Drive it like you stole it!

In a fit of temporary insanity, The Contessa called me last Saturday night and asked for assistance retrieving his new Carrera from the Porsche dealership in Redwood City. Of course, I would help a friend in need, but I’m pretty sure I need to drive the Porsche.

ferris.jpg
OK, Richard Edson is my hero and I felt like him pulling out of the dealership. So the first thing I have to do is get the thing onto Highway 101. That was just screaming scarey. The gears are so tight on that thing. We got up to San Mateo and stopped by 750ml had a beautiful DuNah Chardonney in a flight of three they were serving. Then we decided a bottle was a great idea. And a cheese plate. It was a delightful afternoon. And then we drove it home. Whee! That was fun. Unfortunately, it was Memorial Day weekend and I thought it prudent to keep it under wraps so I never took it over 85, but what a fun toy.

Missing the point on immigration

The right wing of this country is spending oodles of time and money beefing up the border patrols and immigration sweeps and building a freaking ridiculous wall to keep the Mexicans from crossing the borders and taking jobs away from Americans. Except that ship has sailed and the jobs have been already taken away from Americans. Not by Mexicans and Guatemalans and Central Americans swimming across the Rio Grande, but by corporate wankers outsourcing our jobs to India and the Philippines and Pakistan. Not one Guatemalan walked across the Arizona desert to become a title officer for six dollars an hour. Plenty of engineers in India have stayed home and taken my job for $16 per day. I was making around $65 per hour. Who is the real threat to my personal security? Bill Foley, John Harritt, Parker Kennedy and the like. Bill Foley more than the others as he is the one who ruined the title insurance business. It used to be a business based on researching the records. There didn’t used to be title problems because the back room of the title companies solved the problems. Geeks and miscreants who had no real place in society methodically researched each recorded document and posted it in their respective title plants. In the mid 70’s many of these title plants became computerized. Then in 1988 Bill Foley, the burger flipper, bought the old Western Title, the stalwart of the business back then, and turned title insurance into burger flipping. Staff became instantly expendable, like the are right now. There is no loyalty from the companies and employees have no loyalty back to the companies, and rightly so. A guy I’ve known for 30 years who probably has 35 to 40 years with the same company, just got laid off last week. That is beyond wrong. No one swam across the Rio Grande or ran across the Arizona desert to take his job. His job was outsourced to India.

The same things has occurred in the tech field. We’ve all called HP support and gotten Pasha who can barely be understood and who will not tell you what country she is located in. She will read from a script and frustrate you to the end of time. Eventually, you’ll figure out your printer on your own.

It’s time we pointed to the real problem. It’s not people coming into this country, it’s jobs going out. The Bush Adminstration will puff there chests and tell you how many jobs they created, but they didn’t create jobs for displaced people like me. They didn’t create jobs for engineers. They did not create telecom jobs. They allowed their corporate buddies to ship those overseas. Their new jobs are pulling shots for Starbucks. Not quality career opportunities. Jobs that we don’t want to do, like sweeping floors and cleaning toilets, picking strawberries, jobs that are in the soft transient worker catagory are the jobs being done by the guys that have come into this country illegally. And all I have to say about that is, I’m glad they’re working and not living on the dole. Now lets bring back the real jobs that the corporate wankers have sent to other countries and get the real Americans off the dole.

Missing the point on immigration

The right wing of this country is spending oodles of time and money beefing up the border patrols and immigration sweeps and building a freaking ridiculous wall to keep the Mexicans from crossing the borders and taking jobs away from Americans. Except that ship has sailed and the jobs have been already taken away from Americans. Not by Mexicans and Guatemalans and Central Americans swimming across the Rio Grande, but by corporate wankers outsourcing our jobs to India and the Philippines and Pakistan. Not one Guatemalan walked across the Arizona desert to become a title officer for six dollars an hour. Plenty of engineers in India have stayed home and taken my job for $16 per day. I was making around $65 per hour. Who is the real threat to my personal security? Bill Foley, John Harritt, and the like. Bill Foley more than the others as he is the one who ruined the title insurance business. It used to be a business based on researching the records. There didn’t used to be title problems because the back room of the title companies solved the problems. Geeks and miscreants who had no real place in society methodically researched each recorded document and posted it in their respective title plants. In the mid 70’s many of these title plants became computerized. Then in 1988 Bill Foley, the burger flipper, bought the old Western Title, the stalwart of the business back then, and turned title insurance into burger flipping. Staff became instantly expendable, like the are right now. There is no loyalty from the companies and employees have no loyalty back to the companies, and rightly so. A guy I’ve known for 30 years who probably has 35 to 40 years with the same company, just got laid off last week. That is beyond wrong. No one swam across the Rio Grande or ran across the Arizona desert to take his job. His job was outsourced to India.

The same things has occurred in the tech field. We’ve all called HP support and gotten Pasha who can barely be understood and who will not tell you what country she is located in. She will read from a script and frustrate you to the end of time. Eventually, you’ll figure out your printer on your own.

It’s time we pointed to the real problem. It’s not people coming into this country, it’s jobs going out. The Bush Adminstration will puff there chests and tell you how many jobs they created, but they didn’t create jobs for displaced people like me. They didn’t create jobs for engineers. They did not create telecom jobs. They allowed their corporate buddies to ship those overseas. Their new jobs are pulling shots for Starbucks. Not quality career opportunities. Jobs that we don’t want to do, like sweeping floors and cleaning toilets, picking strawberries, jobs that are in the soft transient worker category are the jobs being done by the guys that have come into this country illegally. And all I have to say about that is, I’m glad they’re working and not living on the dole. Now lets bring back the real jobs that the corporate wankers have sent to other countries and get the real Americans off the dole.

My vicious attach Doberman is afraid of the wind

windboy.JPG

It’s been windy here today, and yesterday. My vicious attack Doberman is afraid of the wind. He’s spent the weekend up my ass. There he is looking tentative on the couch. The wind chimes are rattling around and his ears are all a-kilter. It’s tough to be the dog.

Three day weekend

I’m getting ready to go for a long bike ride with Javier. We’re meeting at Heather Farms and going up Mt. Diablo. The last bike ride I went on with him, he took me on the Olympic trials course in Orinda. He thoroughly kicked my ass, then I think he went a rode Bear Creek after that. He’s easily lost 50 pounds and looks great. I hadn’t seen him in a while and I didn’t recognize him. I would like people to not recognize me. Not everyone, just certain people.

This morning’s numbers

Weight 211
Fat 36.4
BMI 36.

Three day weekend…

I’m getting ready to go for a long bike ride with Javier. We’re meeting at Heather Farms and going up Mt. Diablo. The last bike ride I went on with him, he took me on the Olympic trials course in Orinda. He thoroughly kicked my ass, then I think he went a rode Bear Creek after that. He’s easily lost 50 pounds and looks great. I hadn’t seen him in a while and I didn’t recognize him. I would like people to not recognize me. Not everyone, just certain people.

This morning’s numbers

Weight 211
Fat 36.4
BMI 36.

BARF = BAY AREA RAPID FUBAR

I’ve certainly had my share of adventures on BART. More than most people. There was the crazy homeless guy shouting from the Embarcadero to Rockridge where we told him to get off because we had called the police. We called the BART Police at Embarcadero, they finally got on the train at Walnut Creek and proceeded to try and hold the train there. Dude, the crazy guy got off at Rockridge, you’re three stops too late. Can we just go home now? Then there was the crazy guy who was beating his head against the closed door at Embarcadero. He had bloodied himself and was hollering I don’t even know what. They held the train and the BART Police hauled him off and hooked him up. All these events happened on my car. Yesterday, I had to meet the contractor and the soon to be new house. I left work in time to make the 2:57, knowing I’d be at the property in plenty of time. Ah, mice and men. No soup for you! Halfway through the tube that runs UNDER the bay, the train comes to an abrupt stop. Our car fills up with a stench of fire, or smoked brakes or something. And we sit. And sit. And sit. Finally, Skippy our driver comes on to explain that the brakes have locked up and we’re going to travel a bit slower from now on. How about not at all? Skippy decides that it would be a peachy idea to turn the train off completely and reset the system, so, he advises us, we’ll be in the dark for about a minute, minute and a half or two. I’m claustrophobic and being in a tin train in a tube underneath San Francisco Bay in the dark with no way out is a recipe for disaster. My God! What if he turns off the train and it won’t start again? Is MacGiver on this train? Can we get out? What if there’s an earthquake and the tube splits and the car starts leaking water under the pressure of the bay? Can we get out of the car with a cell phone pen light and a can of pepper spray? Deep breaths because the lady next to me is hanging by a thread, just like I am. Skippy fires up the train and it actually starts, then we start to move and we’re safe at the West Oakland station now. There’s a sentence you don’t see often “safe at the West Oakland station”.

Weight 212
FAT 36.5
BMI 36.2

BARF = Bay Area Rapid FUBAR

I’ve certainly had my share of adventures on BART. More than most people. There was the crazy homeless guy shouting from the Embarcadero to Rockridge where we told him to get off because we had called the police. We called the BART Police at Embarcadero, they finally got on the train at Walnut Creek and proceeded to try and hold the train there. Dude, the crazy guy got off at Rockridge, you’re three stops too late. Can we just go home now? Then there was the crazy guy who was beating his head against the closed door at Embarcadero. He had bloodied himself and was hollering I don’t even know what. They held the train and the BART Police hauled him off and hooked him up. All these events happened on my car. Yesterday, I had to meet the contractor and the soon to be new house. I left work in time to make the 2:57, knowing I’d be at the property in plenty of time. Ah, mice and men. No soup for you! Halfway through the tube that runs UNDER the bay, the train comes to an abrupt stop. Our car fills up with a stench of fire, or smoked brakes or something. And we sit. And sit. And sit. Finally, Skippy our driver comes on to explain that the brakes have locked up and we’re going to travel a bit slower from now on. How about not at all? Skippy decides that it would be a peachy idea to turn the train off completely and reset the system, so, he advises us, we’ll be in the dark for about a minute, minute and a half or two. I’m claustrophobic and being in a tin train in a tube underneath San Francisco Bay in the dark with no way out is a recipe for disaster. My God! What if he turns off the train and it won’t start again? Is MacGiver on this train? Can we get out? What if there’s an earthquake and the tube splits and the car starts leaking water under the pressure of the bay? Can we get out of the car with a cell phone pen light and a can of pepper spray? Deep breaths because the lady next to me is hanging by a thread, just like I am. Skippy fires up the train and it actually starts, then we start to move and we’re safe at the West Oakland station now. There’s a sentence you don’t see often “safe at the West Oakland station”.

Weight 212
FAT 36.5
BMI 36.2

Expect photojournalism

Today I’m meeting a contractor at the new house. I expect his report will read a little like War & Peace and won’t say anything about the fact that I hate the carpet. I’m going to have to figure out an honorable way to get out of my lease around the first of September. I’m bringing my trusty camera to this event so I’m hoping to return with some photojournalism. I’m just thrilled for the free pass out of work at 3pm today. The weather is absolutely gorgeous here and right now, I really miss my sales job. Sales people have it made. If it’s pretty like this, you take a client to play golf. I’ve been worming my way into our sales department in hopes of getting to go play with them. I’m hoping to get in 18 this weekend as well. After the inspection today, I’ll be out on my bike, riding very safely. Hardcore father-in-law had a bad accident last week. God bless him for still riding like his shorts are on fire at 68 but damn, why can’t people look out for cyclists. Get well old boy. Folks care about you.

Weight 213
FAT 36.5
BMI 36.3

This weeks food
Breakfast:
Oatmeal and cottage cheese
Snack
Beef jerky and Yoplait FF yogurt
Lunch
Chicken breast, brocoli and corn
Snack
Grapes and string cheese
Dinner
mahi mahi, steamed in a pouch of canelli beans, tomatos and basil on the grill
grilled asparagus
Dessert
Ricotta cheese and blueberries