I love to take pictures. It doesn't surprise me that when the hard drive on my personal computer was near the end of its life, I did what most procrastinating reactionaries do and try to back them up before the hard drive goes completely kaput. It doesn't really surprise me that I had over 11,000 digital photos to pull off of there. I am the father of a beautiful 22-month old girl and I love to travel. 8,000 of those photos are probably of my little girl.
A few weeks ago, my wife and daughter packed up and went on a weekend trip to Disneyland and Los Angeles. This post isn't about that trip, sorry. You'll have to wait for the book. Call it what you will, maybe a case of sibling envy or something as simple as technophilia, but last summer, my wife and I shelled out big bucks to purchase a DSLR camera that neither of us know how to work to its full advantage. Looking to take advantage of a package deal, we shelled out more money to get an extra lens, a couple filters, 2 instructional DVDs and a bag to carry all this. Later, we spent even more money on an external flash. Now, aside from looking like a tourist everywhere I go, I look like a damn paparazzo. Lugging around a camera such as this, not to mention all its accessories, can get pretty cumbersome, not to mention heavy.
In an effort ease some travel woes, I went on the e-commerce juggernaut known as Amazon and ordered a camera holster. Not quite as big as a bag, but big enough. I also saw that flash memory is really cheap know, and I figured I'd be taking a lot of pictures, so I splurged and bought a 4GB SDHC card to replace my measly 1GB card I have in there now. For the record, I wound up taking close to 500 pictures the whole weekend. The bag, excuse me, holster was $31.95 and the memory card $12.95. I told you that it was cheap. Heck, I remember when I bought my first digital camera the summer of '02. The largest you could go was 128MB and that cost me almost $100. Anyway, the total was $44.90.
I decided to have it shipped to my in-laws because 1) if it needed a signature when it arrived during the day, the chances of someone being home are far greater than at my place and 2) if the delivery guy would be careless enough to put it on my porch for the world to see, who's to say someone couldn't walk off with it. Granted, I get a lot of my paranoia from my parents, but recently we came home to discover that one of our patio chairs we had moved to our front "stoop" recently disappeared. Hoodlums, no doubt. All the tweakers have moved (I hope).
Back to the story at hand. I ordered this parcel a week before we were to leave for our trip. I did not spring for the extra shipping because a lot of the recent feedback was to the tune of "fast shipping", "got earlier than expected" and the like. Even if it didn't come until we were already on vacation, that's fine. It wasn't absolutely vital to have, it'd just be a convenience.
Well, to make a long story slightly shorter, it never arrived. Delivered by the US Postal Service, documentation states that it was not delivered because the address was not valid. It was valid. I don't know who to blame. The post office, Amazon, or the storefront in Amazon. When such an event occurs, the parcel gets shipped back to the sender in New York and per there policy, refunds the money. 2 weeks after this is set to occur, it finally happens.
My want for such items has not waned in the recent weeks, but in a way this experience was sort of serendipitous. While pining away for my package in the mail, I saw that there was a bigger and better holster for only a few dollars more. It's by the same brand, just a step up. Maybe I'll get that one instead. The holster was $39.95 and the memory card $9.95. The total was $49.90. The holster was a surprisingly $8 more expensive, but surprisingly, the exact same memory card was $3 cheaper only make the order $5 more.
Aside from not completing the ultimate task of actually placing the order in my hands, the storefront I purchased it from did everything right, so I decided to put my letter-writing pen down and give them another shot. We'll see if and when it gets here.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
Getting Back To My Roots
For a while now, I've been thinking about using this blogging forum as means to dispense non-sequitur quips rather than stream of consciousness rants or anything that has an agenda. If any of you out there in cyberspace want to read my media-inspired social diatribes or anything like that, subscribe to my newsletter … or join my religion. A newsletter subscription is included upon conversion.
I'm not saying I'm not going to continue to rant like an uneducated nonsensical street preacher, I'm just going to try and give you all more opportunities to enter the mind of Glenn, which as it has often been said, "It's a nice place to visit, but you wouldn't want to live there." Think of it like Twitter, but without the 140 character limitation (as I tend to be quite verbose) and potentially not as narcisistic in the vaguely cultish goal to accumulate more "followers". That's what religions are for. I'll just write, and if you choose to read, great. If not, then so be it. This will just be another page on the world wide web that isn't visited. There are plenty of those …
I'm not saying I'm not going to continue to rant like an uneducated nonsensical street preacher, I'm just going to try and give you all more opportunities to enter the mind of Glenn, which as it has often been said, "It's a nice place to visit, but you wouldn't want to live there." Think of it like Twitter, but without the 140 character limitation (as I tend to be quite verbose) and potentially not as narcisistic in the vaguely cultish goal to accumulate more "followers". That's what religions are for. I'll just write, and if you choose to read, great. If not, then so be it. This will just be another page on the world wide web that isn't visited. There are plenty of those …
Friday, July 4, 2008
Reunited
Forgive me blog, for I have lived. It has been 320 days since my last blogging. Wow. It really has been a long time since I've written. The sad part is I have all these ideas of what I want to write about, including a few unfinished passages saved on my computer. So, it's not really like I don't want to write. I do. It's just that I work on a computer all day, and when it all comes down to it, anything I really want to write about takes second fiddle to me wanting to spend time with my wife and daughter. Well… here we are together again. Writer and Reader. Literary artist and dutiful audience. Sporadic Blogger and … Glenn Fan Club Member. I'm only kidding about that last one. Nevertheless, this is an event that should be recognized. It is, after all, a reunion of sorts, and reunions have been on my mind lately…
It has been 10 years since my wife and I graduated high school. We graduated from different high schools from different towns, but yet both were in Arizona. We have each gotten our respective invitations and were thankful that they were on different weekends so we can go to each other's events. I believe I may have had a trial run of what I think mine may be like at our friends' wedding last summer. Two friends of mine, whom I've known for a good many years and attended junior high and high school with, were married. Casual acquaintances throughout those years, they didn't start dating until after high school, despite attending different colleges many states apart. They've still kept in contact with many of our high school circle of our friends while I remained friends with them on a more isolated level after voluntarily severing ties with the group 7 years prior. At the wedding, my wife and I were seated away from the table of these old comrades and aside from the occasional exchange of pleasantries and the whole "what are you up to now?" conversations from a few of the members, it was evident that we would probably not rekindle the flames of the friendships we once shared.
I've never been a fan of goodbyes. Emotional separations aside, the whole thing seems so definite and terminal. Should the opportunity ever arise where I know this would be the last time I would see a person for 7 years, or perhaps longer, I'd much rather prefer the whole, "…until we meet again". This way, it leaves things potentially a little less awkward once you do, in fact, meet again. Personally I believe that there is not often an opportunity where you wouldn't cross paths with someone you had once known. Through serendipitous circumstance, it has happened to me on more than one occasion. In fact, I had a reunion of sorts last night.
On my weekly visit to my wife at her place of business, she had previously communicated to me that some of my old co-workers were dining at the restaurant she managed. Patrons of other locations within the same company has permitted my wife the opportunity to cross their paths before, but I have yet to have the opportunity to see them since 2005. Their names are Norman and Edwin. They're brothers, a few years older than me, but during the early stages of my career, they were peers as well as colleagues. We all worked for the same company in different capacities, but we were all there with 2 others when the doors closed for the final time in the fall of 2005. Normally, Norm would take out his family to any number of restaurants in the area around his home, including the store at which my wife once worked. Due to corporate downsizing it has since closed and more recently another closed so that left Norm to take his family to a restaurant outside his usual perimeter to redeem coupons his children had received. Coincidentally, it was the night my wife was working and also the night I came to see her.
We shot the breeze like old times and it was nice to see how big Norm's son had gotten and I even got the chance to see a baby girl that I'd heard about, but never seen. But this isn't the story I want to tell you about. I want to tell you a story of a reunion that didn't happen by coincidence, but purely random chance.
In early May, before the temperatures rose and the gas prices skyrocketed, Liz and I packed up the baby in the new(ish) SUV and set out on a road trip. It was the first vacation we've taken since the baby was born last November. I called it "The Great Southwestern Road Trip" but all it really did was create a big loop between Arizona and New Mexico. Our mission was simple. Visit with friends. Show off baby. See the countryside, no matter how desolate and arid it may be. Spanning a little under a week, we saw dinosaurs in Holbrook (Ariz.), a giant roadrunner made of trash outside of Las Cruces (N.M.) and came up short on our quest for chicken at a KFC in Lordsburg, New Mexico.
On the second stop on our 3-city tour, we pulled into a Super 8 Motel in Las Cruces. At the front desk, while checking in, I was observing the local reading material provided as a service to the guests. One piece caught my eye. It was small newspaper, showcasing the latest in local events, celebrity gossip and some other stuff called "What's Up?" I took an issue with me to read later while in the motel room. Later that evening, I had just settled in for a little "me" time and opened the newspaper to read. Since I've started working at a newspaper in the advertising department, I pay attention to the advertisements before the copy. Something caught my eye though. On page 2, the inside flap, I noticed the roster of the paper. Instantly, without any particular reason, I was immediately fixated on a name. The name before "Production Manager/Graphic Artist". It was a name I recognized.
In the Southwestern United States, the name Edgar Gonzalez is not all that uncommon. The Arizona Diamondbacks have a pitcher by that name. It's a different guy because this Edgar Gonzalez was in advertising. … This Edgar was from El Paso, where this publication was produced. … This Edgar had a middle initial of "B". … This Edgar … was a friend of mine in college.
… Or at least it could be. Like I said, there are probably dozens of Edgar Gonzalez, perhaps even hundreds. I suppose the only way to find out if this was the Edgar I knew was to call him. It was past working hours, so calling him was out of the question. It'd have to wait 'till morning. And wait I did.
When I placed the call to the number in the paper and dialed his extension, I was greeted by a voicemail message. It sounded like the guy I knew, but it was hard to tell, because I hadn't spoken to him since he graduated from the Associates program 3 months before I did, in the year 2000. I left a message, bizarre as it may sound to the casual listener, much less the person receiving it if in the event it was not the Edgar I thought I knew.
A little while later, he called back. It was him! I could hardly believe it. It seemed so surreal. We talked for about 30 – 45 minutes about how I figured it out it was him, and of course, the whole "what are you up to now?" questions, but we parted with the possibility of once again, opening the lines of communication. We hadn't seen each other, much less talked since the day of his portfolio review in March of 2000 with none so much as a email address or a phone number to stay in touch. College isn't like high school, you can't scrawl "K.I.T." on yearbooks. It's a lot more difficult than that, but at the very least it's important to remember that there are people out there and whereas you may think you may never see them again, there's always the possibility you will and friendships have the opportunity to be rekindled. Goodnight, my friend. Until we meet again…
It has been 10 years since my wife and I graduated high school. We graduated from different high schools from different towns, but yet both were in Arizona. We have each gotten our respective invitations and were thankful that they were on different weekends so we can go to each other's events. I believe I may have had a trial run of what I think mine may be like at our friends' wedding last summer. Two friends of mine, whom I've known for a good many years and attended junior high and high school with, were married. Casual acquaintances throughout those years, they didn't start dating until after high school, despite attending different colleges many states apart. They've still kept in contact with many of our high school circle of our friends while I remained friends with them on a more isolated level after voluntarily severing ties with the group 7 years prior. At the wedding, my wife and I were seated away from the table of these old comrades and aside from the occasional exchange of pleasantries and the whole "what are you up to now?" conversations from a few of the members, it was evident that we would probably not rekindle the flames of the friendships we once shared.
I've never been a fan of goodbyes. Emotional separations aside, the whole thing seems so definite and terminal. Should the opportunity ever arise where I know this would be the last time I would see a person for 7 years, or perhaps longer, I'd much rather prefer the whole, "…until we meet again". This way, it leaves things potentially a little less awkward once you do, in fact, meet again. Personally I believe that there is not often an opportunity where you wouldn't cross paths with someone you had once known. Through serendipitous circumstance, it has happened to me on more than one occasion. In fact, I had a reunion of sorts last night.
On my weekly visit to my wife at her place of business, she had previously communicated to me that some of my old co-workers were dining at the restaurant she managed. Patrons of other locations within the same company has permitted my wife the opportunity to cross their paths before, but I have yet to have the opportunity to see them since 2005. Their names are Norman and Edwin. They're brothers, a few years older than me, but during the early stages of my career, they were peers as well as colleagues. We all worked for the same company in different capacities, but we were all there with 2 others when the doors closed for the final time in the fall of 2005. Normally, Norm would take out his family to any number of restaurants in the area around his home, including the store at which my wife once worked. Due to corporate downsizing it has since closed and more recently another closed so that left Norm to take his family to a restaurant outside his usual perimeter to redeem coupons his children had received. Coincidentally, it was the night my wife was working and also the night I came to see her.
We shot the breeze like old times and it was nice to see how big Norm's son had gotten and I even got the chance to see a baby girl that I'd heard about, but never seen. But this isn't the story I want to tell you about. I want to tell you a story of a reunion that didn't happen by coincidence, but purely random chance.
In early May, before the temperatures rose and the gas prices skyrocketed, Liz and I packed up the baby in the new(ish) SUV and set out on a road trip. It was the first vacation we've taken since the baby was born last November. I called it "The Great Southwestern Road Trip" but all it really did was create a big loop between Arizona and New Mexico. Our mission was simple. Visit with friends. Show off baby. See the countryside, no matter how desolate and arid it may be. Spanning a little under a week, we saw dinosaurs in Holbrook (Ariz.), a giant roadrunner made of trash outside of Las Cruces (N.M.) and came up short on our quest for chicken at a KFC in Lordsburg, New Mexico.
On the second stop on our 3-city tour, we pulled into a Super 8 Motel in Las Cruces. At the front desk, while checking in, I was observing the local reading material provided as a service to the guests. One piece caught my eye. It was small newspaper, showcasing the latest in local events, celebrity gossip and some other stuff called "What's Up?" I took an issue with me to read later while in the motel room. Later that evening, I had just settled in for a little "me" time and opened the newspaper to read. Since I've started working at a newspaper in the advertising department, I pay attention to the advertisements before the copy. Something caught my eye though. On page 2, the inside flap, I noticed the roster of the paper. Instantly, without any particular reason, I was immediately fixated on a name. The name before "Production Manager/Graphic Artist". It was a name I recognized.
In the Southwestern United States, the name Edgar Gonzalez is not all that uncommon. The Arizona Diamondbacks have a pitcher by that name. It's a different guy because this Edgar Gonzalez was in advertising. … This Edgar was from El Paso, where this publication was produced. … This Edgar had a middle initial of "B". … This Edgar … was a friend of mine in college.
… Or at least it could be. Like I said, there are probably dozens of Edgar Gonzalez, perhaps even hundreds. I suppose the only way to find out if this was the Edgar I knew was to call him. It was past working hours, so calling him was out of the question. It'd have to wait 'till morning. And wait I did.
When I placed the call to the number in the paper and dialed his extension, I was greeted by a voicemail message. It sounded like the guy I knew, but it was hard to tell, because I hadn't spoken to him since he graduated from the Associates program 3 months before I did, in the year 2000. I left a message, bizarre as it may sound to the casual listener, much less the person receiving it if in the event it was not the Edgar I thought I knew.
A little while later, he called back. It was him! I could hardly believe it. It seemed so surreal. We talked for about 30 – 45 minutes about how I figured it out it was him, and of course, the whole "what are you up to now?" questions, but we parted with the possibility of once again, opening the lines of communication. We hadn't seen each other, much less talked since the day of his portfolio review in March of 2000 with none so much as a email address or a phone number to stay in touch. College isn't like high school, you can't scrawl "K.I.T." on yearbooks. It's a lot more difficult than that, but at the very least it's important to remember that there are people out there and whereas you may think you may never see them again, there's always the possibility you will and friendships have the opportunity to be rekindled. Goodnight, my friend. Until we meet again…
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Measure of a Man's Wealth
I know it has been a while since I've posted, but my passive attempts at achieving worldwide fame have gone unnoticed and therefore unsuccessful. Nevertheless, there may be many reasons why you're reading this post. Perhaps you're the type of person who peruses blogspot.com, or perhaps while searching Google in the quest for knowledge, you click "more" to search the blogs. Almost sounds like a metaphor for life, doesn't it? How many times do we look for information and when we take it one step further to search for more, all we find is random people's opinions?
Maybe it's not any of the reasons above. It could just be that you've read some of my previous postings and you have enjoyed them enough to read this one as well. After all, if you're reading the sentence in context, I thank you for your continued support. Worldwide fame is that much closer. Taking it back a bit, the primary reason you've found yourself here is not because you're on some existential quest, but probably because you saw a link on MySpace and decided to click it. You are, after all, a friend.
Being a friend of mine, I thought I'd share with you little bit about everyone else in this community called my friends list. All 50 of you. I'm not much of one for statistics, which is why I chose to do it now. 50 is a nice round number and easy to extract percentages from it with little arithmetic. I first got this idea before I actually reached 50 friends on MySpace. Interestingly enough, there's an error in the page code where it miscounts the actual number tricking you into have more friends that you actually do. "Oh cruel fate, why do you mock me?" (Simpson, 1990) Sounds like I need to talk with certain 2% of you who can't count. Tom, I'm looking in your direction. I later discovered that this error is simply a bug in the code that counts the friends that have actually accepted you to be their friends and for whatever reason (if their account is deleted, they sever MySpace ties with you, etc.) their little avatar may go away, but they are still in the count. You have to go in and physically delete them from your list
It wasn't too long ago since (out of complete boredom) I analytically organized a list of another group of fifty to the point of even making a pie chart out of the data. It was the 50 states of the union and their corresponding two-letter postal code. If you wish to know details, it is simply this. I plotted data as to organize the postal code correlation to the full name of each state and tallied which relationship(s) said postal code fell in to. For instance, CA, California's postal code falls into the First 2 Letters category as well as the First & Last Letters category. This unique combination, held by only a few states, was enough to warrant a separate category on its own and therefore precludes it from being categorized in either of the two other categories. 5 is 2+3, and 4+1, but 5 can't be in with the 1's, 2's, 3's or 4's. Isn't that right, Tom?
I no longer have that data, but I'm sure given minimal effort I could figure it all out again. With today's technology, I could even make a new pie graph, maybe 3-D, with a drop shadow. Anyway, I've stalled long enough. Here's the real reason you're all here. I warn you. Anyone who has a phobia or a strong adversity to statistics, please leave now. Otherwise, prepared to completely bored and delve into another dark corridor that is Glenn's brain.
58% of you, my friends, are male. Simple subtraction states that 42% of you are female. 26% you attended the same high school, and coincidentally 26% have shared the same employer. Almost six years since graduating from college at AIPx, only 6% have accepted me to be your "friend". Conversely, twice as many attended ASU. The same amount attended elementary school with me as well. 16% of you and I went to jr. high together. I was in scouts with 14% of you.
I'm related to only 4% of you through blood, yet 6% of my friends are celebrities whom I've never met. MySpace is not only an excellent place for fans to communicate with their favorite celebrities, it's a place for musicians to share their talent with the rest of the world. Another 6% of you have music oriented pages. 16% of you I consider friends I've originally met through other friends but we're all friends, so that doesn't matter. And since MySpace is such a great place to keep in touch with people it allows me to keep in touch with 30% of you who no longer live in Arizona.
Despite the numbers, 100% of you, for whatever reason, agreed to be my friend. When it all comes down to it, it's not always money or worldwide fame that describes a man's treasures. It's his friends, and for that I consider myself to be very rich. Thank you.
Maybe it's not any of the reasons above. It could just be that you've read some of my previous postings and you have enjoyed them enough to read this one as well. After all, if you're reading the sentence in context, I thank you for your continued support. Worldwide fame is that much closer. Taking it back a bit, the primary reason you've found yourself here is not because you're on some existential quest, but probably because you saw a link on MySpace and decided to click it. You are, after all, a friend.
Being a friend of mine, I thought I'd share with you little bit about everyone else in this community called my friends list. All 50 of you. I'm not much of one for statistics, which is why I chose to do it now. 50 is a nice round number and easy to extract percentages from it with little arithmetic. I first got this idea before I actually reached 50 friends on MySpace. Interestingly enough, there's an error in the page code where it miscounts the actual number tricking you into have more friends that you actually do. "Oh cruel fate, why do you mock me?" (Simpson, 1990) Sounds like I need to talk with certain 2% of you who can't count. Tom, I'm looking in your direction. I later discovered that this error is simply a bug in the code that counts the friends that have actually accepted you to be their friends and for whatever reason (if their account is deleted, they sever MySpace ties with you, etc.) their little avatar may go away, but they are still in the count. You have to go in and physically delete them from your list
It wasn't too long ago since (out of complete boredom) I analytically organized a list of another group of fifty to the point of even making a pie chart out of the data. It was the 50 states of the union and their corresponding two-letter postal code. If you wish to know details, it is simply this. I plotted data as to organize the postal code correlation to the full name of each state and tallied which relationship(s) said postal code fell in to. For instance, CA, California's postal code falls into the First 2 Letters category as well as the First & Last Letters category. This unique combination, held by only a few states, was enough to warrant a separate category on its own and therefore precludes it from being categorized in either of the two other categories. 5 is 2+3, and 4+1, but 5 can't be in with the 1's, 2's, 3's or 4's. Isn't that right, Tom?
I no longer have that data, but I'm sure given minimal effort I could figure it all out again. With today's technology, I could even make a new pie graph, maybe 3-D, with a drop shadow. Anyway, I've stalled long enough. Here's the real reason you're all here. I warn you. Anyone who has a phobia or a strong adversity to statistics, please leave now. Otherwise, prepared to completely bored and delve into another dark corridor that is Glenn's brain.
58% of you, my friends, are male. Simple subtraction states that 42% of you are female. 26% you attended the same high school, and coincidentally 26% have shared the same employer. Almost six years since graduating from college at AIPx, only 6% have accepted me to be your "friend". Conversely, twice as many attended ASU. The same amount attended elementary school with me as well. 16% of you and I went to jr. high together. I was in scouts with 14% of you.
I'm related to only 4% of you through blood, yet 6% of my friends are celebrities whom I've never met. MySpace is not only an excellent place for fans to communicate with their favorite celebrities, it's a place for musicians to share their talent with the rest of the world. Another 6% of you have music oriented pages. 16% of you I consider friends I've originally met through other friends but we're all friends, so that doesn't matter. And since MySpace is such a great place to keep in touch with people it allows me to keep in touch with 30% of you who no longer live in Arizona.
Despite the numbers, 100% of you, for whatever reason, agreed to be my friend. When it all comes down to it, it's not always money or worldwide fame that describes a man's treasures. It's his friends, and for that I consider myself to be very rich. Thank you.
Friday, April 6, 2007
Dolphin Safe Motorist
Disclaimer: The following paragraphs represent the opinion of one man, the author. If another man shares the same opinion, then it would be the opinions of two men and so forth. Given the nature of the author and his literary style, there may be word usements structured (Martin, 1991) and perhaps even spellings or words in general that may not be actual words. Deal with it.
There is a topic that I'd like to comment on today that is featured on most major news networks on an almost daily basis. LIke many others, I am quite angered by the particular topic. No, it's not the fultility of the war, I could go on great lengths about that. I'm talking about something that may or may not be affected by such a travesty. For weeks, I've sat idly by, stewing in my own juices of disgust, but when it affects other aspects of my life, then it is time to proclaim my frustration of such injustices to an open audience for whomever may read it.
A while back, my debit card's number had been compromised and thus rendered invalid by my financial institution. Someone neglected to tell me this prior to or included with the replacement card and subsequent randomly generated PIN mailed before the card began declining. If anyone has ever had a card decline, it can be an embarrassing and puzzling occurence when you share an account with someone and they are able to use their card without issue. As a matter of coincidence, the cesation of function on this particular card became apparent after work hours on a Friday at the beginning of a three-day weekend with governmental holiday. I would have to place my consumerist compulisions and find time to go to the bank on a more convenient time for them and me.
As I was standing in line waiting to speak with a teller, my credit union has been nice enough to provide those waiting, as well as passersby in the megamarket where the branch is located a pairing of flat panel, LCD screens to advertise their services as well as provide news highlights. It's nice to see where my money is being put to good use. Now, I'm paraphrasing here, but I saw something that frustrated me like a Geico caveman on a moving sidewalk in an airport. "Because of gas prices of over $3 dollars a gallon last year, Exxon Mobil has posted record profits."
Record PROFITS? I don't know who to be angry at more. Is it Exxon Mobil for inflating their prices so they can earn an annual profit of $39.5 BILLION, or the media outlets that lied to us saying that the price of crude oil is going up so the prices have to be increased. Call me selfish. I drive a pickup truck, my wife an SUV, so we may not be the most green people when it comes to the use of finite resourcess. Call me ethnocentric to think that the country that uses the most of said finite resources should get a break on cost where other nations are paying a lot more than we are. Now, for every dollar that we spend on gas, there are various entities that get paid different amounts. That's fine. I understand that. People gotta live.
I didn't learn much in Economics in high school because I was taught by a cynical embittered Viet Nam vet whose focus was on MacroEconomics, a topic most myopic and self-centered high school seniors could care less about. That, and it was first hour during the spring semester. How much do you retain? Anyway. Basic economics teaches that to generate a profit, one has to earn more than they spend on whatever service or good they provide whether it be manhours or tangible product. It doesn't take much to earn a profit. Hell, a profit could be one penny. Sure, [no one] can really live off a penny, but look at the number above. Let's say Exxon Mobil has 10,000 employees. Sounds plausible, right? I like working with easily divisible numbers. If the above profits were shared equally amongst the 10,000 employees, then everyone would be get $39,500. Unfortunately, it doesn't work that way and who knows if there are 10,000 employees anyway? My point is. Who needs that much money where the rest of the country is pinching pennies elsewhere so they can just get to work.
Now I hear on the news that the price of milk and eggs are going up because of higher gas prices. Eggs and milk? I'm sure it doesn't end there. What other staples of general consumption will be affected. In the meantime, people may just resort to getting their eggs by buying their filthy feathered producers by the dozen instead of the eggs themselves. Eggs are a popular symbol of birth, especially with the Christian holiday of Easter coming up. This year, they may as well be a symbol of greed.
There is a topic that I'd like to comment on today that is featured on most major news networks on an almost daily basis. LIke many others, I am quite angered by the particular topic. No, it's not the fultility of the war, I could go on great lengths about that. I'm talking about something that may or may not be affected by such a travesty. For weeks, I've sat idly by, stewing in my own juices of disgust, but when it affects other aspects of my life, then it is time to proclaim my frustration of such injustices to an open audience for whomever may read it.
A while back, my debit card's number had been compromised and thus rendered invalid by my financial institution. Someone neglected to tell me this prior to or included with the replacement card and subsequent randomly generated PIN mailed before the card began declining. If anyone has ever had a card decline, it can be an embarrassing and puzzling occurence when you share an account with someone and they are able to use their card without issue. As a matter of coincidence, the cesation of function on this particular card became apparent after work hours on a Friday at the beginning of a three-day weekend with governmental holiday. I would have to place my consumerist compulisions and find time to go to the bank on a more convenient time for them and me.
As I was standing in line waiting to speak with a teller, my credit union has been nice enough to provide those waiting, as well as passersby in the megamarket where the branch is located a pairing of flat panel, LCD screens to advertise their services as well as provide news highlights. It's nice to see where my money is being put to good use. Now, I'm paraphrasing here, but I saw something that frustrated me like a Geico caveman on a moving sidewalk in an airport. "Because of gas prices of over $3 dollars a gallon last year, Exxon Mobil has posted record profits."
Record PROFITS? I don't know who to be angry at more. Is it Exxon Mobil for inflating their prices so they can earn an annual profit of $39.5 BILLION, or the media outlets that lied to us saying that the price of crude oil is going up so the prices have to be increased. Call me selfish. I drive a pickup truck, my wife an SUV, so we may not be the most green people when it comes to the use of finite resourcess. Call me ethnocentric to think that the country that uses the most of said finite resources should get a break on cost where other nations are paying a lot more than we are. Now, for every dollar that we spend on gas, there are various entities that get paid different amounts. That's fine. I understand that. People gotta live.
I didn't learn much in Economics in high school because I was taught by a cynical embittered Viet Nam vet whose focus was on MacroEconomics, a topic most myopic and self-centered high school seniors could care less about. That, and it was first hour during the spring semester. How much do you retain? Anyway. Basic economics teaches that to generate a profit, one has to earn more than they spend on whatever service or good they provide whether it be manhours or tangible product. It doesn't take much to earn a profit. Hell, a profit could be one penny. Sure, [no one] can really live off a penny, but look at the number above. Let's say Exxon Mobil has 10,000 employees. Sounds plausible, right? I like working with easily divisible numbers. If the above profits were shared equally amongst the 10,000 employees, then everyone would be get $39,500. Unfortunately, it doesn't work that way and who knows if there are 10,000 employees anyway? My point is. Who needs that much money where the rest of the country is pinching pennies elsewhere so they can just get to work.
Now I hear on the news that the price of milk and eggs are going up because of higher gas prices. Eggs and milk? I'm sure it doesn't end there. What other staples of general consumption will be affected. In the meantime, people may just resort to getting their eggs by buying their filthy feathered producers by the dozen instead of the eggs themselves. Eggs are a popular symbol of birth, especially with the Christian holiday of Easter coming up. This year, they may as well be a symbol of greed.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Why 'Fast Food Sign'?
Hello, and welcome to my blog. I started this at the suggestion of my wife, Liz after a series of frustrated rants (none of which were directed at her). The truth of the matter is that I had actually thought about starting a blog long before they were popular. Many of you are probably going, "Yeah, right. Everybody says they were thinking about doing something before it got popular," like joining MySpace, for instance.
Your first thought may be, "Why 'Fast Food Sign'? If not, the title of this posting asked it for you. My original idea for a blog, came about when I was still in college. Toward the end of my time at The Art Institute of Phoenix, many of my classes would end at 10 pm and it would be a half-hour drive home. Liz and I had been dating for a while and it was common of me to go over to her parents house to hang out with her after school.
On my way home, there was a Burger King at an intersection I often stopped at. The intersection was McKellips and Country Club Drive in Mesa. Like some fast food restaurants, this Burger King had a marquee, back-lit with fluorescent lighting and black block letters would be placed. Often, establishments such as this use this space to advertise specials like a 99¢ Whopper where "For a Limited Time" lasted six years. This sign was different. I'd only assume it was the manager, or the owner of this Burger King, that used this real estate for something else. Space was limited, but that didn't keep [whomever] from posting a little rumination, if you will, generally on the subject of politics or current events. I was inspired by this act and I too was looking for an outlet.
Originally, it would be a daily blurb, posted on a web site offering personal insights for any who would like to read it. There were aspirations to make it "the next big thing", but my real goal was to get my thoughts down and maybe draw a chuckle or an inquisitive "hmmm" from a reader. Daily life and personal laziness has prevented this vehicle from coming to fruition until some 5 oer 6 years later, and the same will probably prevent my daily ruminations from actually being just that, daily.
I've got few rants inside my head already, and I'll probably spew them out in some stream of consciousness nonsense when I have time. Unfortunately, we've got a new puppy and I hear some rustling downstairs. He's probably up to no good. Therefore, I must wrap this up for the evening with an old email signature I once had.
Stay tuned for another episode of… "The __(fill in the blank)__ Adventures of Glenn!" Good night.
Your first thought may be, "Why 'Fast Food Sign'? If not, the title of this posting asked it for you. My original idea for a blog, came about when I was still in college. Toward the end of my time at The Art Institute of Phoenix, many of my classes would end at 10 pm and it would be a half-hour drive home. Liz and I had been dating for a while and it was common of me to go over to her parents house to hang out with her after school.
On my way home, there was a Burger King at an intersection I often stopped at. The intersection was McKellips and Country Club Drive in Mesa. Like some fast food restaurants, this Burger King had a marquee, back-lit with fluorescent lighting and black block letters would be placed. Often, establishments such as this use this space to advertise specials like a 99¢ Whopper where "For a Limited Time" lasted six years. This sign was different. I'd only assume it was the manager, or the owner of this Burger King, that used this real estate for something else. Space was limited, but that didn't keep [whomever] from posting a little rumination, if you will, generally on the subject of politics or current events. I was inspired by this act and I too was looking for an outlet.
Originally, it would be a daily blurb, posted on a web site offering personal insights for any who would like to read it. There were aspirations to make it "the next big thing", but my real goal was to get my thoughts down and maybe draw a chuckle or an inquisitive "hmmm" from a reader. Daily life and personal laziness has prevented this vehicle from coming to fruition until some 5 oer 6 years later, and the same will probably prevent my daily ruminations from actually being just that, daily.
I've got few rants inside my head already, and I'll probably spew them out in some stream of consciousness nonsense when I have time. Unfortunately, we've got a new puppy and I hear some rustling downstairs. He's probably up to no good. Therefore, I must wrap this up for the evening with an old email signature I once had.
Stay tuned for another episode of… "The __(fill in the blank)__ Adventures of Glenn!" Good night.
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