According to the "Complete Idiot's Guide to Start Your Own business" from 1998, we knew that e-commerce was on its way when we saw signs that
Santa is dot- comming to town.
The nice dot-com bubble from Web 1.0. Anyway, you can do your part to further the future!
Monday, November 30, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Say it ain't so...
The editor of Greater Greater Washington pulled up a proposal for the future of the Washington Metro. The map came from the mid-'90's from a community politician. Most notably, "it envisioned a rich white person's subway", says the website's editor, noting the fact that the two new lines, the Beltway and a line from Annandale through the Northwest (and this politician's grounds) to Wheaton, which serves said demographic. Remember, these are demographics from 15 years ago.
This is in start contrast to the 'dreamer' maps of today, which focus on new lines to the 'underserved' esat side of town and mid-city. Of course, 15 years ago, a riot may have been around the corner...
Naturally, the 1968 riots caused many to flee the inner city, if not the city writ large. Development in the city, other than the construction of 'projects' for the displaced, was focused on downtown areas soon to be served by the multibillion dollar Metro. Most guys like Foulger and Pollin made their fortune in developing the northwestern suburbs, which yielded way to Washington's silicon valleys on the Dulles Corridor in Virginia and the I-270 Corridor in Maryland. Long story short, biotech and computer firms held more promise in the '80's and '90's than an arts district in a gritty neighborhood. If you build office space, will they move into the nieghborhood? No. 1992 riots. Put off hope of repopulating your inner city. And that was when this politician made the map.
Ranked by seriousness, it was only a practice activity for the consulting firm which probably drew it up pro bono.
The politician endorses big development projects but does not endorse the map.
This is in start contrast to the 'dreamer' maps of today, which focus on new lines to the 'underserved' esat side of town and mid-city. Of course, 15 years ago, a riot may have been around the corner...
Naturally, the 1968 riots caused many to flee the inner city, if not the city writ large. Development in the city, other than the construction of 'projects' for the displaced, was focused on downtown areas soon to be served by the multibillion dollar Metro. Most guys like Foulger and Pollin made their fortune in developing the northwestern suburbs, which yielded way to Washington's silicon valleys on the Dulles Corridor in Virginia and the I-270 Corridor in Maryland. Long story short, biotech and computer firms held more promise in the '80's and '90's than an arts district in a gritty neighborhood. If you build office space, will they move into the nieghborhood? No. 1992 riots. Put off hope of repopulating your inner city. And that was when this politician made the map.
Ranked by seriousness, it was only a practice activity for the consulting firm which probably drew it up pro bono.
The politician endorses big development projects but does not endorse the map.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Party Crashers, Washington Style
What a global warming's worth of hot air.
As a public house, the President, the cabinet, the secret service and the other elected officials have only so much control in restricting access. Unlike your private home, the White House is technically open to the public.
But there are a lot of bad people out there. Ever present was the barrel-rod fence on all four sides, which you aren't supposed to grab (the police tell kids that the fence is electric). There was always a security tent with magnetometers, and eventually Penn. Ave was closed to general auto traffic.
For the past few years, Congress has sided with Mr. Bush in limiting access by the public (something that seems to be constitutional). But back in the '90's, you didn't need to give a social security number for visiting, nor schedule well in advance. Indeed, there were free range tours.
Naturally, I was never on a guest list when I visited. Of course it's rude to crash a high-power party, but criminal investigations for harmless celebrities? Sounds like a show trial.
As a public house, the President, the cabinet, the secret service and the other elected officials have only so much control in restricting access. Unlike your private home, the White House is technically open to the public.
But there are a lot of bad people out there. Ever present was the barrel-rod fence on all four sides, which you aren't supposed to grab (the police tell kids that the fence is electric). There was always a security tent with magnetometers, and eventually Penn. Ave was closed to general auto traffic.
For the past few years, Congress has sided with Mr. Bush in limiting access by the public (something that seems to be constitutional). But back in the '90's, you didn't need to give a social security number for visiting, nor schedule well in advance. Indeed, there were free range tours.
Naturally, I was never on a guest list when I visited. Of course it's rude to crash a high-power party, but criminal investigations for harmless celebrities? Sounds like a show trial.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
ARRA Lives on
Here lies the site of the first project funded by the ARRA.
The ARRA funded 'shovel-ready' projects that individual
states could not afford.This project, developed in the midst
of the Great Recession of 2007-2010 by Senator then President
Barrack Obama, saved and created over 600,000 jobs and
led the nation to the future with things we thought we didn't need.
Sign posted on the 2034, 25th anniversary of the start of the project
on Interstate 70 Washington Spur at Antiteim Battlefield, known as
Eisenhower HIghway, National Pike, or Obamaway.
The ARRA funded 'shovel-ready' projects that individual
states could not afford.This project, developed in the midst
of the Great Recession of 2007-2010 by Senator then President
Barrack Obama, saved and created over 600,000 jobs and
led the nation to the future with things we thought we didn't need.
Sign posted on the 2034, 25th anniversary of the start of the project
on Interstate 70 Washington Spur at Antiteim Battlefield, known as
Eisenhower HIghway, National Pike, or Obamaway.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Wrestling: Not That Boring
During my free period, I went out for some clean air and to complete a mission. Buy a Twix bar and deliver to wrestler before the match. I nervously used the price-check function and inserted quarters and dimes. $1.25. I pushed the code E-7 with the utmost care. Down came the bar. I put it in my backpack and the day went on.
Technically, we were let out 15 minutes early to do a pep rally for the talented wrestling team. In reality, I got there slightly late and the team did a little dance-around on the gym floor. In good time, it was over and we were free to go. Unusual for me, I lost track of the next 40 minutes and remembered playing in the orchestra as well as waiting in the wrestling antechamber.
I put the bar in a manila envelope, unsure of wrestling team policy. Some kids who shared the locker room with the wrestling team took a peek. I shared it with them. The lights, spare a dim flourescent, was off, and the wrestlers sat in a quiet circle. "I wonder if they're doing (bad things) in there". "Nah." Soon, though, a dozen of them came out in hardly anything at all. "The weigh-in". The team spent the day not eating, cutting their hair, shaving, losing water mass, however they could to cut their weight. Then I was approached. "Give it to me NOW I'm so hungry". Quick energy boost.
I made a phone call, fiddled a tune, and made it back in time to watch the show. THe reason I took the loss was that, er, expected to be paid back. So I fidgeted with the manilla envelope as our Panthers gravely bashed the Heights by wide margins.
[I was asked about the "yellow envelope". Nah, nothing official, really.]
Contrary to what I thought, the 2 minute matches were fast-paced. The two opposing wrestlers would jostle for a bit, then one would lunge for the other's legs, and then they were on the ground. Pretty soon one was on their front as the other tried to pin him on his back. Sometimes the tide would flip, and the aggressor was now the vulnerable. For a while the guy would struggle to keep one shoulder up off the mat, but eventually he was pushed down as the referee dashed from side to side for a better view. A slap on the mat and a whistle and a loud cheer. A pin. Point on the record now, and a safety pin on the Abbey Boy Wrestler's Varsity Jacket.
Tow sophomores of ours approached the scoring table, shook the coaches' hands and left. "A forfeit", I thought. I followed the two to the wrestling team room, where to my benefit there was no future master commander yelling orders at guests.
(I was summoned by BFF.
Well I summon you out.)
"So", I said shaking the manila envelope wide open, waiting for money to be poured in. "By Christmas", he said.
I sure liked the show. I thought that the promotion with the pep proved that wrestling is a cool spectator sport.
"Well", explained Little Brother, "our wrestlers sit at a dark table in the corner staring at each other and only eat, say, an egg for their meals. They're really strange". "You see, our wrestlers are the life of our party".
Technically, we were let out 15 minutes early to do a pep rally for the talented wrestling team. In reality, I got there slightly late and the team did a little dance-around on the gym floor. In good time, it was over and we were free to go. Unusual for me, I lost track of the next 40 minutes and remembered playing in the orchestra as well as waiting in the wrestling antechamber.
I put the bar in a manila envelope, unsure of wrestling team policy. Some kids who shared the locker room with the wrestling team took a peek. I shared it with them. The lights, spare a dim flourescent, was off, and the wrestlers sat in a quiet circle. "I wonder if they're doing (bad things) in there". "Nah." Soon, though, a dozen of them came out in hardly anything at all. "The weigh-in". The team spent the day not eating, cutting their hair, shaving, losing water mass, however they could to cut their weight. Then I was approached. "Give it to me NOW I'm so hungry". Quick energy boost.
I made a phone call, fiddled a tune, and made it back in time to watch the show. THe reason I took the loss was that, er, expected to be paid back. So I fidgeted with the manilla envelope as our Panthers gravely bashed the Heights by wide margins.
[I was asked about the "yellow envelope". Nah, nothing official, really.]
Contrary to what I thought, the 2 minute matches were fast-paced. The two opposing wrestlers would jostle for a bit, then one would lunge for the other's legs, and then they were on the ground. Pretty soon one was on their front as the other tried to pin him on his back. Sometimes the tide would flip, and the aggressor was now the vulnerable. For a while the guy would struggle to keep one shoulder up off the mat, but eventually he was pushed down as the referee dashed from side to side for a better view. A slap on the mat and a whistle and a loud cheer. A pin. Point on the record now, and a safety pin on the Abbey Boy Wrestler's Varsity Jacket.
Tow sophomores of ours approached the scoring table, shook the coaches' hands and left. "A forfeit", I thought. I followed the two to the wrestling team room, where to my benefit there was no future master commander yelling orders at guests.
(I was summoned by BFF.
Well I summon you out.)
"So", I said shaking the manila envelope wide open, waiting for money to be poured in. "By Christmas", he said.
I sure liked the show. I thought that the promotion with the pep proved that wrestling is a cool spectator sport.
"Well", explained Little Brother, "our wrestlers sit at a dark table in the corner staring at each other and only eat, say, an egg for their meals. They're really strange". "You see, our wrestlers are the life of our party".
Monday, November 16, 2009
Retrojourney Through Books
Like any good home library, our home library collection encompasses past times. Take, for example, the zen in ________ books from the 1980's. Also from that time is the grand era of self help and dreams of money. Move to the early 1990's. What did that first family do to us? Gawking at the barcode scanner was the first step to make people reconsider their consumerist ways. After all, we didn't have to put on a show for the Soviets anymore. Maybe it was something else. Titles like "Living Cheap News" and "Tightwad Gazette" flourished with the tool called the computer. They, and others, were blatantly anti-consumerist. After all, do we really need to fill up our landfills with diapers? The fad didn't last long, and we got sick of cloth diapers and went out buying this new toy called the SUV, and subscirbed to this thing called the internet. Then there were the Dummies guide to living your e-life, and then, print media as we knew it vanished like the colony of Roanoke.
Well, luckily we forgot what sensibility was about.
Well, luckily we forgot what sensibility was about.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Most rules suspended, except stop signs
In med school you learn about how the body works for the first year. Then you learn what goes wrong. The spedometer in the car went finkley recently and thus required a suitable rental vehicle to take a road test with. I seemed tro hacve solved the problem by ordering DMV service from an "AB Driving School", which operates in both DC and Maryland. Skip to this morning, I arrive at the RI Ave station, across the parking lot from the testing center, 7 minutes to 8. 8 as a rendevous time that would allow me to get acquainted with the vehicle for 15 minutes before the test. But they didn't show: a call found that they were utterly incompetent and nowhere near the DMV at 8:15. Cutting accross the parking lot, I found an ambulance and roadwork that blocked the exit. Upon further inspection coming around the other way, there was a federal case of roadwork. On top of this were a multitude of student driver cars with timid drivers proceeding at walking pace.
The DC road test is known to be infamously easy. I wondered what the route would be around the construction zone: maybe around the triangular parking lot. Donald the Road Test Inspector took a seat and asked to check Left flasher, right, then brake. Clumsily, I did right left brake. But that didn't really matter. He pulled the emergency brake, and then said to go: "I'll tell you where to go but not what to do, right out of the lot and left at the signal, and don't use your left foot otherwise I'll fail you". What? One foot driving? Never heard of that before. Tough love. Driving sort of like I was hopping on one leg, I causiously edge out of the parking spot next to a Dick's driving school car. At the junctio I come to a complete stop, just in case. A right turn out of the parking lot, a full stop before turning right on Brentwood. "Careful around the roadcrew", I muttered. Carfeful, too, to avoid being a lemmin going off the cliff, I avoid following a pickup that cut across what seemed to be the solid-line-marked median and I turned on the left flasher and he grabbed the wheel "Game over. Intervention", I thought. He pulled the wheel around the corner. I remember striking the brake with the left foot. He ordered for us to switch places. At this point and time, why bother putting the car in park? but I did an accidental or intentional notation error could happen. "You see, this is a living city. You can't live by the (driving) book. One day there's no construction, next day they're tearing up your street. (Yes, once I practiced parralel parkiong behind a steamroller.) You've got to prove to the city that you're in control. This ain't no countryside (there isn't much countryside in DC) the city is breathing. It changes. Now how wide is the lane?" "Usually 10 to 12 feet, the distance between the white lines or from the center of the roadway to the parked cars." "Nah. It's curb to curb. Now on a road like this (unmarked two-way with dual side parking), where would you drive? Sort of to the center right with enough space to let cars pass the other way and to make sure there aren't kids running from behind cars" "THe center. You see, You got to be the master of the road. You have to see ahead. Like back there, you should've seen that truck come from behind and make a turn (whups...missed that). Back at the circle you should've seen where you were going, that's why I told you a long time before where to go". He gave more spiel, and had some dialogue about driving in the moment. and he continued driving, smoothly and carefully around the block. Failure's route? We hit a cement truck. I mean, it blocked the street. You see that?, pointing to the faded double yellow that now went off the road, you wouldn't follow that, would you. The guy put down the new marking but didn't come around to taking off the old ones. It's a living city. Now, if the speed limit was 25 mph but everyone was going 35, how fast would you go? Um...I suppose I'd go with the flow of traffic. And at 45? Well...if I didn't avoid the road, then...I guess the same applies. And alone you'd go 25, right? Yes. He took his dented aluminum clipboard with him as he went to talk to my parental figures. "Yeah, we had a talk with the supervisor about the consturction zone, but it's a living city. He seems to be following the book, but some professional practice would help. And more about getting real life practicise. I asked about getting the score sheet. "We only give them to you when you pass. If something happened on the 3rd road test they'd want to look for a pattern". "Oh, and he wanted to know about the route and tips of the trade. If we gave that out, then we wouldn't know who could drive and who couldn't".
"He didn't mention the speedometer" Mommy said. "Well, he was baffled by the cement truck. But we didn't even get to paralel parking".
This inspirational coach story would have worked in a movie if it didn't involve a not-pass situation. Of course, situations might change. Lost paperwork, lack of completing the form, etc.
+++++++++++++++
_______brentwood rd________
________________________
+++++++++++++++
The DC road test is known to be infamously easy. I wondered what the route would be around the construction zone: maybe around the triangular parking lot. Donald the Road Test Inspector took a seat and asked to check Left flasher, right, then brake. Clumsily, I did right left brake. But that didn't really matter. He pulled the emergency brake, and then said to go: "I'll tell you where to go but not what to do, right out of the lot and left at the signal, and don't use your left foot otherwise I'll fail you". What? One foot driving? Never heard of that before. Tough love. Driving sort of like I was hopping on one leg, I causiously edge out of the parking spot next to a Dick's driving school car. At the junctio I come to a complete stop, just in case. A right turn out of the parking lot, a full stop before turning right on Brentwood. "Careful around the roadcrew", I muttered. Carfeful, too, to avoid being a lemmin going off the cliff, I avoid following a pickup that cut across what seemed to be the solid-line-marked median and I turned on the left flasher and he grabbed the wheel "Game over. Intervention", I thought. He pulled the wheel around the corner. I remember striking the brake with the left foot. He ordered for us to switch places. At this point and time, why bother putting the car in park? but I did an accidental or intentional notation error could happen. "You see, this is a living city. You can't live by the (driving) book. One day there's no construction, next day they're tearing up your street. (Yes, once I practiced parralel parkiong behind a steamroller.) You've got to prove to the city that you're in control. This ain't no countryside (there isn't much countryside in DC) the city is breathing. It changes. Now how wide is the lane?" "Usually 10 to 12 feet, the distance between the white lines or from the center of the roadway to the parked cars." "Nah. It's curb to curb. Now on a road like this (unmarked two-way with dual side parking), where would you drive? Sort of to the center right with enough space to let cars pass the other way and to make sure there aren't kids running from behind cars" "THe center. You see, You got to be the master of the road. You have to see ahead. Like back there, you should've seen that truck come from behind and make a turn (whups...missed that). Back at the circle you should've seen where you were going, that's why I told you a long time before where to go". He gave more spiel, and had some dialogue about driving in the moment. and he continued driving, smoothly and carefully around the block. Failure's route? We hit a cement truck. I mean, it blocked the street. You see that?, pointing to the faded double yellow that now went off the road, you wouldn't follow that, would you. The guy put down the new marking but didn't come around to taking off the old ones. It's a living city. Now, if the speed limit was 25 mph but everyone was going 35, how fast would you go? Um...I suppose I'd go with the flow of traffic. And at 45? Well...if I didn't avoid the road, then...I guess the same applies. And alone you'd go 25, right? Yes. He took his dented aluminum clipboard with him as he went to talk to my parental figures. "Yeah, we had a talk with the supervisor about the consturction zone, but it's a living city. He seems to be following the book, but some professional practice would help. And more about getting real life practicise. I asked about getting the score sheet. "We only give them to you when you pass. If something happened on the 3rd road test they'd want to look for a pattern". "Oh, and he wanted to know about the route and tips of the trade. If we gave that out, then we wouldn't know who could drive and who couldn't".
"He didn't mention the speedometer" Mommy said. "Well, he was baffled by the cement truck. But we didn't even get to paralel parking".
This inspirational coach story would have worked in a movie if it didn't involve a not-pass situation. Of course, situations might change. Lost paperwork, lack of completing the form, etc.
+++++++++++++++
_______brentwood rd________
________________________
+++++++++++++++
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