arTau

How Long . .

until we can put all three kids to bed without hearing one cry?

until I’m out of home improvement projects?

until I tire of chips and salsa?

until we can lose the red state/blue state idea and start being Americans?

how long must we sing this song?

until Facebook goes the way of MySpace (remember MySpace?) and we’re all using the next big thing?

until I’m too old to be an early adopter?

until my kids are smarter than I am?

until I decide to pack it all in and become a shepherd?

until lunch?  Coffee?  Dinner?  Friday?  Christmas?

Identified

So I’m on the phone.  Like – right now.  With an organization I will refer to in this post as “Bank”.  You may know them as an organization that uses a stagecoach as their identifying symbol.

I had a little bit of business to conduct with Bank.  Namely, they were charging me a fee that they shouldn’t have been charging me for a service that they were giving me that I didn’t ever ask for.  The kind of thing you have to talk to a person to fix.

I call bank.  First, I get Dahlia.  Dahlia asks for my account number, last four digits of my SSN, then asks me for my verbal password.

“Verbal password,” I reply?  What is this, a swiss bank?  I don’t have a verbal password, but I do have a home retinal scanner.  Let me fire it up. 

Evidently, I set a verbal password a long time ago in a bank branch far far away.  I’m stumped, I have no idea what it is, so we go through more information to verify that I’m me.  Savings account number, credit limit on Visa, etc.  Dahlia is satisfied that I am, in fact, myself.  Dahlia and I have a nice conversation about my issues with the extra cash that Bank has been extracting from my checking account to cover its butt while it tries to figure out this whole mortgage mess.  Dahlia is just about to transfer me, when I ask,

“Now that you know I’m me, can I know what my verbal password is?”

“No, we can’t give it out, but we can set a new one,” says the representative of Bank.

Fair enough.  (just hung up after 25 minutes OTP with them)

I give her a new verbal password.  She transfers me (of course) to another department that is the one who has to address my specific issue.  Never a good sign.

“Good evening, thank you for calling Bank, my name is Edwin, how may I assist you?”

I tell Edwin my issue.  Edwin says these magic words;

“May I have your verbal password, please?”

Ah-HA!  I know it!  I just changed it, so this time I know it!  I give Edwin the password, and hear,

“I’m sorry, sir, that is not that password we have on record for you.”

Me: “Ah, well I just changed it moments ago with Dahlia.  Must not have propagated yet.”

Edwin: “I’m not sure what you mean, sir.  We’re not able to change verbal passwords over the phone, it can only be done in person at a branch office of Bank.”

Me: “Um – but we just did.”

{insert standardized round and round with customer service rep, who firmly holds the line}

Finally, I give in.  ”Can I guess?”

“Sure.”

So I guessed.  Guess #1.  Nope.  Guess #2.  Nope.  Guess #3.   Long pause for effect.

“Thank you, Mr. Tow, how may I assist you?”

All very James Bondian.  I appreciate the need for security as much as the next guy.  I have passwords that, when people hear me say them, give me funny looks.  I get it.  But things are getting ridiculous.  The identity thieves have won.  When you can’t give every piece of information about yourself, and still be believed to be you, its over.

Now if I can only remember that verbal password for the NEXT time I call, four years from now.  I hope I get Edwin.

O.B.O.

I have a habit.  This habit involves making sure I see about 37% of the for-sale postings on Craigslist, specifically the Des Moines site.

I’ve successfully used Craigslist to dispose of a trampoline (I’ve never had so many emails so quickly as when I advertised “Free Trampoline” – goodbye, legbreaker).  I’ve given away windows (with a post so witty it got angered responses).  It brings me pleasure, and one of these days, I’ll buy something from someone.  Until that day, I use it as a window into the lives of my fellow central Iowans.

I’ll reserve comment on things like grammar, spelling, and general writing ability, because as we know, I can’t write either.  I do,, however, have one issue I’d like to address.  It goes something like this.

I’ve got a ‘74 Widgetblaster Special for sale.  (I’m not telling you this, but you know its the third time I’ve posted it).  Works ok, but could probably use some work.  Its pretty much totally used up past its engineered lifespan.  It cost $125 in 1974 (adjusted for inflation), and I’d like $90 or best offer for it.  I’ll go lower on the price if needed.  $65 is my bottom dollar.  

There are a couple issues here.  First of all, folks, once stuff is used up, it is used up.  Nothing illustrated this more than the prices people were asking for 25 year old mopeds once gas hit $3.75 a gallon.  $800 for an ‘86 Honda Spree?  Yeah, I’m pretty sure it retailed new in ‘86 for about $1200, so that seems like a fair price considering its been thrashed by eighteen different eighth graders over the last 22 years.

Secondly – why would you tell me a price, then tell me you want best offer, THEN tell me what your bottom dollar is?  What is my motivation to give you more than $65?  I don’t get it.

By the way, I’ll sell you this post for $18, though I’m willing to take a bit less.  In this case, a bit is equal to about eighteen dollars.

Hu’s Your Uncle?

Know who that guy is?  Guesses?  He did not play a Japanese C.E.O. in one of the Die Hard movies.  He is not the head of KIA, manufacturer of the Tow family truckster.  This is, in fact, Hu Jintao.  He’s the Paramount Leader of the People’s Republic of China, General Secretary of the Communist Party, President of the People’s Republic of China, and Chairman of the Central Military Commission.  

Translation?  He’s a big commie.  In fact, he is, at the moment, THE big commie.  A big commie with a lot of titles.

Anyway, he’s coming to Washington, D.C. this weekend.  To chat with Dubya.  I noticed again tonight that the news media refers to him in a way that is of interest to me.  I’m not an expert on Chinese names and surnames (though I was once offered a Chinese Heritage Mastercard to celebrate my Chinese heritage), but my understanding that his surname is actually “Hu”.    

The news media refers to him as “President Tao,” which catches my ear because, as you may know, I recently considered a 2012 bid for the Presidency myself.  I also thought that in light of my recent political discussions, I should clear up the facts that follow.

President Hu Jintao of China is not, in fact, related to me in any way.  It might have actually helped me out on the foreign policy front if this wasn’t the case, but you can’t change who your mom or your dad or your imaginary distant Chinese Communist Party leader uncle is, so I guess I’m stuck.  

Vocab

It isn’t always apparent, but kids are always learning. My best example of this is from the language they use.

Normally this is where you expect to hear about how I heard my son say a word that he learned when I let him watch Pulp Fiction. Don’t worry, he’s not a fan of the earlier Tarantino work.

This is more about the wonder I have at how much is going on in the head of an almost four year old girl.

Last night, Madilyn said she was “ecstatic” to go sonewhere.

A break in my thought;

As I am laying here on my bed typing this on my iPod touch, Shana asks me what I’m writing about. I say Madi saying ecstatic. She says ” you know she got that from the Fancy Nancy book. ”

I did not. So I guess I don’t have myself to thank for the vocabulary of the little girl. I only have myself to blame for allowing her access to books. I’ll work on that.

Withdrawal

I had previously announced via a Facebook status update that I was planning a run for President of the United States in 2012, regardless of who won the election. This was largely do the fact that I will be turning thirty-five in the spring, and will be, in 2012, eligible for the first time to be president.

It brings me great sadness to announce that I am removing my name from consideration for the ballot in 2012. I realize that many of you will be disappointed at this news, but I feel that it is in the best interest of myself and our great nation for me to make this decision. Some may question why I would choose to make this decision before President-Elect Obama’s administration has even begun. In truth, I feel that the campaign season for our presidential election is not currently long enough.

By announcing my withdrawal from the 2012 Presidential election, my great hope is that others will take note, and begin their campaigns in earnest before the holiday season is upon us. Only when our nation commits itself to a constant state of campaigning, fund-raising, and slandering of ones opponents will our nation be able to truly commit to fully ignoring the issues we have worked so long to ignore.

To those of you who pledged your vote and support, I thank you greatly, but encourage you instead to pledge your support to the candidate who starts their campaign the soonest. That is clearly the best measure of their dedication to the needs of our country. God bless you, and God bless the United States of America.

Some Projects

I go in spurts with things I’m working on. I find myself at the end of a spurt of home repair projects. Fence, shower, kitchen ceiling (see shower), siding, windows (see siding), drywall. I’ve had enough home projects for now, and I’m starting to make a mental list of things to figure out over the next few months. Some things in the queue;

Learn Maxscript – the programming language in 3dsmax – I first learned programming with Apple ][ basic in 1984, and I’ve goofed around off and on.

Brew Beer – my friend George and his new bride Tahra gave us a beer-brewing kit.

(This is the part where I panic and realize I am out of time and need to save the post)

I’m workin on the new skills. I’ll keep you posted.

I’m Just A Bigelow

“Good morning, Darjeeling, are you ready for your English Breakfast?”

It had been a long night for Earl Grey. That Perfect Peach of a wife he had taken to the Sweet Dreams party, Chamomile, had partied so Oolong into the night that you would have thought she was trying to be the new Rasberry Royale of the year. Sure, there was the moment where she Spiced Chai into the punch bowl, but this was no Vanilla moment.

“Earl, you’d be an American Classic if you weren’t British. That whole titles thing. Shame.”

“Always a Constant Comment from you, isn’t there.”

They walked into the nook, not realizing that they’d slept right through the English Breakfast laid out by room service. Fortunately, it was already English Teatime, and there were Fruit & Almond scones laid out on the table.

“Green with envy, thats what our friends are,” sighed Chamomile Grey as she poured a cup of coffee.

Three Encounters With Fire

There have been three times in my life where fire came close enough to my life to matter.

Fire #1 – Burn it all!

My paternal grandfather died in 1984. Since my dad was an only child, the task of clearing out the farmstead fell to our family. Long before the days of carbon footprints, the best way to dispose of a lot of the stuff, especially the wagonload of used cedar roofing shakes, was to put everything in a large pile, pour about five gallons of fuel oil over it, and light a match. Things were pretty fun, until about an hour later when the fire department showed up. Evidently, forty-foot tall flames on a farm raise a certain measure of concern in Superior, Iowa.

Fire #2 – Bathroom Wicker Explosion

April, 1991. The day I took the ACT exam. As I came home, chaos ensued. My youngest brother, Adam, was striking matches, blowing them out, and dropping them into the bathroom wastebasket, which was sitting in the middle of the floor. Problem was, it was made of wicker, and largely full of tissues. Once ignition occurred, the wastebasket turned into a fireball approximately six feet tall, melting the vinyl flooring. Best quote from Adam as he told my dad; “You’re really gonna spank me this time!”

Fire #3: The Apartment Fire

While I’ve covered this incident before in this post titled “Zoo”, it is worth mentioning again. Read that link to get the full picture, but here’s the rundown. Roomate leaves candle burning on top of aquarium hood. Roomate falls asleep upstairs at girlfriend’s apartment. Candle burns. Candle melts and catches aquarium hood fire. Smoke and melted plastic fill apartment. Ryan receives phone call during Thanksgiving break “Hey, we had a small fire in the apartment.” Hilarity ensues.

Those are three memorable ones. Probably not the only ones, probably not the last. Burn, baby burn.

How not What, or What not How

What better thing to do on election day than to bring together matters of church and state?  I’m not Congress, nor am I making a law respecting an establishment of religion or prohibiting the free exercise thereof, so I think we’re safe.

At our Westwind Connection Group a couple of weeks ago, we were talking about prayer, and talking specifically about the Lord’s Prayer.  Remember the Lord’s Prayer?

9“This, then, is how you should pray:
” ‘Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name,
10your kingdom come,
your will be done
on earth as it is in heaven. . .

The major question was as to whether, when Jesus prayed this with his disciples, the prayer was descriptive or prescriptive.  Is it a description of how to pray, or is it a line by line instruction set?  I landed on descriptive, homing in on the word “how”  – as opposed to it saying “This, then, is what you should pray”.  I could be wrong.  It has happened at least four times in the past.

So.  Election day.  How in the world does that  relate to the way you vote?  I give credit for this idea to my pal Mark The Porsche Fanatic, with whom I was having a discussion about the election at church on Sunday.  I had previously whittled down my thoughts on how to vote to essentially one question.  That being; “what should the role of the federal government of the United States of America be in the lives of its people?”   That takes care of an awful lot for me.  He brought up the Constitution – and the question of whether it is fluid and dynamic, or whether it was pretty clearly set in stone by the framers.  Something crystallized in my mind, and I realized that it was the same question again.  Is the Constitution of the United States of America a descriptive or prescriptive document?

Those are some of the ideas that have framed my political thoughts over the last few weeks.  As much as concepts of change and outsiderism and leadership and experience matter, I’m disappointed that deeper, more philosophical questions aren’t being asked.  I can’t remember the last time I heard any real discussion among either party of what things the government should and shouldn’t be doing.  What are the things that our government is supposed to do?  Are there limits to those things?

I don’t really know.  I know we all want what we want, and putting limits on what our government does means people have to start saying “nah, I don’t want/need/deserve that” or “we can’t really afford that” or “that person needs that more than I do”.  Until some of those cultural changes happen in the hearts of people, I guess both parties will just try to keep doing everything to keep everyone happy.

That wandered around a lot.  These words may have been more for me than for you today.  Apologies.