My Favorite Highway Sign- And a Rant

On our recent trip to Alaska, I once again saw the signs:

'End Double Penalty Zone'

You've seen them, at the end of a construction site. Here's the way I read it:

'Sale! Half Price Speeding Tickets!'

It all depends on your perspective.
The sign is wrong, so wrong, on a number of levels. First, if the penalty is doubled for speeding in work zones, why would you tell drivers that it is over? If we're concerned about safety, let the guy drive in ignorance to Topeka, Kansas, going the speed limit.
Next, can't we figure it out ourselves? Like this scenario:

Quilter Girl: "I don't see any dozers and loaders."
Me: "Yeah! We passed that flagger a few hundred feet back. And the highway isn't torn up anymore."
(We ride on for another mile or so.)
QG: "I think we're past the construction."
Me: " Do you think? The highway looks old, the shoulders are covered with grass and weeds, and nothing is disturbed."
QG: "Just great! We could have been speeding all this time, at a discounted rate."

Finally, what a waste of money. I know, it isn't much. A Public Works Sign like that probably only cost the taxpayers maybe a thousand dollars. Multiplied by a jillion construction sites, and it's millions of dollars, a paltry sum. But you add a sign, and another, and other ridiculous add ons and we're wasting cash, friends.
What can the common man, the peasant, do?
Just whine, I guess.
And be careful to speed only when it's half price.

Easter Mutterings, Musings, Rants and Raves

Why does Santa get so much press and the Easter Bunny get so little? Probably because he brings so many ridiculous gifts.

What's the Easter Bunny got to do with anything anyway? Oh sure, spring and fertility. Right.
Maybe the bunnymeister gets a short straw because of Easter eggs. A kid goes out and hunts for the colorful eggs, finds them, then peels and eats hard boiled eggs. A bit of a letdown compared to Halloween candy.

Because I visited my dad for Easter, I attended a vigil service Saturday night (2-1/2 hours!) and Mass on Sunday. The Catholics really know how to do up Easter.
I like so many different types of music, but sure appreciated the handbell choir. What a cool bunch of people- ringers, every one of them.

Why do we say, "Merry Christmas" and "Happy Easter"?
Something I learned this Easter. Abraham and Isaac were examples of the father willing to sacrifice his Son. But another foretelling was Isaac carrying the wood for his own sacrifice, while Jesus carried the wooden cross for His sacrifice.
Hmm. Santa says,"Ho ho ho." The rabbit doesn't say anything.
I remember an Easter eggs hunt inside our house when I was around five years old. No one realized we'd missed an egg until a week or so later. Found it!
There's almost no Easter music. 'Here Comes Peter Cottontail,' but who's heard that song in the past twenty years? Who even knows the song?

When I was a kid, everyone got new outfits for Easter. The ladies wore colorful hats, and new spring-pretty dresses. I saw people at Mass wearing shorts and flip flops.
Give the Catholics credit; they know how to kneel. Does any other denomination/church? Respect.
Merry Easter to all,and to all a good day.

HOA Headaches

I opened the letter from our HOA with trepidation. They were happy to inform me that they forgave $650 of my HOA fine. While I should have been happy, they cut the amount in half. $650 still remained.
The fines escalated over time, from oil on a driveway. I personally scoured it out with TSP, a broom and pressure washer. The tenant attempted to clean it up as well. Every time we failed, the fines they levied increased. A hundred dollars, two... until it reached thirteen hundred dollars.

Here's another couple of HOA nightmares. While buying some landscape rock at Parsons Rocks! (a little product placement there), a nice old lady mentioned getting a lot of grief from her HOA. Really? Yes, the CC&Rs (covenants, codes and restrictions) indicated that the victims- I mean, homeowners- were forbidden from chewing gum in common areas. She has dry mouth condition and chews gum all day. Had a doctor's report. Fought them tooth and nail. Now she's talking about getting a lawyer (shudder) to fight for her. Over chewing gum?

Finally, I met a customer, a landscaper, at MacDonald Ranch, a high end neighborhood, to measure his yard for rock quantities. Ah, what a magnificent house, high on a hill with a view of the Strip and mountains beyond.The house, only a year old, was undergoing a landscape remodel. I noticed paint marks on the driveway and asked the landscaper about them.

"The HOA determined that he had too much driveway and not enough landscaping. He fought them for a year on principle, but after paying eighty thousand dollars ($80,000, that's an eight with four zeroes after it) in fines, he decided to comply. And next year the fines would have increased to over two hundred thousand dollars." ($200,000, that's a two with five zeroes after it).
We have truly lost our minds.
I received another letter from the HOA indicating that while they forgave $650 of fines, there were added fees for management of the fines, late fees and document costs. Instead of $650, it was now $1,010.
I may lose my mind.

Super Bowl Commercials- The Interceptions

Okay, you've called the play, run it, it looks good, and... D'oh! What a disaster.
My criteria for loser commercials holds the big players to a higher standard. Therefore, some big guns get the bad press. My five loser picks (my opinion) for Super Bowl loser commercials are as follows:

5.) The song, 'Oh Beautiful' in multiple languages. Supposed to make us warm and fuzzy. Looked to me like Coke attempted 'I'd Like To Teach the World to Sing' again. Mushy. What, we're all going to drink Coke and achieve world peace?

4.) I'll get grief for this one. The Budweiser puppy/horse love story. Barf. Way too sappy. Using a dog and horses to touch our heart strings. My string's snapped, I guess. Does this commercial have anything to do with beer? I  can appreciate emotion, but tie in your product. Their aluminum can ad was much better, at least they sold their features and benefits.

3.) Need a Macy's Doughnut? Really? Did I miss something, or were they really selling doughnuts at Macy's? I hope I didn't completely miss the point, but it looked like a wobbly toss that got picked off.

2.) The dead kid, upside down in his car seat. Revolting, disgusting, gratuitous and crude. I'll admit it was effective to make me think about using my seat belt. But please. Ugh. Like watching a player get injured on the field. Only much worse. Bad commercial, no photo.

1.) The Super Bowl allows local commercials, so an ambulance chasing dirt sucking scum bag sleaze ball attorney took three spots. Same commercial, must have cost him a fortune, but one slip and fall settlement and he's made bank. He would like me to include his name. A clear picture of what is wrong with our country. Fortunately it was only local. That's not an interception, that's running the wrong way down the field.

I'm afraid, looking at the eighty-seven entrants, that there were more candidates for bad than good, but if a sponsor scores a winner, it is the real deal, like winning the Super Bowl 43-8. Oh, yeah.

Stay tuned Thursday for the Motivational Minute, spotlight on Russell Wilson, the Seahawks quarterback.

Worst Service, and a Contest!

Our family celebrated the twins' first birthday last weekend in San Diego. My son Tim and his family traveled from Las Vegas to La Mesa, to a Travelodge, where his wife Jamie, in an odd occurrence, had booked a room months ahead. I've never done that. Tim entered the lobby, entering by the front door with a sign that read,
CHECK IN TIME IS 4 PM
Since it was 2:30, he decided to ask for a bit of grace.
"Hey, we're checking in and I know it's early, but-"
"Could you not read the sign? Check in time is four."
"I know, but we just got in, it's been a long drive with two kids in the car, and-"
"Check in time is four PM."
Here's where Tim ratcheted it up a bit. Tim's not a cruel, angry or mean person. He can be however, sarcastic.
"Fine. We'll just sit in the lobby for an hour and a half while the kids play in here."
"That's it, your reservation is cancelled."
"What?"
"Yes. You cannot stay here."
Just then Jamie walked in with little Lily, age three.
"Could you direct me to the restroom?"
"The restroom is for customers only. You cannot use it."
"What?"
Tim, "Come on honey, I'll explain."
The man did told them where they could go- for the bathroom, that is.
And out the door they went, experiencing an amazing display of terrible customer service and rudeness. Can you beat that? If you can beat it, send me your story and I'll post it on the blog, and you can win a signed copy of my book, 'Ken Johnson & Roxi the Rocker.' Send it to kparsons901@yahoo.com and keep it in the body of the email, not as an attachment. It must be your story (as opposed to me telling Tim's) and must be true. After all, this is the Internet.
And these days, it will be on Yelp, hotels.com, and Travelodge will hear about it. Not to mention a certain blog.

The All Important Message

We decide to visit an old favorite, Panda Express. Wow, the line extended almost to the back wall. I'm not complaining, I'm painting a picture. We took turns stealing ahead to see what we could order, a waste of time as we always got the same, a Panda Bowl with fried rice and Kung Pow Chicken and the similar bowl with Orange Chicken for Quilter Girl. Why we look at options I don't know. The line worked down until the lady in front of us ordered. With two other people, they conferred on each decision as she dithered and fussed and ordered quite a bit of food. It took some time. I'm not complaining, I'm painting a picture. All along the steam trays, she ordered more food: trays, sauces, egg rolls and drinks. Another worker bee took our order while the first attendant placed hers in bags, the order to go, and we stood behind them with our food cooling. I'm not complaining, I'm painting a picture. The woman slid over to pay and while the friendly attendant rang up her considerable order, she decided this would be a good time to send a text message. I'm sure the text was of vital importance, like; '@ PE got order on way.' The friendly attendant waited. We all waited. I looked at the conga line of people and counted, fourteen. Fourteen people waited while she texted. I'm not painting a picture, I'm complaining.

Then, in a complete surprise, she took the bags and sat at a table to eat with her friends. What could she possibly have texted that couldn't wait a minute, perhaps two, when she sat down? I wished I had her number, I'd text her: U R n idiot Maybe we need a texting law for restaurant lines too. Come on people, let's have some good manners.

A Cultural Rant- Clark County Schools

During our tour of the 50 states, after a while I decided to give the news and media a rest. Wonderful. This weekend, while spending some time in Las Vegas, I made the mistake of reading the paper. Clark County School District, one of the largest in the country, has sunk Nevada to the lowest position for achievement in the country. Yes, we're number one! Oh, wait... no, we're the worst. Our graduation rate hovers around fifty percent with math and science proficiency having dismal results. Quick! Find a state senator and throw more money at the problem. Hold on a second. If the scores are so low, then Nevada must spend the least money on their education, right? Not even close. And we have some of the finest school buildings in the country. Speaking of money, the mantra uttered in the early 2000s (during the housing boom) was, "We can't attract great teachers because they can't afford housing." Since the bubble burst and housing prices have slashed in half, we are attracting great teachers now, aren't we? Funny I haven't heard anything about that. I'm bouncing around, but my son is looking into private school and they found some crazy things that teachers could do in the private sector. Brace yourselves: The teachers can touch the children. I know, it's insane. They hug them and the kids can sit on their laps. They can pray with the kids (horrors!) and tell them they love them. They can discipline the kids. And yes, they do background checks. No idea if there's a connection here, but their results are far better than the CCSD. Mybe it's because they spend more money per student. A lot more. Oh, wait. They don't. They don't have as many therapists, shrinks, nurses or lawyers either. A good book about our education system and ideas for a different perspective on renewing it is Seth Godin's 'Stop Stealing Dreams.' He takes us back to our education roots, points out major failures in our approach to education, and offers visionary ideas for a big shakeup in our education system. I think some of his ideas are utopian, but it makes one think. Let's stop just throwing money at the problem and expecting change. Oh, that's right, that's the definition of insanity, doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. It's easy to blame the Teacher's Union (and I do, a lot), the system, the media and the parents. It's a complicated, difficult ship to turn. But we better get to thinking hard about how to successfully turn the ship. And Billy (in 'Easy Rider') whined about how screwed up America was in the sixties.

Safety Schmafety!

No one else has the guts to say it, so I will. Enough safety already! Let's start with children's car seats. Currently we stick the kid in a five point harness like a NASCAR driver, then stick them in the back seat facing the glorious view of the seat back. That's stimulating their little infant minds. What happened to bonding with Mom? Oh,the front airbag could kill them. Simple solution. Grab a sharp kitchen knife. (Why aren't they outlawed yet?) Stab your dashboard. Park the kid in front. Now she can enjoy some visual stimulus and won't grow up to be a serial killer.
Speaking of airbags, how many do we need? Eleven? If you get hit by a train, you are going to die. If the impact doesn't get you, you'll suffocate under the airbags.
The other day, I heard a report on the radio that traffic fatalities have dropped. The woman, a head honcho of the NTSB, said it was good, but wouldn't rest until there were 'no fatalities.' What an idiot! If a person is driving along and a tree falls on the car, the lights go out. Actually, that happened in Connecticut lately.
Back to the train. We build a safe enough car to withstand the impact of a locomotive, so the train gets wrecked and somebody dies.
Being a motorcycle enthusiast, I'm a big believer in helmets. But not in helmet laws. If a person wants to be an idiot and splatter his head on the pavement, I say give him his due! The world will be a smarter place, for sure.
So go outside, stand up, yell, "I'm not going to take it any more!" and run with those scissors!
CORRECTION: a few blogs back I stated the price of the Gold Wing to be $11,500. In reality, the price was $17,500, worth a trip to Iowa. For $11,500, I would have been willing to pick it up in Argentina!

Dear Government: Knock It Off!

Dave Ramsey, the financial health guru says you can't get yourself out of a hole by digging deeper. If you're in financial trouble, you can't borrow more money to rescue yourself. Hopefully, during these trying economic times, we are learning this. Sadly, I've seen many examples of 'Turbo- diggers.'
The biggest offender however is the government. Our national debt- brace yourself- equates to every man, woman and child owing $45,000 in debt. And it keeps rising! So while you and I dig less (or stop digging), Uncle Sam has a huge excavator, digging a hole to China! Note the analogy- China has bought tremendous quantities of US debt.
Remember the scripture verse? "The borrower is servant to the lender." That's a scary thought!
Back to debt. We got in this mess by borrowing money we couldn't afford to buy overinflated things (houses). Experts say housing got us into this mess, and we're not going to get out of it until housing resets. In other words, the hundreds of thousands of distressed houses must be disposed of, through sales. In Las Vegas where I live, the foreclosure capital of the world, we could have as many as four years to wade through this mess.
We have to take our medicine. We don't need the government spending money they (we) don't have to stay the pain.
Have you ever seen so many construction barrels? In Las Vegas, they are building bridges to nowhere. Not exactly, but close. To me that's like losing your job so you go home and remodel the house. Life throws you a left hook and you lean into it.
Can't we back down the spending to 1996 levels? Did anyone complain in 1996 that we needed huge government spending? Yet our economy has retracted back to those levels. Shouldn't the government be too? The way they spend I feel like I'm careening around town in a cab with a drunk.

Pep Boys Thumbs Down

My Colorado pickup refused to start. I cleaned the battery posts and managed to get it fired. Because I'm on crutches, I stopped by the local Pep Boys for a 'Free Battery Check.'
It's free all right. First, the fellow took my information and wrote it on a work order. Then he entered it in his computer.
This is efficient.
After four pieces of paperwork he took my keys and advised I retire to the waiting room.
I waited. Read a magazine. Paged through another. Watched the tube.
He returned with another sheet of paper, indicating my battery lived a long, good life, but it became time to part ways.
For a hundred fifty six bucks!
I said no way. Got anything cheaper? Nope. Fine. I'll take my truck elsewhere.
Please wait while we get your truck out of the shop.
I waited.
Got in my truck. Thankfully, it started.
Start to finish for the 'Free Battery Check?' Forty- five minutes.
I drove A HUNDRED FEET to Auto Zone. Told him I needed a new battery. No need to check it. He quoted two batteries, two prices. I took the Two Year.
Can you install it?
He grabbed a few tools and switched out the batteries.
One receipt. Just over a hundred bucks. Still too much money, really. But still.
Ten minutes.
Pep Boys, thumbs down.
Auto Zone, thumbs up!
So this is a Rant, but really more of a Rave.
Hat's off to Auto Zone! You rock, AZ!

Now, or...?

The eighties were called the 'decade of greed.' Then what is the New Millenium? It's odd, because wealth kept growing through the eighties and nineties (with a few hiccups). Now we've taken a big hit. It looks like from greed to me.
It's that one little word that makes all the difference.
Now.
I want a house I can't afford. Now.
Suppose you have a goal, a vision, a destiny. Something you want. Let's say it's a ski boat. You put a picture on the fridge. Tell the kids what you're looking for. They get all excited. You and the spouse start a money market account. Sock money away. The kids get the fever, mow lawns, babysit and set up lemon aid stands.
Finally, after a few years and a lot of shopping, the family goes out together and buys a boat.
Oh, how sweet. Splashing through the waves. Jumping off the back. Water skiing.
But here's how it goes. Dad decides we need a boat. He goes to the dealer. Holds his breath as they figure out just how much they can finance him. And he gets it. Brings it home. And pays for it for six years. Hopefully, should he keep his job.
Meanwhile, Momma went to the store and found a dress she just had to have, because she's been kinda down lately.
Now.
Get the kids more toys, nicer clothes, now we need a bigger house to hold all this stuff, and where are we now?
At the bank. Holding our breath.
Yes! Just barely. We are approved!
Sounds like 2003-2006, doesn't it? Yet I think we still haven't learned our lesson.
Listen to the commercials for loan modification programs, tax negotiators, and credit card forgiveness programs.
Don't forget the paycheck loan centers.
We're still stuck on the three letter word.
Now.
We need to make it a two letter word.
No.

Stupid people...Moi?

I always thought by age fifty I'd stop doing stupid things. But here I am, riding bicycles with Roger in blistering heat, and he says:
"One oh eight."
"What?"
"This little computer thing. Has a thermometer."
Good grief. We have fourteen miles to go, and it's eleven something- I mean, we are pushing noon, and ninety percent of the ride is uphill.
Welcome to stupid.
We ran out of water once, and met an angel named Rebecca who was finishing her ride. At her car, she gave us each two bottles of water. Roger is almost out again. If we can just climb this hill, there's a convenience store.
Ahh. Popsicles. Ice cold Gatorade. Air conditioning.
I figure it's a couple miles.
We pedal on, slowly, Roger losing steam.
At last we approach a tunnel, the only shade for miles.
"We should have left earlier."
Right. I stopped my bike and stood. Got lightheaded. Wow.
Since my house is the highest point on this ride (the River Mountain Loop), we probably should have turned back sooner. Instead we rode all the way to the bottom, then decided we'd bitten off more than we could chew. We've got thirty miles behind us, and fourteen to go.
The hill loomed.
I bet if we got to the store, Roger would be revived.
We rested a bit and pedaled onward. How long is this hill anyway?
"One thirteen."
I think Roger needs to stop looking at that thing.
"One eighteen."
"It must be optimistic, as it's in the sun." But when we pedal up the drainage channels, there isn't a breath of wind.
The only hope is the convenience store. Maybe we'll buy a sack of ice and do...something with it. Shove some down our shirts, our shorts. Play in it. Make a snowman. Chew the ice and get brain freeze.
Another tunnel. We stop once again. Roger waves the white flag, violating the Man Code. "I'm pussing out. Call your wife."
I make the call. Wander around a bit. Look! Up on the horizon! The little sign reads, 'Gas.'
"Roger!" The convenience store! See the sign? Popsicles, A/C, and Gatorade!"
He looks up, haggard. "Yeah."
"Think you can make it? It's only a half mile or something."
"I think so."
You've heard of mirages, right? Where the desert heat radiates off the floor and the exhausted, dusty cowboy just knows its a lake?
The convenience store was a mirage!
Oh, it was there, all right.
Fenced off, boarded up and closed.
"Nooooooooo!"
Fortunately the Little Woman showed soon, and she was no mirage. Had the A/C blasting. We stopped at an actual convenience store for ice cold liquid. Her thermometer showed the real temperature. I knew Roger's was bogus. Hers read a cool hundred and two.
What a couple of wimps.
Perhaps next time we'll start sooner or ride less. Thirty- three today, a bit long in the heat.
Lesson learned. We'll be smarter next time. Right?
You suppose at 60 I'll stop doing stupid things?

Signs...I Believe You Are Nagging.

The sign in the camprground restroom said, "Please turn out the lights before you leave." Okay, fine. But I was reading the one above the sink, not the one above the other sink, or the one at the door. Maybe I should just go shut the light off and brush my teeth in the dark. Another sign: "Please do not throw trash in the toilet. If you do, then we must snake the sewer line. Not fun." Well, I really want you to have fun, so I'll be good and throw trash in the...trash can.
How about a highway sign? In Colorado, at the end of construction zones, it reads, "Double penalty zone ends." Wouldn't another way of saying it read like this? "Go ahead and speed now. Fines are half price."
I love the one in Utah. Leaving Panquitch, it says, "You are not on highway 87." Apparently lots of folks leave town via the wrong road.
The motel room signs kill me. "Save the planet." That's how it starts. It goes on to explain that I would save water if I reused my towel. Okay, fine. But 'Save the Planet'? It sounds like the Earth is about to spin out of control, hurtle into the Sun, burst into an inferno and become a cloud of ashes, but at the last second, Kevin elected to reuse his towel. Thank God! Once again the Earth is rescued.
Let's not forget the wonderful parks (They really are wonderful). Five thousand times they tell us the Earth is fragile, delicate, and we must treat it with care. Let me be clear; I'm not promoting dumping toxic waste over the edge of the Grand Canyon, but please stop nagging me!
Why must they nag? Then I enter a stall, and some um... how do I say 'pig' without annoying anyone? Some other person neglects to flush. How difficult is that? Apparently the signs were created for them.

The Safety/Sanity Tension

“Have a safe day.”
What?
I’m going to get in trouble on this. I’m not saying, “Have a dangerous day.”
But, seriously.
A car with seven airbags?
Flashing signs to warn us of stop signs, company safety policies that shoot for ‘0 accidents’ and labels that warn of the most ridiculous things. You’ve read them. ‘Do not eat.’ ‘Do not operate in shower.’ And ad nauseum.
“Have a safe day.”
What do you do? Stay in the house? Every time you leave the house you take a risk. But… the home is dangerous, too.
We have a smoke alarm that is super sensitive. Cook a hamburger, and the shrieking sound erupts through the entire house. The safety bonus? A voice that says, “Fire! Fire!”
Thanks. I would have never figured it out.
My friend Lars has a theory of devolution. A percentage of people are stupid. We keep them safe. They breed. We have stupider people. We enact safer rules. Stupider people live, and breed. Soon, there is a population of idiots living in a world, chest deep in bubble wrap and Styrofoam pellets, being rescued from themselves by a dozen very tired people.
“Have a safe day.”
Indeed.
Can’t we take a few risks?
I’ll start. I’m going to drive without my seatbelt, from now on.
Okay, maybe not.
Just don’t tell me to have a safe day.
Have a great day.

I Thought Words Meant Things

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This month's rant is on the abuse of words and phrases.
"I saw a virtual office the other day."
Wouldn't that mean you saw an office? Not only saw an office, but REALLY saw one? But a virtual office, these days is really really not an office.
I looked up virtual. 'Being such in essence or effect though not formally not recognized or admitted {a virtual dictator.}' Hmm. Well, the computer geeks took this word and ran with it. A modern virtual office is x's and o's.
Speaking of computers, how about viral? For generations, it meant something like the definition: 'Of relating or caused by a virus.' Never a good thing. Now a baby with a chain saw chases the cat around the house. Dad, instead of removing the child, cat and saw one from another, videos the melee. Posts it on YouTube. It goes viral. Now that's supposed to be a good thing. Unless junior caught the cat.
How about the destruction of phrases? Among Christians, 'It's a God thing' is popular. Really? Almighty God, the creator of the universe, is an adjective, supporting a noun, the word 'thing'? Here's a definition of an adjective: 'a word imputing a characteristic to a noun or pronoun'. So God is a characteristic of a thing. Go ahead. Say, 'It's a God thing.' I'll stand back and watch for the lightning bolt. A popular phrase among young people is something like this. "Dating Trevor is a God thing." Two weeks later she breaks up with poor Trevor, and God apparently missed His shot. Now Dylan is a 'God thing.'
Okay. Drum roll, please. Now the worst, most abused phrase (with my humble apologies to God, delegating His phrase to second place):
Best friends forever.
I heard this very phrase the other day; "You're my new best friend forever."
Wait a minute.
That means you had an old best friend forever. Where did that one go? Hmm. Best. Forever.
According to the phrase, even death wouldn't stop the deal. Shoot, that's bigger than the marriage vow, 'Until death do us part.'
Seems to me, you say "You're my new best friend forever," and the universe would collapse in on itself.
Now that would be a God thing.