As I was eating my lunch near UNLV today, I heard a siren approaching. A yellow fire truck went roaring by, lights flashing. It got me to wondering: what good are flashing lights on a fire truck in Las Vegas? I mean, there are flashing lights everywhere here. Even the CVS and McDonald’s are covered in flashing lights.
If emergency vehicles really want to get attention in Las Vegas, they shouldn’t flash any lights.
They’ll stick out like a sort thumb.
There’s no shortage of bad taste in Las Vegas.
I’m in Vegas this weekend for a conference. You can follow along at my alter-ego blog, Mindblogging.com.
As I mentioned several times here on MT.Net, I have admired the work the NSA has done in keeping our nation’s secrets while searching for those of other nations.
The key phrase in that last sentence is, of course, other nations. The NSA of which I was a part didn’t spy on Americans. In the acronym-happy military vernacular, that would be a CEM: a Career-Ending Move. We were proud to respect our nation’s cherished Fourth Amendment while providing early warning of threats to our country.
I used to respect Gen. Michael Hayden, DIRNSA, too. He had a tough job retooling the NSA to match the dramatically changing communications landscape caused by the explosive rise of the Internet. Overall he was successful, too. But I no longer respect Gen. Hayden, as he was far too willing to take the Fourth Amendment and USSID 18 – the laws which govern unreasonable search and seizures – and feed them to the shredders. Hayden has dodged questions on domestic spying before (full transcript here), which doesn’t instill confidence that he’ll keep the NSA focused on the real, external threats.
Imagine my dismay to read USA Today’s story that major phone companies willingly forked over calling records to NSA without a warrant. This is clearly a violation of the Fourth Amendment, USSID 18, and the spirit of NSA’s charter.
I expected this kind of behavior from the communist countries I used to oppose when I wore a uniform. I didn’t expect it from my own country
You remember the one, right? The “land of the free?”
Fried Chicken and Gasoline
By Southern Culture on the Skids
From the album Dirt Track Date
I been on the road so long it seems
that all I can taste is gasoline
Been on the road long mile after mile
It all looks the same to me after a while
So crow now rooster its the break of day
Twenty-four hours and I can’t stay away Continue reading
I’m in California for the next few days to meet with partners. I’ll be back Wednesday night, only to leave again Friday morning (though the next trip is a personal one).
Yesterday I decided that all the travel I’ve been doing is no longer fun. Question now is what to do about it.
Everyone gets those annoying robo-dialed telemarketing calls. Usually you’re in the middle of something else when suddenly you’re interrupted with something that you don’t have a remote interest in. When the phone rang just now I was bracing for just such a call.
“I’m Shannon from Dish TV,” said the recorded message, “and I’ll get right to the point…”
“Shannon” then described a great deal on Dish Network satellite TV. Four receivers for free, waive installation. Even a hundred bucks back. It just so happens I’ve been looking into the current deals from cable and satellite and thought “wow, what timing!”
I listened to the recorded spiel and pressed “1” to speak to a representative, eagerly waiting to hear more about the deal Dish Network was going to give me.
Finally my chance! I pressed “1.”
I got transferred … to a fax machine. I thought the callee was supposed to do the fax machine trick! The only thing worse than an unsolicted telemarketing call is when its something you want and you get disconnected.
What a tease!
Time to go shopping for a new mobile phone provider. To the readers of MT.Net: what rulez about your current plan? What is big sux? Post your commentary below!
I voted this morning in the primary, though as a voter listed as “unaffiliated,” I was handed just the nonpartisan ballot. I thought about returning to get a party ballot, but decided to go with what I had. The main reason was that the election officials were in a lengthy conversation with a tall, African-American gentleman at the time.
“I’m just checking the ‘no electioneering’ signs,” he said. I took that to mean he was an election official. This polling place has two entrances, only one of which had a “no campaigning” sign near the door. He was trying to determine which door most voters came through. It became obvious to me by his lack of familiarity that he “ain’t from around here.”
By now the talk had moved outside to the only “no campaigning” sign. I tried to slip by the group but one election official wheeled around right as I was walking behind her, smacking right into me.
I was a sitting duck. Here I was: a well-dressed, affluent, young white guy. Like dangling a steak before a hungry lion.
Out went his hand. “Vernon Robinson. I want to be your Congressman.”
“Hi Vernon. Nice to meet you,” I answered absent-mindedly, still heading to my car.
A beat or two later I remembered who he is: the self-described “black Jesse Helms,” a contradiction if I’ve ever heard one. His anti-gay, anti-immigrant campaign themes appeal to hotheads, a seemingly desperate attempt to get votes. Hell, anyone who would call themselves the “black Jesse Helms” would do anything to get elected. Now that thing I noticed earlier with his voice – that slightly slimy, used-car-salesman tone of some politicans – began to make sense.
As I drove off I actually kind of felt sorry that he’d made the long trip out from Winston-Salem (he doesn’t even live in the 13th congressional district in which he’s running – he has a habit of doing that) and all he had to talk to were the election officials.
Well, them, and this one well-dressed, affluent, young white guy who happens to blog.
The Rock Island Line
As performed by Johnny Cash
Now this here’s a story about the Rock Island Line
Well the Rock Island Line she runs down into New Orleans
There’s a big tollgate down there and you know
If you got certain things on board when you go through the tollgate
Well you don’t have to pay the man no toll Continue reading
