I: Jesus, my man, what do you have for us today?
J: I'm glad to see you're loosening up a bit. I'm just here during Holy Week to throw out a little bone for those of you into the whole worship thing. While you're all running around preparing for Good Friday and Easter, I'd like to reprise my last outing here.
I: The cookie one?
J: Yeah, the cookie one. It seems that a few of you business types needed a change of vocabulary to get the cookie theme. So I'm gonna hit from a different angle.
Let pretend that cookies are capital. I'm talking in economic terms now. Cookies are capital. I give you a cookie. What are you going to do with it?
I: Um, eat it or share it?
J:
Yes, but more to the point, you're going to use the cookie for
something. The purpose of a cookie is easy to divine. You are going
to use the cookie for some purpose for which it was intended. If it
was a gift, you will say thank you and probably enjoy it. You probably
wouldn't reply, 'What the hell are you giving me this cookie for? I
didn't ask for it. What am I supposed to do with it?' That's just
silly, right?
I: I guess. That would be pretty stupid. I mean, cookies are tasty.
J: Exactly what I'm saying! Now what if you're on a diet? Do you have the right to get upset if I give you a cookie?
I: No, I think good manners would dictate that you would find something to do with the cookie if you weren't going to eat it.
J: If you are a thoughtful person, you would show good manners. A gift is a gift. You're just not allowed to complain about gifts.
So
anyway, I hand you some capital. I give you some money. What are you
going to do with it? Bury it? Hide it? Preserve it in some way?
Make it last as long as possible? If you know anything about money,
you know it's more valuable right now than it is in the future. That's
why people pay interest rates to get it right now. An interest rate
represents the present value of future money.
People with a
purpose for the dough will pay through the nose to get it right now so
they can put it to good use and hopefully earn more than what they paid
for it.
Now, say I just hand it to you. I give you a non-taxable lump sum on the order of a couple million smackers. What do you do with it?
I: Gosh, that's such an improbable event, I'd not thought about it.
J: Not many people have, but I'll tell you what; they should. Capital is like your life. If you don't know what you'd do with it immediately, then you don't know what you're doing. If you don't know what you're doing, then you'd better drop EVERYTHING and figure it out pretty damn quick. Your investors are getting antsy 'cause you're wasting the capital. You're wasting the cookie. It's getting moldy, and your capital is losing value to inflation.
Your life is a big pile of
capital that needs to be used RIGHT NOW. It's most valuable RIGHT
NOW. It can only make a difference RIGHT NOW.
Notice a pattern?
I don't think anyone would curse me for giving them a pile of capital. Why do you think they get upset that they have a life? I know life is hard sometimes. I really do know. Yet, to have it is a blessing. It is a grace bestowed for which you didn't ask. You don't deserve it. Whether you deserve the cookie, capital, or your life is irrelevant, totally and completely irrelevant. What is relevant is that you've got something that few have, that few have the opportunity to use. There is a whole lot of life in the universe just busting to come out and live. Not everyone has the opportunity you have right now.
So, Mr. Business Guy, what is it gonna be? Are you going to offend your biggest investor, ME? Do you want put the capital to good use, or are you going to sit on it and fret. Capital is not to be preserved, just as cookies are not to be kept under glass, and your life not lived in quiet seclusion far from danger.
Now get busy, Time is Money. I don't want to have to fire you. *wink*
The whole mess of
THEY DON'T EVEN SHOW THE SAME AMOUNT.
Let me repeat that. The hard copy printed letter on paper, that had to come from somewhere, that had to be generated from something by someone, doesn't even match what they have in their own database - not even close.
I knew criminals were stupid.
Supposedly, I
was driving through red lights hours away in Mayaguez a week after
9/11. DTOP shows a fine for $30 and no license plate number. So
apparently I was jogging through red lights on the other side of the
Puerto Rico with my special jogging sneakers and super powers. Luckily
I had my license so that they could indicate the proper fine for flying
through red lights with an invisible car or something.
BAH!
So where does the $120 come from? I think they just made it up, pulled
a number from their collective ass, and called out -
Hah, schenanegans on me. You kidders you.
In orbit around the Earth, they were safe, safe and isolated from
the depths of space by their craft, their suits, their technology.
They were safe from the vacuum, the cold, the radiation, and small
chunks of debris. They were as safe and comfortable as in their kitchen
sipping tea and reading the Times. "Martha, will you fetch me some
toast? Thanks, you're an angel." Thanks to the wonderful technology
of their deep space craft and its marvelous systems, designed by the
finest minds of 22st century Earth and swaddled as they were in their
cradles of poly-alloy something, they had not a care in the world. Not
a one.
"What was that?" Justin breathed into his helmet microphone. "I think I heard something."
A
voice responded. It was helm control. "I dunno," he whispered, as if
asleep, "I think we're approaching the outer atmosphere. Sometimes the
heat makes things creak." At least it sounded like creak. It could
have been creep, or weak. Justin couldn't tell.
"Um, okay." It wasn't important, he guessed. The helmsman was a stout sort of fellow, predictable and faithful. He always showed up on time, checked the craft, before launch. He was a by-the-book sort not prone to imaginative thinking, but he did his job, which was good enough surely, and probably what you want in a helmsman.
Justin looked
around at the relaxed forms of the other passengers. They were
scientists, like himself, but perhaps not like himself. They were
fascinated by things other than a little re-entry. They obsessed over
big problems or small problems, tiny little worlds or grand grandiose
big big worlds. Make the little worlds bigger, they'd say. Make the
big worlds smaller, would reply the others - two schools of thought,
Justin reflected, two schools of thought that always end up in the same
place.
Justin was awake now, and he couldn't close his eyes. The Earth was this big beautiful ball of blue, crystalline blue, shiny, reflective, shimmery, but calm, peaceful, enveloping. It's like you could just reach out and touch it, squeeze it, wrap it all around you, he thought, just roll around on it. Man, he thought adjusting his poly-alloy something pants, been out here too long - getting turned on by this big blue ball in space. Geez.
"Hey, Melinda," he whispered though the microphone, "did you get the data you were looking for?"
"Hmmm... you talkin' to me, Justin? Yeah, yeah, I got what I was looking for. Gracias a Dios.
They were there just waiting for me. I stepped around the corner and
there they were as if they had chosen me. The mission was un exito total."
"I'm glad." He had had no such luck. His first opportunity out here had netted him nothing, nothing, and now that he thought about it, nothing. Maybe when they got back, he'd see if maybe he could salvage at least something of this nothing of a trip. "I'm glad for you Melinda. Couldn't have happened to a better person. You know you're the best."
"Thanks, Justin. You'll get something, soon, I'm sure."
There was that weak, creeping creak again, trickling over-head. "There it is again? Did you hear that? What the hell is that sound?"
The whisper came again, "Look, it's nothing to be worried about, the hull's heating up. It does that, uneven heating, causes uneven expansion, uneven compression. It's all taken care of. Now, newbie, if you want to make yourself useful, lie back and close those big weepy eyes of yours. I'll get you back to your mama's arms before you wet yourself, I promise." And he clicked off his mic.
To Justin, the break-up seemed almost in slow motion. There was a shudder, and the pieces came off like big giant flakes of rust spinning out and away into the blackness their edges glowing faintly, discolored like the petals of a dying flower.
And down they fell.
...to be continued
I don't want my desktop all candified. I don't want media. I don't
want games. I don't want music. I don't want VOIP. I don't want
chat. I don't want digg, reddit, and slashdot.
ARRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHH!
I used to be productive. Now I have MAME to emulate all my favorite standup video games from the eighties and nineties (endless hours of fun). I now have instant messaging, every manner of music, video, and entertainment imaginable (not to mention all that P2P goodness and without the spyware). MythTV handles the PVR functions and let me tell you, it's great.
It's too great.
The problem is, I need to do some friggin' work on this computer. I remember when the desktop was austere. I was forced to work, not goof off watching stupid video clips from video.google.com or www.youtube.com.
HEY YOU MEATHEADS stop messing with the desktop. It's too good. It's too distracting. Firefox is too good. There are too many great extensions. Mplayer is the best media player on the planet. Stop it, now!
I need to do some WORK!
Please make my desktop the non-functioning piece of utilitarian crap that it was five years ago, please please please?
I beg you.
I got a letter in the mail, addressed to me, from the DTOP
(Departamento de Transportación y Obras Públicas, Dept of
Transportation and Public Works). Weird, I thought, this is weird
indeed. What could they possibly want with me? I quote (my thoughts
in parenthesis)
Esteemed James, (ooo, I'm esteemed, that's good, huh?)I have good news for you (oh my goodness, good news, let me read more). You can save $48.00. (wow, how? more more more!) Currently, our system reflects that you have pending traffic fines totaling $120.00 (WHAT!?)
Take advantage of this offer. You have from March 3rd to May 1st to receive a 40% discount, a savings of $48.00. You can get out of all your fines by paying only $72.00. (WTF?)
This offer is for a limited time and will not be repeated. Don't waste time or money. Visit your closest local collecting office and pay your invoice. You only have to bring this letter. (They wish)
Pay now and save. Don't wait until it is tool late. (or WHAT?)
Gabriel D Alcaraz Emmanuelli (Crook)
Secretario de Transportación y Obras Públicas
Okay, it looks like it came from DTOP, on official stationary. They
are not asking for a mailed check. They ask that you go to the
official government collections office to pay. The letter is
legitimately from DTOP, but it reads like a bad CompUSA rebate offer.
It just sounds like fraud, fraud disguised as a great offer. Couple
that with the fact that I just re-registered my car a week ago (so I
was clear a week ago) and have never ever ever been pulled over let
alone ticketed. This is just false. And the letter does not provide a
phone number or any information to report an error. Okay, I think to
myself, I'll have to deal with this. What a pain.
I am reminded of a corollary to Arthur C. Clark's "Any
sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic" which
is "Any sufficiently advanced incompetence is indistinguishable from
malice." I love that quote.
Then I find out that Laura's father, mother, and brother also got the same letter.
Okay, so that's how it going to be, huh, naked malice. There is speculation that the cover story is going to be a computer glitch, that if you drag your sorry ass into the collections office, wait all day for a useless government functionary to see you, you may have your "fines" removed. Otherwise, if your time/job is worth more than the extortion demand, then you'll just pay it and move on with your life.
This is just
sick, sick, sick. I have never heard of such a thing, government run
extortion, fraud. I mean, usually they just stick to back room graft
and mismanagement. How often do governments just come right out and
say, "pay us this money, and there won't be any problems," except in Cameroon?
Any
lawyers out there want to take up a case against the Department of
Transportation in Puerto Rico and Gabriel D Alcaraz Emmanuelli, alleged
mastermind of this fraud?