So, for the day, a bit of this and that for your amusement.
An unknown reindeer. God bless dogs. Really.
If you’ve not yet had too much seasonal music, you can visit here, or here. There’s even this specialty station for those feeling the blues.
If you’re looking for something quieter, you can always reread A Christmas Carol. However, I really love the “Dulce Domum” chapter of The Wind in the Willows. Rat and Mole are hurrying home—to Rat’s home—on a freezing December night when Mole catches the scent of his own burrow. And it completely shatters him with longing and despair.
It takes Ratty a while to notice Mole’s anguish, but when he does, his response is all you could want from a friend.
“The Rat, astonished and dismayed at the violence of Mole's paroxysm of grief, did not dare to speak for a while. At last he said, very quietly and sympathetically, ‘What is it, old fellow? Whatever can be the matter? Tell us your trouble, and let me see what I can do.’”
Mole’s disjointed response is enough to give his pal the rough picture, and Rat leaps into action. They hunt down the old home, “Mole End”, & Ratty’s delight and energy propel Mole out of his depression and into joy.
“Encouraged by his inspiriting companion, the Mole roused himself and dusted and polished with energy and heartiness, while the Rat, running to and fro with armfuls of fuel, soon had a cheerful blaze roaring up the chimney. He hailed the Mole to come and warm himself; but Mole promptly had another fit of the blues, dropping down on a couch in dark despair and burying his face in his duster. ‘Rat,’ he moaned, ‘how about your supper, you poor, cold, hungry, weary animal? I've nothing to give you—nothing—not a crumb!’
“What a fellow you are for giving in!' said the Rat reproachfully. ‘Why, only just now I saw a sardine-opener on the kitchen dresser, quite distinctly; and everybody knows that means there are sardines about somewhere in the neighbourhood. Rouse yourself! pull yourself together, and come with me and forage.’
“They went and foraged accordingly, hunting through every cupboard and turning out every drawer. The result was not so very depressing after all, though of course it might have been better; a tin of sardines—a box of captain's biscuits, nearly full—and a German sausage encased in silver paper.
“‘There's a banquet for you!’ observed the Rat, as he arranged the table. ‘I know some animals who would give their ears to be sitting down to supper with us to-night!’
“‘No bread!’ groaned the Mole dolorously; ‘no butter, no----’
“‘No pate de foie gras, no champagne!’ continued the Rat, grinning. ‘And that reminds me—what’s that little door at the end of the passage? Your cellar, of course! Every luxury in this house! Just you wait a minute.’
“He made for the cellar-door, and presently reappeared, somewhat dusty, with a bottle of beer in each paw and another under each arm, ‘Self-indulgent beggar you seem to be, Mole,’ he observed. ‘Deny yourself nothing. This is really the jolliest little place I ever was in. Now, wherever did you pick up those prints? Make the place look so home-like, they do. No wonder you're so fond of it, Mole. Tell us all about it, and how you came to make it what it is.’”
The friends are just sitting down to dinner when they are serenaded by the caroling field mice, who are invited in for a feast and a bit of ad lib playacting. It’s warm and jolly & one of the best Christmas scenes in all of literature.
I’ll confess to feeling a bit like Mole lately. I’ll be rereading the chapter myself (online, because my very well-worn copy of Wind is still packed up in the Scarlet O’Hara room), a glass of champagne to hand and a fire warming my toes.
I wish you a holiday as full of happiness and friendship as the one at Mole End.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Seasonal news update
So, as we make the run up to Christmas, the retail news seems pretty dreary. Here in the PNW the spiraling economy has been compounded by snowstorms that have kept even the would-be spenders at home (because they can’t get out on unplowed streets or park in unplowed lots). Even if you’ve shopped online, when you track your packages you see a steady stream of nothing happening.
Nationwide, stores were offering huge price cuts in hopes this past weekend—usually a solid one even in bad times. Macy’s tried to entice shoppers with 24-hour openings at 13 stores (on the east coast)
Naturally, as you might expect, there are pathologies associated with hard times compounding the holidays. We can expect shoplifting to rise as those who financed their beyond-their-means lifestyles on the hope of next month’s paycheck are reduced to reality. Since they deserve stuff…
It’s not all doom-laden; apparently aesthetic procedures & treatments are on the “necessity” side of some women’s lists; not the “extras”. Of course, the manufacturers & providers are offering price-slashing discounts to keep the flow of patients coming.
Nationwide, stores were offering huge price cuts in hopes this past weekend—usually a solid one even in bad times. Macy’s tried to entice shoppers with 24-hour openings at 13 stores (on the east coast)
Naturally, as you might expect, there are pathologies associated with hard times compounding the holidays. We can expect shoplifting to rise as those who financed their beyond-their-means lifestyles on the hope of next month’s paycheck are reduced to reality. Since they deserve stuff…
It’s not all doom-laden; apparently aesthetic procedures & treatments are on the “necessity” side of some women’s lists; not the “extras”. Of course, the manufacturers & providers are offering price-slashing discounts to keep the flow of patients coming.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Musings on the holiday
My neighbors had me over to dinner Friday night—a lovely evening with a good meal & excellent conversation with them & another couple, just as it should be.
Barbara & Jerry have lived in their own Rambler for 54 years, since it was built. They’re retired now, but still very active. Among other things, Barbara belongs to a poetry group. Friday she shared a couple she had brought to their December meeting—two poems on Christmas. The first was a child’s letter to Santa; she read it with great verve.
For the second—which had left her poetry group in utter silence—she prefaced it by reading this story (full story at http://www.stop-stoning.org/):
“4/11/2008: 13-year-old Aisha Ibrahim Duhulow was killed on Monday, 27 October 2008, by a group of 50 men who stoned her to death in a stadium in the southern port of Kismayu, Somalia in front of around 1,000 spectators. She was accused of adultery in breach of Islamic law but, her father and other sources told Amnesty International that she had in fact been raped by three men, and had attempted to report this rape to the al-Shabab militia who control Kismayo, and it was this act that resulted in her being accused of adultery and detained. None of men she accused of rape were arrested.
“Some of the Somali journalists who had reported she was 23 have told Amnesty International that this age was based upon a judgement of her age from her physical appearance.
“She was accused of adultery in breach of Islamic law but, her father and other sources told Amnesty International that she had in fact been raped by three men, and had attempted to report this rape to the al-Shabab militia who control Kismayo, and it was this act that resulted in her being accused of adultery and detained. None of men she accused of rape were arrested.
“‘This was not justice, nor was it an execution. This child suffered a horrendous death at the behest of the armed opposition groups who currently control Kismayo,’ said David Copeman, Amnesty’s International Somalia Campaigner.
“‘This killing is yet another human rights abuse committed by the combatants to the conflict in Somalia, and again demonstrates the importance of international action to investigate and document such abuses, through an International Commission of Inquiry.’”
& here’s the poem Barbara read:
“A Good Husband” by Mike Bartholomew-Biggs
I knew the Law of course –
and there seemed to be no doubt
that she’d done wrong.
Yet God knows we’re all human
and I’d no wish to break her.
I knew the Prophets too –
but you don’t expect their words
so close to home
to mix you up in matters
beyond your understanding.
So what’s the greater sin –
to dare to believe her story
or deny my dream?
Some questions will not let you
put them quietly aside.
I shall let you think about this the way Barbara did her poetry group & the dinner party. Consider it…a Christmas gift.
Barbara & Jerry have lived in their own Rambler for 54 years, since it was built. They’re retired now, but still very active. Among other things, Barbara belongs to a poetry group. Friday she shared a couple she had brought to their December meeting—two poems on Christmas. The first was a child’s letter to Santa; she read it with great verve.
For the second—which had left her poetry group in utter silence—she prefaced it by reading this story (full story at http://www.stop-stoning.org/):
“4/11/2008: 13-year-old Aisha Ibrahim Duhulow was killed on Monday, 27 October 2008, by a group of 50 men who stoned her to death in a stadium in the southern port of Kismayu, Somalia in front of around 1,000 spectators. She was accused of adultery in breach of Islamic law but, her father and other sources told Amnesty International that she had in fact been raped by three men, and had attempted to report this rape to the al-Shabab militia who control Kismayo, and it was this act that resulted in her being accused of adultery and detained. None of men she accused of rape were arrested.
“Some of the Somali journalists who had reported she was 23 have told Amnesty International that this age was based upon a judgement of her age from her physical appearance.
“She was accused of adultery in breach of Islamic law but, her father and other sources told Amnesty International that she had in fact been raped by three men, and had attempted to report this rape to the al-Shabab militia who control Kismayo, and it was this act that resulted in her being accused of adultery and detained. None of men she accused of rape were arrested.
“‘This was not justice, nor was it an execution. This child suffered a horrendous death at the behest of the armed opposition groups who currently control Kismayo,’ said David Copeman, Amnesty’s International Somalia Campaigner.
“‘This killing is yet another human rights abuse committed by the combatants to the conflict in Somalia, and again demonstrates the importance of international action to investigate and document such abuses, through an International Commission of Inquiry.’”
& here’s the poem Barbara read:
“A Good Husband” by Mike Bartholomew-Biggs
I knew the Law of course –
and there seemed to be no doubt
that she’d done wrong.
Yet God knows we’re all human
and I’d no wish to break her.
I knew the Prophets too –
but you don’t expect their words
so close to home
to mix you up in matters
beyond your understanding.
So what’s the greater sin –
to dare to believe her story
or deny my dream?
Some questions will not let you
put them quietly aside.
I shall let you think about this the way Barbara did her poetry group & the dinner party. Consider it…a Christmas gift.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Weathering Seattle
Just as “oh, it never gets really hot here in Seattle” was a lie, it turns out that “but we have such mild winters” is also wishful thinking. Since Saturday the 13th, we’ve had three sizeable dumps of snow
& just as this area doesn’t have any mechanism for handling heat—the PNW apparently has not heard about air conditioning for residential purposes—government & business alike are pretty much useless when it comes to dealing with snow.
The drop overnight on the 13th wasn’t really unmanageable, which was good because the city of Bellevue didn’t get around to plowing residential streets until late Sunday. & they don’t seem to understand the concept of sanding the plowed roads. Thank God for TCS.
(What was interesting was that the storm had been predicted for Friday evening: highways from the Eastside into Seattle were clogged starting at 1400, presumably with people trying to get home before the onslaught. Only I was returning from Seattle at 1930, & the incoming traffic was still blocked—presumably with people who thought they’d miss the early panickers. There had been no accidents; it was just traffic.)
Well, fine—we make it through the weekend & onward into the work week. Then comes the storm of Wednesday/Thursday, which really counts as a storm. At least six inches.
When I left for work Thursday morning, I saw only two pick-up trucks with front-end plows attached; they were on a main street in Bellevue. When I turned onto the ramp to I-405N, I was momentarily discombobulated to see no traffic. There were cars on the southbound side, but I was the only one going north.
Good thing, as it hadn’t been plowed & you couldn’t tell where the lanes were. Same for highway 520, although there were cars on that.
I made it into work, but most people “worked from home” (even though the VPN seems to be very problematic). When I got here I understood why many of the long-timers would have stayed away: an email from Facilities announcing that the company was open for business, but that employees who made it in were on their own. Cafeterias operating only in about four buildings, no transportation, walkways not cleared, limited (= no) mail services, etc.
What it didn’t mention was that no one would be replenishing the coffee or beverage cases, restocking cups & eating utensils, or performing any cleaning services. Trash hasn’t been emptied nor washrooms cleaned since Wednesday.
Think about it.
Out in the wide world, traffic was a mess. On Thursday there were multiple closures of interstates & major highways due to accidents; & on Friday you might have seen news footage of two charter buses that broke a guardrail & hung over I-5 for much of the day.
Well, we were sorting things out (barely) when Nature dumped another two to four inches on us late Saturday night. Evidently this was just more than the infrastructure could handle. When I left for work this morning, my street still hadn’t been plowed.
However I struggled in to find the office even emptier than Thursday & Friday & another in the series of emails from Facilities announcing what not to expect. But I had to come in. My neighborhood lost power at 2000 last night, & it’s still out. The temperature in The Rambler this morning was 48°F. Temperature outside was 30°F. It’s going to get colder inside.
A call to Puget Sound Energy customer “service” revealed that they have no earthly notion when it will be restored. A visit to their website indicates that 1096 customers are powerless. & they don’t seem to be all that fussed about getting us back online.
The roads aren’t much better. They’ve been plowed, more or less; grit to come, I suppose. Or maybe they'll just wait for it all to melt. King County's transportation department's efforts seem to be limited to advising citizens not to drive if they can avoid it.
Well, I wouldn’t have, except that I can’t live in 40-degree conditions. Plus, no working from home when you don’t have power.
More snow predicted for tomorrow night, deep joy. Turning to rain on Wednesday, which will muck it up even further.
Metro Seattle has once again done what I hadn’t thought possible: it makes Metro DC look like a paragon of preparedness when it comes to weather management.
& just as this area doesn’t have any mechanism for handling heat—the PNW apparently has not heard about air conditioning for residential purposes—government & business alike are pretty much useless when it comes to dealing with snow.
The drop overnight on the 13th wasn’t really unmanageable, which was good because the city of Bellevue didn’t get around to plowing residential streets until late Sunday. & they don’t seem to understand the concept of sanding the plowed roads. Thank God for TCS.
(What was interesting was that the storm had been predicted for Friday evening: highways from the Eastside into Seattle were clogged starting at 1400, presumably with people trying to get home before the onslaught. Only I was returning from Seattle at 1930, & the incoming traffic was still blocked—presumably with people who thought they’d miss the early panickers. There had been no accidents; it was just traffic.)
Well, fine—we make it through the weekend & onward into the work week. Then comes the storm of Wednesday/Thursday, which really counts as a storm. At least six inches.
When I left for work Thursday morning, I saw only two pick-up trucks with front-end plows attached; they were on a main street in Bellevue. When I turned onto the ramp to I-405N, I was momentarily discombobulated to see no traffic. There were cars on the southbound side, but I was the only one going north.
Good thing, as it hadn’t been plowed & you couldn’t tell where the lanes were. Same for highway 520, although there were cars on that.
I made it into work, but most people “worked from home” (even though the VPN seems to be very problematic). When I got here I understood why many of the long-timers would have stayed away: an email from Facilities announcing that the company was open for business, but that employees who made it in were on their own. Cafeterias operating only in about four buildings, no transportation, walkways not cleared, limited (= no) mail services, etc.
What it didn’t mention was that no one would be replenishing the coffee or beverage cases, restocking cups & eating utensils, or performing any cleaning services. Trash hasn’t been emptied nor washrooms cleaned since Wednesday.
Think about it.
Out in the wide world, traffic was a mess. On Thursday there were multiple closures of interstates & major highways due to accidents; & on Friday you might have seen news footage of two charter buses that broke a guardrail & hung over I-5 for much of the day.
Well, we were sorting things out (barely) when Nature dumped another two to four inches on us late Saturday night. Evidently this was just more than the infrastructure could handle. When I left for work this morning, my street still hadn’t been plowed.
However I struggled in to find the office even emptier than Thursday & Friday & another in the series of emails from Facilities announcing what not to expect. But I had to come in. My neighborhood lost power at 2000 last night, & it’s still out. The temperature in The Rambler this morning was 48°F. Temperature outside was 30°F. It’s going to get colder inside.
A call to Puget Sound Energy customer “service” revealed that they have no earthly notion when it will be restored. A visit to their website indicates that 1096 customers are powerless. & they don’t seem to be all that fussed about getting us back online.
The roads aren’t much better. They’ve been plowed, more or less; grit to come, I suppose. Or maybe they'll just wait for it all to melt. King County's transportation department's efforts seem to be limited to advising citizens not to drive if they can avoid it.
Well, I wouldn’t have, except that I can’t live in 40-degree conditions. Plus, no working from home when you don’t have power.
More snow predicted for tomorrow night, deep joy. Turning to rain on Wednesday, which will muck it up even further.
Metro Seattle has once again done what I hadn’t thought possible: it makes Metro DC look like a paragon of preparedness when it comes to weather management.
Blagging for booze
Chicagoans being Chicagoans, it didn’t take long for local bartenders to come up with cocktails saluting the latest Illinois governor to be headed to the slammer. The WSJ’s Eric Felten reports on a few efforts. Their common ingredient is peach flavor—as in “im-peach”.
O, those clever Chicagolanders!
Felten goes on to discuss a “classic” Chicago cocktail, the Cohasset punch (read the story to make the connection between the hog butcher to the world & a Massachusetts town).
I have to say that, the idea of finding half a canned peach in a glass of booze is somewhat off-putting. It’s awkward enough eating the spear of pineapple in a mai tai or the orange slice in an old fashioned. Half a canned peach? Get outta here!
But still—in the interest of keeping you au courant, I offer it up for your drinking rota.
O, those clever Chicagolanders!
Felten goes on to discuss a “classic” Chicago cocktail, the Cohasset punch (read the story to make the connection between the hog butcher to the world & a Massachusetts town).
I have to say that, the idea of finding half a canned peach in a glass of booze is somewhat off-putting. It’s awkward enough eating the spear of pineapple in a mai tai or the orange slice in an old fashioned. Half a canned peach? Get outta here!
But still—in the interest of keeping you au courant, I offer it up for your drinking rota.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Music for the season
If you’ve been anywhere but an unwired cave for the past month, you’ve been listening to holiday music. Whether you wanted to or not.
This appears to be a subject of much interest to journalists, even when it’s not a slow news year. Earlier this week the WSJ gave a forum for a former exec of 415/CBS Records to explain to us why retail establishments play holiday songs & also why the same songs start to make us puke after a short while.
Well, whatever.
The NY Times went into greater depth a couple of years ago, analyzing the “upbeat and inviting shopping atmosphere” that shops aspire to. It shouldn’t be surprising to know that the marketers have squeezed every conceivable drop of blood from that turnip, but it is a bit depressing to note the extent to which they have us in their manipulative little clutches.
But the mix cited by Spencer’s, that schlock-o-rama staple of every mall in America, brings me to other musings on seasonal music: worst-ever holiday songs.
Ah, the field is so wide here, but hardly un-trodden. Everyone, it seems, has a die-die-die list of holiday songs—mostly Christmas.
Spinner totes up twelve of them, including Springsteen’s cover of “Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town”. (He made other lists, too.) Thankfully, I don’t believe I’ve heard any of them. I have a hard enough time getting through December as it is.
A syndicated column available on many sites also takes a stab at a list. It starts out with “Grandma Got Run over by a Reindeer” and moves on. This one includes two that would be in my inventory—dogs barking “Jingle Bells” and “Little Drummer Boy”. The columnist specifies Jessica and Ashlee Simpson on the latter, but I hate it no matter who’s singing it.
But apparently NPR had a program called the “Annoying Music Show”, and a few years ago the hosts provided another top-ten, which included “Material Girl” by Petty Booka (embodying “the true meaning of Christmas—a Japanese bluegrass tribute to Madonna”), a medley of “Jingle Bells” (performed by The Klezmonauts, a Klezmer band that plays Christmas carols; performed on rubber bands; and performed on power tools), and “O Holy Night” by the Brady Bunch.
I’m sure you can come up with lists of your own. See if there’s not something that just makes your teeth hurt when it comes on in the elevator.
Happy Holidays, all!
This appears to be a subject of much interest to journalists, even when it’s not a slow news year. Earlier this week the WSJ gave a forum for a former exec of 415/CBS Records to explain to us why retail establishments play holiday songs & also why the same songs start to make us puke after a short while.
Well, whatever.
The NY Times went into greater depth a couple of years ago, analyzing the “upbeat and inviting shopping atmosphere” that shops aspire to. It shouldn’t be surprising to know that the marketers have squeezed every conceivable drop of blood from that turnip, but it is a bit depressing to note the extent to which they have us in their manipulative little clutches.
But the mix cited by Spencer’s, that schlock-o-rama staple of every mall in America, brings me to other musings on seasonal music: worst-ever holiday songs.
Ah, the field is so wide here, but hardly un-trodden. Everyone, it seems, has a die-die-die list of holiday songs—mostly Christmas.
Spinner totes up twelve of them, including Springsteen’s cover of “Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town”. (He made other lists, too.) Thankfully, I don’t believe I’ve heard any of them. I have a hard enough time getting through December as it is.
A syndicated column available on many sites also takes a stab at a list. It starts out with “Grandma Got Run over by a Reindeer” and moves on. This one includes two that would be in my inventory—dogs barking “Jingle Bells” and “Little Drummer Boy”. The columnist specifies Jessica and Ashlee Simpson on the latter, but I hate it no matter who’s singing it.
But apparently NPR had a program called the “Annoying Music Show”, and a few years ago the hosts provided another top-ten, which included “Material Girl” by Petty Booka (embodying “the true meaning of Christmas—a Japanese bluegrass tribute to Madonna”), a medley of “Jingle Bells” (performed by The Klezmonauts, a Klezmer band that plays Christmas carols; performed on rubber bands; and performed on power tools), and “O Holy Night” by the Brady Bunch.
I’m sure you can come up with lists of your own. See if there’s not something that just makes your teeth hurt when it comes on in the elevator.
Happy Holidays, all!
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Interred with their bones
Well, Bush has taken advantage of his last month in office to bail out the Gang of Three, despite the obvious mood of we-the-people, tired of having our collective pockets picked to fund the lifestyles of the grotesquely rich and feckless. Chrysler—which probably won’t survive even with its share—and GM are getting $13.4B right away, with another $4B in the next two months.
This “low-interest loan” comes with strings attached, dictating sacrifices—mostly by workers, who are mandated to take wage cuts, lose their jobs-bank funding and have the UAW take responsibility for the healthcare of retirees.
Yeah, GM’s 25 top execs won’t get bonuses for a few months; boo-hoo.
It’s not enough. The top 25 execs should get the sack and new management brought in to replace them. And anyone with a V anywhere in his title should take a salary cut and get no bonus until the company is in the black.
But beyond that, Bush has created a “plan” that’s vague in terms of requirements and metrics. Not surprising, given that this is yet another un-thought-out scheme of this administration with no idea beyond the immediate crisis. (“Long-term” for this crowd is Thursday. Thursday morning.) This means that all the lobbying and jockeying that will inevitably occur as each constituent tries to convince Congress, the Executive and the people that sacrifices should be made by someone else—this will all be on Obama’s watch.
So, no surprise there, then.
Shakespeare was right: the evil that men do does indeed live after them. And this evil is going to be swirling long after Bush has donated all his coloring books to his presidential library and after the Gang of Three's executives have driven in their SUVs to ruin other industries, with severance packages that would fund the retirements of thousands of line workers.
As for the good allegedly interred with their bones? Not seeing any. The auto industry is saved from bankruptcy? Who says? It's not at all clear to me that $17.4B is anything except money tossed down a particularly foul sewer. Thousands of jobs saved? For a while. But way too many of them are useless or incompetent layers of management; and you know they'll be the last to go under this restructuring.
Not to state the blindingly obvious, but this world is just whacked.
This “low-interest loan” comes with strings attached, dictating sacrifices—mostly by workers, who are mandated to take wage cuts, lose their jobs-bank funding and have the UAW take responsibility for the healthcare of retirees.
Yeah, GM’s 25 top execs won’t get bonuses for a few months; boo-hoo.
It’s not enough. The top 25 execs should get the sack and new management brought in to replace them. And anyone with a V anywhere in his title should take a salary cut and get no bonus until the company is in the black.
But beyond that, Bush has created a “plan” that’s vague in terms of requirements and metrics. Not surprising, given that this is yet another un-thought-out scheme of this administration with no idea beyond the immediate crisis. (“Long-term” for this crowd is Thursday. Thursday morning.) This means that all the lobbying and jockeying that will inevitably occur as each constituent tries to convince Congress, the Executive and the people that sacrifices should be made by someone else—this will all be on Obama’s watch.
So, no surprise there, then.
Shakespeare was right: the evil that men do does indeed live after them. And this evil is going to be swirling long after Bush has donated all his coloring books to his presidential library and after the Gang of Three's executives have driven in their SUVs to ruin other industries, with severance packages that would fund the retirements of thousands of line workers.
As for the good allegedly interred with their bones? Not seeing any. The auto industry is saved from bankruptcy? Who says? It's not at all clear to me that $17.4B is anything except money tossed down a particularly foul sewer. Thousands of jobs saved? For a while. But way too many of them are useless or incompetent layers of management; and you know they'll be the last to go under this restructuring.
Not to state the blindingly obvious, but this world is just whacked.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Desperate times call for...bears & bagpipes
¡Ay, Dios mio! The WSJ reports on a thriving part of the Spanish economy: debt collection.
This is an example of getting customer insights through empathy: these companies know precisely what’s going to get the attention of the deadbeats. No need to haul away the Benz in the night or go after someone with semi-automatics. Just threaten them with a bagpiper in a kilt.
I particularly liked the gambit for collecting from bridezilla & her spouse—call up the wedding guests & demand payment from them.
Of course that wouldn’t work in the US—it would just give the bridezillas ideas of out-&-out charging guests for the chicken & cake. Plus extra for the bridesmaids’ dresses & the honeymoon in the Maldives.
As for the Russian tactic—that’s just bear abuse.
This is an example of getting customer insights through empathy: these companies know precisely what’s going to get the attention of the deadbeats. No need to haul away the Benz in the night or go after someone with semi-automatics. Just threaten them with a bagpiper in a kilt.
I particularly liked the gambit for collecting from bridezilla & her spouse—call up the wedding guests & demand payment from them.
Of course that wouldn’t work in the US—it would just give the bridezillas ideas of out-&-out charging guests for the chicken & cake. Plus extra for the bridesmaids’ dresses & the honeymoon in the Maldives.
As for the Russian tactic—that’s just bear abuse.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Pigs on the playground
You know, I just don’t know what to make of this WSJ story on the boars of Berlin.
Major cities in the US have a problem with feral cat colonies. Rather than wholesale slaughter of the animals many organizations run Trap-Neuter-Return programs. You can make arguments for & against returning cats to live in questionable conditions in large urban areas. However, this way the population is presumably at least controlled.
There are also increasing numbers of urban coyotes—across the US. We had them in the DC metro area.
Mixing wild predators with urban humans is just a recipe for unhappiness all around, so I find it interesting that the Germans seem to have taken a computer-language approach: either kill the pigs or invite them in to dinner.
Frankly, the idea of having your toddlers on the park swings when a sounder of boars shows up gives me a major case of the jim-jams. I don’t get the Berliners’ laissez-faire attitude when it comes to this sort of thing. Do they just not make the connection between the idea of "wild animal" & "defenseless child"? Has none of them ever seen what happened when their kid pulled a dog's or cat's tail?
On the other hand, I can see where they’d be put off by the experience of having a guy show up & blow away an entire family of mama & piglets (shoats, boarlets, whatever) in front of your cocktail party or bar mitzvah crowd.
This will be a story worth following.
Major cities in the US have a problem with feral cat colonies. Rather than wholesale slaughter of the animals many organizations run Trap-Neuter-Return programs. You can make arguments for & against returning cats to live in questionable conditions in large urban areas. However, this way the population is presumably at least controlled.
There are also increasing numbers of urban coyotes—across the US. We had them in the DC metro area.
Mixing wild predators with urban humans is just a recipe for unhappiness all around, so I find it interesting that the Germans seem to have taken a computer-language approach: either kill the pigs or invite them in to dinner.
Frankly, the idea of having your toddlers on the park swings when a sounder of boars shows up gives me a major case of the jim-jams. I don’t get the Berliners’ laissez-faire attitude when it comes to this sort of thing. Do they just not make the connection between the idea of "wild animal" & "defenseless child"? Has none of them ever seen what happened when their kid pulled a dog's or cat's tail?
On the other hand, I can see where they’d be put off by the experience of having a guy show up & blow away an entire family of mama & piglets (shoats, boarlets, whatever) in front of your cocktail party or bar mitzvah crowd.
This will be a story worth following.
Stirred, not shaken
Eric Felten delves into the precursor of the ubiquitous martini, the Martinez. Apparently it required something called Old Tom gin, a sweetened variety of the distillation of the Juniper berry.
It’s interesting that one of the sources Felten cites on the Martinez dismisses it as “little more than a molten gumdrop”, inasmuch as most of the overpriced drinks passing themselves off as martinis these days are gag-inducingly sweet.
Evidently Old Tom disappeared from the market but Hayman Distillers has resumed making it & it’s now available in the US. Felten has found a Martinez mecca in a new bar in DC, the Gibson, where bartender-in-chief Derek Brown stirs the concoction 50 times before pouring.
If you can’t make it to DC, you may be able to find the ingredients if you persevere. Alcolog did a taste comparison last month of a variety of gins & rated the Old Tom high. I know I’m not going to find it in the paltry inventory of the Washington state liquor stores—but good luck.
It’s interesting that one of the sources Felten cites on the Martinez dismisses it as “little more than a molten gumdrop”, inasmuch as most of the overpriced drinks passing themselves off as martinis these days are gag-inducingly sweet.
Evidently Old Tom disappeared from the market but Hayman Distillers has resumed making it & it’s now available in the US. Felten has found a Martinez mecca in a new bar in DC, the Gibson, where bartender-in-chief Derek Brown stirs the concoction 50 times before pouring.
If you can’t make it to DC, you may be able to find the ingredients if you persevere. Alcolog did a taste comparison last month of a variety of gins & rated the Old Tom high. I know I’m not going to find it in the paltry inventory of the Washington state liquor stores—but good luck.
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