Vacation 2012: "But We Are Old"

During the last couple of days I've made my way through DQ Country to Yosemite and spent a couple of days here, taking some arduous hikes. Here's how it happened.

Labor Day became Travel Day. It took around six hours door to door to get to the Yosemite Lodge. Kimberly and I first had breakfast at Fat Apples, where we had lunch on Saturday. After doing some wash and saying our goodbyes, I headed east. My hoped for idyllic top down drive all the way to Yosemite survived only for a couple of hours though, as 98 degree heat soon overtook me. Just outside of Oakland, it suddenly turned into Northwest Texas. Just rolling, scrubby, burned hills...the proverbial miles and miles of miles. I didn't need that, for sure. So somewhere around Tracy, CA, I put the top up. Waste of good money. Well, it'll come in handy when I get to Monterey. By the way, this place is like militia country. What the hell is going on out here that these people feel the need to live on the surface of the Sun? You'd think they were somehow involved in agriculture. But based on my stop at the local Wendy's, unless illiteracy and meth counts as agriculture, that's not what they're doing. The other Mustang I parked next to...yeah, it had a permanent Raiders emblem on both sides. 'Nuff said.

Around Oakdale, the scrub seemed to give way. Oakdale seems like a nice little American town. It has a four lane road and a Starbuck's (the internationally recognized sign of municipal prominence). Maybe Oakdale wasn't sufficiently charming to stop, but I did want to go to the House of Beef (specializing in seasoned sirloin tri-tip). As I posted earlier, a House of Beef may not be structurally sound, but it sure would be tasty.

After Oakdale, agriculture proper takes over. I passed countless orchards, irrigated fields, produce stands, and small farms. How do they grow all these plants in what is essentially a desert? They divert river water for irrigation, growing crops in land that otherwise would be lifeless dirt. Whether that makes any sense as water becomes one of the scarcest commodities I leave to you. Beyond the signs for Tulloch Lake, the elevation picks up, the heat starts to drop, and native trees make a return. Rocks litter the landscape, competing with the trees for space. Traffic flowed pretty well going east; cars leaving Yosemite bound for the coast, however, absolutely choked the one westbound lane for miles on end.

The road in to Yosemite initially goes through some heavy forest, but quickly starts to hug the side of the mountains. There's no gas stations in Yosemite Valley, where I'm staying, so I paid $5.09 for basic unleaded at the station just after the entrance. It was hard sitting down for a few hours after that, but they charge super-inflated prices for just about everything. Its like Hawaii, or New Zealand, or the Gulf Coast after a hurricane. Apparently gouging has become part of the National Parks experience. It takes forever to make it to the Valley because of the super low speed limits, winding roads, and the fact that I stopped every five minutes to take pictures. The Valley, where most people tend to visit, is situated along the Merced River, which runs between a series of huge granite cliffs. Right away you see the incredible natural beauty. A little closer in you encounter the famous El Capitan, and then the Cathedral Rocks. Still closer to the Lodge, where I'm staying, a herd of black tail deer was foraging in the meadow.

Yosemite has several lodging options, anything from the Ahwanhee Hotel, which is like a Hilton or a really nice Hyatt, to tent camps. The Lodge is analogous to a Hampton Inn, albeit with a better dining set up.  The Lodge is actually the "Lodge at Yosemite Falls," but the Falls have actually dried up (oh snap) until later in the year, as they rely on snow melt and all the snow has run off. The Falls dried up in early August. All around one can smell a strong tree scent. They've set up a shuttle bus system running throughout the Valley, taking people to all the popular locations for free. I took the shuttle over to Yosemite Village, to get some basics from the Village Store (Prisoner, anyone?).  The driver chastised me for going in the exit door (in through the out door, anyone?). On the way back, I paid my debt to society by listening to her offer her opinions on Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, and how the newer Johnny Depp movie wasn't nearly as good, and how she doesn't have a TV set but likes to watch DVDs, but only DVDs she can fall asleep to, and her favorite is the series Alice, because its Alice In Wonderland but the science fiction version. Anyone remember when I said the whole point of vacation was NOT to have to talk to people? I chimed in with "uh huhs" and "reallys" where appropriate. Whatever, freak.  Oh, and I was the only person on the bus after she shooed away this young couple trying to do a bunch of stuff after the buses stop running and the stores close at 10. They were incensed that things didn't stay open until midnight. In a national park. Hundreds of miles from the nearest after-hours club, yoga studios, and late night shopping. Hell the nearest Starbucks is in Oakdale and that's about two hours away. The whole point of a national park is that its not Los Angeles. Go back to West Hollywood, chatches.

The next morning I took a tour bus out to Glacier Point, towards the southern end of the Park, for what became a six and one-half hour hike back to the Valley. Glacier Point has long been one of the Park's more popular destinations. At its 7,000 foot elevation it provides fantastic views of the Valley, including Half Dome, the Vernal and Nevada Waterfalls, Mt. Hoffman, and other peaks. I took the photo above at Glacier Point. The trip there took an hour and a half, with an irritating tour bus driver wrapping somewhat interesting facts and figures around the worst jokes ever told. Which basically is the Tour Guide  profession, I suppose. I've taken exactly one tour bus where the driver's schtick didn't make me want to re-enact one of those scenes in Airplane where people are killing themselves as Stryker drones on telling his life story. That was at Edinburgh Castle in Scotland. Anyway, we passed El Capitan, Cathedral Rocks, Bridal Veil Falls, and the now dry Yosemite Falls en route.  I started hiking around 10:30, and aside from stopping about 20 minutes to brush off my new camera that I dropped in the dirt about 10 minutes in to the hike, and about a 20 minute lunch break, didn't stop until around 5:30. Mostly the hike was downhill; in fact, it had such a steep downhill grade that the last couple of hours or so I could feel my quadriceps twitching they were working so hard (sidebar-new punk or angry grrll band name: "Twitching Quadriceps"). The hike, along the Panorama and Mist Trails, runs past three waterfalls (Illilouette, Nevada, and Vernal), one river (Merced), and provides fantastic views of Half Dome and its sister "Sub Dome", and even a little (unsanctioned) swimming hole or two near the Nevada Falls. This hike boasted several highlights. I saw a green rattlesnake for the first time. Not sure exactly why it was green, but apparently it is the Mojave Green Rattlesnake, with a very small rattle. It was crawling just alongside the trail in a bush, and a woman about 30 feet ahead of me screamed bloody murder when she saw it. Other highlights included the Ahwahnee Hotel tour, led by two 20-ish year olds, one of whom went to TCU (nice job prospects there, Horned Frogs), the other of whom was a young woman who literally would not shut up about her recently broken engagement. I started from Glacier Point about the same time as them, and apparently kept the same pace. Were it not for the dropped camera, I may have had to burst my eardrums from the pain. I also enjoyed the couple who felt compelled to fight with each other, and keep the same pace as me, for about a couple of miles. Needless to say, this trail was very popular and about as populated as any trail I've ever hiked. The falls were quite spectacular. The Nevada Falls flowed into Emerald Pool, which had about the clearest Irish green water I've ever seen, and which then flowed into the Vernal Falls. Both falls were quite loud; even with my terrible hearing I could hear them all the way at the top of Glacier Point and throughout most of my hike. The Vernal Falls created a rainbow effect as they hit bottom, and threw off mist (hence the "Mist Trail") for hundreds of feet in every direction. It was a fairly warm day for Yosemite, in the upper 80s, and the place is always very dry. I ran out of water with about an hour left. Iced tea cravings kept me going to the shuttle at the hike's end.

The next day took me further north, to Tuolumne Meadows in the "High Country" to hike to Cathedral Lakes (there's two, an "Upper" and a "Lower"). I hadn't planned on the drive to the trailhead taking over an hour (thanks to road construction--hey, if we can't have late night grocery stores, we shouldn't have to deal with road construction). But it was a cool day, and the Tioga Road passed some very interesting scenery so it wasn't too painful. Of course, I prepared for this day's hike as if it were yesterday, taking far too much water, and not enough clothing. It was a good 20 degrees cooler at this higher elevation (7,000'), and towards the end of the day, near sunset, I could feel my hands becoming numb. Plus, today was cloudier, with clouds rolling in and out all day long. This hike had an elevation gain of about 1,000', meaning that it wasn't mostly downhill as was yesterday's hike. It started at the Meadows, a well known Park area boasting clear grasslands and no doubt wildflowers in spring. The Tuolumne River cuts through the Meadows, nourishing the clearing. The sight of numerous twenty-somethings in excellent shape bearing full trekking gear should have been my first clue this hike would pose a challenge. They looked like they were headed out to Milford Track in New Zealand, one of the world's greatest and most challenging hiking trails. As opposed to me, who finally figured out the reason my right boot was surprisingly tight was because that's where my lost tube of chap stick was hiding. My hike was almost straight up for about an hour, leveling off as it approached the first Lower Cathedral Lake. While the Glacier Point areas were fairly heavily forested, this area resembled northern New Mexico, only somewhat greener. The trees were scrubbier, and the whole area was chock full of rock and boulders. Right around where the trail leveled off, I got in front of three retirees, who insisted on talking loudly about their recipes and their gardens and various daily medicine routines. I couldn't quite shake them, at least not for awhile. And I left my ipod in my pack and didn't want to stop and take it out. So I had to do a LaDanian Tomlinson burst to create some distance. Or endure their waterboarding-like conversation. Approaching the lake, the trees gave way to another meadow, revealing the gorgeous Lower Cathedral Lake. A large granite expanse bordered its northern shore, accessible for hikers, while the southern side was tree-lined.  The water was deep and blue, with brown grasses covering a portion of the lake bed. I ate lunch along the shore beneath a small cedar tree, enjoying the still cool temperatures (maybe a windy, sunny upper 60s). Cathedral Peak dominated the scenery, jutting up with several spires higher than any of the surrounding peaks. After finishing lunch I headed on to Upper Cathedral Lake, which unfortunately did not seem accessible. So I kept hiking just a bit beyond and found a nice, exceptionally large meadow which opened up the space between three high peaks and the lake. Returning, I ran across another asian family (actually, by this time, they ran me down) looking for their son, with whom they were supposed to rendezvous at "Cathedral Lake." They had the wrong lake. They didn't quite speak english. I tried telling the father about the other lake, and how to get there. I asked if his son was young, and he said "he is 21, but we are old!" I guess, meaning that he and his wife were getting pretty tired. The guy looked younger than me, by the way, so that's good to know. The trail was also the John Muir Trail, doubling as a horse trail, and I saw several horses being moved. Horses had fertilized the whole trail, so careful footing was the order of the day. Around the fourth hour, I started experiencing some really bad right foot pain, primarily due to my small toe's nail getting extremely irritated and sensitive. Like most of your political posts on Facebook. I had to cut my speed dramatically just to get back, and by the end was limping pretty badly. Its been painful ever since.

So I'm not quite sure if I can hike tomorrow or not. Stay tuned to find out.

Vacation 2012: Wild Turkeys, the Black Hole, Flamenco Dancing, and the Hells Angels

Welcome to Vacation 2012, officially underway.  Friday was mostly a travel day, where I suffered the usual TSA indignities along with countless other proletarians that seemed to jam the airport. The atmosphere here was a little strange. Much more bustling than a usual Friday afternoon. The business people, forced to mix with the WalMart crowd, looked very worried, as if one of the unkempt worker-types (who by all rights should be taking the bus) might touch them or bump them from a flight. One particularly Banana Republic-clad chatch looking guy, anxiously pacing up and down while barking instructions on his newly released smart phone. That guy needed to back up and let it go, because he was stressing me, and no doubt some wife or secretary was extremely worried on the other end about the volcano that was going to explode when that guy returned home. The others were no doubt looking forward to fabulous destinations, like...Jacksonville...or other meth lab locations. You can tell where people at the airport are going just by looking at the gates, without even looking at the gate label. The party people are going to New Orleans or Las Vegas. The worn, beaten, humorless looking people who look like there's a permanent gray sky wherever they go are going to the East Coast. People who look like they should star on a Cops episode, or 80 year olds who have skin made of saddle leather, are on their way to Florida. The Southern travelers? That's generally anyone in a group with one or more family member, or women saying things like "mama my legs are sweating." Those traveling to the West resemble tall hobbits : emaciatedly thin, eco-friendly, Birkenstock and breeches-wearing earth dwellers, wizened and slow-moving due to their exclusively plant based diets (including copious amounts of mary jane).

Yes, it IS good to be so much better than everyone else.

I knew immediately I arrived at the correct gate for the Oakland flight when I found the one that looked like the yard at San Quentin. The place was filled with Raiders Fans, which is kind of one and the same. By all rights I should have been shanked after about 10 minutes near the gate. Imagine Newport Yacht Club during the season. This was the exact opposite. But fortune blessed me and I managed to survive the wait and made it onto the Southwest flight. This one actually served the peanuts, unlike the last flight where they announced that because one guy was allergic, they couldn't serve any peanuts. At all. Where the hell did all this nut allergy come from? I didn't know anyone for about 30 years with a nut allergy, much less something that could shut down a whole plane from enjoying the one and only perk Southwest Airlines makes available. Was anyone allergic to peanuts in 1969? Not that I knew of. We ate them everywhere. And peanut butter. Now kids can't trade their lunches, and every school cafeteria has a "nut free zone." Chris Rock once said no one in Somalia is lactose-intolerant, and I bet no one there has nut allergies either. Oh, and the peanut sacks all say "produced in a facility that processes peanuts and other nuts." Really? The bag of peanuts, you say? Wow. Either the FAA has so dumbed down its regulations that next they'll be telling us how to sit in a chair (which they do for emergency exit rows) or attorneys at huge law firms billing hundreds per hour are doling out some really incredible lawsuit-preventative advice. Either way, its pretty brilliant stuff. But we did enjoy some uplifting moments. First, when the pilot pointed out our passing over the Yosemite Valley. Even from our height you can see the dark forest, the snow capped peaks and the cragged terrain, all giving way to the Central California desert (or valley, depending on whether you work for the local chamber of commerce). The other was when they announced that one of the passengers was celebrating his 92nd birthday. He had been a fighter pilot in World War II, Korea, and Vietnam. The passengers broke into unbidden applause. I saw the guy in question later on, who looked like he was about 65. Remarkable.

The Oakland airport has improved considerably over the years, from the time when it made remote Argentinian airports look like O'Hare. Its now just like a real airport, just like what happened with Hobby. Eventually I made it to the rental car counter, where to my satisfaction they had reserved me a new red Mustang convertible with white stripes. Exactly what I need for my look. You can't represent in a Subaru.

Off I went down the 880 to Pinole, weaving in and out of Oakland rush hour traffic, past the "Black Hole" where the Oakland Raiders and A's play, along with countless motorcycles speeding in between traffic lanes and scaring the hell out of me and no doubt everyone else. At one point I saw a Hells Angel blaring his Harley right past everyone. Kind of like seeing an endangered species. I had no idea the Hells Angels was still a thing. Turns out not only are they still around, they've got a web site. Who knew? It seemed an appropriate sight while passing through Oakland, which these days resembles Detroit in RoboCop. Or just Detroit.

But eventually I arrived at Chez Ligocki, with Kimberly, Taffy and Rocky waiting to greet me. We feasted on a lovely, homemade dinner of pork and beef sausage meatballs and sauce, quinoa pasta, and salad with tomatoes grown in their garden. Quite a lovely way to end the evening.

The next day I set out to run into downtown Pinole, and at the outset discovered that a herd ("covey" "flock" what's the right word) of wild turkeys were chasing me down the street. Certainly not what you'd expect while jogging in an urban environment, but California has always been a land of possibilities, so why not? I returned to enjoy yet another awesome home cooked meal of scrumptious scrambled eggs and cheese, blueberries, and oatmeal. When Terry could join us after his tennis match, we headed out to Tilden Regional Park. The Bay Area boasts spectacular natural scenery and the communities long ago created an extensive park network. Berkeley's biggest park, Tilden, is no exception. In fact, Kimberly and Terry held their wedding in the Park many years ago. I was a "bridesman." Don't judge me. Today we saw no weddings, but did hike two miles out to Inspiration Point and enjoyed panoramic views of the entire Bay, including San Francisco, Oakland, Marin County, Angel Island, and Richmond. We enjoyed a really clear day with temperatures in the 70s. I very easily adapted to daytime conditions that weren't in the upper 90s with 80% humidity. No doubt the weather keeps people from leaving that might ordinarily flee the taxes, crime, and sky high living costs.

After our little hike we enjoyed a nice, healthy lunch at Fat Apples in El Cerrito (I think). I had some really good chili and a spinach salad. Looks like they serve great breakfast, and the bakery had a huge case full of great looking pies, cakes, and cookies. We then went home and crashed for awhile, Terry and I enjoying some college football. Then we headed into the city for a flamenco dancing show and tapas as LaLoLa Restaurant on Mason Street. This small, intimate Spanish restaurant features excellent food. We enjoyed a variety of dishes, including lamb chops, pork ribs, beans with sausage, chicken with salad, and an excellent cheese plate. The real treat, however, was the flamenco guitar, singing, and dance performance held in the basement. Terry's tennis friend David plays guitar for a monthly show at the Restaurant. This evening featured a dancer from Malaga, Spain, as well as a native San Franciscan. I'd not seen flamenco dance; it differed from my expectations. It struck me as almost balletic, rather than other more interactive dance forms. Both dancers displayed real focus, power, and artistry, and David's outstanding guitar performance really set the stage. The crowd, which noticeably filled with Spanish and similar-looking people, enthusiastically enjoyed the show. They really knocked us over too.

The next day, after running for about a half hour at Hilltop Lake Park, Kimberly treated me to another great breakfast of eggs, miniature strawberries (which I've never heard of), yogurt, and bacon. If the whole journalism thing doesn't work out, she could turn this into a pretty good bed and breakfast. Terry had another tennis outing planned, so Kimberly and I headed into Marin County in the Mustang, sans top, to explore Mill Valley and Tiburon. Mill Valley has long been a favorite, sitting near Muir Woods and nestled in the redwoods and maples. It boasts a number of local shops and good restaurants. We had lunch at Piazza d'Angelo, a place that Kimberly and Terry first introduced me to many years ago. We sat next to the open window facing the town plaza, enjoying the Japanese maples and the passers-by. I had an almond covered sole with salad, Kimberly had a salad with wine vinaigrette and grand padano cheese. We walked through the town, particularly enjoying the local park, located in an old growth redwood grove along the creek running through town. From there we headed to Tiburon, just on the Bay north of Angel Island. The town seemed quite larger than Mill Valley, or at least much more spread out along the road heading by the Bay to the ferry landing. We walked around some to enjoy the sun as it sank in the late afternoon, and watch the fog rolling over the Golden Gate Bridge. Lots of families were walking about as well; we enjoyed watching an elderly lady who had walked down from the hill with a bag of dog treats (and a toblerone bar), passing out treats to the dogs running through the bayside park.

After Tiburon, we headed back home where Kimberly made a really great, spicy roast, with green beans and peas. We also enjoyed some Cowgirl Creamery cheese we bought in Mill Valley. I visited Cowgirl Creamery in Point Reyes with Kimberly and Terry many years ago, then again while on my vacation a couple of years ago. So enjoying some with Kimberly and Terry again brought back those memories.

Ugh, ok. That about covers it. We've been pretty active since I arrived, but tomorrow its on to Yosemite and my dance with rat-borne death. Apparently the local news now is reporting that perhaps thousands who stayed in the Curry Village cabins in July and August may be at risk, but that the Park won't be closing or restricting access any further than it already has. Good to know. Of course, you can't sue them so what do they care?

Question: if I'm listening to the Marshall Tucker band past midnight while I'm in San Francisco, should I be worried?

Next-on to Yosemite, and hiking, hiking, hiking.

World Tour 2012: Into the Plague Zone

Well, its that time again. Time for me to take a "one percent" style vacation, unsaddled with screaming kids or complaining significant others, to some super awesome cool destination most people only dream of. Like The Woodlands. As many of you (by "many" I mean "six") may remember, the reason I started this blog was so I could "report" about my vacation adventures. In recent years I've been fortunate enough to visit some great international spots, including Argentina, New Zealand, Ireland, and Scotland. Domestically, I've seen Western Washington, the Maine and Oregon Coasts, Redwoods National Park, Lake Tahoe, Savannah, Charleston, and New York. And, I've tried to post as I went along, sharing the intriguing sights and sounds with all of you.

You can tell a lot about a person based on how they spend their vacation. Most people I know like to find some beach or cruise ship and become a crisp piece of inert burnt toast. They'll spend all day in the sun, reading a book and drinking cocktails with umbrellas or craft beers, then wearing some loose fitting floral themed outfit at night to a theme dinner and dance. This combines the things I hate the most into one expensive and tiring experience: heat, lying around doing nothing or things you could do at your house, loungewear, and talking to other people. Like going on a super discount Mexican cruise with Frank and Estelle Costanza. Or with a gaggle of legal secretaries from Little Rock (all married to guys with names like "Vernon" or "T-Bo"), celebrating someone's 50th birthday. I try assiduously to avoid all such elements, probably to my detriment.

No, for me, its all about exploring somewhere new. I think of vacation as some sort of anthropological expedition, with hiking. And nice restaurants. And clean sheets. Or as my friend Theresa once put it, my vacations resemble Patton going into battle. I suppose they do exude some element of Sherman laying siege to Atlanta. Mainly I just try to observe, blend in, and enjoy the vibe of some other land.

"Vibe" seemed appropriate by the way, but I promise to eschew further chach word choices. No I do not have a mustache or seven gold chains visible in my chest hair thanks to unbuttoning my shirt half way. Not today at least.

What was I talking about?

Oh, yeah. Sadly, all the Disney theme cruises were booked through year's end, so this year, my two week lawyering respite takes me to the Golden State. California Dreaming. There I'll spend a week hiking in and enjoying the general splendor of Yosemite National Park, followed by a few days in the Central California Coast enjoying the amazing scenery of Carmel, Monterey, Big Sur, and Santa Cruz, and finally winding up with a few days in San Francisco. Fighting hordes of sticky faced kids at the ice cream bar waiting to see Goofy and Donald Duck will have to wait at least another year.

Now, as some of you have correctly noted, Yosemite is having a bit of, shall we say, a problem. Well, its just a little bit of, you know, [cough] fatal rat-borne disease deaths [cough]. [The "cough" thing doesn't work as well in writing I guess]. Specifically, several people who stayed in a particular tent cabin location contracted "hantavirus," spread by rats, and died.

This might put off some people, who, curiously, don't want to vacation in a known rat-borne fatal illness location. Go figure. People are getting soft. But not this guy. First off, the Park isn't exactly sitting around doing nothing. Like the trained federal government employees they are, the Park Service has sprung into action, closing down the affected cabins, cleaning the area, and trying to trap affected rodents. Their goal is to "reduce the risk of other visitors becoming ill," which I know, you're saying "WHAT? JUST REDUCE??!!" which is just stinkin' thinkin'. Hey, they're the Feds. I feel lucky they're not going to bill me for the clean up costs. After all, I didn't build those cabins. The government did. Plus, Yosemite is this great big park, with lots and lots of empty space (well, there's trees and mountains and stuff), and the exposures have only been at one specific spot where I'm not even staying. I'm sure the Service has the place roped off. Right? Surely its roped off? And diseases never travel through the air so I'm good. Also, this will perhaps keep more people away from the park, fulfilling another of my vacation objectives (avoid human interactions). And finally, let's face it, any of us are at much greater risk walking on any downtown street in America. I shudder to think what kind of germ warfare toxic oozing pus diseases are crawling on every air molecule we breathe on Sixth Street. [You like that? You see what I did there?]. The fact that I don't contract cholera or dengue fever or bubonic plague every time I go downtown is just a matter of grace. So Yosemite will still seem like a NASA clean room by comparison.

Now, as previously mentioned, I don't think I'll blog every day. Its difficult to jazz up the description of scenery. Like the astronauts trying to describe how beautiful the earth appears from space. My vacation posts describing hikes all go like this: "And then I took the Smith Trail, and it went through some thick woods. They were pretty. The trail went up and then down, kind of like life. HA!!! LOL!! Then after a long time, it came to a viewpoint and you could see a mountain. The mountain was tall. It had lots of snow and it was pretty too. Hey, did you see the Star Trek episode where McCoy got annoyed at Spock and then cured some incurable disease in about a half hour?" Its like a fifth grade book report at Lindsay Lohan Elementary. That's so RETARDED!!! So I'm not sure how often I'll post. Maybe just to introduce the copious photos I hope to take, with my brand new, totally awesome Nikon camera and super fancy lens. Which, no doubt, I'll drop into a stream the first day out. Eeyore posts.

After that, I'll drive to Monterey, California, and spend three days. I'll visit such places as Carmel, Big Sur, etc. as listed above. Monterey is right on the coast, and is home to the famous Aquarium and Cannery Row of Steinbeck fame. The whole area boasts some incredible scenery, such as the Pebble Beach golf course, Big Sur, and some amazing coastline views.

Then I'll head to Gomorrah, i.e. San Francisco. Normally when I go out to the Bay Area I stay with Kimberly and Terry (read Kimberly's blog, linked off to the side, or I shall kill you!!) and we never go into the city proper. Which generally is ok because there the rat-borne diseases are afraid of the even more deadly poisons lurking on every corner. But I do enjoy Golden Gate Park, and Pacific Heights, and Twin Peaks, and maybe the Giants will be playing in their incredible baseball park near the Embarcadero. So I'll spend the last three days in the city.

Like a Boss.

That's pretty much it. Keep checking in for reports from The Road. If I don't make it back, sell my stuff and give Ron the proceeds (if he ever makes it out of the flood-praying for you Big Guy!).

The Mangled Chick Fil A "Debate"

Its time to talk turkey. Or chicken, actually. Chick Fil A chicken. I know I'm about two weeks late and no one cares about this anymore (proving one of my points below), but I had more important things to do. Like...watching pre-season football, and hanging around, and staring off into space. Geez, sorry for living [passive aggressive sigh]!

I try to avoid politics here. Its just so depressing. The chance that someone will read and become "converted" amount to slim and none. Besides, as we all suffer information overload and can access news instantly, who, exactly, remains "uncommitted"? Unless you just don't care or you never form opinions without knowing what Kim Kardashian thinks. (Hint: she doesn't think-she has people who do that for her). You're so damn touchy. People see "I disagree with your strongly held views for the following reasons" but they read "you're an immoral degenerate fascist." Besides, who fundamentally changes their fundamental beliefs? So why I should waste time lecturing you on politics escapes me. Far better to write about how Patrick Swayze really shouldn't have worn that black leather Terminator outfit when he went to ask Dr. Houseman to give Baby another chance after the, well, you know episode. After all, Baby's got just as big a heart as her horrible older sister Lisa, but can sing and dance way better. See, that's how my writing can make the world a better place.

But this whole Chick Fil A nonsense, with our nation's lonely eyes turned to a fast food chicken peddler as the symbol of moral outrage or decency, depending on your view, went WAY too far to ignore.

I know a lot of you think that prohibiting same sex marriage is right up there with enslavement or virgin sacrifice, and you're frothing at the mouth that anyone could even tolerate an opposite view. But, some think its a legitimate topic to debate, and if you possibly can get past the "that guy's evil and horrible; no, THAT guy's evil and horrible" approach, its an interesting debate. But it became about...chicken.

How did it ever get this far? Well, here's how the controversy arose.

For those who don't like to click links, the Baptist Recorder, an on-line journal, interviewed Chick Fil A's President, Dan Cathy. The Baptist Press reprinted this article. Now, this was just a general interest piece on a Baptist businessman. The Baptist Press, which doesn't exactly have People magazine's circulation, prints these articles all the time, with the interview subjects all saying pretty much the same thing. You don't exactly read the Baptist Press to find 10 ways to please your man in bed, or its secular humanist CEO interview series. Or for its incessant "up with gay rights" commentaries. Anyway, Cathy said:

"We are very much supportive of the family -- the biblical definition of the family unit.… We are a family owned business, a family led business, and we are married to our first wives. We give God thanks for that."

Well, the broader media picked up those comments and all the sudden it was like stampeding cattle through the Vatican. Come to find out, Chick Fil A contributed to pro-family/anti-gay marriage groups. So...the Muppets (!!) backed out of some sponsorship deal. I had no idea they were gay. Bert and Ernie, sure. But Oscar the Grouch? He's far too cranky to be gay-friendly. But this pushed them over the edge. The Mayors of Boston and Chicago decreed that they would fight any further Chick Fil A expansion in their towns, failing of course to note the irony of excluding people because they don't believe in inclusion (like the crowd scene in Life of Brian, "you're all individuals!" "we are all individuals!"). Politicians everywhere jumped on the bandwagon. The Mayor of Washington D.C. condemned Chick Fil A as "hate chicken." No, really, he said that. A Philadelphia alderman vowed to prevent Chick Fil A from expanding in Philly. Activists announced a gay "kiss day" where they would go to Chick Fil A restaurants and...kiss. Sort of a cross between the Occupy movement and the Pride parade. Predictably, the Daily Show weighed in (against Chick Fil A, I know, shocking!), late night comedians piled on...pretty quickly, the entire liberal establishment had leveled its fire straight (heh, heh) at Chick Fil A. Haven't heard from Matt Damon yet, but I'm sure he's working on a statement. I haven't heard when the "kiss day" will happen at your local still anti-gay (at least, officially, wink) Catholic Church. Or Texas A&M. Others have asked customers to boycott Chick Fil A. Including the guy who plays Andy Bernard on the Office (the "Nard Dog"), whose name absolutely no one can remember. Boy, Chick Fil A's on its last legs now, huh?

Cue the backlash. The anti-gay crowd (sorry, the "free speech crowd") started organizing to support Chick Fil A. US Senate candidate Ted Cruz's supporters vowed to eat at Chick Fil A. His opponent, David Dewhurst, followed suit. Dewhurst is used to following, so that's no surprise. Oh, and how funny is the Dew, richer than Calvin Coolidge (put together!) eating at Chick Fil A? That's like Baron de Rothschild having the fried cheese sticks and three for one happy hour watermelon martinis at the Grapevine Chili's. Rick Santorum organized a pro-Chick Fil A twitter campaign. Camera hog Sarah Palin made one of her trademark imperial visits to a Chick Fil A. One group rallied supporters to attend "Chick Fil A Appreciation Day." By all accounts it was a rousing success, with drive through lines snaking around the block at many establishments. I was hoping it would happen the same day as the gay kissers. That would have made for a good confrontation. Like when the Blazing Saddles cast fight spilled onto the set of the 30s musical. The "French Mistake" indeed. "Piss on you, I'm working for Mel Brooks!'" Finally, the ACLU got in on the act, supporting Chick Fil A's free expression rights. Great. You always want the one group who supports the Klan on your side. And who supports the Illinois Nazis.

This has become one of those modern American flare ups, where people become utterly outraged and incensed over some random happening, which generally has been going on for years. The usual suspects turn it into a good old fashion lynch mob, demanding instant and immediate change (primarily hounding the target from our midst), politicians eagerly lend a hand and promise a thorough investigation and swift change, and cowardly advertisers cringe in fear that their association with the target could hurt profits. Then everyone forgets all about it two weeks later after something really important happens. Like Christina Aguilera showing up "fat" (you know, a size 2) to the Grammys, or Justin Bieber clubbing with Kim Kardashian, or Oprah having a summer special with Miley Cyrus and Taylor Lautner. Remember the Gulf Coast oil spill? Rush saying mean things about a law student? I thought not. "Yeah! We're going to get him! This is outrageous! I'm never listening again and OH MY GOD is Mario Lopez on Dancing With the Stars?!!!??" Ours is not a country that keeps its eyes on the prize. Except when the prize is fighting to keep Olive Garden's never ending bread sticks on the menu.

Enough putting it off. Let's look at how both sides have totally botched this thing. Not so much to debate the substance. You believe what you want to believe. I'm not here to convert you (see above). No, there's some other things we need to address.

First off, the backlash to the backlash has gone a wee bit far. The anti-gay marriage/pro-Chick Fil A people have characterized those who refuse to patronize Chick Fil A over this as religiously intolerant, and of deny seeking to Chick Fil A its free speech rights. I know, I know...they're not real Americans. Like there's some Constitutional definition of a "real" American. I miss a lot of things because of work and my busy napping schedule, but I missed the announcement that guess in 21st century America, you can't spend your money at only businesses that share your values because that would deny a business' free speech rights. Too bad, so sad. Free speech rights don't require anyone to listen to the speaker, much less to buy their chicken. The politicians who want to kick Chick Fil A out of town are depriving Chick Fil A of its rights. But not consumers who decide to buy their fast food chicken somewhere else. This still isn't Russia, and you can spend your money however you like, on legal pursuits of course, for whatever reason. [Oh, except you have to buy health care insurance or you'll pay a penalty. Errr...its a tax...never mind.] If you don't want to spend your money somewhere that opposes gay marriage, or supports the troops, or sponsors the Boy Scouts, or that drove out local businesses, or whatever, by all means, take your stand. There's millions of other places where you can buy a marginal chicken sandwich.

Besides, the outrage is a litle too much. "How DARE you crticize Chick Fil A!!!" Kind of resembles when you're caught in a lie and rather than confessing, you go on the attack. A real lawyer's move. Look, let's just call this what it really is. A lot of the pro-Chick Fil A fervor has nothing to do with protecting free speech. I doubt these people attend ACLU rallies, or praise cities that tolerated Occupy rallies earlier this year. They'll defend your right to say something...as long as what you want to say isn't on their "sin list." Most of these people would jump at the chance to ban the New York Times or MSNBC or any other Pravda-esque liberal rag, just because they disagree with the point of view expressed. (Its un-American). This is about opposing gay rights, or even gays themselves. They oppose any fleeting mention or depiction of sexual subjects (while of course yukking it up over shows featuring graphic violence). These people have seen gay rights going from pretty much being able to beat the ever loving crap out of gays with impunity to gays possessing close to equal rights in many ways. Its pretty clear all legal distinctions will disappear within the next 10-20 years. The anti- crowd probably feels the urge to make a last stand somewhere, and sawing the pro- crowd off that limb that is Chick Fil A must seem very tempting. But its a little too dramatic. Very gay, actually.

But of course, the morally superior progressive crowd, tearing up their rotator cuffs from so much self back-slapping, so much better in every way than neanderthal conservatives, have once again managed to outsmug even themselves. The same sex marriage boosters lost this battle when Chick Fil A and free speech became the focus. We're not talking about how gay marriage is totally awesome wonderful cool. We're talking about chicken. And free speech. And local governments trying to run businesses out of town when they don't hold the "right" views (which suspiciously coincide with the views politicians think will elicit the most votes). And whether you're supporting evil when you buy two for one hate chicken. The pro- crowd lost the topic. They came off as picking on a seemingly otherwise responsible company, flogging it for holding beliefs that, right or wrong, millions of Americans share. How did they lose the topic? By going totally over the top. The pro- crowd totally over did it, like some overwrought Susan Hayward moment (trust me, that was really funny). Kicking Chick Fil A out of town? Boycotting it? Denying its rights to conduct business? Launching into self-righteous moral harangues? Because its management expressed a view many others share. What, no setting its management adrift on an ice floe? How's all that going? Well, its caused the opposition to harden its views. That is all. I seriously doubt its changed one person's gay marriage views. It sure hasn't changed Chick Fil A's. Or the Boy Scouts' views.

Quite to the contrary, the only thing the pro- crowd has accomplished is driving up Chick Fil A's sales as the anti's eat more chicken. Is that a thing now? Insults? Threats? Opportunism? Killing the opposition with saturated fat? King never condemned his enemies. They beat him, jailed him, reviled him, spied on him...you name it. He prayed for segregationists and forgave them. He knew he needed to convince whites that segregation was wrong. Its hard to convince someone to change their mind when you're attacking them personally. King persuaded through example and conviction. I doubt he'd have run around squawking about "hate chicken." (Get it? "Squawking"..."chicken"? Hello?) But that's not "debate" anymore. I am not more likely to believe your opinions if you call me "evil" when I don't. Go figure.

Some Chick Fil A employees no doubt oppose Mr. Cathy's views as well, as one manager urgently told an on-line site. More than likely some of Mr. Cathy's family members and shareholders disagree with him as well. And while punishing Chick Fil A through boycotts and local government discrimination might slightly impact Chick Fil A's top management who advocate this philosophy, it could well wind up causing some innocent fast food worker to lose his or her job.

Symbols provide a powerful means to convey a point, and a movement sometimes must personalize its enemy to present the conflict more dramatically. The Civil Rights Movement could yak about equal rights all day, but it didn't reach whites emotionally until images surfaced of Bull Connor directing fire hoses and police dogs at peaceful protesters, or thick necked cops pushing around ministers and kids. This sickened Americans. Picking a target to personalize what you may characterize as anti-gay oppression? Ok. Good job, good effort. But Chick Fil A is the wrong choice. It gives employees Sundays off. It employs thousands. It donates to some worthy causes. Some people like its food. Whatever you want to read into "family friendly," many think that beats "not family friendly." Also, Chick Fil A serves gay people, employs gay people, and promotes gay people into management. Its not like they've bullied gay students, or drug gays on a chain behind a pickup truck. Has it broken any laws? Its not smashing gay customers' heads, or refusing to hire gays, or turning away gay customers. Is that even illegal? Its not making them sit in special "gay sections." You know, like at Fashion Week. Its not trying to "convert" gays. Its not like Chick Fil A flooded the airwaves with anti-gay messages. Its ads don't show chickens stomping on Madonna posters or pecking Anderson Cooper to death. It hasn't sponsored Richard Simmons video burnings or protested at the Tony Awards. Did anyone but hard core activists even know Chick Fil A had this position? Its President simply expressed an opinion that he prefers the "traditional" view of marriage, and it has provided charitable donations to like minded organizations. This view, I might add, expresses his religious beliefs, and a substantial number of Americans support this view even today. The United States' Government's official policy for the military until earlier this year was also consistent. So Chick Fil A wasn't exactly the best candidate to designate as "evil incarnate."

Besides, the whole "we'll make this business pay for its evil, "hate the people" views is a little selective. Where's the righteous indignation that stops these people from wearing Chinese sweatshop clothes, i.e. just about everything in your local mall. Or shopping at local business-killing WalMart or Starbucks or Applebee's. Or eating near-toxic McDonald's imitation beef-product, derived from Brazilian cows ranged on cleared rain forest land. Or driving pollution causing SUVs, or buying Nike slave labor shoes. Or watching Charlie Sheen or Lindsay Lohan movies. Well, if they made any. Or using animal-tested medicines. The Chick Fil A hubub represents an aberration. Most people just don't care about a company's "beliefs" when they decide where to purchase goods or services.
And when are we going to kick the Catholic Church out of town? Or the Islamic Circle of North America. Or Orthodox Jews. Or the black pastors' group that just formed to oppose President Obama's support of same sex marriage. Or  Louis Farrakhan, who criticized President Obama for endorsing same sex marriage (where was the Farrakhan boycott?). Remember how the Mayor of Chicago is so opposed to Chick Fil A because of its gay marriage stance. Yeah, he recruited Farrakhan to participate in an anti-gang initiative. So I guess there's one guy who opposes gay marriage that's still welcome in Chicago, huh? Oh, Farrakhan hates Jews too.

A sizable and growing number of Americans clearly supports same sex marriage rights, but not until very recently that any state recognized same sex marriage, it has never been enacted in a vote, it remains illegal in most states, and a substantial number of Americans oppose it. Opposing gay marriage cannot constitute some sort of outlandish, wildly out of touch, fascistic, oppressive belief shocking to the conscience. Future generations may well regard it that way. But in 2012, it is not some fringe opinion. That Chick Fil A management would hold such views does not rise to the level of offense.

Plus, Chick Fil A sponsors the Peach Bowl (actually they renamed it, which IS evil), pitting a top ACC team against a top SEC team, as well as two "Kickoff Games" to begin the college football season. So that gains it considerable extra credit.

OK, I'm just assuming people quit reading awhile back, so I'll leave it there. Gotta go turn my house into a bunker to protect me from the inevitable protests.
Next-either Mad Men, or something more frivolous. Like "A Few of my Favorite Things."

Penn State-Sometimes the Innocent Need Punishment

Jerry Sandusky and Joe Paterno

Hey, I'm still around. Been working on my stupid Mad Men post for what seems like forever. Its gonna be really good. By which I mean, tedious and with lots of philosophical observations about things that don't really matter. Pretty much right in my wheelhouse, if you've ever read my posts.

Meanwhile, we need to look at the Penn State situation. Well, not really Penn State as such, but the punishment that the NCAA's levied against Penn State's football program.

Unless you've been living under a rock or in Monahans, Texas these past few months, you know that a former Penn State assistant football coach, Jerry Sandusky, spent the last 20 years or so molesting area children. Sandusky used his connections and access to the football program to lure his victims. Head coach Joe Paterno, as well as the university President and other senior Penn State officials were aware of Sandusky's assaults for years. Not only did they fail to notify law enforcement authorities, they actively concealed evidence of Sandusky's crimes. The University hired former FBI Director and federal judge Louis Freeh to conduct an investigation, and he concluded that these officials engaged in a conspiracy to cover up Sandusky's crimes to avoid bringing adverse publicity to the football program. The school fired Paterno, who has since passed away. Other officials have resigned and are under indictment.

The NCAA, which regulates college athletics, just imposed severe sanctions which the University has accepted. These include a $60 million fine (the football program's average yearly revenues),  significant scholarship reductions, a four years post-season bowl ban, and so forth. The NCAA will allow current Penn State players to transfer to other schools without sitting out the year that would normally apply (but other schools must still comply with their own scholarship restrictions, thereby limiting other schools' ability to absorb Penn State players). The Big 10, Penn State's conference, also will withhold Penn State's share of the Big 10's bowl revenues during its four year bowl ban. Generally, the NCAA's rules focus on creating a level competitive "playing field." The NCAA typically imposes sanctions when universities or boosters pay players or when players receive impermissible benefits. Sanctions usually include reduced scholarships; severe violations can merit prohibitions against bowl participation and television appearances. The NCAA has not previously punished an institution for its employees' criminality to my knowledge. The Penn State sanctions go far beyond previous NCAA sanctions, except in the 1980s where it applied the "death penalty" to the SMU football program, in which it banned SMU from playing football for an entire season.

While many have applauded the NCAA's actions, some have criticized these actions as "punishing the innocent." Clearly, they do. Severe scholarship restrictions will prevent Penn State from fielding a very competitive team. The inability to participate in bowl games or the upcoming national championship tournament will make recruiting even more problematic and deprive Penn State of significant revenue.  Football revenue at a school like Penn State funds not only the football program but other "non-revenue" athletics programs. So it will encounter even more difficulty funding the entire athletics program. With a less competitive team, fewer fans will attend games, hurting local businesses that rely on football weekend revenues to sustain their profitability.

But is it fair to the football players who will play on a terrible team instead of one of the top ranked programs, or the shop owners who may lose their business, or the hotel maid who may lose her job, or the defunded water polo team? Well, at least it will reduce the horse drownings. Reduce.

The answer is yes. A tough yes, but yes.

Lets look beyond the Penn State debacle and just talk about crime and punishment. Or in NCAA-speak, "violations" and "sanctions."

Any time the NCAA levies sanctions, it impacts people that had nothing to do with violating the rules. Scholarship reductions harm the team and the players. Bowl prohibitions impair recruiting and reduce needed operating revenue. Fines and TV bans have a similar effect. These direct effects can have downstream effects, as mentioned earlier. The more severe Penn State sanctions will no doubt have the same effect, only on a greater scale.

The NCAA consists of member universities, not coaches, not players, not cheerleaders and not Norman, Oklahoma LaQuinta owners (clad in red polyester leisure suits and smoking cigars at breakfast). The NCAA's rules apply to the member universities, and ultimately the universities bear responsibility to comply with them. The universities break those rules. Of course, they do so through the individuals acting on their behalf, but every institution acts through its officers and employees. How do you punish the institution? You punish the program directly, as through reduced scholarships or other actions that make it less competitive. When a program breaks rules intended to create some sort of level playing field, it gains an advantage that other programs lack. So punishing rule violations must reel back that program's unfairly earned competitive advantage. Put another way, the schools breaking the rules generally do so to make their teams more competitive than if they followed the rules. So the punishment must mitigate that unfair advantage.

Look, what would happen if the NCAA didn't punish the university, and limited its punishment to the actual wrongdoers? Its rules would lack any real deterrence. The university could always find some junior assistant patsy stiff on whom to pin everything, fire them, and escape any responsibility. It could utterly fail to monitor compliance and could tolerate rampant violations, knowing that it would, if caught, only need to fire the perpetrators without suffering any downside that could hurt the football (or basketball) program's competitive position.  Only punishing schools will incent them to require their employees follow to the rules.

Think about all those boosters only too ready to pay the players. You know, those wacky, cigar chomping, polyester wearing, rotten teeth having car dealers or other rich guys who give lots of money to the program so they can hang out with 20 year old football players. Or the Governor of Texas. The ones who would buy every blue chip recruit in the state a new Camaro and thousands of dollars in bling and weed and girls if they sign with dear old U.  You know, Miami in the 1980s. If you didn't nail the team itself when you discover this stuff, then the university would lack any incentive to control these people, and the boosters would have no reason not to violate the rules. After all, the NCAA can't do anything to them. The only way to control these people is to hurt the thing that motivates them-make the football team less competitive. 

The "innocents" also aren't quite that innocent. No, I'm not talking about 1998 Britney Spears either. They may not have violated any rules, but they enjoyed the fruits of rules violations. The fans enjoyed a more competitive team. The players played on a more successful team and enjoyed the accolades that brings. The university recognized higher revenues when more fans went to games, bought merchandise, and watched on TV. Cheating helps those who didn't cheat. Remember Enron, and all those frauds that made its stock more valuable? The shareholders didn't participate in any wrongdoing, but they enjoyed higher dividends and share value as a result. At least until the whole thing fell apart. Thanks for quitting before you finished the job, Jeff Skilling. And if the NCAA doesn't punish the team and the program, incoming recruits won't take care to consider whether the universities recruiting them will follow NCAA rules. Anyone considering a scholarship to Miami or virtually any SEC school, for example, has to worry about whether that school will land on probation during their four years. So a program with an enforcement problem will experience some difficulty in assuring potential recruits they won't wind up on a sanctioned team. Punishing the team, even one with no players who may have participated in wrongdoing, helps incentivize everyone with a stake in the program to follow the rules.

Besides, punishment almost always entails some collateral damage beyond the person or institution punished. When criminals go to jail, it impacts their ability to support their families. When a corporation pays a fine or penalty, it may have to lay off employees to avoid bankruptcy.  When you ground your kids, you deprive their friends of their company.

Finally, the schools can't have it both ways on whether the players play for the school or the coaches. The NCAA allows universities to prevent players from transferring when the coach who recruited them leaves the school. Even though the new coach may institute offensive or defensive schemes that don't suit current players, the school can still keep the player at that school. The schools say that the players sign with the institution, not the coaches, and so their relationship is with the schools. The schools can't then turn around and claim that the team should suffer no adverse effects when the school or its boosters or coaches violate the rules. After all, the school and the players are all in this together despite coaching changes, so they're all in it together when the NCAA assesses sanctions. Its just one big happy family, right? Well, when the feds bust Dad, the kids are gonna suffer too.

The Penn State situation represents the most extreme and egregious behavior any university has committed, garnering the most significant NCAA sanctions. Admittedly, the players and most of the university community could not reasonably have imagined what the coach and top administrators had done. The impact that these sanctions will impose on them may seem unfair, but generally, the NCAA must impose sanctions that hurt those who did not directly violate the rules to prevent future violations.

Maybe if Penn State had taken to heart its institutional responsibility to comply with NCAA rules, or at least the Pennsylvania Criminal Code, it would have adopted controls and compliance measures that would have made it impossible for four bloated old guys to cover up such monstrous crimes just to keep those fat football checks rolling in. Instead, everyone was happy to worship at the "JoePa" altar and live off the bliss of all those wins and enjoy the game day celebration. Now we know what those wins and celebrations cost. So its absolutely fair to hold the University accountable in its entirety.

Got it?

Next-ok, what does Mad Men teach us about life? If you're curious, you put WAY too much emphasis on TV.

Island Living

In my opinion, all men are islands. And what's more, now's the time to be one. This is an island age.

A hundred years ago, you had to depend on other people. No one had TV or CDs or DVDs or videos... or home espresso makers. Actually, they didn't have anything cool. Whereas now, you see...you can make yourself a little island paradise. With the right supplies and the right attitude... you can be sun-drenched, tropical, a magnet...for young Swedish tourists. And I like to think that perhaps I am that kind of island. I like to think I'm pretty cool. I like to think I'm Ibiza.

--Nick Hornby, "About A Boy"

This may only be news to me, but, I don't get most of you. That is to say, I don't get you.  I don't get most of the things over which you seem to obsess or invest your emotions. American Idol? That show was on 50 years ago, but it was called the Ted Mack Amateur Hour.

You all seem to know every minute, gripping detail of a long list of things that I've barely heard of, much less care about. Its like I went to work one day, and nearly everyone was new and the company was in a totally different business than yesterday.

How did this happen? How does this happen?

Don't ask me. I avoid people wherever possible. Hmm, there you go. Problem solved.

I don't read, I see about three new movies a year, and I only watch about five TV channels not dedicated to sports (one of those is the Cartoon Network). Other than things like computers and four wheel disk brakes, for all I know it could still be 1979 (I SO wish we could get rid of that Jimmy Carter guy). So just because you think Game of Thrones is the most totally boss thing ever, don't look for me to spend a hour listening to you drone about it. "Oh, its so awesome!" Nope.

Time and again, I miss all the cultural guideposts littering the human highway. "Miss" isn't quite right. "Ignore" really best captures the spirit of the thing. They say no man is an island. But as you can see above, they are wrong. Sometimes I get on the bandwagon, but its usually about 10 years after it started. Right around 2005, for example, I really started liking punk rock. I'm a rebel.

But I can tell you a lot of the things I never got. Its a big long list, so this is just the tip of the iceberg. Maybe you can tell me what I missed, but please be so kind as to spare me your "dude, you are so wrong about [insert list item here], its totally awesome!" comments. 

Maybe I should I have just listed the things I liked.

Lots of TV. I guess since we're living in a global village, I should start with television. I could reel off a big long list of shows I never watched, understood, or even knew about when most of you were planning your lives around them. Its not that these shows are all horrible; I can acknowledge some of them were quite good. I just never could get sufficiently interested enough to invest the time to watch:

• X Files. Basically the Avengers (not those Avengers, but the real Avengers) with aliens and much less interesting leads. Emma Peel anyone?
• The Sopranos. Yeah, I know, it was brilliant. EVERYONE says so. You must obey!
• Hill Street Blues. Hill Street Bores.
• LA Law (which from all I could tell was basically Hill Street Blues with lawyers).
• Anything with a Kardashian. If you even hesitate in agreeing with me, please stop reading this instant and never come back.
• American Idol/America's Got Talent/So You Think You Can Dance/Dancing With the Stars. These are talent shows for people who lack the talent to be taken advantage of on their own.
• Real World/Amazing Race/Survivor/Jersey Shore. "Reality" shows? I say, lowest common denominator.

Rap. Maybe its a cultural thing. Rap is not much more than "call and response" as practiced in Africa for centuries. Beyond that, there's no melody, except lifting parts of songs written years ago. Overexcessive reliance on a thudding bass beat. Glorification of materialism, violence and misogny. Cash rules everything around me. Other than that, its my favorite.

Line dancing. Any man who line dances, other than the Cotton Eyed Joe at a wedding or after midnight at the Broken Spoke, should just get ballet season tickets.

Movies:

• Batman/Spiderman/Iron Man. If I wanted to read a comic book, I'd steal some money from my Dad's top drawer and ride my bike down to the 7-11 and buy the comic book. What am I, 12?
• Most romantic comedies. Having been on about 10,000 dates, I can pretty much tell you the entire plot of most rom coms after the first five minutes. A little originality, please.
• Karate Kid. I was cheering for the Cobra Kai. Hilary Swank played the apprentice in one of the sequels, and she was way tougher than Ralph Macchio. Are you surprised? Wax on, wax off.
• Horror movies. If I want to be scared or grossed out for two hours, I'll go on a date.
• Angsty dramas. Oh my God...just do something already. These movies are like incredibly ridiculous and distilled versions of Hamlet.  That suck. The characters pretty much know their problems and how to solve them throughout the entire movie. But they spend the first 95% of the movie agonizing over the choice that everyone knows they'll make at the end (with five minutes left...its called "dramatic tension, people). By the time they finally do what everyone in the theatre knew they had to do, two hours before, I usually hate them and wish that they would fall into a ditch with a sewer leak. Think Reality Bites.
• Live and let live movies. Not so much chick flicks, but where everyone feels really good at the end because of some life affirming lesson. Except Its A Wonderful Life, which is remarkable.
• Mysteries.

What do I like? Westerns. Comedies. Old musicals.

Skiing. I haven't known anyone older than 16 that went skiing for the first time who didn't break a bone or tear a ligament or tendon. And not like an elbow but one of the important ones. Of course, most of them were probably wasted at the time, but my innate Chevy Chase-like coordination resembles drunkenness. I can't take that risk. You'll find me sitting by the fireplace observing the ski bunnies warming up from the day's runs.

Golf. If I want to walk around in the woods swinging a stick, I'll go for a hike or attend a "live action role play" fest with all the other dorks. For free. And avoid all the country club douchebags ruining the scenery. "I want a hamburger, no a cheeseburger. I want a hot dog. I want a milk shake. I want potato chips...."

Hunting and fishing. Ugh. Look. Most of you don't recognize God's gifts in your midst. Like, the grocery store. Where they sell any kind of meat or fish you could possibly imagine. And, whoa! You don't have to get up at 4 in the morning and freeze to death just to go to the store. True story.

Sailboats. Being especially motion sickness prone, sailboats to me are sort of like the zero-G exercises the astronauts endure. You know, the "Vomit Comet." I basically get nauseous looking at a sailboat.

Wrestling. Its fixed. Get it? If I want to see a bunch of steroided, speedo wearing muscle freaks yell at each other while bleached blonde chicks show off their boob jobs, I'll just hang out at the Tropicana pool.

Jeeps. Grow up. Get a vehicle with air conditioning and seats that won't send you to the chiropractor every two weeks.

Laying out at the beach. Or the pool. Laying (or lying) around hours at a time, frying in the sun among the beached whales, makes me homicidal. You see, I'm like a shark...I have to keep moving. I spend hours at my desk, inert. Why would I want to be just as inert on vacation? Give me a mountain to climb, or a trail to vanquish.

Cards. Not only does this require getting together with the fellas (intolerable), you have to sit for hours on uncomfortable chairs using math and looking deadly serious, while the boys smoke cigars and fart. Or worse, while the married guys boast in as masculine a tone as possible, but who really sound exactly like their wives. Talking about their new house, or little Timmy's soccer skills, or how two-year-old Gretchen is so amazingly gifted. Yeah, the last time I saw her she was spitting up peas. No thanks.

Drinking. You know, people get into their 30s and hang on to their weekend binge drinking like its their last free small-size frozen yogurt coupon. I know all of you are stalwart and never age. But as for me, someone shortly after one drink sends me past the "comfortably numb" stage straight into the "projectile vomiting" stage. Sorry for that image BTW. Drinking ends for me with the "spending the next day comatose on the couch" stage. I don't know all of you do it. Guess you're just manlier or something. Hey I can't even eat fried food anymore without paying for it. Not sure how I would survive an absinthe assault.

Onions. In A Clockwork Orange, the state figures out every person's unique primal, incapacitating fear and uses that to torture them. For some people, its snakes. Heights repel others. Its not that I'm afraid of onions. Its more like they're poison mustard gas from World War I. Or arsenic. Or deadly torture pellets. Different strokes for different folks, and for me, onions are on par with encountering a spitting cobra. Or any meeting at work. I can man up and eat other foods I dislike when I have to, like brussel sprouts or cabbage or pickles. But onions? That's not happening. And why do some people insist on putting them in every damn thing? Like rice? You put onions in rice? Really. What is your problem?

Coffee. No real story here. I just never got it. Always tasted like ditch water. Or milk-flavored ditch water. I love coffee smell, of course. But I like the smell of vanilla too and I'm not sucking that down either. Happily, my coffee aversion saved me thousands of dollars through the years, which otherwise would have found its way to the Evil Empire from Seattle.

Garage sales. All you losers who wake up at 6:00 a.m. on Saturdays and spend the morning picking over people's garbage spread out over their front yard really need to get another hobby. First of all, its not a "garage sale" when they put most of the crap on their front yard or driveway. Ok? Secondly, you don't have any idea where these people and their stuff have been. Who knows what kind of flesh eating bacteria lurks in their 30 year old copy of the Physician's Desk Reference or their Falstaff Beer coasters?

Parties. Parties mean talking to other people, many of whom you don't know, and eating fatty food. So, obviously, that's never going to work. "Oh, look at the time, I have to be up super early tomorrow. See ya!"

Man-hugging. Leaving aside the whole gay thing (no judgments here guys!), there's three, and only three, times when men may touch one another. When one of them has lost a relative within one degree of consanguinity, when one of them is administering CPR to the other, or when their team has just won the championship. I guess I could add when they've both been prisoners of war and were just released. Possibly. But those are the only acceptable times. Nor should man-hugging ever be obligatory. A hearty handshake will do in every situation. Why? Because men are not women, or at least they shouldn't act like women. Women hug one another because they haven't seen each other for six hours. In a row. Women hug because Joanie in accounting said that one of their blouses was tacky and didn't match her complexion. Women hug when one of them had prematurely chipped nails. And that's all fine. But despite the last 30 years' trends, men are not women. So we should at least try, sometimes, not to act like we are. I know this runs counter to contemporary beliefs (hence its appearance in this list). You can all do whatever you want, of course (just like you always do). I simply ask that you please stop pawing me. "No" means "no"!

Tattoos. It used to be that only dirty people got tattoos. Sailors, prisoners, Andy Warhol. Then it was legal secretaries who needed a dolphin or star to match their ankle bracelet. Then it was everyone in the NBA. Then it was everyone. Sorry, I just think the human body as God made it is more beautiful than any tattoo could make it. I realize that's especially cranky old man, even for me, but its just a personal preference. Plus, I dread the day, not too long in coming, when there's gonna be a bunch of grandmas tripping over their sagging tramp stamps. Shudder....

Cats. Allergic. Plus, they suck. They have a totally selfish attitude, provide nothing in return for your affections, and snarl at you when you try to help them. Whatever cat. How about you open your own Little Friskies from now on, hmm?

Video games. I know all the rest of you spent hour upon hour playing Ms. Pac Man, or Frogger, or Galaga. Or later, you waste your lives on xbox or nintendo or or wii or whatever. How you can sit in one spot for so long, moving your joystick and staring at the screen as drool trickles out of the corner of your mouth over the Cheez-its residue is beyond me. Hey, read a book. Go ride your bike. Walk to the park. Kiss a girl. Do something with yourself beyond spending your weekend with that glazed over look in front of a Mr. Gatti's pizza box collection and swilling Mountain Dew.

Sudoko. Remember this craze from a few years ago? Everyone running around with their puzzles? I mainly saw these people in airports. I could admire that it required at least some thought, but it just seemed like crossword puzzles but with numbers.

MMA. Its human cockfighting. The point of the cage is, what, again? Exactly. These guys aren't skilled enough to excel at a real sport. All that's left is pounding on one another like two guys fighting over a Waffle House waitress in a Pasadena parking lot at 4:00 in the morning.


High fives and fist bumps. Again, I am not 12. High fives scream "over-intense softball guy." Or "softball guy."

Next-What Mad Men teaches us about the last 50 years. A very topical subject. Only about five years behind the times.

World Tour 2012: I'm Going Up the Country

Before I preview this year's vacation plans, let me just say that your snippy comments implying that I no longer work and just spend all my time traveling are soooo funny. No, really. Ha, ha. Look, you're greatly exaggerating my travels. Besides, travel posts stand out only because I don't write about the incredibly mundane things that occupy most of my time. Do you really want to read this all the time: "today at work I wrote a motion to compel discovery, then I ran four miles at the trail. Boy it sure was hot and I got really sweaty! Then I went to the grocery store after finishing. There sure were a lot of people at the store! I had to wait in a long line. Then I came home and watched TV while making dinner, then I went to bed. Family Guy sure was funny! Boy was I ever tired.  LOL!! (smiley face insert)" I'm close to jumping in front of the nearest pedicab just reading that, but that pretty much is how I spend most of my days. Without the LOLs, of course. God I hate those acronyms. Use the English language, people! So I only write about cool subjects that interest lots of people all over the world. Like the subtle nuances in Star Trek episodes, or the gritty reality that every Dirty Dancing scene evokes, or how "skorts" are from the devil. It just so happens that when I make an exotic trip to awesome places, like, Opelousas, I can't wait to share them with my 12 readers (up from six, because people looking for the other Chris Reeders sometimes accidentally read my posts).  So, my "busy travels" owe more to standing out from the usual drudgery than my being a latter day Marco Polo. Hey, does anyone feel like swimming just now?

Besides, as I have to remind people repeatedly, this blog's original raison d'etre is to share my world travels with you (not unlike the FBI's raison d'etre is to find crooks and commies, signed, Nathan Arizona). Instead of having to answer the dreaded "how was your trip" question, oh, I don't know, six times, this way I can just write it all down and people can read it at their leisure. Its like how fast food places put signs all over the dining area ("dining area" is a bit rich; more like "cholera ward") thanking customers for clogging their arteries there instead of some other grungeateria, thus sparing the employee-mutants the panic of having to convey that message themselves.

So, having dispensed with that friendly and not at all snobbish introduction, let's move on to today's post's real point. I would like to announce that this year, barring some more unforeseen tumult or zombie/cannibalism outbreaks, I plan to spend part of my vacation at Yosemite National Park. I don't think they sell bath salts there so I should be relatively safe. Yosemite is reputedly one of the most beautiful places on earth, at least if you buy into all that Ansel Adams propaganda. I'll arrive in Oakland during Labor Day weekend and celebrate the heroic proletarian struggle against evil capitalist bourgeoisie overlords (like myself) with my friends Kimberly and Terry (everyone's checking out her Craftini blog, right?). Then on Labor Day proper, I'll drive from the Bay Area out to Yosemite.  Then I'll spend a week at the Yosemite Lodge, spending days hiking and exploring, and nights freezing to death. It got down to 27 degrees the other night. That doesn't work for me. Oh, and even more lucky, I'm arriving in the wake of the decision to shut down some of the park lodging area due to rock falls. Apparently, people have been getting hurt in rock falls. Excellent.

Why Yosemite? Last year I spent WAY too much money in Ireland and Scotland, and spent too much time driving all over the place instead of enjoying great scenery. This way I'll get to see some of the most beautiful scenery anywhere but can remain in relatively one place for a time. Cheap flights, thank you Southwest, and relatively cheap rental car and lodging rates. I can spend more of my time outside, getting in better shape by dodging boulders and running away from hungry bears.

After this first week, I then plan to get back on the road and head out to the coast, after which I'll leisurely work my way north back toward San Francisco. I haven't exactly decided how far south to go. Maybe you could offer some suggestions. I thought about going to Santa Barbara, but it just sounds like its a little too Knots Landing, where all the men are either surgeons or paroled international art thieves, and all the women are former Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders who spend their lives tanning, throwing up, and working out their evil revenge plot against some other chick with a name like "Heather." 

If not that far south, I would start at Big Sur. Anyway, I'd spend the next few days going to Big Sur, Carmel and 17 Mile Drive, Monterey, Santa Cruz, Half Moon Bay, and finally San Francisco. I want to see the buffalo, and the tulips at the Dutch windmill, in Golden Gate Park. Don't judge me.

Admittedly, a vacation announcement is kind of douchey. Like the President issuing a travel schedule press release. But when your blog focuses on your travels, an announcement doesn't seem too unforgivable.

So, that's the trip. Roughly two weeks. All in America. Well, California, which in many ways bears striking resemblance to some portions of America.

Its getting to where I can hardly count how many trips I've taken there. As much as I'd like to spend my money somewhere else and thereby avoid funding the bizarrity that is California society (like Rob Lowe), California got all the cool terra firma. Its like Californians don't deserve to live there. So I generally try to overlook them and enjoy the scenery. Which in so many cases is breathtaking. Truly California is the Golden State.

One drawback, from a blogging perspective, to such a trip is it affords me little writing material. As I've mentioned previously, hiking through spectacular scenery makes for an incredible experience, but terrible writing. "I hiked up the trail about four miles, and there was a really beautiful lake. Boy, it sure was pretty. Then I went a little further and saw some great mountains. They were really high up and they were pretty too." Yawn. Its like all those test pilots and engineers who became astronauts and comically failed to describe the sights from outer space. "Well, it sure is big, and bright, and there's lots of colors...." Great. So don't look for daily posts.

OK, that's all for now. See you in September. Before then, I expect, but September for sure.