Thursday, August 25, 2005

Stock tip for the day (emphases--sp?--are mine):
ExxonMobil announces second quarter 2005 earnings:
Exxon Mobil Corporation (NYSE:XOM) today reported record second quarter results. Earnings excluding special items of $7,840 million ($1.23 per share) increased $2,050 million from the second quarter of 2004. Second quarter net income included a special charge of $200 million for the Allapattah lawsuit provision. Including this charge, net income of $7,640 million ($1.20 per share) increased by $1,850 million. Record first half net income of $15,500 million ($2.42 per share) increased by 38% versus the first half of 2004.

No shit? How did they make all that money, considering, um…that refinery that blew up, that tanker that rolled over on I-74, the war in Iraq, it rained last Monday and Bob didn’t make it to work, etc., etc…

And now, a snippet from a feature about gasoline pricing posted on the ExxonMobil website:
As a country, we need to advance policies and initiatives that support the underlying economic fundamentals that lead to a balanced marketplace. This includes support for access to areas that will allow the U.S. to increase domestic crude production, and focused efforts to reduce the complexities and limitations that are creeping into our refinery and logistics systems due to the proliferation of specialty fuels.

In other words: Get these campers out of the way; We're closing Mount Rushmore 'cause we need to jam a drill straight through Lincoln’s right eyeball. People are always happy to whine about gas prices and the destruction of the environment, but no one’s out there lobbying congress to put an end to the high costs that poor ExxonMobil has to pay to produce a few gallons of low-sulfur diesel that some hippie in Texas (What? Someone in TEXAS is making ExxonMobil produce low-emission fuel??) says they gotta produce…

You're concerned about gas prices? Try "walking a mile" in an ExxonMobil executive's shoes some time.

Los perros Uruguayas...
I have never seen so many little doggies roaming free as I have here in Uruguay. I'm not much of a dog person, but I think it's amazing how the strays here interact when two or more are together. Example: Two dogs are standing on a curb five feet away from each other. One dog is silently watching the other with his head cocked as if listening; the other is barking perfectly metered "bark-bark-bark-bark"s for a least a minute. All of the dogs look well, and they all seem to have a purpose. When I see them walking by the side of the road during my rides home from work, I have the feeling that they're heading home from "work," too.
It's amazing that I haven't seen a dead one in the road, considering how they like to walk along the road and act as if they feel that cars should get out of the way for them. I felt sorry for a dog who crossed in front of us yesterday because he was keeping his weight off his left rear leg as though he'd been hit. I looked in the mirror after we passed, and he was walking on all fours (a doggie sympathy trick?).
Misunderstood TV preachers...
(from the Associated Press)
On Monday's telecast of his Christian Broadcasting Network show "The 700 Club," Robertson had said: "You know, I don't know about this doctrine of assassination, but if he thinks we're trying to assassinate him, I think that we really ought to go ahead and do it. It's a whole lot cheaper than starting a war, and I don't think any oil shipments will stop."
He continued: "We have the ability to take him out, and I think the time has come that we exercise that ability. We don't need another $200 billion war to get rid of one, you know, strong-arm dictator. It's a whole lot easier to have some of the covert operatives do the job and then get it over with."
On Wednesday, he initially denied having called for Chavez to be killed and said The Associated Press had misinterpreted his remarks.
"I didn't say 'assassination.' I said our special forces should 'take him out,'" Robertson said on his show. "'Take him out' could be a number of things including kidnapping."
He later issued the apology on his Web site.

Well...praise the lord, and put down that sniper rifle. He did apologize, after all.
Please, anyone--volunteer to go on local television or radio and explain how one or another government official, police officer, math teacher, T-ball coach, or girl-who-wouldn't-go-to-the-prom-with-you needs to be "taken out." Explain to the men in nice suits how you were merely suggesting that you'd like to accompany the subject for a fine meal at the local Bonanza. Apology accepted!
Cars vs. Motorcycles vs. Pickup Trucks: A Lesson In Vehicular Physics.
I like motorcycles. I used to like cars, but now I like bikes. Y’wanna know why I like bikes instead of cars? It’s a simple something called power-to-weight ratio. I mention this because bikes seem to be frequently and dramatically threatened at stoplights by revving sounds emanating from below the hood of a car or pickup truck.
It's easy to determine a vehicle's power to weight ratio: Take a vehicle’s weight, and divide it by its horsepower. Even folks with the "piss on (manufacturer of rival vehicle)" stickers on their rear windows should be able to figure this out.
Let’s say that one vehicle weighs 10,000 pounds and its engine generates 1,000 horsepower. Its power to weight ratio is 1:10,or 10.0 pounds per horsepower. Next, assume that a second vehicle weighs 5,000 pounds and its engine also provides 1,000 horsepower (HP). The second vehicle’s power/weight ration is 1:5, or 5.0 pounds per horsepower. The power/weight ratio of the second vehicle is twice as good as that of the first vehicle. Generally speaking, the lower the power/weight ratio, the better the acceleration. Some forgotten formula including force, mass, and acceleration explains this better than I can right now.
I have a general-purpose/sport-touring-type streetbike that weighs 485 pounds full of fuel. When I’m on it, it weighs 695 pounds. Its engine produces (according to reliable tests) 111.2 horsepower at the wheel. 695 divided by 111.2 = 1:6.25, or 6.25 pounds per horsepower (lbs/hp).
A Dodge Ram 1500 SLT 4x4 weighs 4976 pounds and generates 235 horsepower. Each horsepower needs to push 21.17 pounds down the road. You might say, "Well…yes. But you can increase the engine’s horsepower…," which is true, but even if someone is smart enough to double the power of the Ram’s engine to 470HP and keep it street legal, it will still end up with a power/weight ratio 66% higher than my bike. Even the Dodge Ram SRT10, a 500HP/5150lb monster, has a power to weight ratio of over 10 pounds per horsepower.
A Subaru WRX Sti weighs 3298 pounds and has a 300 horsepower engine. Again, the power/weight ratio is over 10 lbs/hp.
Well, I’m boring the hell out of myself with these numbers, and straying from getting to the point I’m trying to make, which is IF YOU OWN A STOCK (or even moderately modified) CAR OR TRUCK, DON’T RACE A SPORTBIKE! YOU’LL ONLY LOOK LIKE AN IDIOT WHEN YOU LOSE. Well, less of an idiot than any sportbike rider appears to be when he races a pickup truck. Don’t ask me to explain the psychology behind the reason why I can’t let cars and trucks beat me at red lights—I just can’t…
Uruguayan Diary: Day One.
Day One was very uneventful. The entire workday seemed to go smoothly. The one thing that I learned is that toilet bowls in the Southern Hemisphere don’t necessarily flush in the opposite direction (Counterclockwise? Who notices these things?) than those in the North; the one in my hotel room flushes straight down. The handles are routed through the wall, which seems like it would make replacement fairly expensive…

Uruguayan Diary: Day Two.
Day Two began with a lost and clueless cab driver, and ended with a 190kph wind/rainstorm.
I was met at my hotel at 8:15am for a 7:30am pickup. Not a horrible wait, but wait—the 15-minute cab ride to work took 1:15. This time period included asking one pedestrian, one gas station attendant, and one passing driver for directions—all of whom the driver found time for in between our passing the correct exit four times. After waiting for the arrival of work-related parts for six hours (I shipped them, for $800, exactly one week ago), I was finally able to make some progress at work. The weather rapidly turned nasty during the ride home, and ended with the above mentioned winds (plus a bit of hail) that slowly swayed my 25-story hotel back and forth (I’m on the 23rd floor). This made me mildly curious about Uruguayan building codes, and I imagined what I would think if I were back in Illinois, reading a news headline about the collapse of a 25-story hotel in Uruguay and of the handful of Americans that died in the rubble. Along with the sudden realization that one of those people could be me was the comforting (but unscientific) thought that because I’m aware of the situation, it couldn’t happen to me. I had the same feeling once while flying a Caribbean airline to Guyana via Barbados and Trinidad. I do think that a lot of Americans (myself included) become desensitized to horrible things that happen around the world, and rate news of these things only a passing glance unless Americans were involved. When disasters happened in the past and Americans were involved, I sometimes thought, "What the hell were Americans doing there/flying on that airline/etc., anyway?" It’s a sad and embarrassing thing to admit to this lack of compassion, but writing the Government of Umpty-Squat Aviation Commissioner certainly isn’t going to stop airline disasters in Umpty-Squat. One thing that’s very obvious to anyone that’s traveled abroad is that other countries are going to do whatever they want or need to do, and no crazy foreigner is going to change that.
I did enjoy a chivito from "Chivitos Marcos." A chivito is a massive sandwich that contains Philly cheesesteak-like steak, ham, chopped eggs, bacon, hollandaise-like sauce, olives, tomatoes, lettuce, hot peppers, etc. My left hand was 90% covered in sauce by the time I was finished. My coworker said that I had to do as he did, which was to wait until the sandwich was completely finished before wiping your hands and mouth. I think that should be a new eating rule, but the next time you eat something messy, think about how difficult it would be to keep yourself from wiping any stray food item from your face or hands.

Uruguayan Diary: Day Three.
This day certainly started out as the worst day of all. It was arranged that I’d be picked up at the hotel at 7:30am (why won’t I learn?). At 7:30, I hit the lobby doors to find gray skies, a 50F temperature and moderate winds that seem to come from every direction, making it impossible to hide around corners, behind building columns, etc. I wait, and wait, and wait until 8:15, when I decided that I stood a better chance at not freezing to death by waiting in the lobby with my view adjusted so that I can see the cars pulling up to the curb. At 9:30 the car arrived, and this is when I (honestly) decided to stop believing people when they say that I’ll be picked up at 7:30.
The drive to work revealed that the damage from the winds is probably in the millions. A car somehow burst out of a third floor window of an unoccupied building (which didn’t look like a parking garage inside) and ended up straddling a fence ten feet in the air, for one bizarre example of the property damage. After several detours around downed trees in the roads, we arrived at work to find that half of a breezeway roof was destroyed, and there was no electricity. No electricity=no work for this job, so my company’s agent was called to come and assess the situation. A gas generator was found and connected, but the voltage varied from 190 to 120 volts, which won’t keep 110VAC equipment running, and certainly wouldn’t be good for digital electronics if it could.
Off to lunch we went, while the agent called to arrange for the delivery of a rental generator at 3:00pm. Lunch was good, consisting mostly of meat, meat, and more meat—lamb, chicken, sausage, beef, tripe, and what looked like a fried brain. I didn’t ask what the fried brain was, but the agent said that, "We like to eat of lot of sweetbreads—intestines…" I winced, and he continued, "It’s an acquired taste." The "brain" was gobbled up, as was the tripe—but neither was so much as sniffed at by me. "Picky American," you might say, but I’ll counter with this: I’ve had tripe, and I think it has no flavor and has the consistency of gristle. I call the third strike against it because of what it was previously used for by the animal that owned it. This gastronomical strikeout would be better suited for a truth or dare game than a serious meal.
The rest of the day was cold and patience-trying. Not only did I have to use a generator instead of a wall outlet (a first for me in five and one-half years), the generator couldn’t power the lights or the heat, so I worked a few hours in the dark until I suggested that it was time for everyone to go. After freezing all day, then running out of cigarettes, I really wanted to get back to the hotel, buy smokes, then run to the warmth of my room, but I had to wait 45 minutes while everyone in the car was dropped off first.
My mood was lifted a bit at the supermercado, where I bought a liter of pear juice, a 100g chocolate bar, and two packs of Marlboros for about five bucks. No dinner tonight (not even the candy bar) as I’m holding out for breakfast. I was told I’d be picked up at 8:30am tomorrow, which means that I’ll probably have time for lunch, as well.
Why Me-First?
The answer is simply…complex. I think I was quite irritated at the moment I first decided on the name. I thought of the people who’ll cut you off to be the first ones seated at (insert name for popular chain restaurant here) for lunch; people who need to have the fattest, most economically- and environmentally-unsound vehicles that they can’t afford, and drive them with no regard for other people on the road; people who’ll blindly follow dogma to ensure their reward in heaven while showing little to no regard for anyone living here on earth; people who only want what’s mine-mine-mine and the rest of the world can stuff it and get out of my way—etc., etc.. Here are two examples of the Me First spirit that I’ve seen firsthand. See if you can come up with examples of your own!
Example A: A U.S. Navy pilot and a Boeing engineer were in a bar in Seattle discussing a Greenpeace member's earlier attempt to douse a naval officer in paint. The engineer was very anti-nuke, and stated this. A fairly heated argument began, and the pilot eventually asked what the engineer did at Boeing. He replied, "I work on the B-2 (stealth bomber)." I consider this to be worthy of a "Me First" because even though this guy was anti-nuclear everything, he was helping to develop a nuclear weapons delivery aircraft. Even if a B-2 never drops a nuclear (or "nucular"--Thank you Mr. President!) weapon, does a person in the engineer’s position find that he’s set values for acceptable and unacceptable body counts which he will/won’t contribute to; i.e., "I’ll gladly kill 500 people at a wedding reception with a Mother Of All Bomb(s), but dropping a nuke is where I draw the line?" He gets a "Me First" because he wanted that $100K/year government-subsidized (and don’t get me started on Boeing…) job, and to hell with his conscience. He wanted to work for Greenpeace, but gee, Greenpeace wouldn’t pay anywhere near what Boeing offered him. If you want to make weapons; fine, make weapons. If you want to be a shoplifter; be a shoplifter—but don’t rant to me about shoplifters while you fondle a pack of swiped Pokemon cards in your pocket.
Example B: Standing in a 14-mile-long queue for an airline check-in counter in Johannesburg, a businessman-type jumped in front of an older Englishman and myself. When the Englishman expressed his disappointment by growling, "Excuse me, sunshine…" the businessman looked offended and asked, "Well…would you stand at the back of that line?" Now was my turn to growl, and I said,"HOW DO YOU THINK WE GOT TO THIS POINT?" Maybe I’m just turning into an old fart, but whatever happened to m-a-n-n-e-r-s? Is it still in the dictionary? Maybe more parents should start teaching their kids about them, rather than letting them wean themselves away from functionality by playing video games while stuffing themselves full of greasy (yum!) goodness.
Geez…what a rant. What I meant to get around to saying is that this blog shouldn’t and isn’t going to be all negativity, all the time. I do have other interests besides hoping and praying that karma is a true thing, and like to think of myself as a fairly positive optimistic person. Unfortunately, this won't disqualify your license plate from appearing on this blog if I see you driving like a moron…