One of the biggest flaws I see in the human race is bigotry. Now before you call me hypocritical for my loathing of stupid people, let me explain. I don't hate people who have a low IQ because their brain is incapable of being more (though they do cause me stress sometimes). I hate people who are dumb because they can be. You know these people. They are the ones who "don't know, don't care" and aren't going to do anything about it.

Back to TRUE bigotry. It doesn't seem to be human nature to hate people just because they are different. I have a friend from the Hawaiian Islands who claims bigotry is almost unheard of there. I myself was raised with a certain amount of bigotry. I don't think my elders even realize they do it. One relative offends me so much, I'll find myself afraid of offending other people by saying something wrong.

My cats don't seem to be prejudiced. Two are black and one is a tortoise shell calico. They're all best buddies and don't even notice the color differences. Imagine this "Hey buddy, you can't sit there. That window sill is for Tabbies Only." Pretty dumb, huh?

If so many people can't accept others simply because of their skin color or racial background, what will happen if an alien race tries to contact us? Will a KKK member with too much money blow away the scout ship with a bazooka, destroying our chances of a peaceful contact?

I called pizza hut at 6pm on a Sunday night and they were out of Large Pan Pizza Dough, but I could order a Medium Pan Pizza...

How does THAT work???

Don't get me wrong, I love Forensics shows, but why do authorities allow them to be shown? I know more about what not to do when committing murder than should be legal.

Wow. On September 11th, 2001, the world changed. And on reflection, my first entry here still stands true. I think the general focus of bigotry has shifted. I'm not big on dating things on my website, because I don't spend that much time updating my site. On that note, I do want to say that today is October 20th, 2001. I've had five weeks to think about what happened, and to be assaulted with email forwards of all kinds related to that day in some way. After the Attack on the World Trade Center bigotry once again raised its ugly head. Yes, there was a bringing together of the country in a patriotic wave unlike any ever seen before, but along with that, many Americans of Arab or Indian descent were harassed, attacked and in some cases even killed. Many of these people are 3rd or 4th generation Americans. Some have probably even been here for more than that. They, unlike many of us, still keep to the law of their religion. They are no less citizens of the United States of America than I am. (And some of my ancestors crossed the Bering Land Bridge to get here.) They are being persecuted because of the ignorant bigotry of their fellow citizens. And our citizens of Indian descent are being persecuted because some bigots are too dumb to tell the difference between an Indian and an Arab. This saddens me greatly.

The emails that I have gotten since the attack say a lot about our nation. There are many, many uplifting emails about freedom, patriotism, and belief in Old Glory. There are many emails with messages to Osama Bin Laden proclaiming the justice the world will bring him. These, while getting kind of old at this point, are fine. There are pictures of war planes and bombs all indicating their use against Bin Laden and Al Queda. The ones that sadden me are the truly ignorant emails with jokes about ridding the world of Arabs and Muslims. It would appear some of my fellow Americans either think All Muslims and Arabs live in Afghanistan and/or that they are all in league with Al Queda. One joke even had the punch line "Dad, what's an Arab?". I deleted that one immediately. I hope our friends in Saudi Arabia or other friendly Arab Nations don't see that joke. One email I got meant to be derogatory of the Arab nations actually showed a scene in an Indian city.

This is a different time for all of us. It will take time to rip terrorism out of the world by the roots. The terrorist community consists of a group of people who have taken their religion and warped it to their own needs. Are there Terrorists in the United States? Probably. There are probably terrorists in many countries. This does not mean that we should shun or persecute our fellow human beings based solely on their ancestry or religion. If you see ANYBODY acting oddly or in a manner that is suspicious or contrary to normal, contact the appropriate authorities, and don't deal with it yourself. I'm not asking everyone to embrace their neighbors, ignore them if you want. Just don't do something that will damage your Karma, your standing with God or the lives of other people.

Anthrax is only a terrorist weapon if we let it be. There is a greater chance of winning the powerball than getting an anthrax infection. Even after being exposed, very few of those people actually get a form of anthrax. Anthrax has three forms. One from touching it, and you have to have a cut or skin abrasion to get this form. Easily cured with any antibiotic. Intestinal... you would have to eat the spores. Wash your hands before eating. Case closed. Inhaled... the inhaled spores have to get all the way into your lungs AND those spores have to be small enough to get into certain spots in your lungs before the infection can start. This is the most dangerous form, but very few people who are exposed seem to come down with the infection. Anthrax CANNOT be spread from person to person. If you let it scare you, THEY win. So relax.

Microsoft's new Windows XP^© has a flaw that caused ultra-light laptops to freeze when you use the modem.

Their solution?

A downloadable patch.

Apparently they don't pay anybody to think...

Oh yes, I remember. I've been staring at the screen trying to remember why I dug this out. It didn't help me to read the previous postings. So much is still the same. But I digress. Today I'm here about Politics and Religion. My Uncle, A staunch libertarian (thus the politics), sent me an interesting article reguarding the Patriotism act.

An edited excerpt: (I invite you to investigate more on your own)

"Under the (USA) Patriot Act, the feds can demand a list of the books you've purchased from booksellers or have borrowed from the library if you're suspected of involvement in "terrorism," which - as we've seen recently - can mean whatever the authorities want it to mean."

What's more, according to the American Booksellers Foundation for Free _Expression (ABFFE), it will probably be impossible for a bookstore or library to fight the warrant. No sort of appeal will be allowed. Either the records are turned over immediately, or librarians and bookstore owners go to jail.

The Patriot Act explicitly states that when a bookseller or library gets served with a secret warrant, it's not allowed to tell anyone about it. If they tell the media that the feds are demanding to know which books individuals have read, they've committed a felony. Actually, the gag order applies to telling "any other person," so simply telling spouses or employees would also violate federal law..."

Wow. The Tattered Cover Bookstore in Denver was once asked by law enforcement to either turn over a list of books purchased by an individual suspected of a crime or turn over a list of people who had purchased a certain book. I forget which. They refused. The issue escalated clear to the Colorado Supreme Court. The Colorado Supreme Court ruled that "Anonymity is often essential to the successful and uninhibited exercise of First Amendment rights, precisely because of the chilling effects that can result from disclosure of identity." - Supreme Court of Colorado, (Tattered Cover, Inc. v. City of Thornton).

If they were to request a list of books that I had purchased, they'd have a mile long list of some of the best sci fi and fantasy books out there, some books on childrens fairy tales and a complete history of Space. I must be making a Dragon Shaped Space Ship and I'm going to hire fairies and wizards to run it. They might have busted some poor guy buying a book because a cute chick he knew was into the subject. That doesn't make him a terrorist. If they published a biography of Bin Laden, I might buy it just to see what makes him tick. That doesn't make me a supporter.

And with that, I think I'll leave Religion to another day.

Update!

Cities across the nation are signing laws going against the Patriot Act. It took a while, but they figured it out!

Can you believe people are *still* sending me those biggoted emails?

Speaking of emails... are people really that stupid that they think if they forward an email to the recommended number of friends that "something really cool will come across your screen"? Talk about a complete waste of bandwidth. Well, maybe not. It's pinpointed the people who's emails I should do a virus scan on before opening them...

Southern Arizona Golf Courses use reclaimed water to water their courses. For those of you who don't know what that is, there's a much straighter line between it and the sewer than you are used to and going the opposite way. Obviously this is something you don't want to drink or ingest in any way. Because of this, there are signs. And I need to get a picture of this one. I don't know if the sign creator picked up the double meaning or not. One can only hope.

The sign:

Please do not lick your balls.

Sound Advice.

My Kingdom for a competent mechanic...

I just got back from vacation. Background information: I drive an 87 Chevy Silverado that had a full inspection before my 3000 mile drive and had the important things fixed. I'm also allergic to onions and the chemical that makes peppers hot.

My vacation was much less than perfect...

Pretty much if it could go wrong, it did.

Start:

All the stuff I bought so that I would have music on my trip failed and I had to surf for stations over the entire trip. There are vast tracts of the western United States that have no radio stations. Then when you find one, it's likely a religious station. Second most common is talk radio. Third is what I categorize as "weird shit". Fourth is country music. I never expected liking country music to be a survival trait...

I set my alarm clock wrong and got up late.

90 minutes out, I got lost in Phoenix because I missed my exit.

6 hours out, the truck wouldn't start. I got it started again. Happened again at Page, Arizona. (Lake Powell, south shore) I had to have it towed because I couldn't get it to start, but when it came off the tow truck it started right up. The garage claimed to tighten a couple of things, put in a new fuel filter and sent me on my way.

About an hour north of Page, my right fuel tank quit working. When I got to the road where I was supposed to cross from highway 89 over to I-15, it was closed.

I got stuck behind two old people weaving all over the road in their suburban because they were smoking pot. (I could smell it.)

There was road construction.

The truck wouldn't start again just south of Salt Lake City. Fortunately a cute gas station attendant got it started.

*FINALLY* I got to Salt Lake. (19 hours for a 13 hour trip)

Sunday my sister and I went to take my truck to the garage to see if they could figure out what was wrong with my truck, but it died for a completely different reason on the way there and had to be towed again. Turned out the garage in Page had put a part back in backwards and the garage in Salt Lake didn't even know how I managed to start the truck at all.

Monday the truck wouldn't start in Vernal, Utah. I figured since it seemed to start after being taken off the tow truck, I would bounce on the back bumper -- sure enough, that worked.

My Dad fixed the "won't start" thing, but we took it to the local garage to make sure anyway. The Salt Lake garage sprayed sealant on my battery terminals without tightening the cables, so it's amazing I was getting any connection at all.

My Mom doesn't like to go out and do things, and my truck was in the garage, so I ended up reading the last 3 Harry Potter books because she had them.

Thursday my sister drove over to Steamboat. (In her new car. Mom kept hinting I should get a car.) Friday, we went on a road trip over Lynx pass. We took my Mom's dog (Pepper) with us because she gets lonely since Dad's dog died.

We went off on a side road to have a look around and let Pepper out of the car to run around. She promptly found a mostly-dry cow-pattie to roll in. We cleaned that up, and she took off and found a nice, huge *wet* cow pattie to roll in.

So, we are now in the middle of nowhere with a dog covered in cow shit. Dad and I hiked down the road and across the pass and found a creek to clean her off in. I looked to see if there was a wider spot in the creek to clean her off while Dad hiked back to get her.

We got her mostly cleaned up, but on the way back to Steamboat (30 miles?) we drove with the windows down in mom's car.

Mom wanted to roll up the windows and turn on the Air Conditioning, but I vetoed that.

My sister left Sunday morning.

Sunday night, we went to a restaurant I've only been to once. They messed up and put onions on my order (as did literally every restaurant I went to on my vacation) so I had to send it back.

This morning Mom, Dad and I were all sick. By the time I was able to leave, I had taken two Imodium, one prescription anti-nausea pill and two ibuprofen. I ended up having to take two more ibuprofen.

Then my stomach hurt because it was empty. (Side effect of no gallbladder) So I was taking metabolife because it makes you not hungry and I was afraid to eat anything substantial.

The anti-nausea medication wears off after 6 hours and I had to take one every 6 hours. The last one is due to wear out shortly... I think it already is, actually.

Now my truck is making noises, it's leaking oil, and the "check engine" light keeps coming on.

And then I got a speeding ticket.

Apparently there were some 55 mile an hour speed limit signs up, but the last I saw said 75. There was basically a trap set up and they caught more than just me in it.

The cop was pretty nice about it. He pretty much indicated he had to give me a ticket because it was his sergeant who had clocked my speed, not him.

Now I get to argue it with a judge or go to traffic school.

Meanwhile, the valley is filled with smoke from a nearby forest fire, so I'm coughing even though I used my inhaler. (I have asthma.)

Oh yeah, I have a wicked sunburn from the drive.

And that's not even everything that happened.

I think I'm going to start looking for jobs in the Salt Lake Area. Salt Lake, Provo and Orem appear to have grown into one huge city. Anywhere in there would be good. I'll have to get a new truck if I do that. This one isn't geared for hills and I can't seem to find a competent mechanic to work on it. (I spent $110 because no one who said they had tightened my batter cables actually had.)

*update*

I took the truck to my mechanic to look at it the day after I got back. The rattling was the harmonic balancer. To replace that was $350. What they didn't tell me was that they were charging me $173 to test the problems. Oh, and $25 to test and tell me there was no oil leak, that the leak was the transmission. Hey, but they tested my battery for free. $20 value. Gosh. They just did that about 3 weeks ago. And it's still in good condition.

I had already decided to have someone else do the rest of the work.

I had to borrow money from Mom so that I could cover that surprise $200 in testing fees.

Do you think it's possible that Managers don't care what their predecessors have done? Our new management team is reverting some of our practices back to practices that failed miserably 2 years ago. And they're *excited* about it.

I've heard a lot of talk lately of people wanting to do away with the space program.

Ignorance Strikes Again.

Life as we know it is possible because of the space program. The drive to miniaturize technology so it could be fit on an outgoing spaceship started the revolution in technology allowing us our cell phones, video games, and computers. There were advances made in myriad technologies that make our life what it is. Shutting down the space program could contribute to a stagnation in technology.

So before you decide our tax dollars have better use, perhaps you should find out all the things in your life you wouldn't have without it.

Check it out here and here.

Here's another case of a company not stopping to think:

I lost my wallet, and went to the website of my medical insurance to find out how to get a new card. It tells me if I lost my card to go to the linked form to request a new card.

The first required field on the form is my ID number, which the form helpfully notes that I can find on my card.

I was recently reminded of a similar incident to the one above. While on a plane trip, the stewardesses pointed all passengers to a large, colorful paperboard pamphlet with instructions on what to do in an emergency; instructions on operating the flotation devices, etc. Instructions were available in several languages, including English. What caught my attention was this line printed in English:

If you are unable to read this pamphlet, please let a stewardess know.

Somewhere between my last posting and this one, I moved. This was about as spur-of-the-moment as it gets. I was having breathing problems in my apartment, my friend's parents had *just* served an eviction on the renters in a townhome they own... the timing was right.

Let me just start by saying, I've read many places that owning a cat reduces stress. These people have obviously never moved with cats like mine.

When I first started packing for my move, I was putting like with like, and labelling "books", "computer stuff", "wall hangings". As time became restricted I started labelling the boxes by where I wanted them, not by what was in them. A couple of boxes were labelled by where they came from... "top of coffee table". Word of advice... take the time to label contents.

In between packing, I had made a deal with my friend's parents that if I cleaned the townhome, they would waive the deposit. That was pretty cool. I lose focus easily, though, so I invited friends over to help with the cleaning. It ended up not taking long at all. The longest part was shampooing the carpets. (I think my friend's Bissel outdid my much more expensive hoover, so I'm not too thrilled about that, but now I know.)

Count down to the move. The cool thing about renting from regular people and not corporations is that they are more inclined to let you paint the place. After 5 years of White Walls, I was about to go insane. Most of the townhome was painted in a light blue-gray color. The living room and into the dining room was a light pink. Those of you who know me know I don't do pastel, and I *definitely* don't do pink. So, I went into home depot, grabbed some colors and had them mixed. The landlords paid for the paint, which is even more awesome.

So far, so good. If you've read the rest of this page, though. You're waiting for something to go wrong. This is where it starts. I had a plan. I've never done well with plans, so I'm not sure why I occasionally keep trying them. The movers were coming on Tuesday, so I took off Thursday and Friday to paint my apartment, figured I'd use the weekend to move some of the things in that I didn't want to pack or trust to movers, then Monday I'd finish packing, Tuesday I'd move and Wednesday I'd try to unpack some essentials.

Thursday:

All this time, my truck's brakes have been making an odd noise. So I'm concerned, but it's not making the noise today. This is adding to my overall stress level. I swing by my mechanic. They're booked, but he takes it for a quick test drive and he thinks it will last until next week. I'm happy, I need my truck. I get a few blocks away and the brake light comes on. I take it back. No aparent leaks, good brake pedal.. should still make it. So I go to the townhome, open all the windows and start painting.

Power rollers suck. You lose most of your paint to coating the inside of it. I totally forgot one wall of the room I was in was cinder block, and I didn't have the appropriate roller for the power roller for cinder block. Just because I pushed the stop on the power roller didn't mean it did. (I ended up returning it as defective.) I got dark blue paint on my freshly shampooed carpet. I spent hours in that room trying to get the right coverage.

I was frustrated and painted blue and just tired. And I really didn't feel good, so I decided to go outside. I don't know if this is common in other asthma sufferers, but sometimes leaving the area where the irritant is triggers an asthma attack. The fresh air was like fire in my lungs. Going back into the townhome was not an option. That was even worse. My landlord was on her way over with a signed copy of my lease, which I needed to get the gas started in my name. I just sat in my truck and cried until she got there. She is a fellow asthma sufferer, and she sent me back to my apartment to calm down and take a nap. Once in bed I realized I had a fever as the chills racked my body. I probably should have gone to the hospital, I guess. But I'm stubborn.

Friday:

After Thursday's incident with the painting, I emailed my boss and got her to round up some friends for a painting party at my new place because there was NO way I could do it myself. Remember the truck? This morning the brakes are like stepping on a plum and they don't catch until you're on the floor with the pedal. I know I'm losing fluid, but I have to take my signed lease to the gas company or I'll not have any hot water when I move in. I get a couple blocks and decide to go straight to the mechanic. It's bad news to have a half ton truck with bad brakes.

The mechanic, as yesterday, is booked. I left my truck there, and started walking home. Why? I had stuff to do and I was NOT thinking "hey, I just had an asthma attack yesterday, I should take it slow". I called my landlord to see if she could give me a ride to the gas company, she called me back and said she could that afternoon. I called my friend Leah to see if she could help me with some packing. It took me an hour and a half to get home.

While at home packing, I get a call from the Colorado Student Loan Program... This in itself should be it's own posting. They *lost* my student loans. They had no clue who was responsible for it. They found it, I had them taking payments out of my checking account, we were fine. They stopped taking that money out right before the road trip from hell that I posted earlier, and one thing led to another and I gave up on them. Now I have a woman with the people skills of a rhino telling me they want their $20k now. I protest, she tells me they only need $1600 to consolidate my loans. I say, Okay, how do I set up a payment plan? She tells me they have to have it by the end of the month. Do they think I've been squirrelling it away in a cookie jar rather than giving it to them? I tell her I'm moving and my truck is in the shop, so she starts treating me like I'm some kind of crook. She was a real idiot, to sum up, she wasn't even with the state, but a collections agent out of New York misrepresenting herself. So I'm sick, tired, broke, on foot and pissed.

Then the mechanic calls. The master cylinder has sprung a leak. No big surprise, I think it was the original that came with the truck. Okay, fix it.

I go get the gas set up, Leah comes over to help me pack, we go check on the truck, they're having problems bleeding the brakes, so we return the power roller to home depot and try to get more paint, but there is a line.

Check on the truck again. Still having a problem, mechanic will stay late, we go get chinese food.

We get to the restaurant, and my phone rings. It's the mechanic. Remember the noise, remember the brakes not bleeding right... that would be because the brake pad on the rear driver's side blew up and made a mess. Gotta fix that, too.

$321 poorer, I get my truck back, get the extra paint... and go to bed.

Saturday:

Paint party! This was interesting. Turns out that glidden tears up my lungs, and I had to stay outside most of the morning, but Behr didn't hurt. SO, I know what I'm using next time. I now have a dark blue bedroom. (Thanks, Dan, for doing that. I know the brick was a *pain*.) A hall that is turquoise with a lighter blue sponged over top of it, and a yellow living room with orange sponged over it. It looks WAY better than it sounds. We all had a lot of fun.

Sunday:

EVERYONE who volunteered to help me on Sunday bailed. Packed by myself. Thea is excused, she missed her flight back into town.

Monday:

Let the "cram it in a box" packing begin. With help from many friends I was tossing stuff into boxes or having it hauled to the dumpster. Surprisingly, I was ready for the movers Tuesday morning.

Tuesday:

The movers call to say they are on their way. I look for the cats, hoping to get them out before the movers get there. I find Shadow, put him on his leash, and go buckle him in the truck (they make pet seatbelts) and crack the back and side window for him. The truck is parked under a cover, so it won't get hot.

The movers show up. They're taking out boxes, I'm putting odds and ends in my truck, stopping to pet Shadow each time. Still no sign of the other two cats. My stress is building rapidly. I spend a long time hanging out in my apartment watching for them. Finally I decide to take more stuff to the truck and pet Shadow. On the way to the truck, I notice the back window is open ALL the way. I get closer, I see purple on the back of the seat. Shadow has slipped his purple harness and is gone.

I'm going to throw up... Where is he? Panic. Gotta stay calm. I walk back to my building and ask some neighbors if they've seen "a huge black cat". They say no. I walk around the building hoping he's walking fences. Nothing. I start walking towards the moving van to tell them I can't find my cat when there Shadow is... heading back to the apartment. *Relief*! I hugged him fiercely then locked him in the truck with only a side window cracked a bit.

Now I go sit on the floor in my apartment where the dining room stuff used to be. I glance behind the couch, and AHA! Kaji. I pull the couch out to get to him, and he bolts into the bedroom and disappears. SOMEHOW he got into the waterbed frame. That must be where Stormy is. Now I must wait again for the movers to take out enough things for me to disassemble the bed.

Finally all that is in the bedroom is the bed and a chair. I closed the door and took off the mattresses. Kaji bolts for the window, but it is closed and he is hanging off the windowsill. I grab him and stuff him into the cat carrier. Stormy has now closeted herself behind the queen size mattress leaning against the wall. After much misdirection, I fooled her into getting close enough to grab. Now, unlike Kaji, Stormy is not about to give up. She doesn't let anyone pick her up on a good day. This is not a good day. She's also not declawed. She ruined the t-shirt I was wearing and bloodied up both of my arms before I got her into the cat carrier. I went and shoved it in the truck with Shadow.

Now I'm bloody and all my first aid stuff is packed or at the new place. When I lived in Colorado, I kept band aids in my vehicle. They melt in Arizona. Dripping with blood, I walk up to the movers and ask if it's okay with them if I take the cats to the new place and get cleaned up. Fortunately they had no problem with it, because I was going to go anyway.

Now my stress level is *much* lower and the rest of the move went okay. For future reference, the next time I move, I think I'll invest in one of those companies that packs it all for you, and I'm going to see if I can find a vet who will come to the house and tranquilize the cats.