Spend the day your way

There exists a roundabout at the five-way crossing of Walker and Classen Drive and NW 10th, and it’s been there long enough that everyone knows how to negotiate it, right?

Um, no. I’m not even sure I’m following the correct protocols. For doofi at my level or beyond, Doug DeMuro has written up a handy list of tips for roundabout negotiation, which should prove to be invaluable — or not:

I recommend printing this out and storing it in your car. That way, when a roundabout approaches, you can take your eyes off the road and frantically search for it as you drive through, thereby becoming the best driver in the roundabout.

And really, I’m not fearful: I think Memorial and Pennsylvania could make a very good roundabout. Of course, compared to what it is now, it would also make a good barbecue pit, or a good meteor crater.

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And down was gotten

Earlier this week, Rebecca Black discovered to her horror that her dad was listening to Nickelback.

Which gives me an excuse to post this:

What can I say? It’s Friday.

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A time of disharmony

And possibly even, dare I suggest, small-d discord:

Physically brave to the point of recklessness, this leader has courage beyond any doubt. But sometimes, this hero, revered by many, makes poor decisions, largely because of the belief that the best solution to any problem is a direct, frontal attack.

Yes, I’m taking about Rainbow Dash from My Little Pony. But I’m also referring to Confederate Lt. Gen. John Bell Hood.

You might be surprised how well Civil War generals match up with ponies — especially The Great and Powerful George B. McClellan. (Okay, maybe he wasn’t that much of a surprise.)

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Quote of the week

Now that Minnesota has legalized same-sex marriage, this anguished cry sounds even more so:

I don’t know why gay people choose gayness, but I chose to be straight the day I realized “Although I never ever ever want children, I just adore the added fillip and excitement that ‘risk of pregnancy’ adds to my sex life. And when I was single and dating — which is to say, spending time alone with people I didn’t necessarily know very well — I also loved that added risk of violent death vis-a-vis sexual dimorphism: if I’m with a woman who turns out to be a violent psycho hoping to kill me with her bare hands, there’s a pretty decent chance I could successfully defend myself against her. Which is booooriiiiiing. Gimme a psycho attacker who outweighs me by at least a hundred testosterone-enriched pounds! And my chances of getting AIDS and other STDs were always a lot higher from straight sex, too. With all the kickass advantages heterohood has to offer childfree women like me, it’s obvious that only a self-hating, risk-taking, masochistic fool of a woman would choose to be a lesbian instead.”

As proposals go, this one is fairly modest; but ’tis enough, ’twill serve.

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Perón 2.0

Buenos Aires, like Washington, is bothered by tantalizing hints of funds yet untaxed. Unlike Washington, they have a Plan, kinda sorta:

President Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner wants tax evaders hiding about $160 billion in dollars to help finance Argentina’s oil-producing ambitions. Her offer: Buy a 4 percent bond or face the prospect of jail time.

The tax authority announced the plan May 7, highlighting its information-sharing agreements with 40 nations and warning Argentines who don’t use the three-month amnesty window that they risk fines or arrest. Evaders have two options for their cash and the only one paying interest will be a dollar bond due in 2016 to finance YPF SA, the state oil company. The 4 percent rate is a third the average 13.85 yield on Argentine debt and less than the 4.6 percent in emerging markets.

This is not, incidentally, the first time the Argentine government has gone after those wicked rich people:

Many Argentines hide assets to avoid a 35 percent income tax and a levy of as much as 1.25 percent on their personal wealth. Undeclared assets are also beyond the reach of the government, which in 1989 seized bank certificates of deposit in exchange for bonds and in 2002 converted dollar deposits into pesos.

Incidentally, if you didn’t know Argentina had a state oil company these days, that’s also a Fernandez scheme, as is fining economists who suggest that the inflation rate, claimed by Buenos Aires to be 10 percent, is actually more than twice that.

Fortunately, the US has unofficial inflation statistics, far more believable than the government’s official bumfuzzlery.

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Displeasure expressed

Some of this — though not all of it — sounds like me:

I have a bad habit of losing my temper: I yell and curse loud and long, and occasionally throw things. I like to think it happens less often now than it used to, but I don’t really know. What I have noticed is that it is more likely to happen when I am tired, and moreover there seems to be a limit below which I am more likely to go off. When I am well rested, I am well behaved. As the day goes on and/or I exert myself, I become more tired, and if I am worn down because of previous exertions or illness, I am more likely to slip over the edge.

I don’t throw things. Otherwise, this is spot on.

Although there was that one instance when they were wondering just how in blazes a footprint appeared on the side of the printer, since obviously I am old and infirm and if I could kick that high I could be a freaking Rockette fercryingoutloud. I blame adrenaline.

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Witchy woman

Bits from Massachusetts history:

In 1868, one Amos A. Lawrence founded the Ipswich Hosiery Mill beside the river; by the end of the century, it was the largest such mill in the nation.

In 1878, the last of the Salem witchcraft trials was held after an Ipswich woman made accusations of “mesmerism.”

Combine these two facts, say “Ipswich” three times out loud, and this 1927 advertisement begins to make sense:

Ipswich hosiery ad

The company hadn’t long to live at that point, but their broom-wielding flapper was kinda cute in a weird sort of way.

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But it looks official

Yours truly, several snowfalls ago:

It takes a certain warped genius to send out junk mail in an envelope that looks for all the world like it contains a W-2 form — in January, of course. Inasmuch as I already have my W-2 for 2011, I could easily have justified consigning it to the circular file, but curiosity won out. (The terrorists have won.)

Of course, I’m not the only person who gets this kind of crap:

It’s been a while since I have received a fake “check” whose cashing obligates me to a four year contract, or a deceptive yellow pages solicitation, or even my favorite, the board minutes services that masquerade as an official government form. So I will highlight Paramount Merchant Funding for this over the top message on the front of their envelope they sent me, again in an apparent bid to masquerade as some sort of official mail that must be opened.

The fakery, as you might have guessed, is a rewording of 18 USC § 1702, which a commenter identified quickly as “the generic ‘don’t mess with anybody’s mail but your own’ clause.” As though someone would tamper with this crap enroute.

Somewhere the mailer has to indicate whence it came. In this particular case, it was “ZIP CODE 11779,” the sleepy village of Ronkonkoma, Lawn Guyland, New York, not exactly a hotbed of Federal regulatory activity.

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Physician, socialize thyself

How come everywhere I look they show me risk factors?

Just as we once knew that infectious diseases killed, but didn’t know that germs spread them, we’ve known intuitively that loneliness hastens death, but haven’t been able to explain how. Psychobiologists can now show that loneliness sends misleading hormonal signals, rejiggers the molecules on genes that govern behavior, and wrenches a slew of other systems out of whack. They have proved that long-lasting loneliness not only makes you sick; it can kill you. Emotional isolation is ranked as high a risk factor for mortality as smoking. A partial list of the physical diseases thought to be caused or exacerbated by loneliness would include Alzheimer’s, obesity, diabetes, high blood pressure, heart disease, neurodegenerative diseases, and even cancer — tumors can metastasize faster in lonely people.

I plan to take this with a grain of salt. In fact, several grains, which probably won’t affect my blood pressure in the least.

(Via the staggeringly popular Pejman Yousefzadeh.)

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A story of Doomed Love

The Associated Press, of course, couldn’t believe that they were being subjected to Official Scrutiny, and inevitably they flailed about in confusion:

I think it is singularly awesome that the administration wiretapped the press. It was absolutely wrong, and I believe it is unconstitutional. What makes it so delicious is that the press is finally a victim of the administration. They are like the mistress that marries the guy after he finally leaves his wife and is shocked to find out he’s unfaithful to her too. Bu…bu…you promised to protect our rights! You said you loved us! We fawned over you! We covered for you, and now you’ve betrayed us!

Frog, meet scorpion.

So they drown together. How utterly romantic.

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And not a word about VisiCalc

If you were wondering how I put together the search-engine roundup every Monday, well, it’s actually pretty simple: grab the data in CSV format, and then dump it into Lotus 1-2-3, where I can just read down the column.

And I will continue to do that despite the fact that IBM, owner of the Lotus software line since 1995, has decided, once and for all, to kill 1-2-3 and the package-deal SmartSuite next month. (Software support will end in the fall of 2014.)

Then again, IBM didn’t buy Lotus to get 1-2-3; their goal was to make something out of Lotus Notes, the lumbering mail/collaboration tool/office suite/passenger airbag that, by order of The Powers That Be, sits on my work box. And Notes, now in version 9 and sheared of the Lotus name, will probably last forever, or at least until it’s no longer profitable for IBM to vend Domino servers.

(Via this Anil Dash tweet.)

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A tragedy of errors

You had to figure that something was a trifle askew when the Thunder managed only fifteen points in the second quarter and went into the locker room trailing 50-38. But the tone was truly established in the third, when Derek Fisher popped up one of his what-was-he-thinking? treys and Tony Allen, watching in horror from the Memphis bench, hurled his towel onto the court, drawing a technical. This prompted a mini-rally, in which OKC climbed back to within two; but halfway through the fourth, they’d made exactly two buckets, were down twelve, and it was painfully obvious that any further Thunder chances would be dependent on Grizzlies mistakes. Then the Grizzlies obliged them: up two with 11 seconds left, Zach Randolph bricked two free throws. Kevin Durant shed Allen, put up a jumper that backrimmed, and Allen tossed in two from the stripe to finish off the Thunder, 88-84.

Those two late clankers were about the only things Randolph did wrong all night: he finished with a game-high 28 points, 8-17 from the floor, 12-16 from the line, and 14 rebounds. The ever-underrated Mike Conley contributed 13 points and 11 assists; Allen finished with 10, Marc Gasol with 11. And while most of the statistics were pretty close, this one wasn’t: the Griz gave up only nine turnovers, just two more than Kevin Durant.

KD, by any reasonable standards, had an off night, though few players can have an off night and still score 21. Playing all 48 minutes, he was a dismal 5-21 from the floor, 0-4 on the long ball. (Both sides were pretty terrible from three: Memphis 3-14, OKC 6-25.) Both Reggie Jackson and Serge Ibaka were hitting fairly well, though Ibaka fouled out late.

So like I said: Memphis in five. The next question: Can the Grizzlies beat Miami? (I have to figure that they can dispose of San Antonio or Golden State.) They split the season series 1-1, each winning at home. A Grizzlies-Heat Finals would have a level of physicality that might scare MMA types. And at this point, we have to have something to hope for.

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Dorkestrations

Were you looking for college men with IQs in triple digits plus a dash of hawtness? Janie Jones laughs at your futile pursuit:

We don’t have hot young guys, we have spindly, acne-pocked geeks who desperately chug protein shakes hoping to someday have some mass on their lanky frames and look a little less like greasy-haired fuzzy-teethed nerds.

That was me circa 1970, except for the protein shakes. The grease receded nearly as quickly as my hairline. I did, however, succeed beyond everyone’s wildest expectations at the task of accumulating mass, to the extent that I eventually found it necessary to shed some of it.

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Although it doesn’t clobber them

And who knows? Maybe it will work:

A new law signed by Governor Fallin Friday will help deter copper thieves that have plagued rural communities in Oklahoma, according to the bill’s author.

House Bill 1740, by state Rep. Harold Wright (R-Weatherford) and state Sen. AJ Griffin (R-Guthrie), prohibits a scrap metal dealer from paying cash in purchasing more than $1,000 of copper and requires them to issue a check instead after establishing the identity of the seller. The new law, which takes effect Nov. 1, also increases the penalty for providing false information for a scrap metal log book to a felony punishable by a $5,000, imprisonment for up to 2 years or both fine and imprisonment. It also requires scrap metal dealers to be licensed through the Oklahoma Department of Agriculture, Food and Forestry.

Not just rural, either: the house next door had its air-conditioning unit disassembled in the dead of night several years ago.

The really smart thieves, of course, manage to create their own penalties.

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How hissy a fit?

The answer is none. None more hissy:

An angry owner of a Maserati Quattroporte in China hired three thugs to destroy his car in the great city of Qingdao in Shandong Province. The owner has a long standing conflict with a local Maserati dealer and an insurance company over maintenance costs. A new Maserati Quattroporte costs 2.6 million yuan in China, or $423,000.

The Italians are evidently sticking it to the Chinese, since the infamous Maser four-door — yes, the brand-new sixth-generation version, which the smashed car wasn’t — can be had here in the States for under $200k no matter how many options you check off.

The conflict started in 2011, when the owner and the dealer got into a row about a repair costs and the quality of some replaced parts. The dealer apparently replaced a broken part with another used part, and not with a new part. The dealer then charged 2400 yuan ($390) for the “repair”. The insurance company backed the dealer and a long and painful process of angry letters and angry phone calls started.

Of course, what I want to know is this: what can break on a Maserati that costs only $390 to fix?

(Via The Truth About Cars.)

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The easy consumer choice

Well, this was difficult. I got both an email and a proper letter from the fulfillment house for The Week, the only newsmagazine worth my time, offering me a 54-issue (about 14 months) subscription renewal. I decided I would write them a check, but before taking pen in hand, I took a quick look at the email link. And that deal was $5 pricier.

What’s more, they picked up the postage on the return envelope. So I save five bucks, minus whatever pittance it costs me for that one single check (whatever it is per box divided by 120), and I don’t have to fork over my Visa number. Win/win all around.

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