Eco-Tourism

Or, Irrational Exuberance

Apparently the state of Florida is considering opening up some offshore oil and natural gas fields in the Gulf of Mexico. Historically, exploitation of these fields has been prohibited, for fear that an oil spill would mar Floridian beaches and harm Florida's valuable tourism industry.

Whatever. But it did get me thinking: Disasters require relief, right? I mean, this news article about Florida oil vs. Florida beaches? It made a big deal about the size and duration of the cleanup efforts after the last big oil spill on the Florida coast.

So I'm thinking, a big oil spill like that, you're gonna need a lot of volunteers. Sure, you're gonna need some trained professionals, too. But sooner or later, you're gonna need to bus in a couple hundred enthusiastic amateurs, give them a half-day seminar on entry-level oil cleanup operations, and put them to work.

So why not make it a tourist attraction? There's gotta be plenty of people out there who wouldn't mind paying a little money to Save the Planet. You set up a trailer park campsite, cater three hot meals a day, and charge a reasonable fee to house eco-tourists for the duration of the cleanup efforts.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "two weeks cleaning up an oil spill doesn't sound like much of a vacation to me". But I'm telling you, that's where you're wrong.

In other news
While I'm on such an awsome roll of awsome ideas, how about this? Instead of canceling Civilization every time it endangers some species or other (Sacramento Delta Smelt, I'm looking at you), why not just make a genetic record and move on?

Then, in a hundred years or so, when it turns out we really did need that species after all, we can clone it from our genetic library, and restore it in all its original humanity-serving glory. What do you think?

Can't... Stop... Blogging... About it.

Another conversation that really happened.

THE RADIO: Some people are saying Michael Jackson isn't really dead.

ALSO THE RADIO: I don't think the LA County Coroner would go along with a scam like that.

ME: Yeah, but how would he even know if he had the real Michael Jackson or not?

In other news: They say the estate of John Merrick is looking to buy Michael Jackson's bones.

Speaking of Zombies...

Or, Good news, bad news

The thing is, I'm a curmudgeon. A contrarian. If not a crank, I am at the very least cranky. So, while I admire Michael Jackson's artistic talent, I'm not really what you'd call a "fan" of the King of Pop. And I've always been more than a little creeped out by his body modification issues and the whole... thing. With the kids. It's just creepy.

But that's not the point. The point is, the moment I heard the news of his death yesterday, I was already sick and tired of the wall-to-wall Michael Jackson love-fest. Good riddance, I thought, and moved on.

"Unless they play 'Thriller'", I'd say to Mrs. C. whenever the radio programs would start in on yet another Michael Jackson story, "I'm not interested."

The Good News
Finally, after almost a day of hearing all about Michael Jackson, and hearing just about every one of his songs except 'Thriller', I finally heard it today, while I was out getting some lunch. Yay Vincent Price!

The Bad News
Now I have the song stuck in my head.

Bonus: My favorite conservative makes all the points I'd like to make, only better.

You Know What Zombie Movie Hasn't Been Made Yet?

Or, Fund it.

Okay, so question: What about good zombies?

The dead have risen from their unquiet graves, and walk the Earth. Their bite is infectious, and soon the world is overrun by shambolic, abominable, hungry dead. They infest our suburbs, our shopping malls, our military bases.

In short, your typical everyday Zombie Apocalypse. So far, so good. But we've seen this a million times before. What about good zombies?

What if, on that horrible day, every soldier buried in Arlington National Cemetary rose from their grave... and formed up to defend the nation's capital from the ravening hordes? Zombie George Washington. Zombie U.S. Grant. Zombie William Tecumseh Sherman, commandeering a vintage Sherman Tank from the nearest war museum.

Zombie Robert E. Lee: "In life I fought for the Confederacy, but in death I fight for America!"

FUND IT.

Kindness to Robots

Or, stuff I'm pretty sure nobody else thinks about.

So there's a drink-dispensing machine at work. Unlike the typical machine, this one has a special claw on a robotic apparatus, that moves across the face of the machine, picks a can or bottle out of the appropriate slot, and carries it down to the dispensing door.

Since this machine a) has bottled water, and b) its contents are 100% subsidized by HasturCom, I visit it two or three times a day.

And each time, I try to select the slot that will require the least work from the robot--minimize its travel distance, basically. I tell myself this is to save my valuable time. But really, I know that it's also because I like being nice to the robot.

Living In The Past

With Apologies to Jethro Tull

Really, 2009?

Really?

So I'm running this report. Apparently I applied for a job as a Systems Administrator, and they gave me a job as an Administrative Assistant. But that's not the point.

The point is, this report will only run straight into a browser, as HTML. There are no other options to save it in any other format. In 2009.

I'm pretty sure this is the future--many Gibsons into the future, at least. And I'm pretty sure that the modern robots of today are perfectly capable of generating files in multiple formats.

Today I am very disappointed in the architects of tomorrow.

Minority Report

Or, Why can't a woman... be more like a man?

I have three friends whose judgement I trust. Let's call them Castor, Pollux, and Hermes.

Recently I found reason to update my resume. For a pleasant change of pace, I decided to shorten it considerably--down to one page, in fact. I thought this produced a snappier, more direct document that would favorably impress hiring managers. When I was done, I sent it to my three friends.

Castor and Pollux both liked the new, shorter resume. Hermes, as is often the case, responded with a rundown of all the problems he saw in it. I mean, he wasn't a complete jerk about it: He opened by complimenting me on the valiant attempt. But then he got right down to the business of tearing it apart.

Whatever. I liked the new resume, and the majority report agreed with me. So I published it to all the usual suspects. About a week later, I got a call from a recruiter. "You're a perfect match for this position," he said. "But... do you have a different resume? Maybe something longer and more detailed?" He then proceeded to repeat Hermes' list of concerns, point-for-point. Almost word-for-word.

Anyway, I figured if my resume is putting up red flags for recruiters, it damn well better be putting up red flags for me. I promptly re-wrote it in a longer, more detailed form, and sent it to the recruiter. He called me back about ten minutes later to congratulate me.

We'll see if it pays off.

Why can't a woman... be more like a man?
In other news, the other day I caught a bit of discussion on one of the local morning radio talk shows. The topic was "how do I tell my girlfriend she puts on too much makeup when we go out on dates?" The consensus of the panelists (3 men, 2 women), was that there was essentially no acceptable way to do this. No matter how you play it, you look like an insensitive, insulting jerk.

Which-all reminded me of Hermes' response to my resume. Bro to bro, he doesn't spend a lot of time trying to spare my feelings. Don't get me wrong: Hermes is a very thoughtful and considerate dude. But when it comes to solving problems, he likes to get right down to cases. And I don't hold it against him. It's not like he's running around saying "you're a stupid doody head who can't resume their way out of a wet paper bag", and such like that. Not at all. He's just all like, "there a problem? Yo, I'll solve it. Check out the hook while my DJ revolves it."

The way I figure, men and women are complimentary, not contradictory. Men--at least the ones I know--like to skip the pleasantries and get right down to problem-solving. I figure, that's something women don't really appreciate as much as I'd like. There's a lot of emphasis in our society on men getting in touch with their feminine side, and learning how to communicate in woman-language so that women will hear them instead of hating them. To me, it really seems like that should be a two-way street.

Epilogue
Mrs. C. and I have evolved a pretty strong relationship over the years. One big reason is that she has relentlessly conditioned me to humor her moods and respond to her in the idiom of her choosing (i.e., more empathy, less problem-solving).

But the other big reason is that early on we agreed upon a simple rule of thumb: Whenever I say something, and it could be interpreted more than one way, and one of those ways makes me seem like a hateful, inconsiderate jerk? I meant it the other way.

As a result, the only thing we really fight about these days is how I always steal all the covers during the night. At least in my sleep I'm still my own man.