NYPD...Retired

Five years ago, two days shy of the first anniversary of one of America's saddest days, I visited Ground Zero. This isn't a story about that. This is about how, on that day, I became the proud owner of a very nice Navy blue shirt with the NYPD logo embroidered on the left breast. I also have a matching hat. It's a fine looking shirt and they're both the genuine things. If you ask me how I got them, I may have to, well, never mind. Let's just say I have my "connections", if you know what I mean. I seldom wear the shirt, so it's in very good shape. One time, a friend asked me to help with a delivery at the business she managed. I happened to be wearing the shirt that day. I went outside and the truck driver got very nervous for some strange reason. Here we are in Florida, probably not where the driver was from, and the guy was clearly afraid of that shirt. Maybe, he was wanted up there, but even if I was an NYPD cop, what could I have done to him here? Make a citizen's arrest? The cops would laugh at me and tell me to go home and change into my Superman costume.

Almost without fail, whenever I'd wear it, I'd get asked the same question, "You NYPD?" I got kind of tired of coming up with an answer explaining how I came to own it, knowing that I'd have to kill them if I told them the truth, so I changed my answer.

"Retired," I'd say, and that was the end of it. Nobody asked me any more questions about it, like, what precinct and so on. Besides, I'm in my fifties and I could have easily had a long, distinguished and highly decorated career by now as one of New York's Finest. One simple response ended the discussion and I never worried too much, because these were always people I didn't know and would more than likely never see again. I knew I couldn't get in any kind of trouble, anyway. After all, I wasn't impersonating an officer, I was impersonating a retired person and anyone who is stupid enough to believe an out of shape guy like me could have been an NYPD cop is, well, let's just say I know of a certain bridge that connects Manhattan and Brooklyn I could sell them. Cheap, too.

A couple of years ago or so, I was hanging around my favorite watering hole, Spatz, in Winter Park, when an older gentleman walked in. Mind you, my days of drinking are pretty much over, but not then. The man bellied up to the bar and sat down next to me. He noticed my shirt.

"You NYPD?"

"Retired."

"No kidding? I'm retired from the Detroit Police Department!" he said, excitedly. (At least, I think that's the city he said, but I wouldn't testify to it.) Then I thought, what if he starts talking police stuff to me? He did, like we were old pals. I've had plenty of police friends throughout the years, from chiefs to PO's, state police, sheriffs, detectives, you name it. I used to play poker and get drunk with a few of them, so I had no problem talking to the guy. We were in a bar. Bar talk is cheap.

"What were you, a patrol officer?" I asked. You know, a beat cop.

"Yup," he responded. Then, he went on to tell me how he used to take money from tow truck drivers. It was payola. Come and tow this car. Pay me. He said he made a couple of hundred bucks a week skimming that and other ways. They all did it, he said, like it was routine.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Hell, no. You were a cop. New York City. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Of course I do, but no matter what business I'm in, I would never take money. Never." I was offended by what he was telling me, I don't like crooked cops, but I guess I started it by lying to him about my profession in the first place and playing along with him.

"You never took any grafts? Just what did you do for the New York City Police Department?"

"Internal Affairs." I don't know why that popped out of my mouth, but suddenly, his whole demeanor changed. He stopped talking. The friendly smile disappeared. I turned to answer someone else and when I looked back, he was gone. Just like that. I don't know where he went, but I'm sure he thought I'm no pal of his. Cops don't like the IAD. I guess it's kind of like the IRS or Homeland Security sniffing around your household, asking questions. They make you feel guilty even if you didn't do anything wrong. Worse. Cops busting cops. Messing with the brotherhood. Ruining careers and stripping pensions. Even if exonerated, it's an onus that's tough to shake.

Too bad he left like that. I didn't get the chance to ask him who his superior officer was. It wouldn't have mattered. I'm sure he's retired, too. Probably owns a towing company in Miami.

Stupid Product Ideas

I like to think of myself as a pretty creative guy. I did spend a good part of my life in advertising and design, and as a child, I drew portraits and painted in oils. Sometimes, I get these brilliantly stupid ideas I think big companies should try.

I know it's a little late for Halloween, but plenty of bars now offer buckets of beer for a set price that's cheaper than buying them individually. Suppose Budweiser has a special promotion on that theme (and offers it in six-pack form, too.) Produce a reddish hued beer, let's say a heavy bock brew, change the name of this beer only to Bludweiser and sell "Buckets of Blud". Blud Light, too.

McDonald's offers Chicken McNuggets year round with a selection of dipping sauces. Why not offer a seasonal alternative, like Turkey McNuggets with cranberry and spicy pumpkin dipping sauces? I mean, they bring back the McRib sandwich periodically. Heck, they could sell them from October through December and stuff their pockets full of wampum.

We're in the middle of the NFL season. Too bad Pizza Hut doesn't sponsor the "Pizza HUT, HUT, HUT Halftime Report" on one of the networks. I think it would be a great promotion. Then, offer a special deal on delivery.

Anyway, those are my ideas for now. I've been tossing them around for a long time and I had to get them out. Wouldn't it would be funny if one of them popped up sometime?

A Halloween Story (True)

This is the story I wrote last year. I am reprinting it because of the holiday. Don't be frightened.

The Night I Screamed On Halloween

Recently, I was telling my mother about my scariest Halloween moment. She questioned whether she would have let me venture out on my own at the tender age of 6. I was with a friend from the neighborhood and we were in the same class at school, so I wasn't really alone. I told her, sure, why not? Times were different then. You left your windows open at night. During hot summer months, most houses were without air conditioning and the only thing that separated you from the rest of the world was a screen door. Crime wasn't something that was ever present in your mind. It was a different time...

It was a chilly autumn night, that 48 years ago when I lived in Somerville, New Jersey. It was my first foray out with a friend on Halloween. No moms allowed! I was a man this night, or so I thought. Howard and I went out to make the rounds just as darkness fell. There were lots of kids in all sorts of costumes running around, stopping at each house. Some homes were decorated and they seemed like the most inviting, the ones that would give out the best candy! We saw the flickering of candlelit pumpkins with each eerie twist and turn throughout the neighborhood. Skeletons hung from trees and porches, swaying in the gentle breeze. We talked of ghosts and goblins and tried to stay away from dark alleys and back yards. No way! Oh yeah, houses with their lights off, too, because that meant they were going to grab you and take you to the basement where you'd never be seen again. Or else, they weren't home.

I had a double shopping bag to stuff all that tooth rotting goodness in. There were no paper or plastic options at the grocery store back then. These were the days of old when the milkman left glass bottles of milk at your doorstep and on freezing winter morns, the cream would expand and push the cardboard cap up and out a few inches. Brrr. Rabbit ears were the best way to watch our round screen black & white TVs.

Howard kept insisting that we finish the night at his house. OK, I said, you already stopped at mine when you came to get me. That was our first treat and my mom always had good ones. He lived five or six houses up and across the street from mine. When you're six years old, that's pretty far away and I wasn't too crazy about being almost out of sight of my own place. I was approaching unmarked territory. At least, at night. Halloween night! We'd been out long enough and had plenty of goodies to last a long time. We probably had bewitching hours, anyway. There might have been school the next day.

"OK. Let's go to my place," Howard said.

"I'm ready," I replied. Besides, I was getting tired from all that trick or treating and having to rip off my mask to show everyone who I was. "Oh, you're Sam & Dottie's boy."

We walked up the sidewalk and scaled the stairs to his front porch. It was dark and spooky and I sensed evil lurking about. We knocked and suddenly the door opened.

"TRICK OR TREAT!"

"I want to see a trick!" his father exclaimed. A trick? I didn't know what he was talking about. Saying trick or treat meant I was going to get candy. What was this trick thing all about?

"When you say trick or treat, I can ask you to do a trick first. Then I give you a treat. Do you have a trick?"

Howard and I gave each other a puzzled look and said, "Huh?"

"Well, then, I have a trick for you," and just like that, his top teeth popped out and back into his mouth in an instant. I froze in my tracks and just stared up at him. Then he did it again. Those teeth popped out of his face and dangled for a second and then zipped right back into his mouth.

I let out a blood curdling scream that woke the dead at the cemetery down the street. Every police department in the county would come to the rescue if they heard it today. I turned to run, when all of a sudden, Howard's mom came from behind his father and quickly came out the door to comfort me. Whatever his name was, she sure did scold him.

"He shouldn't have done that." The guy was rolling on the floor in laughter. Howard didn't know what to do. "Sometimes when people's teeth go bad, they get pulled and new ones won't grow in like they do after your baby teeth fall out. They're replaced with fake ones so you can chew your food and have a nice smile. That's what happened to Howard's dad." She turned to him. "Apologize right now!"

I don't remember if he said anything or not. He was still laughing. I was pretty rattled and couldn't stop shaking in my boots. She said she would walk me home. I was not about ready to venture out of that neighborhood by myself. When we got back to my place, she explained to my mother what a horror filled trauma I had just gone through. I sensed a snicker or two and I'm not talking the candy variety.

"Mom? Can I sleep with the light on tonight?" I asked. "I'm never going back to that house again," and I never did. "Mom, would you lock the front door, just in case?" For the longest time, I wouldn't even look at that place and I sure was glad when we moved.

When I was older, I wondered how the father of a six year old could have lost his teeth so young. Maybe, he ate too much Halloween candy.

A DIABETIC DIARY, Part 15

Odds & Ends, Blood Test Results - Taking the good with the not so good

Odds & Ends

If you would have told me a year ago, "Hey, Dave, a year from now, you'll be taking 5 prescription medications a day, you'll hardly ever put a drop of alcohol to your lips and you will no longer be smoking," I would have laughed in your face. Some fortuneteller you are.

I recently had a discussion with my sister-in-law about one of those mysterious liquid supplements that are meant to cure you of all sorts of ailments. I didn't pay much attention to what it was because I don't believe a cure-all exists anywhere in any form. We read about some never heard of fruit that Amazon natives have been using for hundreds of centuries. We hear it cures cancer, diabetes, hypertension, liver and kidney diseases and bad breath, to mention just a few. Then, and on the other side of the spectrum, we'll learn about all kinds of supplements, each designed to perform a certain function to enhance your life and health. Ginkgo biloba for the mind, for instance. My best advice to you is to not believe everything. For one thing, since the FDA (or any other country's equivalent) doesn't necessarily regulate natural cures, i.e., herbal supplements, how do you know what it will do if you don't let your doctor know first? Every person's body is different. No one pill will work for everyone. Some people have allergies, others don't. Blood types vary. Men and women are different. Men don't suffer from iron deficiencies, for example. Supplements don't always mix well. I've often read to not take St. John's wort with ginkgo biloba. Did you know that? The list of reasons can go on and on and it is impossible to take supplements that promise an eternal life, free of maladies. Besides, my prescription blood pressure medication is derived from snake venom. South American variety. I have a printout that tells me of possible interactions.

"I take Peruvian Ma La Qua Potion every day and I haven't been sick in 48 years." - Ellen B., Baltimore, MD

Do you know Ellen B. or anyone who does? I didn't think so. She doesn't exist, but her fictional testimonial does.

I average anywhere from 80 - 130 visitors a day now on this website. Am I bragging? No. A good chunk of those hits are from people searching for information on diabetes. One such search is on "coconut cures for diabetes" and one of the very first things a doctor told me after being diagnosed with type 2 was to avoid all coconut like it's the plague. I know for a fact that I ate a Thai soup for dinner one night before I was officially diagnosed, but testing my glucose levels twice a day, and my sugar skyrocketed. The culprit? Coconut milk in the soup base.

Blood Test Results

Every diabetic must undergo blood work every three months for the rest of their lives to show how glucose levels are and how your kidneys and liver are functioning. The doctor will prescribe and adjust your medications accordingly. A short time ago, I went in for tests and had a follow-up visit a week later.

"No really bad news to report," my doctor told me soon after he entered the room.

"Good. Then I can leave?"

"No, there are a few things we need to discuss."

The fasting level of my glucose on the morning of my test was 140. That's high. My overall level for that 3 month period was 5.6, up from the previous test of 5.5. Not bad at all (Previous test results and ranges can be found here). He proceeded to double my Glucotrol/Glipizide medication, but, at least, I'm not on Metformin yet. Glucotrol stimulates insulin production in the pancreas. Metformin slows glucose production in the liver. As long as my pancreas is functioning modestly, I'm in better shape overall.

"You know I take cinnamon capsules everyday, right?"

"Cinnamon shows a lot of promise in diabetics," he responded. I used to take 3,000mg a day, but have since dropped it to 1,000. I give some credit to cinnamon for that 5.6 number.

My cholesterol went up. Originally, I was put on 40mg of Lovastatin. That brought those numbers way down, but at the same time, greatly reduced my good cholesterol, too. He put me on a combination prescription of 500mg Niacin/20mg Lovastatin. This time, my overall cholesterol was 181, triglycerides were 184, LDL was 101 and my good cholesterol (HDL) jumped from 29 to 43. He doubled my medication to 1,000/40. Niacin helps bring good cholesterol up and it did, but 20mg of the statin wasn't enough to keep the bad down. One of the unpredictable consequences of diabetes is that medications are constantly adjusted and when you think you've gotten it under control - POW - something else pops up.

"Your urine was very yellow and thick."

"Huh?"

My blood test said TURBID. That means cloudy. My specific gravity was low. He wasn't too concerned, but these might be signs of excreting red blood cells, which leads me to his next discussion.

"I'm a little concerned about your platelet count. It's been testing low, but not too low to warrant further testing at this time. I wouldn't worry about it yet." YET? When a doctor brings up something that concerns him, you tend to get a little bit nervous. "If it remains low or drops, we'll have to set you up with a (bone marrow) biopsy. In the meantime, we'll keep a close watch on that number from now on." My red cell count was low, but he didn't mention it.

"Oh, great news! I noticed that on my previous tests, especially since my brother-in-law went through AML (leukemia) and his platelet counts were really bad."

"Well, you don't have leukemia because your other numbers are within range."

"Are there any supplements I can take to increase my platelets?"

"No, but there are prescription medications available. Like I said, don't worry about it yet."

OK, I won't worry, but it will be on my mind. "Does it have anything to do with the diabetes?"

"No. Are you ready for your prostate examination? Remember, we discussed it last time?" Oh, yeah, how could I forget?

It ain't fun getting old. Does anyone know where I can order that Peruvian Ma La Qua Potion?

New National Park Will Open Soon

(API) Big Oyll, Texas - The George W. Bush National Forest & Wildlife Preserve, in honor of the 43rd president of the United States, George W. Bush, is scheduled to open to the public soon. "We have to clear out more trees, but it shouldn't take long," a park ranger stated, on the condition of anonymity. "Next year, the Dick Cheney Hunting Preserve will be open in Buck Shot, Wyoming."

Rated R for Rectum

We've known each other for a number of years and our relationship has always been professional, although, he has told me things that I would say are rather intimate. I haven't seen him in months and he told me then that it was time. "I'm not ready," I responded. "Next time." Yesterday was that special day.

Other than high school gym class and the showers we took together, I had never been naked with a man, certainly not in an intimate fashion by any means. Actually, it was my high school doctor some 40 years ago. Women, I love them. Men? Never.

Somehow, he convinced me to unbuckle my belt and slowly drop my pants. What compelled me to do such a thing? Could it be that, after all these years, I needed to get this done? To put it behind me, so to speak, so I could get on with my life and to feel like the manly man I truly am? You know, men doing manly things together. Bonding.

He touched me. He touched me again. I coughed. I coughed again. He asked me to turn around. I acquiesced for the simple reason that it was a friendly request and I liked his demeanor. He made me feel calm. Besides, it wasn't like he was just a stranger in some back alley, probing and chipping away at my masculinity. Assume the position! I was not looking forward to what he was about to do.

He penetrated me from behind. I could not gaze into his eyes. Ooh, I silently moaned. It was a new sensation and I sensed that this man knew what he was doing. I've been touched there before, but this was the first time it was a guy. For a fleeting moment, I felt like a woman. "You should have had this done years ago." I didn't know what to think. He was right, but I didn't quite know how to respond. How should I react? What should I have said? Before I had a chance, it was over.

"Is that it?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "Your prostate is a little spongy, but not bad for a man your age."

I pulled my pants up. After all that anxiety and trepidation, it turned out to be a simple procedure. "You know," I said, "that was nothing compared to that barium enema you put me through months ago for polyps I didn't have."

"Yes, but we did find out you have diverticulitis. I would recommend that you start taking saw palmetto to help keep your prostate healthy. Other than that, you're good for another year." I felt whole.

"Great!" I exclaimed, as I limped out of his office. I can't wait to mark it on my calendar.

Should restaurants be required to list calories and fat grams on their menus?

Again, this was a matter of debate at Helium.com, where writers are invited to express their opinions, for or against. This is what I wrote.

Should restaurants be required to list such information on their menus? I can think of a simple way to circumvent that problem. Have the wait staff memorize and recite each item instead, but then I would probably have to listen to all sorts of disclaimers about the increased risks of heart attacks and strokes from consuming one of those meals. My ears would clog and my blood pressure would rise from having to listen to all those asterisks. You want cream* and sugar* with your coffee*? Here, you'd better read this first.

Time for a reality check.

I used to make a marinade I sold in the Orlando, Florida market. It was my own recipe and the first thing I did was call the FDA to find out what I needed to do to make it shelf stable. The advice the kind man at the other end of the phone gave me was just that. What he told me was common sense and not governed by law. One of the things I remember was that I should put a lot number on each bottle to protect me in case of a complaint. That way, if I produced a thousand bottles in a particular batch and there was only one complaint, certainly, I was not at fault. 999 bottles stood behind the integrity of my product and, obviously, other factors were involved, such as whether the person marinated the food in the refrigerator, as I clearly instructed on the label.

He told me to take random bottles to a testing lab to ensure that bacteria levels were safe. They were and this protected me and the consumer. Back then, small batch food goods did not need labels listing "Nutritional Facts", but I thought it was only right to provide information anyway and it made me look more big time than I was (the FDA defines a small business as one with food sales of less than $50,000 a year or total sales of less than $500,000.) Needless to say, it was not cheap. I had to give up my secret recipe to a different type of testing lab in order to determine the nutritional values, but my secret was safe with them. When you make thousands and thousands of bottles of marinade over a period of many years, one should feel compelled to offer practical and educational information to allow the consumer to decide, whether law or not. Besides, the cost was passed on at the wholesale level and given the price of the lab work, it didn't amount to too much in the overall scheme. Initially, yes, but not so much in the end because it worked by volume sales.

Since the FDA's effective date of May 8, 1994, I have been reading nutritional labels on all sorts of packaged food items I buy. I have been aware of trans fats for a long time and I insisted that nothing of that nature would ever go into my product when I made it. I used olive oil. My marinade was low in fat, sugar and sodium and packed with flavor. Since being diagnosed with type 2 diabetes last year, I am even more keenly aware of what I eat and I read labels with a vengeance now. Have you heard of "interesterified soybean oil" or "high in stearic acid"? I have and I've written about it on a diabetes post.

By replacing one fat with another less saturated one, has it made it safer to consume? Labels on packaged goods don't tell you that and they aren't required to do so. For example, a recent study of interesterified fat was found to depress the level of HDL (good cholesterol) more than trans fat. In addition, it raised blood glucose levels and depressed the level of insulin. This suggests that interesterified fat could lead to diabetes. The nutritional panel alone does not paint you (oil base, of course) an entire picture, so you've got to read the list of ingredients, too, to formulate what may or may not be healthful to eat. I wonder what type of fat is replacing partially hydrogenated ones in the restaurant industry as many of them now tout ZERO TRANS FAT!? Something to chew on and I guarantee it won't be listed on any menu.

In the late sixties, through the seventies, I was in the restaurant business. I think we can all agree that it is a very competitive industry, but do you have any idea how much it would cost to produce such information? OK, perhaps the big shot corporations can absorb the cost and pass it on through a modest increase in price since they deal in volume, but what about the small Mom & Pop shops? How can they cost effectively do what the Dardens of the world can do? If Olive Garden sells a spaghetti with meatballs dish with nutritional info for $8.95, how can Momma Lombardo down the street compete after paying the cost of a lab test? She has to sell her dish for $13.95 to recoup. Where went the competitive edge? What about daily specials? Would poor Momma have to send off a list of ingredients for testing before she could offer it? How can a profit be made on a one time special, made up that day at the whim of the chef because an exotic fish became available if the proprietor must send the recipe out first for scrutiny and inspection? Meanwhile, the fish and tomatoes are rotting while she awaits the results. Maybe, the chef makes up the dish as he goes and continuously samples and adjusts it. Needs a little more wine, less chicken stock, he thinks. Oops, I smell a lawsuit because the data doesn't match the end result. The food police are on their way!

What about government sanctioned standardized guidelines instead, made readily available (for a fee) to businesses and open for the taking, so that a particular dish sold at any restaurant should approximately contain this amount of calories, fat and everything else required by law to disclose? Offer different versions on the list, from rich in calories to guilt-free. Categorize lists according to cuisine. Remember, I did not have to place nutritional facts on my marinade bottle. That was left for mass produced products. Some restaurant chains already list information on the menu or on a separate sheet and it helps with sales as more and more diners become nutritionally savvy, but big chains can afford dietitians. A lot of their food comes out of regional commissaries. Would I want to require it? No. Let supply and demand dictate whether it is offered. If customers demand it, restaurants should supply it. Or don't eat there. Soon, the message would become clear by the empty tables if that's what people want. Personally, I don't want to ruin my appetite by having to read what I already know might not be good for me. Not on the menu, at least.

Lobster Bisque....................................................................................9.00
Our secret family recipe, just the right serving size of 637 calories, made with 68% of your total fat 25g (100%), saturated fat 15g (60%), trans fat 3g (15%), cholesterol , etc., etc., etc. % of your daily values, based on a 2,000 calorie diet. Yummy.

Prime Rib..........................................................................................28.00
Depends on whether you eat the fat or not.

Offer a separate printout if it must be required and place it on display for consumers to take or leave. Does the government really have to tell me this menu is USDA, United States Disclaimer Approved, before I order Momma's special, Fettuccine Alfredo, made with cheese, heavy cream, egg yolks and a dash of statin, and it's about to fill me with a month's worth of badness at one sitting? It kind of takes the fun away from eating out. Maybe, I'll call for takeout instead, but then, I'd have to listen to all those asterisks over the phone first.

Velvis

Fred Ressler, of Pareidolia fame, turned me on to an interesting website called Urban Dictionary. It is a slang dictionary where readers submit their own words and definitions. Velvis is a word I came up with in 1984, back when sniglets were in vogue. A sniglet is a word that should be in the dictionary, but isn't.

Velvis belongs in a class of art by itself. Similar categories would include, but is not limited to, assembly line rug/beach towel prints and paintings of heavy metal rock stars and jungle animals. Generally, you'll find these items for sale at flea markets, yard sales and high volume intersections (in gas station parking lots), in the urban sprawl. This genre should not be confused with collections of plastic flamingos and anything to do with Dale Earnhart, although in most cases, they are sold side by side. A genuine Velvis is a velvet painting of Elvis. Floyd traveled around the country, including in the ghetto, searching for Velvis paintings to add to his art collection.

Should cell phones be banned in restaurants?

This was a matter of debate at Helium.com, where writers were invited to express their opinions, for or against. This is what I wrote.

For all you know, I may be sitting here at the Tech Noir Internet Cafe, eating my Bavarian Ham and Brie Croissant with arugula, baby spinach and alfalfa sprouts while working out deals with my day trader over the phone, between sips of my iced frappe latte parfait with imported organic vanilla bean essence. If food is served, it is a restaurant, at least to the health department. I'm not, but you can picture that scenario, and in this kind of establishment, cell phones may play a crucial role.

I think everyone would agree that smoking is not a healthy vice. Neither is second hand smoke and that is why many states have banned lit cigars and cigarettes from all public buildings and that includes restaurants. Cell phones cause no health danger, other than the fights that might ignite from the rudeness of blabbers and those who want a nice, quiet repast. That could be a problem.

I certainly wouldn't go to a 5 star restaurant and read the Podunk Times while slurping a delightful lobster bisque. Chomping my filet mignon drenched in ketchup with my mouth open? How rude. On the other hand, I have no problem with cell phones down at the fast food joint and local greasy spoon, where the hustle and bustle of activity and conversation tend to neutralize cell phone chatter. "You want fries with that?" Personally, I don't like to carry on a private conversation in front of people, especially strangers. Who I talk to and what I talk about is no one's business but mine, but there I might be inclined to answer and talk as quietly as I can without disturbing others. In between bites, of course.

Back to smoking for a moment. You don't see churches with NO SMOKING signs hung all over the place. They don't need them. You don't normally see TURN OFF ALL CELL PHONES signs, either. It's just common sense and proper etiquette that tell us to refrain from certain behavior depending on the setting. Why can't people learn to take that same politeness and respect with them wherever they go before the government intervenes at the behest of the annoyed? Since restaurants aren't the only places that suffer from this form of aural intrusion, where would legislation stop?

As far as I'm concerned, a cell phone is nothing more than a phone that's not plugged into a wall and it works almost everywhere. It is a utility, for crying out loud. Oops. Did I just scream that? In the past, we couldn't take our phones with us. Now we can, and the main problem lays with the courtesy challenged, those ego-fed bean heads who want to show others, especially strangers, how important they are. All other conversation must cease. Look at me! I think it should be at the discretion of the individual restaurant to allow or bar cell phones. Because ambience and cuisine vary tremendously, it should be a management decision. There shouldn't be an across the board ban.

All of this kind of makes me wonder, do parents still teach their children to sit up straight and chew with their mouths closed? Do they tell them to hang up the phone, it's time for dinner? Probably not.

A Wooden Knechel

My brother, Sam, is a very talented guy. Whenever he puts his mind to something, he does it. For the past several years, he's been crafting objects out of wood; goblets, canes, trivets and an assortment of other things. Friends and relatives encouraged him to start selling what he makes. After making gifts for people, he decided to give it a try. He asked me if I could design a website. Sure, I could design it, but I had no idea how to implement it. Then I got Dreamweaver and it opened up a new world of opportunities.

Recently, he set up a web package with Network Solutions and we went to work building a temporary site with one of their templates. He's done most of the work, I just set up the initial one. This one will remain up until my design is ready. That means a complete selection of photo samples and many of them are still in the works. Please stop by and visit his site. That won't cost a thing, but if you like what you see, e-mail him for information.

Wood Creations by Sam

Hand Crafted Designs for Your Home & Heart

He specializes in:

Goblets and Wine Glasses

Canes and Walking Sticks

Trivets and Coasters

Knobs and Drawer Pulls

Vessels and Vases

All are custom made to your liking. You can even choose from an array of woods, including exotics.

Preparation is the key to exterior house painting

I know it's a little late in the season, but this was a recent topic brought up by Helium, a user-created reference website.

When I was young, in the 70s, my boss used to lay me off during the summer months because he could get 3 school kids to work for what he was paying me. It gave me the opportunity to paint residential and commercial buildings. I took pride in my work and made pretty good money, too. Back then, I preferred oil base or alkyds over latex because there was less of a chance for mold and mildew to build up.

About 8 years ago, my father asked me if I'd be interested in painting his house. Sure, I said. I wasn't going to charge him for my work, but I certainly wasn't going to pay for the cost of preparation and materials. Two of my friends were professional painters. Since I had been out of that field for many years, I wanted to know what, if anything, was new since the old days. I told them I prefer oil over latex. They were adamant in their reply, "No! Latex today is much better than it was back then. It has much better mold inhibitors now. Oil base will actually encourage mold, especially here in Florida." The last time I painted anything was back in New Jersey. In Florida, structures have to contend with incredible heat, the effects of the sun and torrential downpours. The sun, in particular, lightens and deadens paint.

"Make sure you have the house pressure washed and sealed before you do it. That is very important," they both told me, "or the paint won't stick. About a year or two from then, the paint will peel." I passed that information on to my father and he said, no, I just want it painted. I went back to my friends and told them what he said. "When you run your finger across the surface and that chalky stuff comes off, that's dead paint. Try painting chalk and see if it sticks. Go ahead."

They'd had these problems before, obviously, with cheap customers wanting to save a dime. These same people would run back to the painter to complain at the first sign of trouble. Did I want that? No, so I told my father I wouldn't do it unless he prepped the house first. "Knowing you," I said, "you'll run back to the paint store to complain and the first thing they're going to ask is, did you pressure wash and seal it first?" He relented and agreed. He had no choice if he wanted the job done. I told him to get it washed and I would seal it.

The house is made of cement blocks and part of it has a stucco finish. I made sure all wood trim was scraped, allowed to dry and then primed. I always apply two coats. When I began painting, I dug out the foundation and painted my way from top to bottom, allowing that area plenty of time to dry out as well. In the case of erosion, I didn't want any areas exposed that did not show paint. Afterward, I filled the soil back in place. I made sure to paint under window sills that had never been painted. For some reason, many contractors avoid taking the brush to areas you don't normally see and that exposes part of the building to the elements. Besides, suppose someone's planting flowers along the side. They look up at the sill and see sloppy, unfinished work. Not good. I told you I am meticulous and eight years later, the house still looks great.

A few months after I completed the job, the next door neighbor, not to be confused with the "keeping up with the Joneses" type, decided to paint their house. About a year or so later, the paint began to crack, peel and bubble. Bubbling occurs from a moisture build up underneath that part of the paint. The neighbor came knocking one day and wanted to know why his house was doing that, but not my parent's.

"Did you pressure wash and seal it first?" my father asked.

"No..." he replied.

"Aha," he said, already primed with a response, "you didn't do it right!" A lesson to be learned.

Quit Stalling and Resign, Sen. Larry Craig

Sometimes, I don't understand Republicans. When Newt Gingrich was bashing Bill Clinton, demanding his resignation for cheating on his wife with that woman, Miss Lewinski, he was cheating on his own wife at the time. He even admitted it, divorced his wife and married the woman. How virtuous. When Republican representative Henry Hyde, then head of the House Judiciary Committee, was in charge of deciding whether to pursue Clinton's impeachment, he failed to disclose that he was guilty of the same indiscretion years earlier, even worse because it went on for four years and the intimacy went deeper, if you know what I mean. Both he and the woman he had the affair with were married at the time. When the Internet magazine, Salon.com broke the news, he dismissed it as one of his "youthful indiscretions."

One of my Republican friends told me then, "Well, at least he didn't do it in the White House." I responded by asking him what difference does it make who it is or where it's done. If it's a preacher or a deacon, whether in the church sanctuary or in the back seat of a car, cheatin' is cheatin' and that is immoral.

Cheating isn't my main point here, although Sen. Craig is married. It is the hypocrisy inherent in politics and it seems to be reeking more than a public mens' room from within the Republican party. From Bill Clinton's self-made problem and the self-righteous attempts by cheating Republicans to chop off his head, to Mark Foley and holier than thou religious icons, there are just too many conservative Republicans getting themselves into moral dilemmas. Gay and straight. What bothers me most is the double standard many Republican voters display. Reverse any of the above scenarios and these people would sing a different tune. If Clinton were Republican and the Democrats were going after him, well, you get my point. Republican sinners are not as bad as Democratic sinners. God is always on the side of Republicans, the more conservative, the better.

The hypocrisy in Craig's case stems from his series of votes against gay rights and his support of a 2006 amendment to the Idaho Constitution that bars civil unions and gay marriages. Look, I don't care if the guy is anti this or anti that, but stand by your principles. Certainly, we elect our officials based on the premise of honesty and integrity. We want them to stand tall and fight for our rights and to do what we feel would be best for us in our communities and throughout the nation. We expect them to be intelligent and have more common sense than the average sexual deviant this man has turned out to be.

What would prompt him to walk into a very public mens' room and signal the guy next to him that he was "in the mood?" I've been known to be a betting man and odds are, the guy sitting there is doing a natural body function at the time. Wow, that's a real turn on, isn't it? May I wipe when you're done? How sick. Maybe, I don't know enough about the gay lifestyle, but if that's how they hit on each other, I don't want to know any more about it. As a straight male, I've never had the desire to hit on a woman while she's engaged in an extremely personal and private moment like pinching a loaf. Something tells me she's not going to be in the mood at the time, either. In the senator's instance, this was a total stranger, sight unseen. I guess it didn't matter who he was or what he was doing, he liked his shoes.

Rumors have been flying all around on Sen. Craig for years. This is not new and he has been written about in the past. Up until his guilty plea for a misdemeanor disorderly conduct in the bathroom arrest, everything previous was speculation - their word against his - and he and his staff shrugged it off and found these rumors to be laughable. Now, he should move from the closet, not the men's room, to out in the open and admit he's gay or bisexual and get on with his life. What makes him think we would buy his lame 'lack of legal counsel and not enough time to prepare a defense and that's why he pleaded guilty' excuse? He had two months to try and there was too much evidence against him. Waving his senate credentials in the face of the arresting officer who asked for his ID, for example, implied that this was not the first time he's used his power to get out of trouble.

Senator Craig, it's time to resign. Do all you can to shield your family from the plunge you are about to take. You already sh*t and it's time to get off the pot before you flush more Republican politicians down the toilet with you. They're already in enough trouble and voters want to wash their hands of the likes of you.

Chemistry student's explanation of Hell

This is from an e-mail my brother sent me. I can't vouch for it's authenticity, but I found it to be rather interesting and worthwhile to publish here.

The following is an actual question given on a University of Washington chemistry mid-term. The answer by one student was so "profound" that the professor shared it with colleagues, via the Internet, which is, of course, why we now have the pleasure of enjoying it as well.

Bonus Question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?

Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant.

One student, however, wrote the following:

First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving.

As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell.

With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.

This gives two possibilities:

1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.

2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.

So which is it?

If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa during my Freshman year that, "it will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you, and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number two must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over.

The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct...leaving only Heaven thereby proving the existence of a divine being which explains why, last night, Teresa kept shouting "Oh my God."

THIS STUDENT RECEIVED THE ONLY "A"

How the FBI deals with Internet terrorist threats

I once met with an Orlando FBI special agent with information regarding an unsolved murder case. I had been playing around with local authorities on another matter and something pertaining to that case crossed my path. Unfortunately, I didn't tell him anything he didn't already know, but because of this, he proffered a small amount of tidbits the FBI was aware of. A young woman was picked up at a bar I used to stop at once in a while. She was never seen again. This happened before I ever frequented the place and I did not know her. Because the crime crossed state lines, the feds got involved. The trail led to a ranch in Texas where several sets of human remains were found, but none belonged to the girl in question. Since the prime suspect did not own the property, there was no way to prove the bones were directly linked to him. Oh, they know who did it, but they were having a tough time proving it. That is all I was told. No name. No town. Just the basics. I was on a need-to-know basis and I didn't need to know anything more. The only reasons I was privy to anything at all was because of my affiliation with someone else and my knowledge of the case. That was the only time I ever met with a federal agent.

Have you ever received an e-mail from a person or organization that threatened the national security of the United States? I did. It was chilling and I immediately forwarded it on to the FBI. Today, with the proliferation of blogs and comments, there are probably a lot more nasty words being passed around, especially on controversial blogs, and more so than when it was just through e-mail accounts. Below is the letter I received (addressed directly to me) and the FBI's response.

Personally I don't see much difference between Americans and Israelis.

Both are regrouped scumbags from all over the world and both massacred

the original inhabitants of the lands.

America is terrorist state since it was created, Jews didn't told

Americans to butcher Red Indians, Jews didn't ordered Americans to

massacre Filipinos, Jews didn't asked Americans to invade Caribbean

islands and annihilated people in there, Jews didn't dropped nukes

over Japan, Jews have no aims in butchering Vietnamese, Laotian nation

or Cambodians.

Americans did those things because they were born MURDERERS.

Now, regarding Palestinian cause, Americans are not under the control

of Jews, but in fact Israel is the one under the control. Americans

can flix their muscles whenever they want, and Israelis can't help

but to obey the orders coming from Washington.

Blaming Jews is the thing that makes Americans sons of b*tch feel

slightly comfortable with, because it gives them the sense that they

are under the control of external power and they wouldn't do what

they did.

This is bullsh*t, Americans are our enemies as being Arabs.

And one day when we are finished with Israel, we will force the

bastards behind the Atlantic to pay it back with their own blood.

Arabs don't forget nor forgive.

Sorry if my words hurt you, but it's not a personal.

Revolution till victory

Marvin Wingfield

marvinw@adc.org

frappuccino-owner@yahoogroups.com

http://www.cair-net.org/

http://profiles.yahoo.com/revolution_til_victory

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/PACUSA/join

Here is the FBI response:

Date: Thu, 31 Oct 2002 16:11:16 -0500
From:"FBI Internet Tips" <sioc@fbi.gov>
To:anonymous@yahoo.com
Subject:FBI Response

Dear Mr. anonymous: (of course, I supplied my real name)

Thank you for your tip to the FBI Internet Tip Line.
It is being evaluated for it's strategic value, and
will be disseminated, if appropriate, for further
action. It is the policy of the FBI to not provide
results of that evaluation or action to the providers
of information. I would recommend that you contact
ADC.org and lodge a complaint with them regarding the
sending of the email message. You should be aware
that there is a high probability that ADC.org is
unaware that these messages are being sent from their
email system.

Sincerely,

David N. Rushing/jbv
Supervisory Special Agent
FBI Headquarters
Washington, DC

The key element here is that information provided to the FBI is not shared back. They do not keep you in the loop, so it's not like dropping by the local police department and asking, "Hey, Chief, what's up with that case you're working on?"

The FBI does not take threats lightly, but what constitutes a real threat? Where is the line drawn between idle insults and the real thing? The FBI is bombarded by citizen complaints every day and many wasted hours are spent deciphering what is and what isn't worth pursuing. Unfortunately, there are an awful lot of "boy who cried wolf" types out there. Some bordering on delusional paranoia.

What the FBI will do, if warranted, is interesting. The complete capabilities of the FBI's "Computer and Internet Protocol Address Verifier" are closely guarded secrets, but here are some of the things the malware collects, according to Wired News:

IP address

MAC address of ethernet cards

A list of TCP and UDP ports

A list of running programs

The operating system, type and serial number

The default Internet browser and version

The registered user of the operating system and registered company, if any

The current logged-in user name

The last visited URL

A computer is sent a secret spyware program that settles into a "pen register" mode and CIPAV monitors the computer's internet usage, logging everything for 60 days. The information gathered is likely sent on to an FBI technical facility somewhere in Virginia. The educated guess is Quantico, because that's where Carnivore operated. Carnivore was a "packet-sniffing" policeware program. Essentially, a packet sniffer is a program that can see all of the information passing over the network it is connected to.

Wired News reported that under a recent ruling "by the 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals, such surveillance - which does not capture the content of the communications - can be conducted without a wiretap warrant, because internet users have no 'reasonable expectation of privacy' in the data when using the internet." See: Warrantless Monitoring of Internet Traffic

Dissenting and insulting e-mails and blog comments are one thing, and courts generally uphold First Amendment rights, but anyone would be a fool to send real or implied threats via any means, including through anonymizers. They are morally and ethically wrong and always remember that Big Brother is watching.

For further reading on a case the FBI investigated in June, 2007, please go to:
FBI's Secret Spyware Tracks Down Teen Who Made Bomb Threats

God, I don't miss it at all

I ran into an old buddy the other day. He asked me why I haven't been hanging around the bar lately. I told him I'm not really drinking anymore.

"Well, you can still come around once in a while, right? You don't have to drink, you know."

I know, but if you stop believing in God, you don't feel like hanging around a church much, do you?"

He agreed.

Quite the Endeavour

I just came in from watching the space shuttle Endeavour lift off. It was a glorious moment and it's still the best attraction Florida has to offer. It was picture perfect, too. I stood in my back yard and followed the bright flame as it rapidly disappeared into the light blue sky. The puffy contrail momentarily stood still giving pause to reflect upon the timeless grace, power and magnitude of this magnificent launch. Then, it wafted away. I went back inside and witnessed what most of the nation was seeing on their television screens. Times like these become an inspiration for America, a moment to forget our woes. This is when we all unite and say Godspeed.

"Class is in session!" the NASA announcer said as the shuttle separated from the main engine and gracefully entered into orbit. Let this be a lesson to us all. As these brave souls journey onward and upward to a place where hatred carries no weight, where there are no borders and enemies do not exist, we must learn to forge ahead and make our world as safe as that oasis in the sky.

My brother, Sam, shuttles VIPs to launches. He drives for a large transportation company and took the two photos below. The first one (taken with his cell phone) was Endeavour on the pad the day before the launch. The second picture (taken with his digital camera) speaks for itself. He said it was very hazy as it lifted off the pad. What I saw from Orlando was very clear once it appeared over the tree tops.

The bottom picture looks better if you click to enlarge it.

Photos courtesy of Sam Knechel, Jr.