A Christmas Gift for You: Sweet Videos Edition

Hopefully by the time you read this, you'll be well on your way to celebrating the birth of the Eight Pound, Six Ounce, Newborn Baby Jesus, don’t even know a word yet, just a little infant, so cuddly, but still omnipotent. Its another year down, and I hope you're enjoying it with friends or family, or whatever else you choose.

Like the landmark Phil Spector album, "A Christmas Gift for You," gave you the greatest collection of Christmas music put on one record (and which is not the Charlie Brown Christmas Special Soundtrack), I've tried to assemble some fine Christmas videos to enhance your morning. Enjoy!

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The King knows a little something about Christmas tuneage:




Not exactly sure who was more messed up when they filmed this one, Bing or the Thin White Duke. Totally surreal.



Dean and Frank together. Look out ladies, its a Swingin' Christmas. I used to watch the Dean Martin Show with Mom. She liked Dino; I liked the Golddiggers.



Miss Piggy sure knows how to get down at Christmas time



Oh its Christmas at the Playhouse, and we're gonna have a lot of fun!



Don't forget our Jewish friends this Christmas. True, they may have whacked our Saviour, but let's let bygones be bygones.




And don't forget all your friends in Hell either.



What Christmas is all about.



Its about dancing at the Christmas rave!



The greatest song on A Christmas Gift For You-"Baby Please Come Home" Ooohhhh Baby!




With my last sweet video I wanted to say something personal. I posted this last year, but really, this pretty much sums up everything I feel about Christmas. Hope everyone has a beautiful Christmas.

Travelin' Man

I will not make any deals with you. I've resigned. I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed or numbered. My life is my own.

--The Prisoner

After all the highways, and the trains, and the appointments, and the years, you end up worth more dead than alive.

--Willy Loman, Death of a Salesman


Big ups to Arthur Miller for being a total literary geek but still managing to pull the then-“Most Beautiful Woman in the World” (this just in Art, Joe DiMaggio’s dead but he still hates you for coming up on Marilyn like that. Almost as much as he hates the Kennedys for having her whacked). But how about not giving away the entire story in the title of your play? Why even go? You know what’s going to happen. Some salesman will die. When Willy comes on stage at the beginning of Act I, you pretty much know he’s toast. So like the guy next to you in Vietnam (or any Dallas Cowboys coach), there’s no point in getting close to him because you know he’s not going to be there very long. You’re not supposed to give away the whole story, either in the trailer or the titles. What if they’d called it “Rhett Leaves Scarlett,” or “Darth is Luke’s Father,” or “Iceman Can Be My Wingman Anytime”? Why even go to the show? Those kinds of titles are a lot like the literal Japanese or Hindi or other Asian language translations of American movies whose titles don’t translate so they just describe what happens in the movie. Like “Rebellious Catholic Woman Who Makes Happy Happy Song With Sailor and Children.” Or “Children of Honorable Father Make Revenge Against Unworthy Families.” Or “Ninja Sorcerer In Curtain Yells to Child-Girl and Dog.” Or “Flame Head Woman Gives Businessman Lotus Esprit Trip and Rub of Delight.” ($50 and an autographed copy of my law review article to the first person who can identify all these movies. And by that, I mean I'll buy you a drink).

Well once again I’ve gotten off to a bad start. In this season of travel, I want to talk about traveling in the 21st Century after 9/11. Admittedly, I dip my toe into the Alex Jones Crazy Pool, but please indulge me a bit.

Responding to hundreds of “imprisonment on the tarmac” instances, the Department of Transportation just issued new rules fining airlines $27,500/passenger for any flight that departs the gate and does not take off within three hours (subject to certain exceptions). The rules also require the airlines to provide food and water to all passengers after two hours, and to keep the restrooms functioning. Everyone’s heard the horror stories about people being trapped on planes for hours, without food and water but with failing restrooms and with passengers being unable to make calls, with the airline refusing to at least bring the plane back to the gate so that passengers can at least enjoy a little bit of convenience while waiting. According to the DOT, 613 flights were delayed and sitting on the tarmac more than three hours in the first six months of 2009. The airlines fought the regulations, citing an increase in flight cancellations if required to comply. They cite things out of their control such as congested and ineffective air traffic controls, and urge that travelers might be forced to endure flight cancellations and overnight stays as a consequence.

Remember when it was fun to fly? You’d dress up because it was a special event. The airport was a sparkling building that ran efficiently and effectively. The airline employees were especially helpful, and you’d get all kinds of freebies as part of your experience. Especially on Southwest Airlines or Braniff Airlines, smokin’ hot babe stewardesses, not today's matronly flight attendants with drill instructor charm, would cater to your requests. Seats were comfortable, waiting times slight, direct flights were plentiful, and food was served (even if not exactly haute cuisine, you still got something to eat). In short, it was a civilized experience.

Those were the days. Have you noticed the weekday crowds in major American airports lately? You’ll notice the crowds of beaten, weary, broken, humbled and abused travelers. Garbed in rumpled clothes, laden like pack mules with too-expensive-to-check luggage, and with that fine facial sheen that comes from being trapped like veal in recirculated air for the last three hours (Kimberly calls that condition "bus face"), your fellow travelers look like the undead wandering through the ethereal plane, desperate for sweet death. Its like being at a Coldplay concert.

The airlines, FAA, TSA, and local governments (which operate airports) have created a system that couldn’t be more suited to humiliating and breaking the people whom it theoretically serves. Travelers must present themselves, quietly and passively, for inspection. Must go where they’re told. Questioning is harshly punished. Travelers must please the workers and apologize for imposing on their time. Prices on everything are inflated, and everything beyond obtaining the smallest conceivable chair on the plane requires additional payment. Flights are delayed and cancelled with no notice, and travelers are largely left to fend for themselves. People are shunted about like cattle in a holding pen. You have to get to the airport early so you won’t miss getting to sit through the inevitable delays. Restaurant options (which became necessary in the 1980s when airlines phased out direct flights and made “hub” airports the newest form of waiting rooms, and which thrive as a consequence of interminable flight delays), bring familiar homogenized American chain-style blandness to travelers in scaled down form (“Chili’s To Go”). Can there please be one airport in America where its possible to get a Diet Coke and not just Diet Pepsi? When you finally get on board, you must assume the fetal position in a medium sized-box area space (seat back upright) like you’re traveling in steerage on the Titanic. You must remain in that seat the entire flight, risking federal prosecution to use the bathroom because the captain never turns off the “seat belt” sign (as the air waitresses parade up and down the aisle like they’re walking through a Nordstrom’s shoe sale-the guys, that is). The whole flight experience is a lot like prison. Or mass. Actually, the parallels between the penitentiary and Roman Catholicism are extensive, but on Christmas Eve, I’ll tip my cap to White Jesus and let that one go (“Black Jesus,” of course, being Vince Young, signed, Austin sports radio talk show caller).

I’m a little surprised the free market hasn’t bit into some of this. One would think that a “comfort airline” could make a go of it. I’d pay more to fly an airline that didn’t treat me like bananas on a steamer leaving Manila FOB Long Beach. In a sense, Southwest Airlines is about as close as it gets, in not charging the bogus baggage charges ostensibly imposed to recover increased fuel costs when gasoline prices ran up above $4.20/gallon last year, but which have not given way now that fuel costs have dropped by half. Southwest’s employees are still relatively approachable, and it appears to respond somewhat to consumer demand trends. Otherwise, the airlines, ever dependent on federal bailout money, continue their trend to parse and re-price their services at the most granular level. Charging for blankets and pillows? What’s next, charging to use the seat pocket? The market actually has responded, but in a way that has the airlines charging premium prices for things like blankets or telephone access to human beings that used to be provided as part of your ticket price. Premium pricing options have become the rage, with upgrades to first class, quick security screening, immediate access to actual customer service employees, membership in the airline’s “club” where one can wait in an environment not reminiscent of Lagos International Airport. But there’s still an insurmountable problem reminiscent of the old blonde joke-its still the same crappy plane going to the same place as all the human cargo that didn’t pay extra to get there. That means you’re subject to the same forced march exercise and threat of sitting on the tarmac for hours that everyone who didn’t pay extra has to endure.

This all takes a toll on people forced to endure it day after day, year after year. The business traveler gives up years off his life in this slow death march. The odd thing is that technology has made most of these trips unnecessary. Technology should have eliminated them, with video conferencing, web-based document sharing, texting, e-mails, and other means to review documents and see your meeting participants’ physical reactions to the discussion. That travel continues to such a great extent defies the corporate cutback culture that has left us all scheming for ways to steal paper clips and note pads from our co-workers (now that Accounting won’t authorize new purchases).

Meeting by phone or video does lose a lot of the critical physical cues and body language communication gained from in-person meetings. Being in the same room provides context, and allows a certain type of intimacy that no video link could ever provide. This could be just about anything-handshakes, showing pictures of your kids, seeing someone’s surroundings (pictures, knick-knacks) and getting a better understanding of their personality. Personally, I avoid meetings at all costs. The prospect of having to spend an hour or more staring across the room at a bunch of engineers or lawyers, each of whom sporting a walrus-like paunch and wearing that pre-seizure look of foreboding while being riveted on the figures in column 5 or deciding where the comma should go. I’ll tell you where the comma should go.

Instead of technology freeing the business traveler, he’s instead wrestled it to the ground and made it do his bidding. Ever-shrinking laptops designed to fit ever-shrinking “tray table” space, blackberries, wireless cards, USB pin drives, texts. All allow the business traveler of 2009 to be self-contained small mobile offices. It’s the ultimate extension of Al Franken’s old SNL one-man mobile news crew. So the salesmen shuffles along like lemmings to the cliff at airports around the country, each day giving themselves up to the TSA cattle prods, occasionally becoming incarcerated on the tarmac while it rains (or Bill Clinton gets a haircut).

This is all about control, you know. They want everyone under their control. From the airlines to TSA to the airport authorities, they all want to know everything about you, force you into docility and shake you down at every turn. Its far easier to transport cabbages than thinking human beings questioning why the hundreds and often thousands of dollars they’re paying to travel gets them service that every 7-11 clerk ever born thinks is subpar. No one can complain about their treatment, and even questioning runs the risk of TSA or FBI inquisition. Its like the airline industry has used 9/11 as a pretext to remodel itself along the 1970s Aeroflot business model. Obey or be taken out.

This mirrors our society in general. Government interferes in virtually all your choices. You want to pay an extremely low amount for housing? Too bad. For your own good, you must pay for housing that complies with building codes designed for your safety. Want to buy “unhealthy” food because its all you can afford? Too bad. Cities are banning the sales of certain unworthy foods. Want to buy a car as cheaply as possible? Too bad. Your car has to have meet all the latest engineering and safety specifications, for your safety. Want to select your own doctors or decide whether to purchase health insurance? Not anymore. The Government has made that choice for you. Government protects your safety, whether you can afford it or not. In so doing, it sets boundaries on what you can have and what you may not. Not sure Thomas Jefferson had this in mind.

Control comes in the form of tracking too. Cross a toll bridge and use a toll tag, and it creates a record of your travel. Use a cell phone, send a text message, receive a fax, visit a web site, make a purchase with a credit card…you’re creating a trail about your life which prosecutors and other government officials frequently try to obtain to put you away or levy penalties. Government uses all these millions of bits of data to track our comings and goings, and “protect” us against threats they never quite get around to defining when asked to explain. “I've miles and miles of files, pretty files of your forefather's fruit, and now to suit our great computer, You're magnetic ink.” The problem is that the control ethos has permeated corporate culture as well, with companies buying and selling this kind of data, to shape advertising, product development, and target specific consumers. Corporate consolidation, egged on by increasing regulatory burdens, have promoted uniformity, stagnation, and mediocrity. Every now and then a startup breaks through and remakes an industry. Usually the regulators are several steps behind, complaining that the new company (like Apple, Microsoft, Intel, or the like) must be stopped or it will “ruin competition.” Some incentive for innovation.

Ultimately, this is all about freedom. It’s hard to truly be free when you can make any choice you want, but the menu of choices is curtailed, and when someone somewhere knows every move you make. If you wanted to drop out and run away, you couldn’t do it. You must present appropriate identity to board any public conveyance. Charge cards, cell phones, toll tags, and banking records would create a record that can be used to track your every move. And yet, they still can't find Bin Laden. Maybe if he bounced a check....

However (or as Stephen A. Smith would say, HOWEVAH), having created such a quagmire through its own interventions, one really cannot legitimately object in this instance to these new rules. Ordinarily its right to object to the Government rushing in to regulate to protect us from making our own choices. But when an industry like the airlines have gone so far into the federal bailout money trough, it can hardly complain when the Government insists that it live by certain conditions. It seems only fair not to give the airlines millions to keep them from going bankrupt (largely due to their own ineptitude) and ask that in return they not hold passengers captive on the tarmac. Companies actually welcome most regulation of the sort imposed on airlines because it tends to keep out competitors that can’t endure start up costs and comply with copious regulations while getting off the ground (no pun intended). The airlines largely benefit from extensive FAA and DOT regulation, so, again, they can hardly complain about Government regulating to set certain minimum service conditions, or intruding on a free market that the regulation they desire artificially distorts the market and keeps out competition that might force them to making changes that would benefit consumers.

Where does that leave us? The DOT is stepping in to protect us from a problem it helped foster, with regulations that make it difficult for new carriers to enter the market, subsidies to inefficient airline companies, and to inefficient and ineffective air traffic controls. Willy Loman thanks you kindly.

Next-A Christmas Gift For You

New Photos

Just wanted to let you know I've added some more photos on my flickr site. The first batch is from a fun trip to San Antonio a couple of weekends ago to meet Cici and her family and go see the Riverwalk Christmas lights. You may recall I did this last year too. Its becoming something of an annual tradition. Little Nina was especially cute this year, just like every year. We took in the lights from a river barge, so I didn't get to photograph many of the lights themselves (we were moving, the photos were blurry). But there's still some fun shots.

The second batch is from around town. Austin always bursts in colors in the spring when the wildflowers bloom, but apparently the drought, followed by early September rain, has brought us some amazing color in the late fall. Pear trees, plum trees, and various others that I don't recognize, have turned into brilliant shades of red and gold. All over town we can see these vivid colors.

Finally, there's some photos of this year's scaled down Austin Trail of Lights. The city nixed the gargantuan trail that has taken over Zilker Park the last few years in favor of this more modest version. They kept the famous Zilker Christmas Tree, pictured above, and a few of the exhibits from the old trail of lights. Had I never seen the old trail, I'd have thought this was just fine. My photos turned out a lot better this year (i.e. not as blurry) as years past.

Hope you enjoy! Also hope everyone has a great Christmas!

The Don and Birdie Reeder Global Emergency Fund: First Year Report

As we head into this special time of paying attention to our tax issues, errr, helping the less fortunate, I thought it was time to report on the one project in which I’ve been able to help people just a teeny tiny bit (I know, you’d think that being the Fonzie of the electric utility legal practice and dropping well-placed “that’s what she said” remarks would be enough. Sadly, we live in a world where that’s just not enough).

Many of you may recall that the Don and Birdie Reeder Global Emergency Fund began helping children throughout the world last year. Administered by Children’s Emergency Relief International, based in Kingwood, this fund’s primary goal is to provide resources to children and adolescents with emergency and imminent needs. Many of you were kind enough to contribute in memory of my mother. In cooperation with our former pastor, Dr. Dearing Garner, we hoped through this fund to continue the work of my Mom and Dad, who for many years went on mission trips throughout the world focused on helping children. In the time since her passing, I’ve realized that Mom’s main purpose in life was to be a beacon to children, giving them love and teaching them respect. Dr. Garner led those mission trips and knew my mother since 1978. He’s in charge of every penny spent from the fund, and as he told me the other day, he always asks “what would Birdie want” whenever making these decisions. I could not ask for a better steward for the Fund or shepherd for its recipients.

As it has developed, the Fund addresses conditions that make children in many parts of the world vulnerable to trafficking. This includes not only for sexual purposes but for labor as well. The practice is particularly intense in eastern Europe, Asia, and South Africa, and in any place afflicted with poverty or large numbers of uncared for orphans. Many governments have signed treaties banning trafficking, but this evil practice continues to flourish for many reasons.

CERI participates with many local-based child welfare and assistance organizations throughout the world, to work in partnership with these organizations to help children, particularly orphaned or abandoned children. Especially in places like Moldova, governments often are content to warehouse children then turn them loose on the street at 14 or so where they become vulnerable to traffickers.

CERI has made available resources from the Reeder Fund in a fairly targeted way. It has initiated programs to help children transitioning out of orphanages into homes or other facilities, such that they can live and grow into adulthood while continuing their education or acquiring work skills. The alternatives are often bleak-begging or going off with strangers promising to take care of them (which often turns out to be child traffickers). CERI and its partners have started “transitional living programs” for these youth, helping to ease them out of orphanages, then ultimately into mainstream society.

The Reeder Fund has been used in support of this program. CERI has used the fund to provide for emergencies or immediate needs for many of this program’s participants. Funds have been spent in Moldova, a former Soviet republic, and Nigeria, as well as on a water project in Sri Lanka.

On both the plus and minus side, there’s a surprising amount of money remaining in the fund. I had feared that they’d blow through the fund fairly quickly. However, it’s been a bit of a challenge to get the local directors to ask for the money. They’ve had something of a resistance to leaning too heavily on outside resources. We are working to make them more aware of the Fund and encourage them to request resources from it. I’m meeting again with Dr. Garner before the end of the year, and I think we may also liberalize some of the restrictions on the Fund, such that the “emergency” need not be so immediate. This would allow us to spend the money more freely on children in need.

The Fund’s first year has been a huge success in the way that Miss Birdie would have appreciated. More great things are on the horizon throughout the world, and this money will further work that will make a positive and dramatic difference in children's lives. That’s exactly what my Mom would have wanted.

For more information about the work of this Fund or CERI, you can visit http://www.cerikids.org/ceri/. Or just click that link.

Thanks so much to all of you who donated. Hopefully this lets you know your gift has helped.

Eatin' Food at a Trailer and Livin' the High Life

My proudest moment here wasn't when I increased profits by 17%, or cut expenditure without losing a single member of staff. No no no. It was a young Guatemalan guy, first job in the country, barely spoke a word of English, but he came to me and said "Mr. Scott, will you be the godfather to my child?" Didn't work out in the end. We had to let him go. He sucked.

--Michael Scott, “The Office”

Business demands utter ruthlessness, just like what Michael Scott brings to the table every day. Unfortunately, its only by everyone acting in their own self-interest can a capitalistic system perform the task of rationally allocating goods and services. This is what the government (whichever party's in power) forgets in its zeal to keep every major employer from failing, and simultaneously as it loads up taxes and regulations on small businesses.

Here at Daily Affirmations, we see the major “problem” with things like health care costs, energy costs, failing education and other deteriorating public services, not so much as a problem of market failure, but political failure. This idea that we have unfettered free market health care, or insurance, or energy simply ignores the extensive and pervasive regulatory control imposed on these major industries in the name of protecting the public from itself. Parentalism has shackled the free market from self-correcting abuses that will naturally occur in any economy, whether a Soviet-style command and control economy, or a Texas-style capitalist economy. Texas probably has the least pervasive governmental intrusion into the economy. The recession also has affected Texas less than most other states. Not exactly a one-to-one causal relationship, but Texas businesses were better poised to adapt and survive than elsewhere because, quite frankly, we didn’t have to get as many permits. Energy costs are outrageously high? The market, without blundering bureaucratic intrusion to “protect” the public, solves that problem by the high prices stimulating suppliers to expand their output and expand refining and transportation capacity, and stimulating consumers to adjust their behavior. Bureaucrats try to solve that problem with rationing, investigations, price controls, and other measures that impress unions and MoveOn.org, but suppress the market forces that otherwise would correct the problem. Same thing with health insurance costs. Normally if something costs “too much,” new companies enter the market and undercut the market price. But because states so heavily regulate insurance, companies cannot easily enter the insurance market and offer competitive rates and terms. The existing insurers then spend millions to curry favor with politicians and regulators to protect their near-monopoly status, reaping non-competitive profits and failing to meet consumer expectations. Drugs too expensive? Unreasonably long patent protections, far more lengthy than needed for firms to recover their costs, make it difficult for competitors to drive down prices. The same story can be told across the board.

But people seem to have made up their minds about whether the government can help us.

Nonetheless, consider three fascinating examples from right here in Travis County, Texas, in the very heart of the People’s Republic of Austin, of how capitalism isn’t a bunch of white guys in Armani suits and $500 haircuts riding around in limos and defrauding the stockholders. These are three of millions of examples that capitalism is millions of individuals and partnerships having a great idea that would help people, and going into business to make a living filling that need.

Trailer food. Its not just a Robert Earl Keen song anymore. Who knew that you could just get yourself a trailer, park it wherever you could find an empty space, and make money selling awesome food right out of the window? Like fire ants, food trailers have invaded Austin, popping up all over town. They first clustered in empty lots on hipster chic South Congress Avenue, selling everything from designer cupcakes to cheesecake to hamburgers to tacos. Then they began to spread to South 1st and South Lamar (how yuppie is 78704 all of a sudden? Bubba moved north to Burnet Road about the time Truck City moved to Buda, replaced by a bunch of boutiques and organic food stores. Stevie Ray used to live in 78704, not far from my house; as he once sang, the sky is crying). But think of it. Pull over to various otherwise empty lots, and you can get yourself a deluxe, fresh cooked burger, or sandwich, or cupcake, or donut, or pizza slice, or any other of a million different offerings. The trailers usually have a little eating area, are clustered near other popular destinations, and are easily accessed. They provide a use for otherwise unused property. Because their owners do not incur the overhead expense of a “storefront,” they can be cost competitive with other established “brick and mortar” establishments. And because they generally are located near some other popular destination, they afford people with an eating option convenient to something else they’re doing. The donut trailer close to my house on South Lamar, Gourdough’s, is an illustrative example. These guys were living in New York, thought they’d enjoy living in Austin and knew how to make really cool donuts one at a time, so they headed down, put together some money, and now they’re running a thriving business. No banks, no construction, no promotional campaign, just tasty eatin’.

Pedicabs. Ever been to one of the bigger Austin events, like Fourth of July fireworks or ACL festival, or gone to see the bats on Congress Avenue? Have you noticed those freaks riding bicycles with a couple of seats in the back, ferrying people back and forth like a bunch of rickshaws outside the old Caravelle Hotel in Saigon. Usually its some quasi-musician or graduate philosophy student trying to earn extra money. To avoid costly city regulations as “taxicabs,” which are in part meant to deter entry and thereby artificially restrict taxicab competition, the drivers will not charge a fare but they do ask for tips, which does not subject them to the regulations. The pedicabs obviously do not have a great range, but they take very short trips that the taxicabs will not, such as between a parking lot and a downtown destination. This might be too great a distance to walk for some (especially for an event where one is nicely dressed), but too short a distance to hail a cab. We know that the city legally requires taxis to take any paying fare, but it simply does not enforce this rule. So these pedicabs fill a definite need that the market has not otherwise met and which government regulations exacerbate.

Time exchange. This isn’t necessarily an Austin-specific phenomenon, but Austin is leading the way in the electronic barter economy. These people are also freaks, but I guess that’s what they said about Thomas Edison. Time exchanges allow people to trade goods and services without using currency (and, presumably, without having to report income to taxing authorities). The rules of the Austin Time Exchange are that they have a “skills bank,” which lists various goods and services that the members offer to others within the network. When one performs a service, it creates an “exchange share” that one may later redeem for another service. Or, one can bank the share indefinitely. Now, I still can’t figure out whether this currency-less transaction medium has any real advantages or not, but if the people making these exchanges think they do, then they do. In short, this is another innovative way for making transactions developed in response to unfilled needs within the existing markets.

These three examples, and countless others one observes on a daily basis, all represent the work of private individuals looking out for their own self-interests, trying to make a buck. No government program subsidizes any of these market innovations. There’s no glorified “public-private partnership” behind any of these. Rick Perry and John Cornyn didn’t have to play the Phil Gramm card and charter a plane at taxpayer expense to fly somewhere and make a “major state announcement” taking credit for them. Kirk Watson didn't have to invite himself to get between various governmental factions to "make the deal happen." These people just had a good idea, scraped together some money and did it. Kind of like how Apple Computers got started in Steve Jobs’ basement.

Small business is still the engine of our economy. As we focus these days on trillion dollar government bailout plans geared toward the largest corporate monoliths, let’s try to remember not to make it impossible for the average Joe or Jane with a good idea to start up a business and see it take off, in the process giving consumers additional choices, creating more jobs, and providing people with a living.

The Origin of the Oklahoma Sooners' White Helmets

A friend of mine on a "social networking site" (as does Robie Childers, we'll call it "My Face"), pondered last Saturday whether paint had made it to Oklahoma by the time of the throwback helmets the Sooners were wearing while flopping like beached jellyfish against the Texas Tech Sand Aggies. Seeing the sarcasm equivalent of single coverage on Andre Johnson fall into my lap, I went for the quick six. It helped that I was sitting in a completely boring continuing legal education class and needed some way to stay awake. Normally I'd consider it a breach of the Daily Affirmations rules to post something that I wrote elsehere, but I do feel that you folks need some schooling on Oklahoma Sooner traditions. So here goes:

Other than war paint and whitewash, the first recorded use of paint in Oklahoma was 1978, when a truck carrying a shipment of Glidden flat red oveturned and stained several nearby covered wagons. The locals were mesmerized, chanting "oombagay" which means "that reminds me of the hill behind my meth lab" in the native Oklahoman. A citizen posse was formed to petition the Bootlegger's Boy (B. Switzer) to add this color to the Sooners' traditional headdress. The Oklahoma Museum of Natural History stages re-enactments of this event on alternate Thursdays, or when that day's quota of cousins have finished their weddings.

Let me know if I can answer any other questions you may have.

Next-free market capitalism solves nearly all of life's problems, aka, "trailer food"

Running With the Devil; Welcome to the San Antonio Half Marathon. Also, check out PlacidAthlete.com

The 2009 San Antonio Marathon. I ran the Half. Holy Schnikees! Was that a marathon or a patrol on the Ho Chi Minh Trail? Instead of the 34 degree day they had last year, it was in the lower 70s and humid. Perfect conditions for a flame-out, and that's just what happened to me at Mile 7. Still, I managed to finish the race and ran the entire route, probably more depleted and exhausted than I've ever been. Nonetheless, there was one silver lining: unlike my run in the Austin Half Marathon two years ago, I felt no unusual soreness. No knee or hip pain. The structure did fine. I ran out of fuel and hydration.

This was a shame. The marathon and half marathon course was really nice. It was mostly flat or even downhill. Just a few little hills from time to time, such as around the King William district. The course also had some really nice scenery, winding past the old Pearl Brewery, the Alamo, King William, downtown, and the south part of downtown (which I'd never visited but seemed really cool). The course was also well supported. In the 13.1 mile half marathon, they had at least eight water/cytomax stops. Additionally, they had volunteers passing out Gu gel (for refueling) at the 11 mile mark and spraying us with water at around the 9 mile mark. I was shocked at how many people participated, as runners, volunteers or spectators. Approximately 30,000 entered the race (many walkers participated). But there appeared to be a small army of volunteers at the water stops, start and finish lines, and all along the course. Medical personnel were stationed all along the course. Even more impressively, spectators completely lined the route. I was running very slow, but it definitely made a big difference in my motivation that there were so many people cheering all along the route. At one point downtown, there were so many spectators cheering so loudly it was possible, for just a fleeting moment, to imagine I was among the leaders fighting hard to win the race. Reality quickly set back in of course, but there was a really great atmosphere all along the course. They all had signs. The best one of the day said "I thought it was 1.31 miles." (A half marathon is 13.1 miles).

The start and finish lines, however, were a bit of a different story. They started the race north of downtown near a park with no parking (ironically), so everyone was shuttle bussed in. Unfortunately, the last shuttle arrived at 6 a.m., but with the "wave start" I didn't cross the starting line until 8 a.m. That's two full hours of sitting around, followed by standing around in the "corral" waiting for my section to start the race.

Perhaps against my personality, I visited with some of the other contestants. There was a couple in their 60s from Kerrville, who had run several full marathons (including Boston), but were running in the half today so they could focus on another full marathon later in the year. Another woman from Houston visited with us. She left her husband and kids back home (just for the weekend, of course) while she came to run the half. I asked her how she trained for hills and she said she did the stairmaster. While waiting in the porta-potty line, I somehow situated myself in the middle of about eight ladies appearing to be in their mid-50s, all eagerly discussing the wedding that one of their sons was to have soon. Apparently their greatest consternation was deciding what to wear. Specifically, the mother of the groom was in a quandry about her attire. We joked a bit about how men never have this problem. "Wear a blue suit and a red tie and you're good anywhere" I remarked. She said if you're the mother of the groom, you have three jobs: "Show up, shut up, and wear beige." Still another lady, perhaps in her mid-60s, ran the entire marathon in bare feet. We and others around us had a long talk about this as we were waiting for the start. She's run several marathons in bare feet, and as I saw her later on the course, she appeared to have no problems. Apparently there's something of a movement centered on this now, having to do with modern running shoes unnaturally forcing the foot to land heel first rather than its biomechanically intended spot of landing mid-sole. We talked about how Ethiopian Abebe Bikila won the 1960 Olympic Marathon in Rome in his bare feet. Finally, I spotted a young woman wearing a pink baseball cap with the "TAB" logo on it. She said she bought it in Las Vegas. My dad, as most of you know, is a rabid TAB drinker. I think he keeps the brand alive singlehandedly. The finish line was outside the Alamodome and that was fairly chaotic too. Huge crowds thronged around the finish and around the "recovery area."

My hotel, the Sheraton Gunter, was great but unfortunately it was on the other side of downtown from the stadium, much closer to the Main Plaza than to the Alamodome. So after running 2 hours and 18 minutes, I had to slog through a 30 minute walk past the crowds back to the hotel. By that time it was around 11, one hour before check-out. I had to hustle to take a cold shower (shown lately to reduce inflammation and swelling), finish packing, and get out of the room.

I'd hoped to have lunch with my good friends Sean, Cici and little Nina Collard, but they had the crud that's going around. So instead I planted my butt on a barstool at a sports bar in La Cantera, had an enormous plate of shrimp jambalaya (with brown rice), and watched all the NFL games on the NFL Sunday Ticket. I then walked around the shops for awhile, just so I wouldn't get too sore from sitting around, then drove home in time to watch a great Patriots-Colts game (complete with Generalissimo Belicheck's now-infamous fourth down meltdown).

Although it was the most physically taxing thing I've ever done, I'm glad I ran the race. I got to see some parts of San Antonio that the tourists don't generally see, which were in their own way quite attractive. Looking forward to doing it again next year, to measure my training and conditioning during the coming year. As I've explained to my family, every year that goes by since my heart surgery seems like my "second chance" time; its an opportunity to reclaim the gift of physical activity that seemed likely to disappear from my life until my January 2005 procedure. I went from being unable to run a mile without extreme discomfort and chest pain to finishing a 13.1 mile race (for a second time). That really is a gift, and during this season its one for which I'm deeply thankful.

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One final thought, which you'll read more about soon. My good friend and colleague Suzanne Bertin, who has these past few years plunged deeply into the world of triathlons and is obtaining her certification as a triathlon coach, is starting a fitness blog entitled "Placid Athlete." Go to http://www.placidathlete.com, and check out her thoughts and advice on "serenity and life/work balance through physical fitness, emotional fitness, and good nutrition." Suzanne also has a site at www.twitter.com/placidathlete which I know you'll enjoy.