residence-hall at Houghton when I was there. It’s since been torn down. “Gaoyadeo” was an Indian word.
  • “The Beast” was my first car, a 1958 fish-mouth Triumph TR3 sportscar. It was very basic; but a fabulous hot-rod. It had “immense powah,” but hardly any weather-protection at all. I subsequently flipped it, and my parents sold it for about 75 smackaroos to buy groceries. My mother hated it.
  • “Peggy” is my baby-sister. She’s almost 18 years younger than me (the last kid in our famblee); and lives in Lynchburg, Va. with her husband Paul and three teenage sons.
  • My stroke was October 26, 1993; and ended my 16&1/2 year career of driving transit-buses.
  • The “famblee-site” is our family’s web-site; called “FlagOut.” What goes on this here blog is what goes onto the famblee-site.
  • “My macho brother-in-Boston,” “Jack,” noisily claimed we used an exit one exit before the one we actually used, during our motorbike trip to the mighty Curve (Horseshoe Curve, by far the BEST railfan-spot on the entire planet), which was clearly WRONG, as we were using the route I had used “hundereds” of times. After my disputing this (“awful temerity and unmitigated gall and horrific audacity”), so began a torrent of noisy blustering from Boston.
  • “Hundereds” is how my brother-in-Boston insists “hundreds” is spelled.
  • My brother-in-Delaware has a turbocharged Volvo he claims will do 152 mph.
  • Wednesday, April 11, 2007

    rochesterturning.com

    Yesterday (Tuesday, April 10, 2007), while attempting to find the name of the dork who headed Transit between Jack Garrity, the CEO when I had my stroke, and current CEO Mark Aesch, I stumbled across a rather interesting e-mail newsletter, rochesterturning.com.
    Rochester gumint divides into two warring spheres; the city administration which is Democratic, and the county administration which is REPUBLICAN.
    Each is at the other’s throat, and the REPUBLICANS seem want to reward each other with juicy plums.
    Transit is apparently a plum-job. When Jack Garrity retired he was replaced by a flagrantly REPUBLICAN ex town supervisor who had no experience in transit whatsoever.
    That was Don Riley, the ex-supervisor of Greece, the largest suburb of Rochester.
    When Riley retired he was replaced by Mark Aesch, an ex-aide for a tub-thumping conservative REPUBLICAN congressman who left Congress.
    The county Water-Authority was another plum job. A REPUBLICAN ex state assemblyman was made CEO, and retired from there with a fat pension.
    Reports of graft at the Water-Authority splashed all over the local media, about how members of the executive-board voted themselves cushy pensions.
    Meanwhile, the REPUBLICAN county chairman is Steve Minarik, who had been made state chairman, but was then sent back down after crashing mightily in flames.
    The newsletter observes that Minarik suffered from the sorry affliction as Carl Rove, namely the tendency to demonize the opposition, especially the Democrats.
    Shortly after the Water-Authority scandal hit the fan, Minarik accused the county library-system of promoting pedophilia. Echoes of Rush Limberger.
    Then he began a great flap over recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance to the Flag.
    Why is it REPUBLICANS always resort to the cheap-shot?
    As the newsletter noted, the Democrats do not blame the REPUBLICANS for the failures of the city administration.
    Perhaps they should — although cheap-shots don’t work in New York. Minarik is no longer state REPUBLICAN chairman.

  • My stroke was October 26, 1993. It ended my 16&1/2-year bus-driving career.
  • “Rush Limberger” is of course Rush Limbaugh. I call him “Limberger” because I think he stinks.
  • Tuesday, April 10, 2007

    “What’s ah-TWO?”

    The other day the official announcement of elections for Local 282 of the Amalgamated Transit Union (“What’s ATU [ah-TWO]”), my Union at Transit, arrived.
    The Union-president is still Joe Carey, and the Business-Agent is still Frank Falzone.
    These guys have been Union-officials for eons. They became union officers before my stroke.
    The last Union-president was David Jones, who died of cancer. A flaming radical, some say he was killed.
    There are only two bus-union officers against a Transit staff of “hundereds.”
    At least three Transit administrations have come-and-gone while they were in office.
    First was Jack Garrity, a Mario Cuomo appointee from Long Island, who was sort of a jerk, but at least felt bound by the contract.
    When he retired he was replaced by Don Riley, a REPUBLICAN appointee of New York state governor George Pa-Pa-Pa-Pataki.
    Riley was worse than Garrity. The contract was only a piece of paper. To enforce it, the Union had to sue.
    Riley had no prior experience in Transit, but his position as head-honcho at Transit was a reward for being REPUBLICAN.
    Transit was thrilled to have him as head-honcho; they felt he would have powerful influence in the state capitol.
    But Transit seemed to just continue on its own momentum; and the fact if they were shot down, there would be no buses.
    Riley retired, so now Transit is headed by another, Mark Aesch, who I don’t know anything about, since my stroke ended bus-driving almost 14 years ago, and I stopped attending union-meetings three years ago. (He was previously on the staff of a tub-thumping Conservative REPUBLICAN congressman, who decided not to run, and thereby put Aesch out of a job.)
    The bus-union is a joke; essentially toothless because they can’t strike — the New York state Taylor-law prohibits strikes by public-employees.
    Bus-drivers aren’t very attached to the Union, as they are pretty much on-their-own all day.
    The mechanics are more a union. They work together in the same building, so can take action immediately.
    Action regarding a bus-driver issue requires a phonecall (often to only an answering-machine), and then it’s only two union officials against a management-staff of “hundereds.”
    So drivers are always complaining — that the Union is in cahoots with management, and/or charging too much for assessments. (“Can’t we negotiate all these arbitrations?” —Um, not with fat-cats that take every dispute to court.)

  • We once visited my mother in south Floridy, and I was wearing a button trumpeting the Amalgamated Transit Union (ATU). In her inimitable fashion she plaintively asked: “What’s ah-TWO?”
  • I drove bus from 5/77 until 10/93 (my stroke). Garrity was still head-honcho when I had my stroke. He probably celebrated that at long last, the dreaded “282-News” (my gig) would go away.
  • My stroke was October 26, 1993.
  • My brother-in-Boston noisily insists “hundreds” is spelled “hundereds.”
  • Sunday, April 08, 2007

    taxes

    Phase One of the taxes are done.......
    Phase-One is a pencil-through of the Fed.
    I had already done “Schedule-A;” itemized-deductions. All it is in our case is plugging in totals from my Excel spreadsheet. Took about 10-15 minutes — I did it the other night.
    Phase-One would take longer — an fact, I thought I might get no farther than income — in our case there are at least nine sources.
    -One is the income from three different jobs. I had income from the mighty Mezz for about a week. Linda retired from West at the beginning of February, but also collected five weeks of vacation-pay. Third is Linda’s job at the post-office — not very much. The greatest part was West: over $10,000. The post-office is about $3,300; the mighty Mezz about $1,900. I think my income from there was only sick-pay; but maybe not. My retirement was 12/29/05. (The pay was credited the first week of the year.)
    -Second is income from two pensions: my RTS disability-pension (two different sources; the payer changed mid-year); and Linda’s Thomson-pension.
    Three other small incomes are on here; but no interest or dividends.
    -Third is our Social-Security; we both collect.
    But I got to the second page: figuring of tax. We owe a tax-liability of $5,601; and we prepaid $4,580.71; partially from Social-Security deductions, and partially a deduction from Linda’s pension. That leaves a total owed of $1,020.29 — sizable enough for me to think we might get penalized.
    But I’m told we won’t because of the major changes in our income sources. Apparently there is a one-year grace.
    Whatever; it sounds like we might have to dicker the deduction-amounts.
    Later, dude..... And I’ll do it same way I’ve always done. Figure the projected tax owed; then what the deductions need to be to get close (and that’s over the remaining weeks of 2007). I ain’t makin’ it like no savings-account. They don’t pay no interest! NO REFUNDS! They’re not paying us to hold our money. In that case, they can just wait for us to pay up.
    Social-Security income declared was a tiny amount less than what we expected. Apparently an income-scale is at work that decreases the Social-Security income below the 85% of what you receive.
    We (I) did the Social-Security income worksheet, and came up with a slightly smaller amount than the 85%.
    Phase Two is a pencil-through of New York State.
    In that case, there might be a small refund. I don’t think Social-Security gets declared.
    Phases Three and Four are to complete the .pdfs for each tax; which I get online, and are editable. No functions though — all you do is crank in the numbers; allowing a print instead of hand-written.
    I hope they do functions someday — in fact, maybe they already have. To me that makes more sense than all the insanity of TurboTax.
    The next moves are to copy the .pdfs, and then send. What I will probably do is print the .pdfs twice, so that I can keep a copy. I think that’s what I did last year. (It scotches having to hit the mighty Mezz for their two-sided copier.)
    I would imagine I should easily be able to complete the whole mess by this weekend; in which case I send the New York State right away if I get a refund, and hold off the Fed until tax-day.
    But to do this I had to shove everything else aside: e.g. the “ground-beef” story got posted after I completed Phase-One.

  • “The mighty Mezz” is the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper where I once worked.
  • “Linda” is my wife.
  • “RTS” (Regional Transit Service) is the bus-company in Rochester I retired from on disability in late ‘93 due to my stroke.
  • “West Publishing” was a part of “Thomson” Publishing.
  • ground-beef

    We plan to eat spaghetti for supper tonight (Easter-Sunday, April 8, 2007), so I took out a container of pre-made frozen spaghetti-sauce to thaw, and what was the final package of frozen ground-beef.
    My wife dates each package for the freezer, and the date on the bag was May, 2006; which means the ground-beef lasted almost a year.
    (Expect noisy blustering here that I ain’t eatin’ enough red meat.)
    When we buy ground-beef, I buy 3-4 pounds of 98%. (More noisy blustering that I should be buying 90%, because after-all, as Linda’s 91-year-old mother in Floridy says: “a body needs grease!”)
    We then cut the package into 10-or-more segments and freeze each segment — which is why it lasts as long as it does.
    So each segment is about one-quarter to one-third a pound, enough for two of us in spaghetti or chili.
    (More blustering here, that I should be PIGGING-OUT and glomming the entire 3-4 pound package in one sitting.)
    We don’t eat ground-beef often; maybe once a month. (More noisy blustering here.)
    It’s always mixed into chili or spaghetti, an infrequent weekend meal.
    Other days it’s fish, poultry or soy. In fact, fish is twice a week.
    We gave up pork; too heavy. (BLUSTERING ALERT!)
    So I have to purchase another package of ground-beef; 3-4 pounds of 98% from mighty Weggers. That may last nearly a year too.

  • “Noisy blustering” comes from my all-knowing macho younger brother-in-Boston, who excoriates everything I do-or-say; like what I eat compared to what he eats — he weighs at least 100 pounds more than me.
  • “Linda” is my wife.
  • “Mighty Weggers” (Wegmans) is the supermarket where we buy ground-beef.
  • Saturday, April 07, 2007

    cellphones

    In my humble opinion, our two cellphones, AudioVox CDM8600s from Verizon, aren’t very user-friendly.
    This is because: 1) they are hard to hear, and 2) the video-display is hard to see in bright light, plus the display goes off after about 10 seconds.
    Nevertheless, they're what we use, because A) they’re portable, B) they avoid long-distance charges, and C) they have lots of phone-numbers stored in memory.
    What matters most, enough to make me chose the cellphone over the landline here at home, are B and C.
    Calling nearby Canandaigua on the landline is still a long-distance call*, a vestige of an ancient billing-procedure caused by the fact Canandaigua was a separate phone company; i.e. not affiliated with the Rochester telephone company: Frontier (used to be Rochester Telephone).
    I have a couple Canandaigua phone-numbers memorized into our landline phones, but they’re still a long-distance call*.
    Which is silly. Here we are 10 miles from Canandaigua and yet our Frontier landline is still charging us long-distance to call Canandaigua*.
    (*Cue Bluster-King here, who will foam at how reprehensible I am, because Canandaigua is still a long-distance call — as if I could change this....... FOAM AWAY, BLUSTER-BOY! Cover your monitor, Bubby!)
    The charge is only a mere pittance, but I still think it’s silly.
    I had to memorize the Messenger’s 800-number into our landline phones to not get charged for calling the Messenger.
    The cellphones get around this by only charging for airtime — which is free for 500 minutes.
    This means Linda can call the great land of the shadow of the mighty De Land water-tower and not get charged long-distance.
    But only on the cellphone, which also adds a desperately-needed hangup feature, namely that the battery is getting weak.
    (We could plug the phone into the charger, but need an excuse to hang up.)
    The other additive factor is that the phone-numbers we use are memorized into the cellphones.
    Our first radio landline phone is at least 20 years old, a Radio-Shack.
    It still has Mother-Dear’s old phone-number memorized.
    It can only accommodate 10 numbers**.
    (**I predict more noisy blustering here — that I should toss that antique turkey into Canandaigua lake, and get a “moderin” phone from mighty Wal*Mart.
    But it ain’t like I’m attached to that there phone. Why should I replace a phone I hardly ever use — we use the cellphones......... I only keep it to answer the landline at this desk.)
    Our second radio-phone, a Wal*Mart special, is about 5-8 years old; and I’ve never programmed numbers into it — we had the cellphones by then.
    Our current cellphones can memorize “hundereds” of numbers.
    And it can memorize by group: e.g. for Bill I could memorize his home-phone, his work-phone, and his cellphone (all I have memorized is his cellphone).
    I could do that for Jack too, but he has barricaded his phones with all kinds of firewall security, so all I have memorized is his cellphone.
    I also have two other phones in this house; a hard-wire Wal*Mart special in our bathroom, and an ancient wall-phone in the garage bathroom. That phone-design in the garage is at least 30-40 years old. I have it in the garage because I can’t disable the ringer without a lotta dorking around. I had done that to our bedroom phone, which at first was the ancient design, and the first phone inside when our house was being built.
    I hard-wired all the other rooms in the house when it was built, but why connect them when phones are wireless?
    So here I am alone at the mighty Canandaigua Weggers, and I have a shopping question for Linda, who is at home.
    I drag the cellphone out, and take it outside because apparently being inside mighty Weggers disables a cellphone (or at least it has in the past).
    Now I’m outside in the brightly-lit parking-lot, that obliterates the display.
    I root blindly through all the contorted phone-book directories to get to “home” (all the time trying to shield the phone from the sunlight, soz I can see the display); “send” the call, and then the audio is so wonky I have to verify that Linda actually answered.
    The phones have worked well from Tunnel Inn, but that was at dusk, when sunlight wasn’t obliterating the display. Although I still had to verify Linda had answered the phone.
    The AudioVox CDM8600s, each about three years old, are due to be replaced. Linda will probably get a camera-phone, so she isn’t left with the D100.
    I, on the other hand, only want a more user-friendly phone — I have a site that compares cellphones. I probably will get something other than Verizon — and I don’t need no camera-phone.
    What’s most intimidating to both of us is that new cellphones will only lob another gizmo at us — although it ain’t that much a problem to me, no matter what the bluster-boy says.

  • “The Bluster-King,” “bluster-boy,” “Jack” and “Bubby” are my all-knowing macho younger brother near Boston who excoriates everything I do or say.
  • “The Messenger” is the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper, where I once worked.
  • “Linda” is my wife.
  • “The great land of the shadow of the mighty De Land water-tower” is where my wife’s 91-year-old mother lives; a retirement-community in De Land, Floridy, in “the shadow of the mighty De Land water-tower.”
  • “Mother-Dear” is our family’s nickname for my mother, deceased a few years ago.
  • My brother-in-Boston noisily insists “modern” is spelled “moderin,” and “hundreds” “hundereds.”
  • “Bill” is my younger brother in Delaware — he doesn’t excoriate everything I do or say.
  • Tunnel Inn, near Altoona, Pa., is the bed-and-breakfast we stay at when visiting Horseshoe Curve (“the mighty Curve”), by far the BEST railfan spot on the entire planet.
  • “The D100” is my Nikon D100 digital camera.
  • Friday, April 06, 2007

    Negatory

    The other day (probably Wednesday, April 4, 2007) I inadvertently hit some magic-keys that flip-flopped my display to negative: what you see in the pik.
    The mighty MAC and Photoshop.
    Negatory.

    (At this point expect tiresome and utterly predictable blustering from the almighty Bluster-King about the self-evident inferiority of the Macintosh platform, and how I should dump my Apple G4-tower into Canandaigua Lake, and get a proper PC like him!)
    Well, HEX-KYOOZE me, but I think the rig did exactly what I inadvertently told it to do; in fact, I bet a Windoze PC could do the same.
    OS-X has other magic keys; like the one I don’t know about that puts the monitor to sleep. —All of a sudden: black screen!
    Like all other sleep-functions, I can wake everything back up by hitting an arrow-key.
    But reversing a negative-display, I had no idea.
    I had no idea what I inadvertently hit, so tried various combinations, and nothing worked.
    I also tried checking my “OS-X for Dummies,” and saw nothing.
    Linda was at the post-office, so finally I gave up, hoping we could fix things when she got back.
    I started fiddling FlagOut in reverse; e.g. respond to Jack with white text on a black field. Highlight was more-or-less invisible.
    At about 5 p.m. I decided to try MacShack; I knew who would answer the phone, and thought the solution would be simple.
    “Open your ‘System-Preferences,’ and then go to ‘Universal Access.’”
    I poked around and got a toolbox toggle that threw the display back to positive.
    (Linda was glad I had called MacShack; she would have thought the monitor had tanked. I had a hunch it was a magic-key.)
    The keystroke-shortcut for such a move was on the toolbox, so I tried it; and it reversed the display back to negative. Hit the keys again and it went back to positive; a toggle. The keystroke-shortcut is Control-Option-Apple (Command)-Asterisk.
    Windoze probably has this too; which means if you flip-flop your display, the pik (4896) will appear as it should. But I tried it, and 4896 was B&W; and would only appear right if I went from 256 colors to millions.
    I had to do the actual flip-flop with Photoshop — an “invert.” OS-X does a “screen-shot,” but it ain’t the reversed display. It’s the display-info; which means the screen-shot looks normal. The display is what’s getting reversed.

  • “The almighty Bluster-King” and “Jack” are my all-knowing brother-in-Boston who loudly declares the Macintosh platform is utterly reprehensible and a joke.
  • “FlagOut” is our family’s web-site.
  • Linda” is my wife. Together we try to solve ‘pyooter hairballs.
  • Thursday, April 05, 2007

    new hairball

    Our fantabulous Sony combination DVD/Video-Cassette recorder, purchased a few months ago at Best-Buy, is lobbing a new hairball, at least compared to our old VCR.
    It likes to lose its time. The power dove twice in the past couple weeks, and each time the machine has dropped back to June 25, 2003*, and one hour early.
    Our old VCR, also a Sony, never did that.
    Apparently both machines have battery-backup, because neither loses its recording-program.
    But the old VCR never lost its time.
    I noticed this trying to take my blood-pressure.
    The machine is right nearby, so I’d use it to see what time it was.
    Which was when I noticed it was an hour slow.
    Resetting the clock I noticed the date was wrong too.
    That wouldn't have messed up the news recording, but being an hour slow would have.
    Yep; progress has been made since our old VCR. I know, because REPUBLICANS keep telling me it has.
    Our old VCR had a “reality-regenerator” button too.
    We never knew what it did, although pushing it made strange things happen at the mighty Mezz and in Ashburnham, Mass.
    *Sounds like Sony has hired an ex-Microsoft programmer.

  • The “mighty Mezz” is the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper where I once worked.
  • “Ashburnham, Mass.” is the home of Charlie Gardiner (the vaunted “CG”), who I graduated with from Houghton College back in 1966. Like me, CG is a ne’er-do-well.
  • Wednesday, April 04, 2007

    April-Fool

    -The New-Balance running shoes I ordered online came today (Wednesday, April 4, 2007), size 6-EEEE, a special-order, meaning I can toss all my utterly reprehensible Asics running-shoes. I humblee bow to the superior wisdom of my brother-in-Delaware, who thinks that since New-Balance works well for him, they should work well for me; even though I road-tested New-Balance before and threw them out because they fit like swim-fins.
    -I purchased a tube of Crest toothpaste, and a bottle of Scope mouthwash; meaning I can toss My Act and Colgate, and never use them again. I hereby humblee bow to the superior wisdom of my brother in West Bridgewater, and hope that I can guzzle as much Scope as him — and thereby become intellectually superior; although not as much as him, of course.
    -I’ve sold the Honda snowblower. Put it out at the curb, sold it, and purchased a proper Ariens from mighty Wal*Mart (What’s $5 in gas and a 30-minute side-trip?).
    -Rode the dreaded LHMB to Cycle-Stop, a Harley-store in deepest, darkest Henrietta. Traded it for a “GeezerGlide.” I specifically asked for a “GeezerGlide,” and they sold me one. Had them install glittering marker-lights on the handlebars.
    -Tossed my Verizon (Version?) cell-phone in Canandaigua lake, and went to the NexTel store.
    -Also deep-sixed this here MAC tower (I’m driving Linda’s rig), and ordered a Dell PC online, with Windoze XP.
    -I have become a tub-thumping REPUBLICAN (FRONTAL-LOBOTOMY ALERT). Decided Dubya is the best prez we ever had; even better than Ronaldus Maximus.
    -But most important of all; I glommed 14 hard-boiled eggs for breakfast. No more funky-food.

  • I’m told by my all-knowing younger brothers that all of my choices are WRONG: e.g. WRONG running-shoes; WRONG toothpaste and mouthwash; WRONG snowblower; WRONG motorbike (i.e. not a Harley; the greatest motorbike in the entire universe); WRONG cell-phone service; WRONG ‘pyooter-platform (the MAC is a mere tinker-toy); WRONG politics; and above-all, WRONG breakfast-food.”
  • The “dreaded LHMB” (Lord-Have-Mercy-Banana) is my motorbike, a yellow Honda CBR600RR.
  • “Linda’s rig” is her laptop PC. Linda is my wife.
  • My brother-in-Boston noisily insists the kerreck spelling of “Verizon” is “Version.”
  • My brother-in-Delaware claims he gloms hard-boiled eggs for breakfast while driving to work at 152 mph [his turbocharged Volvo will do 152 mph]. He cooks up 14 hard-boiled eggs in advance.