Since When is Schoolyard Fighting a Crime?

In Lynn, Mass., 29 teens have been suspended because of a fight a few days ago, where no weapons were involved, and neither of the female combatants was seriously injured. One of the girls had allegedly called the other one a "whore".

Someone had the bright idea to videotape the after-school affair, and post it on Facebook.   Authorities got involved.  Now, the the combatants may be facing criminal charges, and the onlookers are punished with suspensions because they did not step-in to stop the fighting. Huh?  I always thought the famous  Seinfeld episode -where the callow friends were tried for not interfering with a carjacking-- was based on fictitious legal grounds..

I did not realize that two kids (minors) duking-it-out in a fair fight was a criminal offense. This is the way the world has worked since schoolyards were invented. It is the natural way for most living creatures to resolve conflicts of turf, romance and dignity. Yes, someone always gets hurt, maybe even bloodied. Someone wins and someone loses. And often, the former enemies - who have gained respect for each other in combat - become bonded friends. The use of weapons is not acceptable of course, but 1 on 1 fighting with fists of evenly matched opponents rarely results in serious harm.

In today's bubble-boy mentality, even the spectators are considered guilty. What about people who attend boxing matches, wrestling, hockey games? Are we obligated to run out on the ice and break up any altercations lest someone get a bloody nose?
I fear that we are becoming a nation of wusses - in a world where there are some pretty tough players. The horror which should be reserved for gun-toting shooters seems to be directed at the Lynn kids who were doing what kids do: working through an unsettling rite of passage.

Fun With Photoshop

 This was school vacation week, and I was scheduled to spend the day with my 7 yr old grandson, who is at that awkward age - too old for day care and too young to be trusted home alone.  Everyone else had work to do and I had no valid excuse, so I agreed to spend the day with little D. 

The forecast on Wednesday was unseasonably warm for February in Metrowest Boston, so it was agreed that we would go down to the Charles River for an early season fishing opportunity.   Little D was excited. no doubt remembering his amazing success at the pond last summer when he caught several good sized 2-3lb largemouth bass.  He claims to have caught 4 but I only remember 2 so I am sure he is on the road  to become a typical fisherman, most of whom exaggerate their experiences.

I got the camera out and yelled "Pretend you have cought something."
He mugged with the appropriate expression.
I posted the photo on facebook, so his working parents could see that we had gone fishing as planned

Within an hour,  his dad,  reposted the picture with a small addtion from photoshop gallery:

Pretty funny.

Thud!

I have been writing on Blogger since 2003, and it has always mystified me that Blogger/Google has provided storage space free to any moron who can figure out how to post text.  The service does not require the author to make the blog public or to include advertising.  So why do they do it?

For years,  I've been wondering when the next shoe would drop.  Yesterday, I got a message that Blogger "no longer supports [my] browser," which happens to be Microsoft's Internet Explorer.  Hmm.

Somewhere, I heard the thud of a size 12 brogan hitting the floor.

The message suggested that I start using the Google (Blogger's parent) Chrome browser.  And sure enough, I had problems accessing the editing features for blogger posts until I caved-in and downloaded Chrome.

I fear we will be seeing more of this sort of extortion in the future, as the competition between Google and Microsoft becomes more intense and forces users to "choose a side."  This competition may keep the act of blogging to remain free for a while longer, but eventually someone has to pay....

I recall the early years, when Cable providers assured the public that "Pay TV" would be commercial free.  How's that working-out?  Most  cable and "free" TV today is unwatchable - unless you have a DVR and can skip through the commercial breaks.    Even "commercial-free" PBS is loaded with sponsored blurbs - which thankfully are run between shows and not in the middle of them.

I find it unsettling that most futuristic visions from Hollywood and in print literature portray a tomorrow that is either post-apocalyptic ( e.g., "The Road",  "Book of Eli")  or a society dominated by commercial advertising ( e.g. "Idiocracy", "I Robot").    

Don't forget to click on the ad that appears just below this post.  I make money when people click on my ads.
Daddy always said: If you can't beat 'em, join 'em!

Sponsored Interruptions

Don't we all hate pop-up ads?

By their very nature, they are intrusive, annoying and ineffective as a means to get my interest.
The underlying intention of a pop-up ad is to interrupt whatever you are doing to make you read a not-so-subtle marketing message.  If you invoke the option to disable pop-up ads it also prevents you from getting information you might have thought you wanted when you clicked on a link.

Most odious of all are those ads that spawn when your cursor rolls over a word on the screen. Seldom does the window contain any relevant information.  Usually it is a sales pitch for teeth whitener or penis enhancement.

Now it is probably true that many men could use some penis enhancement, but no sane person is going to order it from some unknown source on the Internet.  Next thing you know, all your twitter and facebook "friends" will get a message: "(yourname) likes Pump-It-Up gel!"

My point here is that online marketing has spun out of control.  It defies logic to assume that you can create a sense of trust when you sneak your message into the sight line of your targets, and the annoyance factor drowns out any pitch that might create a sense of need in the mind of the consumer. 

No one seems to be listening to the universal groan of users when they are assailed by these flashing, jiggling, pop-ups with no x in the corner so you can close the window.

Then there is the devious method employed by the Globe.com and dictionary. com for example.  When you go to their landing page, you get a hidden set of cookies install ed on your machine without your permission to tack your Internet use and you get at least one ad opened as a separate window surreptitiously placed on the bottom status bar. 

Small minds will reply that these trivial annoyances allow the vast information on the Internet to be delivered free to your browser.  Some one has to pay.

Well, I have hit the wall. My indulgence to accept these intrusions is worn thin.  I am erasing all the cookies on my machine, and vowing to  stop using any website that continues to require me to enable pop-ups.  If it takes me back to the dark ages, then so be it.

As Shakespeare said, "Kill all the Marketers." Well, if he had been writing on a laptop, I am pretty sure that's what he would have said.

Snowbird Wannabee

Someone sent me the link to a youtube video, that graphically sums-up the reasons to fly south in winter.
  

http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=xkk7DX0l95A&Lid=12

Distracted Drivers, Pay Attention!

Here in Massachusetts, the solons in the legislature are currently considering a bill to make it unlawful to use a hand-held mobile device while driving.

photo: jdpower.com

This is just common sense.  These days, whenever you see someone driving badly, nine out of ten of them have some sort of phone pressed to their ear.  The distraction of phone usage seems to interfere with a driver's sense of speed and distance.  Driver-Callers are either going too fast,  passing you on the right,  or they are blocking traffic, moping along in the passing lane.  They pull out in front of you suddenly, cut you off and steal your parking space, they follow too closely, meander through intersections and generally create a more hazardous situation.

Some critics don't think the proposed measure is enough.  They think hands-free phones are also distracting. I'm sure there is scientific proof that any non-driving activity is distracting*.
We carry on conversations with passengers, sing along with golden oldies,  sip our drive through coffee, and practice our presentations while speeding down the pike.  Most of the time we arrive without a crash.  But I must admit to rear-ending a Subaru in Newton one morning while I was writing down the punchline to a joke (which I no longer recall). 

The great thing about modern technology is that cell phone transmissions can be tracked by location and time.  The only way the  law can be enforceable - is to make analysis of cell phone records an integral part of the investigation of any accident. 

I would even support a bill that allows an insurance company to add a caveat to its policies that says, we will not pay if you are involved in an accident while using a mobile device (or not wearing seat belts).  This would seen to be a great incentive for drivers to self police their own cell phone usage.

*I've witnessed some bizarre behavior at the wheel, most of which should probably be prohibited: Women applying make-up, people noshing on Egg McMuffins, reading  paper or book, one guy was practicing scales on his trumpet while waiting at a stoplight on memorial drive.  One time, following a small red pickup truck on route 495,  I noticed  something hitting my windshield making little smudges, so I sped up and passed them, I could see a couple apparently oblivious  grooving to the music eating chicken wings and  tossing the bones out of the windows.

Isn't it time for the madness to stop?

Zombies in your living room

One of Steven King's lessor works was a 2006 novel called "Cell." The premise of the story is that a never-explained source of the worldwide cellphone network creates a mysterious pulse that is broadcast on all operating cell phones. Everyone who is on the phone turns into a zombie. Anyone who is on their phone is immediately turned into lurching living dead. The crazed "phoners" gather in groups to hunt and attack the one who were not afflicted (normals).

Although the novel was published before the current wave of "smart" phones, I cannot help being reminded of it as a metaphor for what actually happens when normal (flip-phone) people get a "smart" phone. Smart means any of the flat phones - iphones, blackberries, droids, etc. with tiny screens and keyboards that connect the device to email and Internet. Oh yeah, they also make phone calls.

When someone gets one of these devices you and their other contacts are suddenly deluged with poorly focused video and snapshots, and text messages (eg, "u nvr guess who is sittng nxt to us." Attached is a blurry photo of someone who looks like Brad Pitt.) You keep getting calls but no one is there. When you dial them back they say, "oh it must have been an ass-dial. Oops i have another call bye now."

Smart phoners turn into mesmerized information crazed zombies. Perhaps you have noticed that people who have acquired a new smart phone begin to exhibit a personality change. Visitors who were previously interesting and polite now display a rude disregard for normal rules of attentiveness and an unabashed preoccupation with something other than your company. They come into a room and place the smart phone on the nearest flat surface so they can watch it in case they get a new tweet or email message. From that moment on, your conversation is punctuated by their incoming calls and text messages which require their immediate reply.

First, you feel embarrassed for them and their dis-social zombie-like transformation. Then, you start to become angry at their apparent disrespect for your companionship. You can't wait for them to leave; and your interest in future socialization melts like a dropped popsicle on a hot summer sidewalk.

They are everywhere: at the pub, at the theater, in museums, restaurants, libraries, stores, even at the pool. I guess they think they are cool. The rest of us think they are annoying.

Solar Flares and Hemorrhoids

If your favorite wireless gadget is acting-up today, it could be because of the solar storm that is pummeling the Earth's atmosphere with cosmic radiation. Scientists (who may actually understand this stuff) warn that some communications may be disturbed - GPS, and other satellite based transmissions will be most vulnerable.

A lot of people are worried about global warming and believe that humans can do something to delay or prevent it. I believe that it is far more likely that civilization as we know it will be destroyed by a disastrous and unforeseen extraterrestrial EMP (electromagnetic pulse) that wipes out all communications, computer memory, and the power grid. Such an event would result in a long period of apocalyptic return to barbarism and chaos for surviving humans. Ok maybe I read too much sci fi during my youth, but I'm not the only one who worries about such things.

Also, I have long held the apparently unscientific belief that the dramatic recent rise in reported cases of personality disorder in humans (especially in children) can be linked to the corresponding increase in the amount of radio waves that are beaming all around and through our collective brain tissue from electromagnetic  sources - microwaves, cell phones and other wireless devices, radar, HD transmissions, ifrared remotes, lasers and you-name-it.  

If microwaves can cook popcorn, it is completely logical that they can alter the molecules of the human/fetal brain. The correlation calculations are not complete yet but I am confident is stating that extraterrestrial radiation will be proven to be the source of many physical maladies. Perhaps we have solved the mystery of unpredictable flare-ups in skin afflictions like psoriasis and certain nagging itches such as hemorrhoids. The current wave of solar powered high speed cosmic protons are crashing through the Van Allen belt at a speed of 14,000 miles per second. These are heavy duty quantum particles that can seriously plunk your magic twanger, Froggy.

Updated version:  A loyal reader (GWP) has informed me that sonar was incorrectly listed in my list of electromagnetic wave sources.   I am pleased to correct this information.  Of course sonar is a sound based wave.  Sonar transmissions are suspected as links to whale and dolphin strandings by some scientists. So they are potentially of earthshaking importance.  (e.g., if the Maker of the Universe sneezes, we could be in for a rocky ride of sonar storms, not to mention celestial germs).

Metaphors

photo: thestar.com/news

The half-sunken cruise ship Costa Concordia still lies where she ran aground just a few hundred yards offshore of the island of Giglio in Giglio Porto, Italy.   By now, anyone who reads, listens to, or watches the news is familiar with the almost unbelievable story. 

How could so many things go wrong? The most compelling questions are yet to be answered.    My friend has a 17 foot fisherman's boat and he has a sonar screen that scans the bottom for solid objects, but a cruise ship the size of the Empire State Building has no working sonar?  Also, just about everyone who has been interviewed by news reporters has complained about the lack of  training and information following the abandon ship order, yet nearly 4,200 passengers and crew got off the ship alive in the dark of night.  Isn't the most incredible fact that less than 40 people are still confirmed dead or missing in the bowels of the behemoth? 

It boggles the mind to consider that such a disaster could happen in calm seas in well traveled waters.

But it reminds us that the bubble of safety and security that we take for granted can pop at any time.

For some reason, ship disasters always make me think about my working life.  Many of the projects I worked on were like cruises to nowhere, plotted by some captain of industry who had an enormous ego, but was navigationally retarded.   The Titanic metaphor often seemed apt.  We trench denizens would sit around the coffee room musing about management re-arranging the deck chairs when the ship was taking on water, or arguing about what song selections the band should play while passengers took to the lifeboats. 

Some of those projects ended-up on the shoals of  disaster.  As I review my resume,  most of my former companies have failed or merged into different organizations.  Some cheap-shot commenters will undoubtedly muse that I was the jinx that helped sink those ships.  But, as is my wont, I prefer to point the finger at cowardly captains and clueless coworkers. 

No Blackout Here

If you click on a Wikipedia link today you will get a split-second view of your desired search page and then a black out overlay with the query "Imagine a World Without Free Knowledge..."
They are going dark for 24 hours to "raise awareness" that the U.S. Congress "is considering legislation that could fatally damage the free and open Internet."

Attention Getting Gimmick?

As an unabashed opponent of strikes and other stoppages as a means of getting public attention, I am on the side of the so-called capitalists on this issue. I think it is just silly to stage such a mock protest. That's like saying, "Hey everyone. I am going on a 24 hour hunger strike to stop the madness!"

Stopping Piracy is a worthy aim.
I do not know if the current SOPA and PIPA proposals will kill the free Internet - that would require more research than I am in the mood for.  But, as an occasional  producer of revenue-producing intellectual content, I claim solidarity with my brother/sister artists who have been getting ripped-off by illegal piracy.

On the mostly free Internet,  no one seems to be in charge.  (This is not universal, some countries closely monitor local access)  In general censorship does not exist.  You can watch dirty pictures, say virtually anything you want about anyone with impunity.  You can learn how to make bomb components just as easily as accessing a Kayak fishing video.  

But, some people think it is dangerous to publish certain kinds of information.  Ben Franklin is alleged to have said that "citizens who are willing to give up a little liberty in exchange for a little safety deserve neither".  Poppycock, I say.  Sometimes you need to constrain freedom of speech.  We do it all the time, and it makes for a healthier, less course and safer society.

Free = Worthless
Most people tend to have more regard for experiences that have a cost associated with them. Studies have shown that people who wait in long lines for tickets value the performance more than those who got the tickets for free. Kids are notoriously careless with stuff that doting parents have lavished upon them. One parent in my neighborhood recently complained that his son was on his 3rd iPad in twelve months. My generation was raised without the expectation of entitlement. I had to earn the money to buy my first car.  

Summary
If you have read this far, you have ascertained that I am - as usual - all over the lot on this topic.  I think people ought to be paid for worthwhile expression of their art*, yet I am like you annoyed to have to pay for stuff that used to be free.  And is free content covered by free speech?

Blogging is the ultimate free arena. There is zero cost of entry and maintenance. I have often wondered why Google offers the Blogger.com platform for free to anyone regardless of writing skill. Who is paying for all the space and access? And why? As a reader, you pay nothing, and you probably use the Internet more for entertainment than for information. You correctly disregard the brandished wisdom of pedantic bloggers, thinking If you're so smart why aren't you rich?

*Note - I think the setting of a fixed price for entertainment needs to be abolished.  I am developing a new paradigm, where tickets are paid-for after the performance. The price is set by the perceived value as determined by the purchaser.  (If Meatloaf shows-up sober, remembers the lyrics and gives a good show, he makes a lot more money than if everyone was disappointed.  If the Patriots suck and lose the playoff game, they are docked and the price of a ticket is reduced accordingly.) This concept might work for Wall Street too!

Pardon Me

Pardon me, but I am more offended by the Mississippi governor Haley Barbour's pardoning hundreds of bad guys who were convicted in a court of justice than I am over the US Marines who pissed on the bodies of the enemy who were trying to kill them a few minutes earlier. 

What is wrong with me?

Malquoting the other guy

Mitt Romney found himself being quoted out of context the other day.   He was speaking about healthcare insurance and the benefits of having options.  In a regrettable choice of words he said "I like being able  to fire people."  Clearly Meaning it is desireable to have the ability to switch companies that are deficient in providing the best level of service.  The quote in context can be viewed here.

In an unseemly display of low road politics, opponents and partisan pundits jumped on the quote, happy to take it out of context and twist it to show what an evil job destroyer the Mittster is. 
 In a pretty meanspirited act, Gingrich even had the quote converted to a cell phone ringtone .

Well Mitt you deserved it.  You got the same thing you did when you intentionally  malquoted Obama, attributing him to a statement which was 100% opposite of his stand (he was actually quoting a McCain staffer at the time). 

Karma Baby! Suck on it.

The Grass is Always Greener

My wife thinks I am crazy because I keep looking at part time job postings on Craigslist.

"Why do you want to go back to some hellhole?" she wonders. Good question.

The simple answer is: I don't know. The more complicated and (potentially fictitious) reason is that I am  looking to find my place in the cosmos. One thing seems clear. I am restless with my status as "Retiree".

Being retired from the world of work is wonderful in many respects. You can sleep as late as you want in the morning. You have time to read the print versions of 2 papers, and have an unhurried breakfast. You can pretty much plan your day - take a walk, have lunch with friends, go to a movie.

Theoretically, you can golf and fish and wander around to your heart's content. You don't have some crazed boss demanding a status report, or wondering aloud at the staff meeting why your numbers aren't better. You don't waste two hours a day sitting in traffic. For once in your life, you finally have enough time for those extended trips to exotic places that you always talked about.

 
On the other hand, there are some drawbacks. You can't just sit around reading for hours on end and communing with nature every day, or napping like the cats. Anything gets boring if you do it day-in day-out.  Traveling can become both a distraction and a delight, but it does not fulfill you - unless you consider checking-off your bucket list as fulfillment.  And, there is the little matter of money.

If you are retired and rich, it makes things much easier.  But if you retired, collecting social security and have less than mega-millions in your  IRA, you are forced to make some trade-offs.   You cannot afford to travel all the time, and you cannot shop for trendy clothes or afford $40 haircuts anymore.

When I was younger, I was fulfilled by spending time in the garden and maintaining the grounds. I never thought of working in the yard as work because I enjoyed it thoroughly. Work is what someone else makes you do.

Nowadays, I don't anticipate Spring the same old way. The optimistic joy of gardening has gradually given way to reality-based discouragement, the groaning of stiff knees, achy backs and wildly unpredictable weather.

I have become pessimistic about climate and cynical about politics and skeptical towards anyone who claims to know the truth, has a cure for psoriasis, knows the secret to riches, wants to manage my money.
Parkinsons Law states that work fills the time allotted to it. There is a corollary to free time. If you only have one thing to do today, it will take all day to do it. We retirees are always complaining how busy we are.

Working people envy retired people. Buy after you have read two papers end-to end and checked the status of the markets, and taken a brisk walk, met friends for lunch, and so on, there is still a vague sense that something is missing.  It's that old feeling that you occasionally felt on the job that you were accomplishing something bigger than just staying busy.

Some mornings on my walk, I find myself looking at young people driving by, dressed for work with a tinge of envy. I know that odds are good that  they are probably on their way to some hellhole where the boss is overwrought asshole and the coworkers are backbiting shits.

But I can't help wondering if just maybe someone is actually  going to a place where the work is interesting and rewarding and their workmates are bright and positive with good sense of humor. To me, that would seem to be a pretty good way to spend one's day.

Thoughts on Christmas Letters

Consider your selves lucky.  You didn't get a Christmas Letter from us this year, recalling the memorable moments experienced by our wonderful family during the last twelve months.  You did not have to squint at blurry photos of us standing in front of monuments and churches on our enviable trips.  You were spared the adorable pictures of our cuddly pets and cuter-than-average grandkids.  If you were on our A list, you got a nice storebought card with an appropriate seasonal wish/greeting. 

 Everyone has access to word processing,  so it has become de rigueur for the family scribe to compose these little annual histories, like newsletters, printed with festive little borders and using special gothic fonts.  We got a dozen or so, ranging from the barely readable to the mildly informative to the ludicrous.  When the authors sit-down to write a Christmas Letter, they presumably do so out of an urge to recap the year of pertinent news for friends whom they have not had regular contact with.  But by the third sentence they start channeling Walter Cronkite, announcing each mundane event as if it were late-breaking need-to-know news.

 "Trish said her first word in February. It was "Dlurb" 

           "Thor, our new pucker doodle puppy,  ate mom's favorite pink bunny slipper."

While I am sure these memories are precious, I wonder if they need to be shared with the World.  Sometimes, they can unintentionally reveal too much information.

 "Slippery fingers Jill dropped a gallon jug of K-Y Jelly on my toe and I was limping around for a month."

Does anyone really like to get these smarmy, self-satisfied, impersonal missives?  I don't think so. The mistake most amateur writers make is that their prime motivation is to tell you something positive about themselves.  They incorrectly think that you are interested in their wonderful lives, so they selectively pick-out what they think is the most enviable moments.  They believe themselves to be informative and entertaining, I guess.  

The truth is, we are more entertained by accounts of ruined parties - where uncle Jack got drunk and fell off the chair  - than we are about perfectly planned parties where the food was perfectly cooked and everyone exchanged pleasant dinner conversation.  We don't want to hear you gush about your luxurious river cruise down the Seine, we want to hear about your miserable air travel hassles "And little Bernie screamed all the way from Paris to Rome! It was awful."   We wallow in your misery.

 Christmas Letter authors ought to be more caring and tuned-in to their audience.  Instead of crowing about what a great year you have had, describe some of the hilariously  crappy moments.  Instead of striving to make your recipients wish they were you, give them the gift of  being happy with their own lot in life - make them glad they aren't you.

Here are some ideas to get you started on a more interesting Christmas Letter next year:

"Melvin lost most of our nestegg investing in mink farms. What an Idiot. I should have married...."

"One of the neighbors tipped-off the cops and they confiscated my whole crop of weed...."

"Alice is pregnant again. She was featured on the Maury show to determine who the dad is....."

" Irving saved money by spreading lime on the front himself. Except that he mistakenly loaded up the spreader with rock salt..."

"Publishers Clearing house knocked on the door, but no one was home...."

 

You get the idea. 

** Disclaimer: Except for George, no one who reads this blog sent one of the Christmas Letters described in the piece.

 

Ch-ch-changes

Although I generally think of myself as retired,  I have kept up an interest in keeping active and involved with the working world.   In early December I answered a job ad on Craigslist for a Shipper at a small local nonprofit publishing company.  The job description contained many of the elements that I want in a job:
      ·         local – this outfit was a 6 minute drive,
      ·          modest commitment of time -  two  mornings a week (8hrs max) ,
      ·         some physical activity – 70% of the job was not sitting in front of a computer,
      ·         A decent hourly rate – $15 which is a few bucks above the min. wage.

During the interview, I learned that the job involved entering transactions on the database the picking packing and shipping.  I have always been a fan of the fulfillment process.  At various times in my career I have worked at big companies, helping to design and implement optimal processes for order entry, through the distribution cycle to billing and receipt.  On my resume I used to claim to be an IT fulfillment expert.  

But those high flying glory days are long ago and far away.  These days I swing on low hanging branches.  This opportunity appeared  to  be an easy way to get a paid workout and lend some structure to my distinctly unstructured week.  The two women who interviewed me apparently saw that I was a trustworthy guy who would show up and get things done.  So I accepted the offer with a modicum of hope and enthusiasm.

However after two weeks of training it became clear that this was not turning out to be what I had expected.  It was a very small operation, with only 2 full timers and only one other part timer ( the Accountant).  The physical part of the job – schlepping boxes of books, packing and filling orders – was relatively easy to learn and well within my strength and endurance capabilities.  After several weeks I had established a fairly good routine for getting the shipping and stocking work done.

But the job also involved key-entry of order data into a MAC  Filemaker Pro database.  This was a customized system that was probably considered "state of the art" in 1991.  It was clunky, and I was slow.  The gal who I was reporting to was impatient with my tedious keyboarding skills and several times during the training, she would exasperatedly reach over and hit the key that I was searching for.   When I told her not to do that, she developed a scowl that became ever-present when she and I were in the same room.    

I have never been very good at labor intensive activities myself.   Perhaps this realization was the motivation  for the role that I enjoyed most in my professional life:  helping other people work more efficiently.

Since retiring and entering the world of part-time work, I have had to come to terms with the realization that employers were not looking for their part-timers to be problem solvers or major contributors; they just wanted an efficient, interchangeable part - An easily replaceable working unit who does not ask questions or offer suggestions for improvement.  Ideally, they’d prefer a robot.  

I admit that I am not always patient or compliant.  Like most adults, I dislike supervision.  I can be stubborn – a tendency which I blame on my Irish and Dutch genes.  There was a lot of supervision and not much congeniality.  I expected a laid-back atmosphere, but was disappointed to find the chill of no-nonsense efficiency to be the prevailing wind.

This may sound like a self-serving rationalization for my decision to quit the job, but after a few weeks, I just did not see things getting better.   One of the chief reasons I quit my last job (at AAA), was because  they would not even discuss the possibility of improving the process (too costly), and yet they blamed the hapless counter people for making errors on a system that was neither logical or intuitive.  This was pretty much the same situation. 

At my age, I feel that I should not endure anything that I dislike if I can help it.  So, it is with little regret that I say sayonara and good luck.  Every experience is an education; even if it is not always fun.

Have I given-up on my quest to become usefully employed?  No.   My daughter has encouraged me to follow her interests in mediation training.  She seems to think that I would enjoy helping people find solutions to conflicts.  I am giving it serious consideration.   I demur, because the cynical part of my ego suspects that it is too late -- that I have become a hopelessly grumpy old fart who will never be satisfied with any job.

Hope still lives – I am starting Yoga lessons next week.  Flexibility and inner peace, here I come!

Holiday Events

Here at the Wellesley mansion, we have been busy preparing for the holiday festivities. We have a wreath with a red bow hanging out front and we have a Christmas Tree. Yes, Virginia, we still call it a "Christmas Tree" and if our Muslim, Jewish, Gay, Transgender, Vegetarian, African-American, Handicapped, Atheist friends and neighbors are offended, they can go suck eggs.

Last year, I finally gave-in and let my wife buy an artificial - excuse me, she calls it a "permenant" tree. It comes in three sections pre-wired with lights , and takes all of 10 minutes to put up. I would prefer a traditional “live” spruce, but I must admit there is an up-side to going fake. No schlepping around looking for the perfect tree at a reasonable price, no pine needles on the rug, easy-up, easy-down, and no expired tree to haul off to the dump.  The cats seem annoyed that there is no water tray to drink from, but they are captivated by the many new cat toys hanging from the branches.

We have another holiday party to go to this afternoon.  One of those open house deals where the hostess has cluelessly scheduled it smack in the middle of the Patriots vs Broncos game.   She feels that it is the NFL schedule that is at fault and besides who what a waste of time watching a stupid football game characterized by intense moments of brutality interspersed by long intervals of standing around and commercials.  She has a point, but still...

This will be our third holiday event in three days, and we know the effects of all that rich food and libation.  I may have to let out my belt a notch, but no worries I have already resolved to start a more healthy lifestyle -- next year.

'Tis The Season for Feeling Charitable

Like you, I hate to see pictures of starving children and homeless adults.  I believe that in a prosperous country such as ours, a principal role of the government should be to assuage the hardships on the less fortunate among us.  They say that among peoples of the world Americans are the most generous, both publicly and privately.  Many wealthy Americans are generous in their charitable giving.

Obama keeps telling us that everyone needs to pay their fair share.  Frankly, I don't blame wealthy conservatives for not wanting to pay higher taxes.  The government wastes most of the money it collects.  The cost of corruption, featherbedding, pork-barrel spending, cronyism,  malfeasance, lavish perks, abuse of privilege, and general incompetence adds up to skillions of dollars. No president or elected representative seems willing or able to address that simple truth.

The Boston Globe had an article recently  lamenting the problems charities are having with donations.  They blame the shortfalls on the widespread problems of the economy  -- especially joblessness and underemployment.
I must confess that as a fixed-income pensioner I am getting more tightfisted when it comes to charitable giving.  In the past when I was enjoying a moderate earnings as a worker I would donate to several different charities.  During the eighties, the local United Way organization was aggressive in getting corporations to influence their employees to sign up for "recommended levels" of giving.  The corporate UW committee members enjoyed lavish luncheons and generous time allowances to work on strategies to convince employees to pony-up generous donations, painlessly deducted from weekly paychecks.  The goal of 100% participation was articulated at upper management levels and  hamhandedly enforced by  management lackeys. While this approach was monetarily successful, it created a toxic atmosphere for some employees who resented being told how much to give, and who should decide which charity should get the donations. Needless to say, I was among those who rejected this fascist high-pressure approach to charitable giving.

Instead I would choose a half dozen worthy charities and divide my modest contributions among them.  Over the years , however, I became alienated by the aggressive marketing efforts of these charities.   I should confess, this alienation corresponds to an increasing personal attitude of skepticism and cynicism about the percentage of collected monies that found their way to the actual recipients.

Annoying bellringers -- give them nothing!

A few years ago I sent a nice check to the Salvation Army - an organization that I believe does great service in the general community.  Within a few months of my contribution I began to receive a series of requests for even more generosity.  With dismay,  I realized that my donation was actually being used to cover the costs of soliciting more donations!  To this day, despite my entreaty to be removed from the list,  I get 5 or 6 mailings per year from Salvation Army, all of which go into the recycle bin, unopened.  By the way, I refuse to give cash to anyone clanging a bell on a street corner.  That's just so annoying, not to mention that they set-up right at the door to the supermarket to try to make you feel guilty if you pass them by.

I will not be intimidated.  I always resented being strong-armed by well meaning neighbors or coworkers to give to the charity of their choice.  I don't mean solicitations for girl scout cookies, I'm talking about subsidizing walks for dreaded diseases, collections for their personal cause.  Hey I don't go around begging friends to contribute to The Institute for Research on Bloggers with Writers Block, do I?

The only charity I contribute to these days is the Boston Globe Santa, which spends 100% of all cash donations on the intended recipients.  The Globe donates its advertising and program management expenses to cover administrative costs.  To me, this is a real charity, worthy of my generosity.  Perhaps this year I shall bump my usual $20 contribution, to a hefty $25.

Suck on that, United Way.

Truth Seeking in the Land of Ideology

 I have frequently (and rather pompously) declared myself to be a Seeker Of Truth.   I emphasize that title with capital letters because I regard seeking the truth to be every bit as noble as other appellations such as, Chaplain, Professor, Doctor, Senator or even Dump Manager. (I claim solidarity with all workers in the profession of Waste Management, as we suffer similar scorn by society: our work is vital, yet society does not regard it as nice. But, someone needs to do it.)

Truth Seeking is scorned by true-believers.  The pursuit of Truth requires an  objective evaluation of facts.  This is impossible for one who is invested deeply in an ideology, which by definition is a system of doctrines based on beliefs.    It seems many TB's feel the need to loudly proclaim their moral superiority.  I regard this impulse as equivalent to whistling in the dark.  TB's almost always express fear - fear of  eternal punishment, fear of dangerous slippery slopes,  Socialism, terrorism, strangers, change, loss of traditional values, etc.

   

Debating with someone under the sway of ideology is futile, especially if you are invested in a competing set of doctrines. This is one of the reasons that dinner parties are less interesting these days.  Conversation has devolved to an assertion of beliefs rather than an exchange of honest information.  Listening once meant trying to keep an open mind, but no one listens anymore, except to listen for opportunities to hijack the discussion. (When not talking, the ideologue suffers the lame and inaccurate assertions of others, waiting for the critical  pause and then launches a nuanced verbal attack.)  No one seems to change their minds about anything.

It seems that when you become a TB and you decide what you truly believe in – whether it is Global Warming, Illegal Immigration, Progressive Taxation or Abortion (just to name a few) – you unshakably  believe only those assertions of fact that agree with your baseline position.  All other “facts” are suspect.  You question their validity because of the alleged bias of person who utters them, or the junk science that discovered them, on and on.  Faced with incontrovertible evidence, you will still find a way to stick to your root beliefs.  The shrinks have a name for it they call it "Cognitive dissonance".

In conversations with others, I have often been scoffed at as a fuzzy thinking fence sitter, a flip-flopper and probably worse.  My interlocutors must have felt it is an intellectual defect not to have a bear-hug on  a firmly-held conviction.  To me, it seems nearly impossible to find the Truth in the haystack of factoids, rumors and disinformation.    

I have never claimed to be the smartest guy in the room (except when I am alone with the cats)  but I privately (perhaps pompously) considered myself intellectually superior to smarter guys who did not realize that no issue is completely black or white. There are at least two sides to every issue. There are no absolute truths. 

Right wingers will use the 5^th Commandment of the Christian Bible to argue that killing is wrong, but they only mean it in the context of abortion.  These same believers will giddily approve the use of tax money to subsidize the production of weapons of mass destruction because it creates jobs.  But, where is that fine print in the Bible that allows situational exceptions to the injunction against killing?

Left wingers would like to remove all vestiges of human tribal inclination.  We are the world, they claim.  All resources belong to all men equally.  They would demolish state boundaries and distribute the wealth to everyone.  Yet without the competitive spirit of Capitalism there would be no wealth to distribute. 

These contradictions do not bother the True Believer.

Things are getting worse for Truth Seekers.  Negative political ads are nothing new, but recently the tack seems to have taken the direction towards the "low road."   There was a time when a smear ad would exaggerate the opponent's position, or take a quote out of context.  But the recent Romney TV ad deceptively shows Obama quoting a statement from the McCain campaign, as if it had been Obama's statement.
I think this is beneath contempt and would not consider voting for Mitt Romney unless he apologizes and fires the staff member(s) responsible for the ad.  Romney is more susceptible to negative ads than most polititians, since he can be honestly quoted to reveal his changeable positions.  True Believing conservatives already consider Mitt to be a shape-shifting, flip-flopping RINO (Republican in name only).   Now, he has alienated
Seekers of Truth.  

Competing Agendas

You have probably seen images of various cities where the Occupiers are brandishing signs "Sorry for the Inconvenience, We are trying to Change the World."    This is a weak attempt to diminish the rage many of the other 99% are feeling when the protests cause traffic gridlock,  making them late for work, or shut-down their workplace, or ruin their plans for a day in the city.

Don't shoot the messenger shoot the bankers!

The arrogant attitude of the Occupiers is clear:  OUR AGENDA is more important than your agenda.  If you don't want the world to be changed, then, you are wrong.  If you think it is a crime to block traffic and interfere with other people's rights, then you are the enemy.

Think about it:  this is pretty much the same rationale embraced by terrorists, who believe that THEIR AGENDA trumps your right to not be blown to smithereens just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It is only a few bus stops on the same trolly line from Occupy to Suicide-Bomber.  It is only a matter of the degree of chaos you are willing to inflict on the innocent bystander.  The mentality is the same:  We are so right that we claim the authority to override your rights. Another parallel to terrorism: The targets of the protest suffer the least, rather it is the innocent bystander who is most inconvenienced, or maimed.

Don't get me wrong.  I am not being critical of the message. Some of the points are well justified.  I just don't like the method.  We are still a free society and I don't believe that  trampling of other people's freedoms is justified by your agenda, however righteous.

On the other hand, I recognize that revolutions are messy, and I will not be surprised to see some political heads rolling.  Because terrorism has proven to be an effective way to get attention.

Thanks for Nothing

Well, here it is:  the day for  bloggers to publish smarmy, insincere lists counting their so-called blessings.  It would be too boring to list the stuff I feel lucky about, so here is my Thanks for Nothing List:

#1 Congressional Budget Super-committee.  These hand-picked representatives couldn't agree on any worthwhile proposal that would help reduce the deficit, create jobs, or improve confidence in the US economy. On the contrary, they helped drive stock market prices lower, by demonstrating the dysfunction of our leadership. This has a direct impact on my nest egg, which makes it personal.  Thanks alot - for nothing.

#2 Data Doctors.  I brought my computer in for service.  3 days later the PC is returned with new things wrong with it.  I am $150 poorer but am reluctant to bring it back, because these people clearly do not know what they are doing.  I notice the Natick store is now closed, why am I not surprised.  Thanks for nothing.

#3 The Mail Man who delivers soggy mail in wet weather.  Please, don't go out in the rain. sleet,  fog and snow.  I would rather have my mail un-delivered than having wet,  barely readable drenched envelopes -- even if the mail is mostly comprised of unsolicited marketing offers.By what logic do you think it is a service to stuff my mailbox with wet mail?  Holiday tip??  Hahahaha.  Thanks for nothing.

#4 Bank of America - you want to charge me to talk to a teller?  Most of them barely speak English.  I have moved my money to a less fee infested bank.  Also I sold all the stock that I paid $40 per share at $12 a share.  Last time I check it was $5 something.  Thanks for nothing.

#5 The guy who invented the leaf blower.  You should die a painful death and be condemned to the fiery pits for eternity. Thanks for inventing the loudest, most annoying consumer item ever.

#6 The Red Sox for a truly forgettable season.

The Court of Public Opinion

The news headline today shouts that Joe Paterno, football coach at Penn State since the Civil War, and the University President  - whose name no one knows -  were fired for their sins of ommission.  Even though the alleged perpetrator of the child abuse has not worked as Assistant Coach since 1999, these two have been found guilty because they did not call the police.  Hmm.  Makes you wonder what happened to the assumption of innocence.  Has the perp been to court yet?  How come the story is not about him?

Herman Cain is still denying that he ever acted  inappropriately with anyone.  If this is true then he probably deserves the nomination, since I would bet money that no one else who is running for political office can honestly  make such a statement.  Men in power are notorious for bad behavior.  For for a man who spends a lot of time on the road, whose job allows him a lavish expense account, the opportunities for mischeif are too great to be avoided.  It is difficult to believe that 4 (maybe more by the time you read this) women are making this stuff up.  Cain's denials will sink him; American votors will forgive their leaders for being sexually innapropriate, but they wont tolerate lying about it.

Just ask John Edwards.

State of the House

Well, we have no heat, the freezer keeps defrosting and melts all the ice cubes overnight, and my computer has a virus that keeps grabbing RAM and stalls out to the point that I have to shut off the machine.  There are solutions:

Heat: We will survive the weekend with no heat even if the cats are not too happy, then we will call someone on monday.

Freezer: we have a spare working fridge downstairs so we are not entirely ice-less. Several attempts to fix it by local service outfit (Jarvis) were unsuccessful.  Their customer service leaves much to be desired.  I have the name of a competent repairman and will contact him next week

Computer:  I am screwed, according to technical experts and will have to re-install Windows to fix the problem.  I would rather have pins stick in my eyes.

The Downstairs bathroom is not in operation.  All plumbing fixtures were removed, including our classic old Kohler Rochelle throne.  It now sleeps in the landfill container at the dump. The floor was freshly tiled a few days ago.  Today, as soon as I stop procrastinating, I will paint the walls. 


New Toto
Promenade



Monday, the plumber will come back to install the new Toto toilet and Euro style vanity. 

The hot water heater seems to work.  Maybe I should take a shower. 

RIP Steve Jobs

Death Does not carry a Smartphone

They called him “A genius;

Cut-down before his time,”

(As if one could remonstrate to Death’s

beckoning, “Not now, it isn’t my time!”)

Perhaps it was karma:        

A final disconnection,

Just retribution for the ruination

Of human conversation.

But no one at the table

Was listening, instead

Squinting into their iPhones

Reading tiny text messages

About nothing.

New Toy

Lake Cochituate

So the other day I took my newly acquired  kayak for a paddle on Lake Cochituate.  It's a few years old (2009), but new to me.  I saw it listed on a Craigslist ad.  It was the model and size I had decided on - an Old Town Dirigo Angler, 12 ft.  And at $500 it was the cheapest of the used ones I had seen over a few weeks of research.  A new one costs  around $800 on sale.  The paddle, worth an added  $60-90 was included.

Everyone warned me about meeting a stranger with cash in my pocket, probably still thinking about the guy who used Craigslist to meet his victims then robbed and even killed one of them.   Fortunately, this guy was just a guy who just wanted to sell his kayak.  I guess sometimes things are what they seem to be.

I used tie-downs to hold the kayak on the top of the van for the forty mile ride home. The were no mishaps en route. 

I started checking out the kayak sections of the local sporting goods stores and quickly realized that I was not ready to go boating.  I needed accessories.  Mandatory was a PFD or as we landlubbers call them life vests - the new tech term is personal flotation device.  I suppose they changed the name so you can't sue them if you drown wearing one.  Also I needed a bilge pump to get water out of the cockpit, and a dolly to help transport the kayak from car to water's edge.  Sometimes this can be quite a distance. If you have to carry or drag the thing (weighs around 50 pounds) you would be exhausted before you even get it in the water.  More accessories are needed:  A rooftop kayak carrier, drybags to keep stuff in, a paddle leash - a cord that you attach to your paddle and your vest to keep the paddle from running off. Eventually I would need to get a spray skirt  - to keep water out of the cockpit in rough water (I have no intentions of trying to paddle in anything but calm waters for the foreseeable future).

One Saturday morning a few weeks ago, the weather was perfect for a test run.  80 degrees, no wind.   My wife insisted on accompanying me on the maiden voyage.  I guess she wanted to evaluate my "floatability".  It was good that she came, since I did not have the dolly yet.  I figured I could use the help carrying the kayak the 50 yards from the parking lot to the launch area.  She also brought the camera, to record the event for posterity.  I removed the seats from the Caravan and loaded the boat.  About two feet stuck out the back, so I just used bungee cords to hold everything firmly with the hatch partially open.  It is only 10 minutes to the lake on back roads, so this was an acceptable way to transport the kayak.

The thing about a kayak is that it sits low in the water, unlike a canoe where the paddler is sitting on a raised bench.  The flexibility required for graceful entry and exit of  a kayak is found only in the fit and thin, neither of which am I.  Thus, the description of my getting-in and -out of the kayak will be skipped out of respect for my self esteem.  Suffice it to say that I got wet. 

But once out on the water, I was quite happy with my new boat.  I paddled around for nearly an hour before the muscles began to complain. 

This shot was taken of me returning to shore.  I would not let my wife take pictures during the "exiting the kayak" maneuver, but if she'd had a  video recorder, the ensuing action would have made it to America's Funniest Videos.

IIWII

One of the koans that has entered American parlance recently is the phrase:  "It is what it is."
People generally say this when they have run out of ideas.  They really mean, "I have no further information that would be helpful."   They shrug and give you a look of grudging acceptance and utter the meaningless phrase, "It is what it is."

I find it annoying.  Lately, I have found it entertaining to counter "No it isn't!"

End of Summer on the Cape

The day after Irene, we drove to East Sandwich on Cape Cod.  We were overnight guests at a beachfront cottage.  A week earlier, the person who had rented the place and had prepaid the $2000 weekly rate,  fell off a ladder, broke his leg and was unable to use it.  He offered it to my daughter who in turn invited us to stay for a night.  Hey, a free night at the Cape, why not.

I was anticipating a roiling ocean from the Hurricane/tropical storm that just passed over us on Sunday, and was mildly disappointed to encounter a relatively flat sea, with small unintimidating waves.

Beachfront Cottage on Dunes

My first impressions upon seeing the cottage was:

Rustic. 

If you have ever rented a place on the Cape, there is a common aspect to most rentals: the furniture is uniformly uncomfortable. 
Anyone who owns a place at the Cape, it seems,  sends all the family's unwanted, old, broken, stained, ratty looking -  chairs, sofas, beds and bookcases to the Cape place.  They don't want to have "nice" things that the renters might cause harm to, so they opt for the "quaint" look.  They call them antiques but I call them old, rickety and ratty. 
This place was no exception.  The kitchen was last updated about the time when electricity was invented.    The bathroom had three doors, which you had to lock to keep others from walking in on you.  Then you had to remember to unlock all of them or someone would yell at you.  It boasted three very small "bedrooms" with lumpy twin sized beds. None of the beds was acceptable unless you like sleeping on 30 year old mattresses and the bedspreads looked like havens for bedbugs and sand fleas.  I started scratching just looking at them.  They proved to be as uncomfortable as they looked, and I had the stiff back to prove it in the morning. 

The good part was the beach and the views.  The beach in East Sandwich is long and straight - what I call a good "walking beach" - which you don't usually find on the upper Cape.  The fine white sands were piled up into dunes so you had to walk down a steep path to get to the beach (and back up also).  According to some of the local inhabitants the beach which was fairly rocky near the waterline had been stripped of about two feet of sand by the storm and there was a fair amount of seaweed debris in the water.  Still, the refreshing wind was blowing gently and across the bay you could see a landmass, probably Provincetown.

At night the sky was clear and full of stars.  Looking down the beach there were groups of people who had started bonfires and who were probably roasting S'mores.  Periodically someone would shoot off a roman candle or bottle rocket.  Celebrating one of the last weekends of summer, no doubt.

We went for dinner at a place called Hemisphere.  It had a nice view of the canal and Cape Cod Bay.  Probably a good place to go for a drink on the deck.  My Cape Cod Red Ale was tasty.  But the service was slow - despite the fact that it was an not crowded -- and the food was not great.  My Swordfish was so dry I needed a knife to cut it (instead of a fork), the fried clams were overcooked, greasy and tasteless.  The only thing we all liked: fried onion strings.  I won't be going back there.  My advice: you shouldn't either.
The next day we had a delightful lunch at a place called Cafe Chew on 6A.  Huge freshly made sandwiches are generous enough to be split for adults and they have a kids menu. Highly recommended.  Note: they serve breakfast until 11:30 then lunch until 3pm. Not open for dinner.

 We were amazed that anyone would spend $2,000 to rent an uncomfortable, small, long-in-the-tooth shack for a week just because it is right on the beach. (And, it would be unseemly to make rude comments about it on one's blog, having spent a free night there.) 
But, we ended-up having a nice time.  Coctails helped.

Weather Fearcasts

Ok, Ok, I get it.  There is a big storm coming our way.  Hurricane Irene.  Perhaps the mother of all storms, landing thud right on my vegetable garden just when I've managed to pick a few decent home grown tomatoes. 
What's that you say? It hasn't even hit the US mainland yet.   It could fizzle.  Nice try, Mr Calm.  Take your skepticism down the hall.  This time the sky IS falling!...this time it's gonna be a trillion dollar disaster!  The New York City subways and Tunnels will be flooded because of an 8 foot tidal surge.  Boston will be inundated with 5 or 10 inches of rain.  Your basement will have at least 7 inches of water just like March of 2010.  This will be the second "hundred-year" event in three years!

The forecasters and news readers have become gleeful fearmongers.  They are running out of scary scenarios. In panic, property owners are rushing to batten-down hatches, or pulling  their boats from the water, and vacationers are checking-out early so they will not be stuck when the big winds begin to blow.   The supermarkets are doing a brisk business selling drinking water and batteries.  Liquor stores are selling out of scotch and gin.  People are scared.  For once in my life, I do not feel envy for people with beachfront property and a nice cabin cruiser tied -up at the marina.

It's been a classic Man vs Nature month so far.  A Richter 5.9 earthquake hit Virginia last week, and the tremors were apparently felt by some locals here in Boston metro west.  Obviously not folks like us who live within a few blocks of the RR tracks.  We get  the equivalent of  5.9 temblors every time a freight train goes by -- and often accompanied by a piercing blast from their high decibel horns as a lagniappe. 

President Obama has been vacationing on Martha's Vineyard, and was playing golf when the ground shook. Reportedly, he blamed the quake for a missed putt.

I have been fighting my own personal war against nature, in my losing effort to harvest ripe tomatoes.  My foes, the chipmunks and squirrels have been winning, despite heavy losses ( at least 12 casualties verified) on their side, thanks to my knuckle-breaker rat traps.  I bait them with pieces of tomato so the only rodents I have slain were tomato eaters.  The squirrels have been repelled by shiny CD's hung on fishing line.  They catch the light and turn in the slightest breeze, which spooks the squirrels, and i have not seen one near the vines.     In recent weeks, the traps have begun to loosen the chipmunks' stronghold on my garden. I have managed to pick a few ripe ones -- and our salads are to die for.  I have offered amnesty to all non tomato eating chipmunks.  Victory will soon be ours!  (That is, unless Irene wrecks everything.)

Stay tuned.

UPDATE:  Aug 28th
Irene where is thy sting?
Looks like I am not the only one to think the hype was overdone 
http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2011/08/28/hurricane-irene-hype-how-the-media-went-overboard.html

Verizon is Not Totally Dysfunctional

I acknowledge that most most of my previous posts about Verizon have been to complain. In the interests of fairness I need to mention that there is one thing Verizon does that is pretty good.  If you need to upgrade your FIOS set top box, they are amazing.  A few months ago, we decided to upgrade our hi-def box to a DVR.  I went online, and despite their clunky website, I was able to order a DVR box.  They said it might take two weeks for the new unit to arrive.

Installs like butter

Surprise, it came two days later.  I followed the simple instructions to hook it up and voila it worked! It took less than ten minutes. Smooth, like butter!  The old unit goes into the same shipping box for return.  They give you a return shipping label.  You take it down to the UPS store, ans as you place the box on the counter you wonder if it is going to be  hassle, but the guy says "Ok you're done. I do a hundred of these a week. Have a nice day."

Kudos to the person(s) who designed that process.    The DVR works very well too, especially now that we can fast-forward through all the comercials.  Now, we can record a half hour show and watch it later in 15 minutes.  I like that.  The DVR interface is a bit clunky, but like using your GPS or Cell Phone messaging,  you eventually get the hang of it.

Last week I replaced the 15 year old GE 25" TV with a new Panasonic 32" flat screen.  (Costco, $319 tax free).  It was time to replace the old Low-Def set top box.  I went online, muddled my way through their clunky interface, and finally managed to order the upgrade.  Two days later the new box arrived.  This time the set-up took twenty minutes because I had to use what they call manual activation, meaning I entered a code that they had sent me and then  waited twenty minutes while the main office programmed the box remotely.  No hassle on my part.  Today I will take the old box back to the UPS store.  Mission Accomplished!

So there you have it.  Verizon is not Totally dysfunctional after all.  So never let it be said that I am not fair and balanced, (even though I think their website is clunky :-)