If One Is Brilliantly Clever In a Vacuum, Does It Count?

Two posts down, I believe I was at a real peak in the art of clever. Not only that but the whole thing was based on pure fact. It is all true, I do have high cheek bones and ethnic gum evidence.

That is not the point. The point is that my accidental bursts of genius go unnoticed and unrewarded. Most geniuses can crank out brilliance day in and day out. I'm not of that group. Most of the time I am rather dull and dimwitted.

Then for a brief time, rarely more than 43 minutes, electric charges surge through my brain causing my mind to work really well. Then I go back to my semi-dream state which is cloudy, slow, gullible and dimwitted. The bursts of brilliance only come around maybe once every month or so. Rarely do they visit me at times when I can use them in any way.

That is why some people think I am a dimwit. They rarely see me in any other form. Then there are those who've seen evidence of my little jolts of thought, then get mad because they think the dullard persona is by choice and weakness of character. Little do they know that in dullsville mode I hardly comprehend their complicated insults and big words.

All that aside, I should get more credit and response when I am clever. It is so bad that I even left Rahul the lunatic spammer's comment in there.

Just thought I'd get that off my chest.

Double Edged Sword

If you wanted to contribute even $25 to someone's campaign, the feds require them to get your name, phone number, address.

Already donors to campaigns have been targeted by other campaigns. Those are big contributors, but I find it a threat nonetheless. With the level of computer technology and the ever growing insistence on putting people into data bases, I would not contribute to a campaign, even if I wanted to.

I understand why people go along with saying they want to know who is paying, but that knife cuts both ways. Just like most things. The big answer is to have severely limited government power so it is not so important to those who control money to have their guy in the catbird seat.

I guess I'm paranoid. I won't write to senators and representatives or sign petitions anymore. They want too much info, and I have no faith whatsoever that the information would never be used against me. Especially since I'd sign a petition to abolish most of the structure which controls the data, the guns, and much else.

Maybe one of these days I'll change my mind.

I Have High Cheek Bones, and Other Stuff

old family legend points to this man as my great grandpa. The resemblance is uncanny

One time a girlfriend thought the dark pigment in my lower gums was from rotten tissue and bad upkeep. It turns out, according to the dental lady examining my harmonica mouth, that this is typical of people who have Latin blood, and she seemed to imply Black blood, as well.

She seemed a bit worried that she'd crossed the line when she asked about ethnicities, as she explained it was due to the gum coloration. I wasn't bothered. I was wanting it in writing so I could send it to the chick who questioned my gum care.

Some people resist embracing their gene pool. It was not rot or poor hygiene, but pure genetics. That girl sure had me wrong. Probably a racist. Other than that, she was the bee's knees.

So, I plan to include exotic ethnic mix in my biography during my presidential campaign, and my senate run, should I lose the presidential race due to the color of my gums.:

"I was the first Latino (I kind of hate the terms, 'latina' and 'latino' for some reason. Sounds stupid to me), African, Cherokee in my neighborhood to own his own bicycle. All the other kids were White. Many of my relatives were also white. Although I tried to feel 'a part of', I always felt apart." - a sneak peek excerpt from my new bio.

Hey, if it is good enough for Harvard, it's good enough for me. I'm referring to the Scandinavian looking white chick running for office in Mass., or some other northeastern place, who claims she's Cherokee because she has high cheek bones.

Her cheek bones are no higher than mine, although I'm not sure how to prove that.

They say being touted as the first Native American woman law professor at Harvard had nothing to do with her getting the job. wink wink--and Al Sharpton would have still jumped on the Trayvon issue if they'd pointed out Zimmerman's Black heritage up front, rather than calling him a White Hispanic.

(see? I'm willing to call out racists even when we are ethnically similar)

So Liz is running for senate and people are questioning her claims of Native Americanism. If her references to family lore and proof of high cheek bones don't convince the skeptics, I don't know what will. People can be so bull headed.

People have often said I had high cheek bones, but never really explained what that means. I believe my bone structure is pretty much where it belongs. It is not like I have cheek bones framing my forehead.

I'm actually thrilled because this could open a host of job opportunities. Native American, African American, European American. If I wasn't so lazy, you'd see three hyphens that you could count for yourself and have proof of the total in my hyphen column. Just imagine I put them in.

Now all I need is to discover that I'm actually a woman and I am at the front of the line. When I was hiring, and for a so-called private company, the pressure was felt and it did influence hiring. If I could have scored a triple hyphen with gender issues, he/she/it would have been hired without an interview. Just to please the nitwits upstairs.

It should help me politically because I can claim to be one of almost any ethnic group you name. If only I could work some Asian in the mix, I'd be a hat trick plus one on the hyphens.

Wait minute, I think I have that hat trick plus one already. I should be able to include Hispanic or Latin. Habeas corpus and all that.

To think, all these years all I've claimed is to be an American with no hyphens, no claim to anyone's guilt, nothing. Now that I realize I'm a cornucopia of hyphens, I've noticed I am much more resentful and aware that even in traffic I'm treated unfairly. I suddenly want a huge government which will punish everyone not of my groups. Especially the rich ones.

High cheek bones, ethnic gum pigmentation, and an uncanny sense of rhythm. What more proof do you need?

I'm even thinking of hyphenating my last name. I heart hyphenated identity tags to separate me from the awful other people. I can't wait until the next census rolls around. t is so exciting to think about filling out forms in the future.

Back to the picture, ever notice how they always show politicians doing that exaggerated mouth thing when they talk? Like Donald Trump. I guess it makes them look like they are either going to fix the world by barfing on it, wet-kissing it, or swallowing it.

Most people don't do those labial gymnastics when speaking. Trump, politicians, some actors and singers. That's about it. Not too many people you encounter in normal life.

When my campaign gets rolling I don't expect to have that sort of photo floating around. There will be plenty of other ones for embarrassment purposes that my opponents will attempt to use. I'll shut them down by playing all the many ethnicity cards in my deck. Anyone who disagrees with me is anti-Hispanic, anti-Black, anti-White, and anti-Blues. Racists with no sense of rhythm.

Who wants to carry a label like that? I'm sure to soon be off limits to criticism in the press. I can hear the patronizers now, "he's a clean, articulate Indian...a real credit to his r..uh, peoples". I'm so excited to have finally discovered my true identity. Why I didn't put it together when the dentist gave me the hint, I don't know. Thank you, Elizabeth Warren!

What I Ought To Be Doing

Many things can be found on the internet, but anything to do with dealing with or solving really serious life issues, aberrant thought patterns and the like is not there. The best you get are studies by government agencies and the assumption that you are enough in the loop to have easy healthcare access, or that you have the iron stomach it takes to seek some government agency's "help".

I know from experience that even when the healthcare is accessible, they do more harm than good 50% of the time, or more, when it comes to the syndrome of which I speak.

Some of us fall between all those cracks. So, what I should do is start at the beginning, and act out what I suggest, step by step. This is all for the man who finds himself tossing out pleas from that insidious lobbying organization, AARP; who finds himself alone and marginally isolated because he doesn't know how to do otherwise; who wonders if it is even worth trying to do anything.

There are a few people in that boat. Intelligent enough in many ways, but too damned dumb to survive well in society as we know it. Energetic in many situations, but too lazy to lift a finger for himself, left to his own company.

I should begin installments of the manual which, if followed, would turn that silent, invisible prison inside out. To make it legitimate, I would have to perform each step described. I'll get right to it.

But first, I'll sleep on it.

Not Quite Equal, A Sign of the Times

In the tradition of some being more equal than others, they fixed the discrepancy regarding the flimsy fender. It was clear that they did all they could, I guess.

Even so, the thump test indicates the left fender is slightly stouter than the new right fender. It is a factory fender, and maybe they reduced the metal content since they made the car. Who knows. It looks good, therefore it is good, be assured.

All else is probably OK in the world of my life. I played with the CopperCreek people last night and I feel like I am playing noticeably more confidently and competently than, possibly, ever.

That may be because I practice for five or ten minutes at a shot, several times a day, on average. For what I do, short sessions work best unless I am working on a particular thing that requires more time to master.

The guy who is putting together a thing that is supposed to pay is still a question mark. He seems like he can get it done, but until I see a big crowd out front, and the money, I hope for the best but expect nothing. To his credit, last time we practiced--Monday--he raved about how he really likes what I do. I'm embarrassingly encouraged and manipulated by flattery. I better watch out for that, because my rational side knows that flattery is cheap. Show me the money.

And hide the news. Unbelievable, the way people will take little rumors and smear people, incite racial wars, and generally stir fear. Equally insane is the way so many people buy into the nonsense.

In spite of the questions I am sometimes asked regarding how I would fix things (and the fact that my answers are discounted as unrealistic), I still maintain that government is the vehicle of choice for most evil. Individual conscience is the vehicle for most good.

Too bad so many have given conscience over to the dictates of authority, or just suspended it because they can, in exchange for the promise of a few crumbs. Or, in some cases, for great wealth.

Better to Look Good than to Feel Good

So, I get a call telling me my car is all done, ready to roll. I drive down there in the afternoon, and it looks OK. It was hot, bright, and I saw no point in overdoing the once over. Chances are, I'd not have found any issues just by looking.

The paint matched well and appeared to be smooth and silky. Good job. The car drove well, and I was glad to have it back.

I went over to Kevin's to practice with the CopperCreek people here on Ballistic Mountain. Kevin used to be a body shop worker and manager so, of course, he was interested in checking out the work. He agreed that it looked good, said he was nit picking but felt the hook go stand slight adjustment.

Then for some reason I lightly hit the fender on the side with the fat of the side of my hand. Hmm..that doesn't feel right. It feels flimsy. I went to the other side and it felt solid. Kevin took a look.

It seems they had not properly attached the fender liner that goes above the wheel and it must be missing the brace, internally which gives the fender some structural integrity.

Oh well, back to the shop in the morning. Quality control must be sorely lacking at this shop. Now I hope nothing falls off on the way in. Everything does look good, but as we all know, looks do not cover all the bases.

I'm trying to just keep cool and calm, knowing it will be OK, but if I were the manager at such a place of business and my people let a car go like this, I'd be bouncing off the ceiling and probably have complaints lodged against me for hurting the feelings of "workers". At least that is how it worked in the airlines. Never mind that lives and money were at stake. But that is another story which I refuse to tell.

I plan to calmly bring the manager out to the car, have him compare the two fenders, then answer the question, "Why is one side flimsy like a bad lie?".

Kevin thinks it could be fixed quickly. I prefer that because I don't want the hassle of another rental, even if I am not paying for it. I wouldn't be paying for it.

How can you forget the brace? That is like installing a floor on the second story and forgeting the columns and load bearing walls that support it.

File this under--if you don't already know, the quality of work in California is not the greatest, on average.

Customer service is not too bad, but anything which requires work like contracting, auto repair, etc., is usually done without regard to collateral damage, and not up to standards you'd expect.

Hoping for the best. These things should not be so tedious. They ought to know when something is right or not. After all, they are the alleged experts.

Auto Reviews--unscientific and devoid of technical analysis

After 24 hours in the Chevy Toobig Tahoe, Enterprise chick calls and says she can switch me to something less gas guzzling. When I spoke to the middle manager guy, whose name is on the business card they give you, the day before, he sounded like he was blowing smoke.

It only makes sense that since this company has tons of large vehicles, no doubt purchased before the ultra expensive gas scam went into full swing, that they'd pawn these off on those who have the least choice--insurance backed patrons who need transportation while their cars are being repaired.

For those whose insurance company has a deal with a particular rental outfit, the ability to shop around is greatly restricted. Besides, any ride is better than none.

The point is that I get it, and I think I know when they are not being quite honest. You should have seen the look on Anastasia's face when I told her I didn't believe much that her manager said, but that I understood wanting to keep the high demand cars available for those who had a choice. They've all been briefed. That is how it works in that kind of world. Those who face the public have little leeway and take the brunt of the cheesy dealing dictated from above.

That is how the business of customer service works. I wish it didn't, and a large number of those in that sort of job feel the same. It is the slight tinge of dishonesty coupled with systemic incompetence that causes them stress. And they are the ones subject to the wrath of often unreasonably entitlement minded customers, as well as those who are justifiably aggrieved.

So, the smallest thing they claim they have to offer amounts to a choice between a black Lincoln, which looks like a mafia hit-man's pimp ride, or a Kia Sorento, V6, and not so bad. I opted for the Sorento. It has proven to be surprisingly good on gas and very tight and nimble.

If you end up in one, though, beware. The shifter setup is not immediately clear. I thought I was in Drive, but I was in manual mode. That means if you bump the stick forward it goes up a gear and stays there, downward it goes to the next lower gear. There are six speeds in that transmission. It starts at whatever gear it was in when the stick kicked over to the left.

The only clear label is the D. I had no idea I'd kicked it into manual as I started up the ramp to The 8. It is close enough to the Enterprise lot that the fact that the car was not upshifting wasn't evident until I tried to accelerate up the ramp, which had virtually no shoulder for pulling over to take stock of things.

I thought it was defective, stuck, or something, so I tried to move the stick forward toward N. It did not go into neutral. I was thinking putting it in N then back to D might unstick the tranny. Because it never went to neutral, I tried several times, inadvertently upshifting and gaining the ability to merge with traffic and avoid stopping dead in the road.

It looked wrong but I decided to move the shifter to the right, which appeared to be an open track which would allow one to throw it into any gear, like R, which would be bad. It turns out that is where regular drive is located. I looked for every logical place on the instrument panel for an indicator which would give a read out of the gear.

Finally I saw the little D beside the odometer readout, in the same color as the numbers, and pushed up against the numbers as if the two were of the same sentence or message. Hmmm. Let me put the stick back to the left and see what happens to the odometer letter. Oh, it changed to a six. Bump the stick back, it becomes a five.

Great, now I get it. When I stopped I intended to examine the owner's manual to educate myself about this vehicle. I opened the glove box and nothing was there. Other things were more intuitive, actually moreso than in the Chevy Tahoe, so I've had no more serious questions. Never did find the manual.

They really should give you a basic rundown of important items, like how to make it go in situations in which you don't want to find yourself winding 5000 rpm in first gear at 20 mph.

It occurs to me frequently that I could do wonders for many companies' customer service departments. But I do not have much on paper that would induce them to hire me, even though it would pay them to do so.

The mouse-the-customer-and-employee school of business has gained a very strong foothold in the corporate world, making it a tough sell for someone who could show them a better way while improving their bottom line. They cannot see past that nickel on the table to pick up the dollar on the floor.

In short, if you are towing a trailer, maybe the Chevy Colossus is the vehicle for you. If not, it is not that great a thing. Depending upon what they cost, I can't say choosing the front wheel drive Kia Sorento would be a bad choice. It drives pleasantly, and is quite tight. Like most front drive cars it doesn't handle the washboard dirt road up Ballistic Mtn as smoothly as the Subaru. Something about the all wheel drive makes it less jarring. I do not know why. I noticed it had that jarring effect on a friend's Lexus, too.

There you have it. Oh, and the Kia cruises very nicely on the open highway, and its cruise control actually keeps the speed more constant than the Chevy or the Subaru. Both of those tend to gain too much speed on downhill stretches.

I should note that the Kia has 25000 miles on it and shows no signs of wear at all. It seems absolutely new and I'd have no problem believing it only had 2500 miles.

...in a friggin handbasket!!!

I read the news today, oh boy

Seriously? Are the present big picture (and little picture) difficulties and problems, which have to do with the few proper functions of government, and the myriad of century old over reaches of same, actually there by design, and, to divert attention, we have campaign tactics of going back close to fifty years to dig up dirt from high school or before, and we put something called "attachment parenting" on the front page? (recent cover of Time magazine)

No, I'm not going to steal the pic and put here. The mom is hot, but the hotness dies with the look and the age of the kid and the whole thing. To each her own. I have a right to say you are nuts and full of pretense.

As far as parenting, even adherents to all aspects of The Great Pretense are aware that a huge problem is the limited number of parents per household, and the fact that so many expect school and everyone else to take responsibility.

I suppose a corollary to that is the fact that way too many people lack the sense of values required to teach a kid a code of conduct. In short, there are a lot of very stupid people running around with very minimal sense of right and wrong. Not long on conscience. And they are too dumb or selfish to know that they should not multiply.

It is safer to blame everyone else. Or suggest that nursing a child until he/she loses all his/her/its baby teeth is the new, revolutionary answer. Shoot, let 'em feed until they go to college, get drafted, or spend time in prison. But don't cut 'em off when they come home to visit. You can save a lot of money and time at Thanksgiving under this plan.

I've heard stories of Obama in high school and now, Romney. I wasn't there, and I have to wonder why someone, especially a lawyer, insists on coming up with such stories. Maybe true, maybe not.

In the latest allegation about Romney the victim is dead and his sister says it is ridiculous. She never heard the tale. Who cares? High school! I'm not a big fan of Mitt, but come on, is that all you got? I don't care about, and won't address the tales of Obama's early life, because it is not relevant to what is going on now.

Let's address the job and the philosophy regarding power and a host of other things--like weighing in on the Zimmerman case with no real information. Not your call, Barack. ou have that power, don't subvert the judicial system and local law enforcement for self aggrandizing grandstanding hijinx.

High school sucked because everyone from kids to teachers were insane. You should live a week in Miami high school back in my day. OK. Some days weren't bad. Mostly that place was devoid of values. It was cultural.

Regardless if you hate one these politicians or not, when the attack is garbage, resist jumping on just because others are. It makes it look like you have no analytical skills. I see the hair splitting come from both sides. I guess it is like wearing a Che T-shirt because ou heard it was cool. Talk to some old timer Cuban refugees, educate yourself before you go idolizing a psychopathic murderer.

And the thing of everyone who did or didn't have sex with a celebrity==rich and famous person, has got to go. If some one tries to grope an adult male, the gropee can walk away, get violent, cooperate, say "no thanks", etc. It is not worth millions or even hundreds. I have a feeling the women who come out in droves when the ball starts rolling against someone are making money.

I have no respect for lack of discretion. Playing people because they are wealthy or because you can hurt them due to their fame, and only doing so to satisfy your envy and greed, should be frowned upon. It certainly ought not be entertained seriously in the courts. That costs the taxpayer. Besides, it is wrong, banal, low down, and sleazy.

You should be warned now, if I get significant votes, both Obama's Chicago thug machine and Romney's wherever machine will have so much ammo on me it will make your head spin--fights in school, trouble, not very nice a few times.

There is a lot I did not know at 15 or 16 or 25. It is what it is. But if I have the right philosophy now, and am shown not to have committed capital offenses, and have demonstrably grown in character, you should judge by that and vote for me because I'm the only one who believes in individual liberty, puppies, and Subarus.

Sell the Car to Afford Gas in the Rental

A rental car is part of the insurance deal while they fix the damage Bambi's relative did to my car. By the way, at 7 this morning Ms Bambi was gone, Either she woke up and trotted off or someone picked her up and sold her to the glue factory. Coyotes wouldn't be that neat, and buzzards and crows wouldn't have had time to devour the poor critter.

All they had available was a Chevy Colossus--a Tahoe. You can visibly watch the dial on the gas meter move downward, even while parked with the engine off. It is an unnecessarily large vehicle. Big for the point of being big, or so it seems. It is OK to drive because the side mirrors are very good. They should be--the are in the adjacent lanes.

Anyway, I called the number on the card the pretty girl gave me and got the guy at the main office. He was clearly blowing smoke. I've been in companies, and been in middle management. I know the routine, especially when you get a by the book, leave the brain at home, sort of person.

Obviously, Enterprise ordered too many big vehicles before the gas prices went through the roof. Now no one wants to rent them, so if the insurance company's deal is with them, they can stick the desperate with cars that guzzle gas like a frat boy binge drinker.

I'll try to get back with Anastasia at the other location and see if we can't switch. She was on board with that when I left in this freight train of a ride. She did her part at first telling what a bargain I was getting because they normally rent for way more than what insurance is paying. To her credit, she did not stick to the story, and instead acknowledged the reasons I prefer a puddle jumper, and also et me know that all they had were gigantic cars at that moment.

That company man from the main office is sending all the stuff they can't rent to the collision center where people drop their deer damaged vehicles and pick up the loaner. It has now become a matter at beating him at this game.

I'll drop by tomorrow and bring a siphon hose, in case I can't get another car. I'll drain the gas from the monsters he sent there to screw the helpless. He knows if your car is toast, you have to have something or else you walk.

Al the while I felt lucky, though. There was a time, not long ago, when I would not have had the coverage or means to take care of this and have any alternative transportation. I think the car will come out of this is great shape. Poor babies could not find any cheap aftermarket or reconditioned parts, so they are going with all genuine factory goods. It think they expect to come out under 4k. Bumpers and fenders and such cost, not to mention labor.

BAM!!!bi

where was this guy before the deer crossed the road? Shooting this one in the butt, apparently. Wait a minute-is that a girl? Can't tell. Androgyny in camo gear. OK.

I've often noted that many of the wild animals in America have absolutely no regard for private property, human life, or rules of the road. My standard operating procedure is to take that fact into account when driving, experiencing the temptation to pet and cuddle bears, raccoons and the like, and when sleeping in the woods.

I'm the kind of guy who avoids rabbits, and even coyotes, when I'm driving, not to mention children and bicyclists. But, as luck would have it, I was unable to avoid Bambi. Maybe it was Bambi's mother.

The scene of the execution was not far from home, on the winding road from Alpine. Tonight I was in the mood to just slow poke, driving 35 and 40 mph on a 55 mph road, because there was no traffic. It had been dark for a short time.

So, as I rounded a curve I saw an animal start to enter the road ahead from the right. I began to slow but I was already close to the creature. It ran across, so I thought it was history, then it ran back across and I thought my dodge to the left had cleared it, then it did a 180 and dove into the front of the passenger side fender doing significant damage.

All the above took less than half a second. Bam! was the sound. And since the thing was to the side, it wasn't run over and didn't jar the car enough to set off airbags. I'm wondering if this rude animal wasn't depressed and intentionally entering into a fatal relationship with my vehicle. Fatal attraction.

After all, I thwarted its first two attempts. In the end BAMbi won.

My car seems drivable but maybe a little edgy. I'm lucky it pushed things in and not down onto the tire.

I'm also lucky there was no need to deal with El Cajon Highway patrol people. Now I have to get the car into an ElCajon body shop early to meet the insurance guy and pick up a rental. The first $500 of the repair is on me.

Once again I discover the hazards of California. There are times you just can't do anything. That is one of the reasons I chill on that road. But in all the time I've lived here that is only the second deer I've seen on that highway between Alpine and Descanso. Dusk and shortly after are the worst times for animal abuse. Animals abusing people and their property.

The worst part is that it is going to take forever to empty the car. I hope I find money in the process. The good thing is that I am lucky enough to have a means of getting it fixed, and I am unscathed. Too bad I'm not a carnivore. That was a big animal.