Lessons from the middle part V

or...

What the Democrats should learn from the election of Donald Trump

or...

How to Win -- not just the next election, but Every Election!

Another lesson from the middle...

This lesson is for the Democrats.  You Republicans can go have a beer.  Or if you're a Baptist Republican you can go have a nice glass of "sweet tea"*.

You're sitting there all sad.  You're thinking "How can our country have elected this ridiculous, stupid monster?"  Well, buck up sissypants, that's how Libertarians feel after every fucking election.   But, it's still a good question.  How DID we elect him?

The simple answer is: You did.  Yes, you. 

But I digress... let's go back a few months.  Democrats basically fielded 2 candidates: the Socialist and The Most Hated Woman in America.  Oh, sure, there were a handful more, but how many people can name them without the help of Google or Wikipedia?  Now, when you put these candidates up, The Most Hated Woman in America beat the Socialist.  The conclusion was, of course, "Hey, look we've got a real contender there!"  But there's where you are wrong.  What you should have gotten from that is that -- even though he had a lot of very strong support, America would take The Most Hated Woman in America over pure socialism.

But let's keep going, shall we?  You then put The Most Hated Woman in America up against the pussy-grabbing reality show buffoon.  Now, let me tell you a little something about what went on out here in the trenches.  There were some seriously red Republicans that were sneaking off to voting booths to vote for The Most Hated Woman in America because that buffoon was such an awful choice.  AND SHE STILL DIDN'T WIN. 

Why?  Because, dipshit, she was The Most Hated Woman in America.  When you give people nothing but awful choices, they are ever so likely to make a awful choice.

Now: I know what you're thinking already.  You're going to sit tight and wait 4 years and then point to the catastrophe that occurs.  You're going to put up Lefty McSocialinstein.  And there is a likelihood that this will work.  You'll have elected a Democrat and will have recovered much of the House/Senate.  But... what if you could do that and win EVERY SINGLE ELECTION THEREAFTER?  Interested?

Here's what you do:  Don't run Lefty McSocialinstein.  Instead, put in a reasonable, moderate candidate.  Put in a candidate that is pro-choice, pro-marijuana, pro gay marriage, pro 2nd amendment, against welfare for rich people and DOESN'T WANT TO EXPAND THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT. 

Let me tell you:  You'll win in a landslide.  And you'll win in a repeatable fashion.  You will win so damn much we'll have to use the Googles to remember what that right wing party used to be called.



*which we know is a euphemism for "beer, except my friends can't know."

Whose report? WHO's report.

I am not a scientist. I am not a researcher. I am not a statistician. Hell, as often as I scribble something down, I don't even think I can call myself a blogger. But I would like to attach some numbers to the WHO's recent "Bacon is meaty death" study that seems to be getting press lately.

If you are to read some of the articles about this study  you'd be prepared to start injecting liquefied Brussels sprouts straight into your veins to fend off the evils of delicious pastrami.

"A research division of the World Health Organization announced Monday that bacon, sausage and other processed meats cause cancer and that red meat probably does, too.... In reaching its conclusion, the panel sought to quantify the risks, and compared to carcinogens such as cigarettes..."

OH MY GOD.  My smoked s'pork ribs are nothing but carnivore Marlboro's!

But I wonder...  what is the mathiness on this?

It appears the chances of me getting colon cancer in the next 30 years are about 3.39%.

BUT... If I were to throw caution to the wind and act like the daredevil I sometimes can be and consume a serving of red meat a day, I have a scary 17% increase!  That means I have a 20.39% chance of getting cancer!  Right? .... um... no.  It means my chances are 17% of 3.39% higher.  It means my chances just sky-rocketed from 3.39% chance of getting colon cancer to a 3.96% chance of getting colon cancer.

But Satan lives in a bucket of nitrates.  The bacon weel keel you.  Because if you dare smoke that meat... or pickle it... or cure it in any other evil way that Hitler obviously invented, you're going to get an 18% increase in risk.  Or, in other words, I would have 4% risk of getting colon cancer.  That extra sprinkle of salt got you an incremental 4 out of ten thousand people that might get cancer over the plain old red meat eaters.

And this is why I detest observational studies like this.  You ask a few thousand people what they ate last week.  They lie.  They guess.  They approximate.  (Tell me, measured in grams to the nearest tenth, how much of what food you had last week.)  And then you average all that together.  You then take 799 similar studies and try to pull meaningful data out of them.  When you find some small anomaly, you then rush to the press and scream "DEATH!  MURDER!  MAYHEM!" from the highest mountain top... even though the evidence is based on shaky data and at best affects 6 people in a thousand.

The real kicker comes when you lovingly tie this to smoking cigarettes as a cancer risk, as has been done in the press.  Now, our delicious salami gave us an 18% increased risk or 1.18 times the chance of getting colon cancer.   Smoking cigarettes is associated with a 2500% increase in lung cancers (25 times! Not 1.18 times!)  These numbers do not compare.  We're not talking apples and oranges here.  No: we're talking English peas and wrecking balls.

So please:  Step away from my barbecue pit.  There's nothing to see here.  And if you want to do an actual randomized, controlled clinical trial, I will volunteer to be in the group with the smoked ham.

Epilogue

Just for fun, let's list some other items on the Group 1 carcinogen hit list that you'll need to give up in addition to processed meat:

• Oral contraceptives
• alcoholic beverages
• outdoor air
• sunlight

And the list of Group 2A things you'll also want to avoid in addition to plain old red meat:

• frying emissions (just being near it... not even eating it)
• a nice warm fireplace
• working nights

So as long as you are a sober, celibate, pasty white, vitamin D deprived individual that has regular sleeping hours and remains shivering indoors with no fireplace and no french fries... You'll be fine.

Just to make it official...

Too many hands on my time
Too many feelings
Too many things on my mind
When I leave I don't know
What I'm hoping to find
When I leave I don't know
What I'm leaving behind... 

-Neil Peart, The Analog Kid

In the current Internet climate, it seems nothing is official until it's "Facebook Official."

It is in that spirit that I announce: I'm going to retire.  This is now, once again, a Quitter's Blog.  Much like my initial pretirement in 2006, the reactions seem to range from "congratulations" to "you are a dumb sumbitch."  I guess I should expect as much.  So, with little fanfare, I will address some of the common questions that aren't already answered in the wtf.  I'll probably eventually fold them in there in some form or fashion.

Why the hell are you retiring?

Short answer: because I can.  If you had the option, would you? ("No" is an acceptable answer.)

Longer answer: There are all types.  Some people love their jobs and will work up until the point they are dead-at-desk*.  While I enjoy doing things, they're not always the same things that I get paid for.  Human life is ridiculously short.  The idea of getting up, sucking down coffee, driving an hour, then spending the majority of a beautiful day in an 8x8 cube with no view of the world... Well, as glamorous as it sounds, it loses a little of it's gleam over the years.  Tag.  You're it.  It's your turn.

What the hell are you going to do all day?

Whatever the hell I want to.  This isn't really a question I even understand.  For years, I hear people complain of their busy lives and what they'd do if they just had time.  Well: I have time.  I have a workshop that needs to be fully set up and a house that's been 80% complete for a long time.  Just tying up those ends will entertain me for the short term.

Won't you be bored?

Are you bored at work?

How long have you been planning on this?

Almost since the beginning of work itself.  I have a much beloved uncle that punched out for the last time at age 48.  While I missed the bar by a couple of years, the idea has been there for as long as I can remember.  But I've been mostly** working on it for the past 20 years. 

How in the world did you do this?

The really short answer to "How?" is: you spend less than you earn.  I know that sounds like a cop out, but it really is just that simple.  Drive an older car.  Live in a less expensive house.  Eat out less.  Buy less stuff.  Don't pay $5 a day for a 15 cent cup of coffee.  And that isn't just a way to save money now while compounding interest does awesome things.  That also means you'll need less to live on later.  That $100k of expenses you had this year might last you 3 or 4 years if you just looked at it from the right angle.  (And this doesn't mean your way of spending is wrong...  But it might be wrong if you want to retire early.)

But I'm just a snarky sonofabitch.  I'm not really a good teacher.  If you really want a nuts and bolts approach, you should probably take a look at someone like Mr. Money Mustache.  It turns out that the math is shockingly simple.  I happened on MMM well after I was on the road.  And I by no means took an extreme approach.  While I brag about being a Cheap Ass Bastard -- compared to Those of the Mustache™, I am probably a Spendy McSpenderson. 

This wouldn't work for me.  My situation is different...

That's not a question.

Dammit.  Okay.  How in the world would this work for me in situation X?

I'm not a financial analyst and you probably don't want to pay me to become one.  Are there people that just have oddball corner cases or lots of dumb, stupid luck?  Sure.  But there are quite a few cases of people making almost nothing, with a house full of kids that managed to retire MUCH FASTER than me.  If you really want advice, I'm quite sure one of them could offer it better than I.  If you're serious about it, post your details on the MMM forum and let the math geeks play with it.  But if you want to argue that it cannot be done in your situation, you've come to the wrong place.  If you don't think you can do it, you're destined to be right.

Will you ever work again?

I don't know.  I'm relatively sure I won't ever work again in the same capacity that I do now.  I'd be more interested to take lower paying jobs where I could learn a skill (cabinet shop anyone?) than leverage my existing skills.  And I might do little bits and pieces of what I do now for grins -- but at a significantly higher rate.

When's all this happen?

Both seriously and tongue in cheek: Independence Day.

---

*One place I worked had a database of everyone that had ever worked there across decades and their employment status: current employee, retired, fired with cause, etc.   One entry in that very large database had the status "dead at desk."  That will not be me.

**Mostly meaning: not including 2006-2009, when I felt the urge to take my ball and go home for a little while.  Again: because I could. 

P&T: the Unreview

Three years since last post?  Yeah, I've been.... um.... busy.  I know the world weeps for my wisdom.

If you're looking for a review of the travelling Penn & Teller magic show, you're probably in the wrong place.  What you're more likely to find here is just me being a big kiss ass toward the dynamic duo.  It's not really fair for me to ask if I liked the show.  That's like asking if I like ice cream.  Or steak.  Or bacon.  You see: I've been a fan since my late teens (and I'm an old fart).  But I never knew how much of a fan I was back then... I just knew their humor and style appealed to me.

What I came to discover -- and hope to impart here -- is that their magic matters.  Oh, sure, it is a silly show full of all sorts of chuckles, lies and trickery.  But it is more than that as well.  It is true art.  And it's art with a purpose.

To really understand their impact, you'd have to understand the town I grew up in.  When I was a child, it was a sleepy little town fully entrenched and ruled by Baptists.  And I mean seriously ruled.  It was "made safe" by continuing alcohol prohibition well up until 2013.  I remember the religious leaders up in arms protesting -- successfully I might add -- to keep the heretic ideas in Monty Python's "Life of Brian" out of the cinema.  I remember city ordinances that shuttered dangerous pornography like Playboy magazine and kept it safely outside the city walls.  And all I could think at the time was how bassackwards the town was and how much I wanted to escape it.

And escape I did.  Roughly about the same time I first saw P&T's blood and cockroach infested appearances on Letterman -- I also was dabbling in that evil that we know of as Rock and Roll.  In particular: Rush -- which also had quite an influence on my young mind.  I found their intriguing ideas on art, self interest and philosophy really melded with my own forming opinions.  When I found a one-liner in their liner notes: "with acknowledgement to the genius of Ayn Rand"... I dug through bookshelves and started reading.

It was probably about 10 years ago I realized that Penn & Teller were outspoken libertarians and atheists -- well, one of them was outspoken anyway.  I stumbled upon their Bullshit! series and was hooked immediately.  And it was just a little more than a year ago that Ellie May pulled out her phone with Penn's podcast loaded and said "Spork: you've GOT to listen to this."  Just like that, I became a member of Penn's congregation.

So why do silly magic tricks matter?  They matter because I saw a room full of old Baptist geezers listen while Penn trivializes religious thought -- and they laughed and applauded.  They matter because many of these same people patiently waited 45 minutes for a 10 second photo op with them, grinning with insane childish joy.  You can tell the magic tricks matter when you hear a stranger in the crowd say "I really don't like their world view, but MAN that part with the Constitution was powerful!"

They matter because men can express their love of individual rights and their distaste for religion all wrapped in laughter and wonder.  A group that's usually thought of as lunatic fringe is the star attraction for 2 whole hours.

And maybe most of all it matters because they somehow symbolize that the backwards town where I felt oddly out of place seems to have grown up -- just a little.

That's not a cliff, it's a pothole

(In reference to....)

To build a house, part deaux

Our exciting (?) story continues.  As you may recall from our previous episode, I talked about the what and the why of building a house using real money.  Now for the how...

The financial how is straight-forward.  I know you think it isn't, but it is.  First off, let me give you the caveat that I am not fresh out of school with a degree and an entry level job.  On the other hand, I am also not a rich banker that has just finagled a billion dollar bailout at your expense.  I'm an average Joe that's been working for 20+ years.  It's not my first house.  It's not a starter home.  I did finance those.  But even with those homes financed, I busted my ass to try to pay them down.  I always had a 15 year (or less) loan and I always targeted to pay it early.

But that's not really the point.  That's merely a disclaimer.  My point is that you don't have to be richer than god to bankroll a house.  Where does the money come from?  I am glad you asked!  It comes from everywhere!  It comes from eating dinner at home.  It comes from drinking a beer at home that costs a dollar a bottle instead of drinking THE EXACT SAME BEER at a bar for $8.  It comes from not having that latte today (and more importantly, not having it twice a day for every day of your life.)  It comes from having a phone and a computer... and not a phone that IS a computer and costs $100 a month to use.  It comes from squirreling away unexpected money.  (Your uncle died and left you a few grand you didn't expect.  You can make a nice down payment on a really nice car or drive the same paid-off car you've been driving for 10 years and put the cash in the bank.)  In short: it's a conscious effort to evaluate the total cost/benefit of things you want and need.  It's an effort to ask "how much does this cost?" instead of "how much does this cost per paycheck?" ... escaping the paycheck-to-paycheck mentality.

And there is more "how" than "how do you get the money?"...   How do you spend it on the house?

Our first idea was "buy the land first."  This is why I've been living in a tool shed for five and a half years.  We bought the land, got it paid off as fast as we could, then kept paying for it -- paying ourselves the house payment.   And since the land had a tool shed on it, we moved into it.  Granted, this is not something you want to do with someone you don't like -- it's close quarters.  I am still amazed at how much crap we managed to shoe-horn into 600 square feet.

My second idea was: don't build it all at once.  This is what we did.  We were looking to build a 3 bedroom home.  But, we built a 1 bedroom home.  However, we built the infrastructure for a 3 bedroom home.  The rest is just unfinished.

This will make your costs look really odd.  Your cost per square foot is going to go through the roof.  (The roof that was, in fact, scaled back from a really nice standing seam metal roof to just plain old composition shingles, by the way.)  But don't worry about it.  You're thinking of the total cost... and the total cost per square foot when you are done will work, okay?

The third grand idea was to be our own subcontractors.  There are lots of things that an average unlicensed guy can do: flooring, paint, finish carpentry, tile, cleanup, final grading, landscaping.  Does it take longer?  OH MY GOD, yes.  If you're not good friends with the wife, I'd breach that gap before I took this path, because you're keeping her out of her new kitchen for potentially months.  But how long does a typical mortgage take?  30 years?  I think adding 3 months to construction isn't such a big deal in comparison.

But I won't lie to you.  The biggest savings in building was painful slash and burn to our original plans.  As you start drawing, the sky is the limit.  Anything is possible.  The more you look at what you can have, the more you want.  It's a vicious cycle.  Keep that draftsman on retainer, because once you have what you want, you're going to have to cut it to what you can build.  And you won't really know how much it will all cost until you bid it out to a few builders.  Granite counters?  How about instead you browse the granite out behind the cutting shed and pick out a few remnants for the powder room?  Your mom had laminate counters and they're still looking about like they did 50 years ago.  It didn't seem to affect her character.  Three car garage?  Chef's kitchen?  Nope.  And nope.  Both of those luxuries hit the cutting room floor in a big pile of crushed dreams that is floating in a pool of tears.  And guess what?  It doesn't really matter in the end.

stay tuned... more to come

To build a house...

With much fanfare, I would like to point you to my profile, which has been gleefully updated.  Note that it no longer says "in a metal shed" but says "in a real damn house."  That's right, we've moved in.

I've mentioned, in not-so-much detail, that we were building a house.  And, more importantly that we had the intention of building it using a ridiculous never-done-ever method: using money.

While we were in progress, I hesitated to go into a lot of detail... partly because those sorts of details are hard for me to talk about sometimes... and, to be honest, because I wanted to know if I would succeed or not.  It's interesting either way -- failures often teach us as much as successes -- but it's often hard to know how to tell a story without knowing the ending.  Now, as the arterial rupture of money spilling on the ground trickles back to a mere mortal hemmorhage... it's time.

This might be longish... so I will be chopping it up as best I can.  There are a number of observations I'd like to point out along the way.

I shall start here with the dry, boring bits: the what and the why.

My goal (other than "Ellie gets a kitchen") was to build a nice house -- not a stripped down square box -- but something nice.  I didn't want something that looked like it was full of compromises and cutbacks (although, that was painfully a big part of the process).  We plan on being there a long time -- maybe forever -- though you never really know what curves life will throw you.  And even though I am a cheap ass bastard, we were willing to spend more in areas that we considered to be the bones of the house.  (For example, I'm willing to pay double for insulation if it pays off in 4 or 5 years.)

And, as a sworn member of the Tinkerer's Union: Sweat equity.  I like sweat equity for several reasons.  Obviously I like it because I am cheap.  But, maybe more importantly, I like it because it makes it mine.  There is a reason why Habitat for Humanity requires it for their charity work.  Getting physically and emotionally involved in the building process gives you more of a sense of ownership than writing a check.

As for "why" to do this: I have a desire to be financially independent.  Note: that doesn't mean "Bill Gates $100 bills leaking out of your pockets rich" (though this option is surely attractive).  What that means is being at a point in life where you work... or not... based on what you damn well want to do.  And by "work" I would include spending all day out in the shop at a lathe turning toothpicks out of oak trees.

FI is a mindset that seems rare these days, and sadly so.  Even in early stages of FI -- as you get closer to it, but still are not quite there -- it is a wildly empowering mindset.  Even if you're only partly there, you realize that the daily grind of your job isn't REQUIRED for everyday life.  You could quit (or get laid off) and still be okay for a long damn time.  You could discover the meaning of your life involved a master's degree in beaver orthodontia -- and have the resources to retool and pursue that goal.

And probably one of the most important tools (IMO) in becoming financially independent is: a paid off house.  There are still expenses: maintenance, utilities, taxes... but imagine all the cool stuff you could do if you didn't have a house payment.  Now imagine you DIDN'T do that stuff, but instead wisely invested that house payment for several years....you're there.

the Cathouse

With the building of our new house, I got permission to build a cathouse.  I got all excited... until I realized it was actually a house... for cats.

Oddly enough, it's a problem I've been considering for quite some time.  Consider the following:

A. Cat poo is the stink of death
B. Dogs love cat poo
C. Dogs are affectionate, kissy animals

QED: I'm about to hurl

Which led me to believe it might be possible to make an awesome hideaway for the cats, complete with snacking doggy avoidance features.

Michalangelo had his Sistine Chapel, Van Gogh had his Starry Night, Da Vinci had his Mona Lisa.... and now I present to you, with no further ado: Spork's Cat Closet.

Let me tell you a story.  There isn't a snarky punchline.  There isn't a lesson to be learned.  It's just a story.

There was once a computer geek that worked in a big city.  His office had a huge plate glass window in it... probably 60 feet long from floor to ceiling.  One day while working he noticed a momma cat outside, nursing a tiny kitten.  This was not in a residential area and she was struggling to catch enough food to produce the milk for the kitten.  So the geek put out cat food for her.

Momma was wild.  Very wild.  And the kitten, orange with swirly stripes, became wild too.  No amount of coaxing or talking would draw her out.  Time went by... the only way the kitten would allow the geek to approach was through the plate glass window -- where if he dangled a string (or a frayed bit of CAT5 cable) she would play with it through the window.

As momma cats do...  Momma got pregnant again... and had another litter of kittens, leaving the kitten alone.  She did not know how to hunt.  She was helpless.  And Momma had to send her away to raise the next batch.

So the geek trapped her.  She was probably about 9 months old by now and extremely wild.  And every said you just can't tame a feral cat.  Once they are wild... it's over.

Like I said, there is no moral here... no punchline... no snark.  That scrawny scared feral kitten passed away today at the too-young age of almost 12.  She spent 9 months living on the hard streets, became an indoor cat and never looked back.  Bye Lucy.

Original Sin

There are lots of concepts in the Bible that are not just bad ideas -- they're downright WRONG.  Morally corrupt.  The one that always jumped out at me is Original Sin.  It's the idea that your Mom and Dad were essentially evil at the core and that makes YOU evil.  And you're going to be punished.  The great¹⁰⁰⁰⁰ grandchild of the parent gets punished for the sins of the parent.  Worse still, the supposed "Sin" of Genesis was the desire for knowledge and reason.  The story is just plain evil.  And it's the intro to the whole book, casting a pretty big shadow on the whole thing.  Good is bad.  Light is dark.  Reason is evil.  Ick.

Fast forward to present time and my favorite pitchman for convincing us we're all victims: Elizabeth Warren.  (Oh, you poor dear!  The world has treated you so poorly, making you buy that 3500 square foot house and forcing you to buy that $45,000 car!  IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT!)

Her newest pitch seems to be causing a fervor on the internets:

There is nobody in this country who got rich on his own. Nobody. You built a factory out there — good for you!

But I want to be clear. You moved your goods to market on the roads the rest of us paid for. You hired workers the rest of us paid to educate. You were safe in your factory because of police forces and fire forces that the rest of us paid for. You didn’t have to worry that maurauding bands would come and seize everything at your factory, and hire someone to protect against this, because of the work the rest of us did. Now look, you built a factory and it turned into something terrific, or a great idea — God bless. Keep a big hunk of it.

But part of the underlying social contract is you take a hunk of that and pay forward for the next kid who comes along.

And there you have it: Original Sin.  Shame on you, you maker of things we want!  We coercively forced people to pay for roads and schools and didn't charge you a dime for using it. Now you actually had the nerve to drive on those roads and hire those educated folks as employees.  You BASTARD!  YOU OWE US! 

If you don't have a victim, make one.  Force them to pay for something they didn't ask for; give it to someone else, then make the victim angry and divert the blame.

Elizabeth Warren is God.  That's not a compliment.

The Breakup

I don't know about you... but this is what I read when I read the recent email from Netflix:

Dear Spork,

I messed up. I owe you an explanation.

It is clear from your feedback over the past two months that you felt I lacked respect and humility in the way I announced my intent to fool around and the crabs I gave you.  That was certainly not my intent, and I offer my sincere apology.  Let me explain what I am thinking.

For the past five years, we've had a great relationship.  Cozy.  Safe.  Loving.  And... it's not you, it's me.  Most people are great at something -- like Brad fixes his girlfriend's car or Sharon dresses provacatively to show her large breasts -- do not become great at new things people want (fooling around for me).  So I moved quickly into fooling around, but I should have personally given you a full explanation of why we are splitting up.  It wouldn't have changed giving you crabs, but it would have been the right thing to do.

So here is what I am doing and why.

Many people love the monogamy lifestyle, as I do, because it's traditional and safe.  Monogamy is a great option for those who want a safe, loving environment.

I also love sleeping around because it's part of my nature, and I can have sex anytime I want.  The benefits of polygamy are really quite different from the benefits of monogamy.  I really need to focus on increasing my book of booty calls, without being hassled by monogamy.

So I realized that sleeping around and monogamy are becoming two different lifestyles, with very different risks/rewards, that need to be managed differentlly, and we need to let each grow independently.

It's hard to write this after over 10 years of our relationship, but I think it is necessary:  In a few weeks, I will introduce you to my cousin Thelma.  I chose Thelma because she has a real good personality and wants to get married really REALLY bad.

I promise Thelma will put out.  It may be a new name to you, but she will be monogamous.  One improvement you will see is she has no self esteem and will probably get really freaky with you.  You've been asking for freaky sex for years, but now that you're hooking up with Thelma, you will finally be getting it.  I am sure Thelma has other good traits as well.  A negative of you and Thelma hooking up is that you and I won't be doing it any more.

There will be no crabs (you're done with that!).  If you want to fool around with both me and Thelma, you'll have to work that deal out with her.  I'll let you know when Thelma is ready for your first date.

For me my slutty red dress has always been a source of joy.  Thelma will have a red dress in the same color, but now it will be a size XXL.  I know the XXL size will grow on you over time, but still, it is hard.  I imagine it will be hard for you too.

I want to acknowledge and thank you for sticking with our relationship, and to apologize again for the crabs.

Both Thelma and I will work hard to regain your trust.  I know it will not be overnight.  Actions speak louder than words.  But words help people understand actions.

Respectfully yours,

-Your girlfriend, mother of your children, sex goddess

p.s. I have a slightly longer explanation along with a sex tape with my new boyfriend posted on my blog, where you can also post comments.

Lessons from the Middle IV: You're all not getting it

My Chambers Stove project has attracted my attention for much of the last several months... and the world has seemingly gone to hell without my advice.  This. Must. End.

As a public service, I offer another "Lesson From the Middle."  It appears the Left and Right at the top of the political food chain have all the cerebral processing power of a wooden log -- the left thinking much in the same way a bit of teak does and the right having the thought processes of say... pine or cedar. I feel like both sides need a serious dose of reality ... and I am here to give it to you if the excessive cellulose in your skull can handle it.

This should be something Mommy and Daddy taught you growing up, but ... a family has an income.  They also have expenses.  The income has got to be more than expenses or little Billy eats the cat.  It's not hard.  Money in has to be more than money out.  There was an old school method of dealing with debt crisis in the family: stop spending so damn much.  There was also a corollary: when you have extra cash, save it for later.  That same simple process works for families, for corporations and for governments.  I repeat: It's not hard.

FOR THE LEFT
You can blame the world's woes on Bush from now until your upcoming recall election but this temper tantrum just isn't true.  Bush was an idiot.  You're right there.  Bush was a free-spending socialist.  You're right again.  But debt troubles were there before him and they're here now after him.  So pipe down and look at the numbers.  There is no amount of tax-the-rich that will fix this.  You can tax them all at 100%, and even if they didn't pack up and leave the country, you'd still be drowning in debt.  You have to cut spending.  And I don't mean some stupid $2.7 billion dollar cut like the esteemed Senate majority leader (brain of maple) wants.  That not only doesn't make a dent in the debt, but it doesn't even make a dent in the deficit.  If the amount being spent is still more than the amount made, YOU ARE LOSING GROUND. 

You can't make a "trillion dollar cut over 10 years" when your overspending by more than a trillion dollars every single year.  It's math.  You have to cut enough to not only stop the bleeding, you also have to start emptying the debt bucket.  You need to cut so much it hurts and makes everyone scream bloody murder.  They need to know what services they're losing and why: Because they can't afford it.  Explain it to them in simple terms.  Don't scream that John Boner wants to crush Public Broadcasting.  Tell them how much we will miss Public Broadcasting and that if they really want to keep it, operators are standing by to take their pledge.

FOR THE RIGHT
I have very strong philosophical problems with taxation -- not just the taking of monies by force, but the taking of monies by force and then spending it in ways that are often diametrically opposed to things I believe.  (I have graciously given you a partial solution to this that no one has implemented.   I'm waiting.)

So you understand: I hate taxes.  I hate them from my core.  I have philosophical issues with them.  So listen when I tell you: You MUST raise taxes.  Again, I don't mean raise taxes on the wealthy.  If we eat the wealthy, we're still going to be hungry tomorrow.  What you need to do is raise taxes on all of us.  We have to feel it.  We have to know "Service X costs money.  You are paying for it.  It isn't free."  It's been Monopoly money that sprays out of the Fountain of Free Things™ so long that we have lost track of it.  Let us know.  Send me a statement in detail of all the insane, stupid things you are doing with my hard earned money.  Infuriate me so I might vote the next guy out that wants to spend a dime more.

FOR YOU BOTH
Your plans are no more than hand waving.  There is this call for compromise... and I am telling you: DON'T.  You can't compromise between two plans that hold all the water of a dishtowel when you are mopping up a spill the size of an ocean.  You're compromising between two bad choices in an attempt to keep your job another term.

Finance just isn't that hard.  It isn't about manipulating currency or moving markets or perfect timing.  It's just about living beneath your means and saving the rest.  It's second grade math.  Attempts to make it more than this are nothing but a scam to pass the buck to the next generation or the next Congressional session.  Just stop.

Miscellaneous

Lazy.  That's what you call someone that posts one tidbit every quarter.  Hello, I am lazy, nice to meet you.

And this post isn't so much a work of art or a spew of vitriol... It's more of an update.

The home front

I mentioned here and here we were trying to build a house.  And while the schedule has been oh-so-lax and not-quite-met... I believe it is actually about to begin.  There's a plan.  There's a builder.  There's a rough outline drawn on the ground with my truck parked in the "garage."  Now, building a house is probably not all that unique, so I probably won't be leaving updates here every 3 hours (unless there is something particularly interesting to post).  For friends/family/stalkers I'll try to keep a running set of photos on Picasa.  Other disinterested parties may silently ignore that.

I would, for the record, like to point out the builder selection process:

• Builder 1 - hired to draw plans and bid on the house.  Copied/pasted plans from a web site.  Fired.
• Builder 2 - Seems.   Like.  A.  Nice.  And.  Honest.  Guy.  That.  Talks.  A.  Little.  Slow.  For the record, I'd like to mention that 2 out of 4 times I have been to his office, I had car trouble bad enough that I had to be towed home.  No, this was not the same car.  Jinx?
• Builder 3 - Seemslikeareallyniceguythattalksreallyfastanddrinkstoomuchcoffee.  We actually went a few rounds with him, telling him how we wanted to do some of our own work and he mysteriously just decided (weeks into this) to stop returning our phone calls.  Nutjob?  Or stringing us along?  Who cares.  Fired.
• Builder 4 - The most highly recommended builder by the girl that eventually drew our plans (not by the copy-paste method).  "He would build my house," she said.  Then we talked to several subcontractors that slowly shook their heads no.  "He doesn't pay his bills and you cannot ever get him on the phone."  Fired.
• Builder 5 - A slick used car salesman that deals in 2x4's and plywood.  I was ready to leave the office about the time I shook his hand.  Fired.

From the above, you can probably deduce we went with Builder 2.  If you're still wondering about the possible jinx, I'd also mention his office caught on fire about a week before we signed with him.

The Chambers

Ellie May has had the idea for several years that she wanted a shiny new (old) Chambers range in her kitchen.  We even drew the plans with the odd sized hole in the cabinets for it.  We've been watching Ebay/Craigslist for over a year, bid on a few and never found the right one at the right price.  And then they fell out of the sky.  Last week we found 2 of them for the price of 1.  Neither is pristine by any means, but they're both mostly complete and I feel certain I can build one working stove out of the 2.  I'll also have a spot on Picasa for the restoration of these guys... and possibly have some blog entries here as there do seem to be a crazy bunch of rabid fans (Ellie included).

Suggestions for naming the ranges are now being taken.

Net Neuter Reality

Geeks everywhere clamor for "Net Neutrality".  Don't tread on me... or my data.  And if the FCC has their way that'll be exactly what happens.  My guess: it isn't going to make the geeks happy.  It's a nice slogan to rally behind... but the reality is quite different.

The geeky idea here is that the evil ISPs are stepping all over their packets and making life miserable for them all for the idea that some premium corporate service gets better tubes than you do.  Or that evil ISPs will block their competition just upstream of YOUR HOUSE.  And, in a way, they're right.  There are little bits of truth here.  Very little. 

Truth is a modern ISP probably has multiple services going on: web, email, DNS, ftp, voice, video and a whole host of unimaginable data services... maybe even burglar alarms, traffic lights, surveillance cameras...  And while you may think your traffic is more important than mine, it turns out the importance isn't so much a perspective of whose data it is, but what kind.

If you are sitting around in your underwear surfing the web, you are dealing with very interactive data.  Click... ebay.  Click... amazon.  Click... porn.  Click... order a pizza.  While it's cool that the time between "click" and "porn" is small... it isn't critical to the operation.  If it takes half a second or three-quarters of a second... it doesn't really matter.

Voice and video are different.  If you have an  stream of Grey's Anatomy that is redrawing your screen (which is possibly 1,920×1,080 little dottie bits) 24 times a second...  and you miss a half a second.... that's very different.  You'll get little sparkley bits of frozen crap on the screen. 

The same is true of your phone call.  If little parts get delayed or dropped out... I'll start stuttering and -ou wi-- -ear --ly -arts of --e --nversat--n.

Now, enter government.  They'll fix it.  They fix everything.  They argue that since they're regulating telephone and television... it just makes sense.  Of course, telephone was built as a government mandated monopoly back in the days of Ma Bell.  The regulation was in trade for a guaranteed sack of cash.  Television operated on radio waves the government stepped in and decided they owned...  ISPs, on the other hand, built their own networks with their own money... and it is not something that is cheap to build. 

ISPs hauling huge mounds of data (video, telephones, etc) from place to place and they're renting you the part they have left over.  In short, Disney is subsidizing your internet access cost in exchange for the ability for you to watch the latest sitcom on ABC.  Net neutrality wants to make all data equal... and the only way it can do that is to make the pipes bigger or the data smaller.

Do you want fewer TV channels?  Do you want more fast busy signals?  Lower resolution TV shows?  Do you want higher cost access fees to subsidize bigger pipes?  Stuttery voice conversations?  Frozen TV shows?  These are the trade offs that will come, in some combination, with true protocol agnostic networks.

Think back.  What has been the most growth intensive thing in your lifetime?  What has changed the landscape more than anything?  For me, it's clearly the internet.  Was it built on the bones of a government network?  Sure.  But that network grew at a snail's pace until it fell in the unregulated hands of the private sector.  And it has made more money for more people than could have ever been imagined.  Why, in your wildest dreams, would anyone think pulling it under federal controls would help?

the Parable

I have decided the parable has become a lost literary art. I would like to revive it.

There was once a geeky guy named Zeke. Yes, he was Zeke the Geek. He tended to sometimes be a little shy and sometimes had difficulty talking to and meeting girls. Yet, he was an intelligent, successful guy in his own way. He wasn't overly wealthy, but he did alright.

One day he was sitting at home alone, petting his dog Muskrat. He thought to himself "Zeke," (because he often addressed himself by his first name when he talked to himself), "you need to get out more. You should go to a nice bar and have a drink amongst the company of humans."

And so, Zeke did. He picked a very nice quiet bar with lots of mohagany and walnut. Zeke walked right up and sat on a prominant stool and ordered himself a Gin and Tonic. Yes, this was nice. This was living.

It wasn't long until a very attractive dark haired beauty walked into the bar. There were barstools everywhere... and yet, to his surprise, she sat right by him. She ordered herself a wine fizzleflop and slowly sipped on the straw.

There were glances. Smiles. She eventually spoke to him.

"My name is Allison."

"Hi, I am Zeke."

They started talking. Oddly enough they had things in common.

Allison, like Zeke was sort of an oddball geek. She was into computers. She liked dogs. She was a little shy.

At one point, the conversation turned to cars. Zeke loved cars. He giggled and said "My favorite all time car ever is an Aston-Martin. I'd do anything to get a chance to drive a DB-9. It would make me feel just like James Bond."

"No way. I have a DB-9."

Zeke just laughed. "Oh, yeah, like you have one parked right outside."

Allison was a little defensive. "I do, in fact."

"You have a $180,000 car parked outside?"

"Sure. I've done really well writing computer games. And I inherited a ton of money from my uncle. I'd even let you drive it if you really want."

"You're serious?"

"Yes," she said, drawing the keys out of her purse. The winged Aston Martin insignia could be seen on a prominent key. Smiling, Allison handed him the key ring and said, "Drive it around for about 30 minutes. Have fun."

Zeke was smiling like a child. He was giddy.... almost woozy. He started to giggle, not believing this was happening to HIM. This was the best day ever!

"So I can just take it? And drive it around? Really?"

"Really."

He stood up. His shaking hand reached out and gingerly took the key. He stood up straight and tall, full of pride and waltzed out the front door of the bar.

A few moments passed.... and then Zeke walked back in and handed the keys back to Allison.

"Is there a problem?" she asked.

"It's blue. I like red."

And with that, Zeke happily turned down a chance to drive something he had always wanted to drive and could never own. He was happy with his decision. He walked out the front door and went home to his faithful dog Muskrat.

The End

Oh, and on a totally unrelated note. I was told that in the modern dating scene men have no interest in dating women with pubic hair.

A little housekeeping

This is just a little bit of an update for those that actually know me. [ I've found the vast majority of my "fans" are drive-bys that are presumably at work, bored to tears and are just clicking "next blog, next blog, next blog, next blog" in an effort to make it to 5 o'clock. ] At the first of the year, in between the spittle-spewing rants, I actually mentioned my goal for the year was to move out of my Unabomber tool shed and into a real honest-to-goodness house -- like one with real walls and a roof and a real central HVAC system. And, to add to that goal: to do it all on a cash flow basis.

Well, I'm pretty sure that it's not going to happen this year, but we are at least getting close -- well, close to starting anyway. We do now have finalized plans. Let the builder bidding begin.

Mark Zuckerberg stole my ideas

Mark Zuckerberg stole my ideas. He owes me $171 million. Sure, I pulled that number out of my ass, but it'd keep my belly full of pork products for the rest of my days -- so it seems about right.

As you'll learn over the next few weeks (after the release of Facebook: The Movie) that Mr. Zuckarski has a reputation for stealing of ideas. And he's surely stolen mine.

Think about it. What do you think of when you think of something on teh intarwebs that is:

• useless
• about nothing
• a time waster
• a senseless self promotion

Facebook? Or SporkInTheEye? Or both? Coincidence? I think not!

Oh sure, you may point out that the origins of Facebook were in 2004 and the beginnings of the holy Spork were in 2006, but I don't think that's enough evidence. You're forgetting that this guy has a net worth of about $7 billion dollars... I'm relatively sure this is enough to purchase a time machine in order to steal my business plan. If only I had figured out a way to make money with my implementation. If only.

First, Zuckerello tries to win on traffic flow alone. As of July, 2010 the estimated users on facebook was about 500 million. Now I don't have access to his logs to compare that with my own traffic, but if I do a little estimation, I think he may be getting more hits than me. I cannot say for sure... but I think he is.

And if that wasn't enough, he now is trying to trump me on uselessness. First he introduced a new method of data mining where people VOLUNTEERED their most personal information to applications written by absolute strangers he wasn't paying... And today he is going to announce he is giving $100 million to the Newark public school system. Damn, Zuckophaleese... you pulled ahead of me. You are now King Useless. I bow before you.

Let's put this in perspective, shall we? The Newark Public School system is terrible -- with a 51% graduation rate. Their mission statement must be "We be better than Cleveland." The whole system was seized and taken over by the state in 1995 for its supreme waste and mismanagement. Clearly, this is a money problem, right? Zuckonnel to the rescue!

Well, maybe not. The nationwide cost per student runs about $8,000. Hell, the smell-my-bootie private school here in town runs $10,000 per year. Newark about doubles that at $19,000. Nationwide teacher salaries average around $40k. But the poor educators in Newark are forced to live on a measly average pay of $63k. (And DON'T you bitch at me about poor underpaid teachers. Remember that this is a 9 month contract, not a year. If you adjust this to the 12 month year most of us work, it works out to an equivalent $88k.)

Zuckeroo falls into the same stupid hole that so many consumers (and 99.9% of politicians) fall into: If something isn't working, throw money at it. At least he's not borrowing to do it. But jeez: for $100M you could build a moat of private schools around all those failing public schools -- and let all the kids attend for free. My crystal ball says: In 1-5 years you'll see a fine new batch of controversy, cronyism and embezzelment surrounding this.

Uselessness of Spork: 0; Zuckminster Abby: 1

Spastic Surgery

Women: I'm looking at you. Sure, some of my super human wisdom below applies to some men... but you are clearly the target here.

I don't hate plastic surgery per se. I hate what it's become. If my nose were to get ripped clean off in a freak bird watching incident, I'd want it reattached. And I'd pretty much want it to look like it does now. Not that I am Brad Pitt, I have just become accustomed to my appearance. Picking bogies out of George Clooney's nose just seems wrong.

In general, I'm opposed to any voluntary surgery. Surgery has significant risks. It's necessary sometimes. But if you even have to think about whether you need it or not, you probably don't.

There's not a heterosexual man on the planet that cares about the shape of your lips or the height of your cheekbones. Well, okay, there's probably a few, but they have some weird ass high-cheekbone, curly fish lip fetish that borders on creepy and they really are not the sort of guys you want to attract. If you're having plastic surgery -- and I mean any non-medical plastic surgery -- you're doing it not for men and probably not even for yourself. You're doing it for some idiotic Madison Avenue advertising executive that is running a campaign to tell you that you are ugly. Is this really the guy you want to impress? If Darren Stevens were to walk in the room and proclaim in front of his boss Larry that you have wrinkles at the corner of your eyes that make you look hideous, wouldn't you rather punch him in the mouth than spend $10 grand making him happy? I mean: he's such a prick to Samantha anyway.

If you don't believe that this is all some advertising plot, take a wide eyed look at The Doctors TV show, where "America's medical dream team" lives. (This week they're talking about women and heart disease with renown expert Barbara Striesand.) And what is this "dream team"? An ER specialist, an OB/Gyn, a pediatrician, and a plastic surgeon. Really? Is that really the 4 most important medical specialties you can come up with? If you say yes, you're already in need of a psychiatrist.

Facial wrinkles are a character map and express all sorts of emotive response. Trying to pull them tight or cover them up makes you look foolish. You're not fooling anyone and if you doubt me take a look at Joan Rivers or Bruce Jenner or Burt Reynolds or Micheal Jackson or ... well, I could go on ad infinitum. If your think your limited funds will buy a better job than these megastars, I've got a bridge in Jersey for sale.

I have distinct memories of my two grandmothers: one with sour, sagging wrinkles and the other with deep lines on her face that would make you think she had been laughing every minute of the previous 70 years. I can't remember the former ever being happy. The latter still has a place in my head as an attractive elderly woman -- but not in some creepy grand-Oedipus sort of way. To me this suggests that if you want to look pretty, then you need to be happy. Period.

The contrast is the ever unhappy, ever unsatisfied chick whose face is never young enough, breasts are never big enough and hair is never light enough. Madison Avenue will forever have you buying goo, hiring surgeons and attending your colorist. And all of these changes come with maintenance. You can't just fix it and forget it. You'll have to tweak and spackle and lighten until the day they do it one last time and close the casket door. And don't think for a moment you're doing it to attract a man (or please a man you already have). Men don't care. Big boobs, little boobs, medium boobs -- they're all boobs. We all like them. All of them. Think we all like blonds? We do. We also all like redheads and brunettes and everything in between. We don't care what your shoes cost and could care less who designed your dress. We'd almost all prefer to see you in blue jeans or nothing at all. Sorry, but that's the truth.

And if you, for some odd reason, have latched on the guy that cares about this trivia, then you have latched on the guy that has a pretty damn superficial view of you. He will always want you to be that 24 year old perky blond with big tits and a tight little butt. And when you turn 35 and are still trying to look 24 you won't fool him or anyone else. But it won't matter because while he smiles and says that "tummy tuck looks great honey" he's busy "working late" boinking the office slut -- who I might add is really still 24 and perky. A real man falls in love with the 24 year old and sees that same perky 24 year old when you're 73 and your teeth are floating in a fizzy concoction of Efferdent.

So, girls: don't buy it. Don't buy the $50 Armani mascara. Don't turn your hair a color that doesn't match your skin tone as that will just bring on a host of other changes. Embrace the boobs that fit your body type. We like them. Don't mess with your face. It's perfect the way it is. Don't go down the road of Jennifer Grey -- who made her place in Hollywood with one face and lost it with another.

I mean it.

Don't you just love Mexican feud?

Everything relates to the wisdom of Rush...¹

They say there are strangers who threaten us,
In our immigrants and infidels.
They say there is strangeness too dangerous
In our theaters and bookstore shelves.
Those who know what's best for us
Must rise and save us from ourselves.

Quick to judge,
Quick to anger,
Slow to understand
Ignorance and prejudice
And fear walk hand in hand...

There is a disturbing trend building on the right. It's not new, but it's gaining momentum: Illegal immigrants are going to be the end of us. And let's translate that to TDE:² "I hate Mexicans." And this is really no different than the wave of hating other immigrants before Mexicans: Jews, Blacks, Scots, Irish. The list goes on.

The sad part here is that, on many levels, the Right actually somewhat understands individual rights and somewhat understands what this country is philosophically based on. Sadder still is that the things they complain about have nothing to do with immigration. The problems they have are a misdirection. There is not a problem of Mexicans, there is a problem of creeping growth of invasive government that has nothing to do with immigration -- legal or otherwise.

First off, let's face it. This country is built on immigration. We are all a bunch of mutts. And unless your last name is Eaglefeather, you're one of them or a descendant of one of them. This country was built with the idea that anyone, given freedom, can make something of themselves. And it's been my experience that it is often the newest immigrants that have the fullest understanding of the vast amount of opportunity that this country can offer. It's the guy busting his ass doing a crap job working 60 hour a week at night that really understands: he can pretty much do what he wants if he tries hard enough. And it's the guy with a good paying job, 2 cars, an Iphone and a 3000 square foot house that doesn't get it.

What I have seen of the Mexican culture is really not the lazy bum on welfare or the drug crazed gang member.³ What I generally see is the guy that is sitting at the day labor pick up point at 5 am. He works his ass off all day long for sometimes less than minimum wage -- and is damn happy about it. Sure he doesn't pay taxes... but he doesn't really have a choice there, does he? In our current FICA-ruled collapsing economy, he can't just walk into the nearest Social Security office and ask for a new SSN, now can he?

You see, what you are mad about isn't that there is a huge influx of inexpensive labor willing to work and do jobs you really don't want to do. What you are mad about is the vast pipeline of endowment programs that illegal immigrants may or may not partake in.... public education, Medicaid, welfare, food stamps, etc. But seriously, are you really mad about who in particular is using your tax dollars against your will... or that anyone does? Does it somehow bother you more that Mexicans get food stamps than it does Caucasians? Or Blacks? Or Irish-Chinese Hindus? It's the damn giveaway you're mad at! Not the recipient. They receive the giveaway because they qualify... much like I qualify for various housing/marriage promoting income tax deductions -- and, dammit, I take every deduction I qualify for!

The truth is: if you were to take away all those stupid benefits... there would still be a huge desire for our southern neighbors to immigrate -- because there is a huge opportunity here to be more and make more than they could ever make at home. They want to be here for the same reasons you do: because it's a fine damn place to be.

I've also heard endless arguments on crime related to illegal immigrants. And I'll admit that there's a gaggle of them guilty of income tax evasion (because they have no real choice there). But for the most part the crimes they are involved in are the crimes created by government prohibition: drug crimes. Get rid of the nanny state war on drugs and suddenly the whole drug cartel evaporates like the alcohol cartel from the prohibition before it. Prohibition created Al Capone. Ending it created Jack Daniels... and the same goes for illegal drugs.

The saddest accusation from the Right is new to them. It's a leftist argument: "They're stealing our jobs." This ugly protectionism is nothing different from the union bosses they despise. It's the idea that you have a right to some job that your employer is bound by government muscle to give it to you. Well, friend, I sort of like the gentleman's agreement I have with my employer. The day I have "a right" to my job is most likely also the day I "have no rights" to oodles of other jobs. No thanks.

---

1. Don't be an idiot. Rush the band, not Rush the pill popping windbag. This is a snippet from Witch Hunt
2. Truck Driver's English
3. I'm sure those do exist. I'm not saying they don't.

A prediction of future paleontolgy

There will be a day, somewhere in the future, where future archaeologists dig up the remnants of our society and try very hard to understand us. I suspect the most confusing thing they will find is the battery operated paper towel dispenser. The following is an excerpt from Future Earth paleontologists:

...and much in the same fashion that 20th century humans failed to understand that spending $300 in fossil fuels to drive a recycling truck in order to pick up $8 worth of raw recycled materials isn't really "conservation", they totally went off the deep end when it came to conserving paper. When archaeologists first unearthed what is now commonly referred to as the "hands free towel dispenser" they were absolutely and totally confused. Many, many theories arose as to the purpose and origins of this apparatus:

• It was theorized that primitive 20th century man did not have fully working elbows, which did not allow him to raise his arms more than 8 inches above his waist. Later skeletal discoveries have proven this theory unlikely.
• It has also been theorized that this primitive man had a very flawed idea on germ theory. It was believed that they were so terribly afraid of touching surfaces after washing up that they required automatic dispensers so as not to touch the towel dispenser as we do today. The very sad irony of this is that the combination of touch free dispensers and increased use of hand sanitizer left their immune system ripe for destruction during the age of the Purellic Plague.
• Another popular theory is that primitive man was just so absolutely lazy that he could not be bothered to turn on faucets or dispense paper towels. Archaeologists have searched for an automatic poo extraction device where these machines are found, under the theory that anyone too lazy to dispense paper towels is also too lazy to actually defecate.
• The most popular theory is that primitive man did not understand basic mathematical principles. The device was designed to "save paper" by only dispensing a worthless 6 inches of towel. Also required for this theory to be viable is that primitive man had extreme short term memory. It was assumed that if he could get a 6 inch towel to dispense that he would forget the mechanism he used to dispense it and walk away... rather than actuating the dispensing mechanism a second or third time.
• It is also generally understood that primitive man had regressed by the time they were using this odd machine. Archaeological digs show that the walls contained some sort of copper electronic wiring that would generally allow powering of lighting and machines. Yet man in this age was unable to understand that mechanism and defaulted to powering this worthless gizmo using 12 caustic acid-filled battery devices. It is estimated that the power to run this machine cost roughly 300 times more in power generation, natural resources and environmental damage than the paper it saved....