Tuesday, December 28, 2010

one of the many

Evidently the NYC Sanitation Dept and the Bloomberg administration have decided to dispatch plows in a snowstorm about as frequently as I post.

The above caption is a snapshot of a blocked entry to an unplowed street in Queens, 48 hours after the peak of the recent blizzard and 36 hours after it stopped snowing. Broadway and much of Manhattan have been long freed, but tax-paying residents in the outer boroughs hope to be dug out before an ambulance or police vehicle needs to respond to a call for help.

Fortunately for me, during the worst of yesterday’s snowlock (maybe I should coin that word or something), I was afforded access to my lady’s 4 wheel drive dynamo featured in a critique on June 25th this year. I lost count of all the snarled and disabled buses strewn around the city. Quite a few passengers were stranded overnight in unheated subway cars on the famous A-train as well. Personally, I think I would have just gotten out and walked to a 7-Eleven though if I were a victim of such a blunder.

It is hard, however, to get off a plane stuck for eleven hours on the tarmac of JFK airport though unless you want to spend another eleven hours bogged down with Homeland Security officials.

Perhaps, in the end, there are a few simple lessons and silver linings to be taken from this City Hall wide brain cramp. First, maybe mayors and other elected officials should be allowed to run for office indefinitely so they have something to lose. Second, the strange thing about preparedness is that we often are not prepared for what actually happens (i.e. Mother Nature). And last, next to duct tape, put a 4X4 on your check list.

© 2010 Christopher’s Views

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

an unexpected gift

My special lady and I recently enjoyed a weekend at the FOXWOODS RESORT in Mashantucket, CT. Gambling is the main attraction at this venue. But, once a year or so, we go mainly to see a comedy act or a concert.

Hearing Sheryl Crow sing live at the MGM Grand Theater at the resort was our primary objective. Although I’m not in love with the acoustics offered by this hall, I do like the size (not too big or small) and the seating is very comfortable (I hate being crammed and jammed while watching an engagement). I knew Sheryl would perform magnificently-and she certainly did.

We had no idea though who would open up for her. And when the opening artist and band were introduced-the name Brandi Carlile only slightly rang a bell. I am also not a viewer of the ABC drama, Grey’s Anatomy, so I was unaware that a few of Ms. Carlile’s songs had been featured here. However, just a few harmonics later and we did know that we were the recipients of a bank error in our favor. This was no opening act and a show. It was a double header.

I enjoy many different kinds of music. To my delight, Brandi Carlile has a unique way of blending rock, country and folk qualities into her renditions while she mixes in and reveals a wide range of singing ability. She appears young, yet self-assured and powerfully energetic. And her vocal cords possess the smooth acceleration of a finely tuned V8 engine.

Differing styles aside, but similarly having previously known nothing about someone, I couldn’t help feeling some familiarity to having heard Bonnie Raitt for the first time back in the 1970’s and instantly becoming a follower. Déjà-vu, I suppose, in the form of another big voice, with obvious talent, artistry and an upward aura.

It was a no-brainer then that I would want to head for the lobby and purchase a CD during intermission. About a thousand other people had thought along those lines too. Even with the announced knowledge that an autographed copy might be possible, I gave the notion little consideration. Instead, I hyper focused (zoned out-as I sometimes do) as I weaved my way to the glass enclosed displays of merchandise available. I drowned out all the crowd noise around me and requested ‘that one’ while pointing in redundancy to the clerk in attendance. Then, at the exact moment I was handed the disk, my peripheral focus returned and I heard a woman next to me say, ‘I’ll take that’.

Standing beside me and to the right was Brandi Carlile. As she autographed my purchase I wanted to comment all about my déjà-vu, her energy, her range, her wit of lyrics and her guitar playing. But, suffering under the weight of an unexpected gift being tossed in my lap, I mundanely declared ‘great voice Brandi, great voice’ as I moved on to make room for the next new fan.

Considering that for the past two weeks her songs are pretty much all I have listened to while navigating my way around town, I thought that if you too are looking for a gift that doubles as a gem you may want to check out the music of Brandi Carlile.

© 2010 Christopher’s Views

Friday, October 1, 2010

the right tool for the job

I often guide my way through life’s journeys and detours by referring to axioms. The dictum which reminds us that the first step to getting out of a big hole requires us to stop digging is an old favorite of mine. And perhaps this message needs to be run 24/7 on a Times Square billboard.

America has been toiling in a massive hole for a couple of years now, since being declared healthy enough for removal from life support (meaning no more bailouts). We muddle by with mind boggling government debt, extensive unemployment, an aging infrastructure, an overextended military, tremendously high foreclosure rates, upside down home ownership (owing more than a house is worth), huge personal and business debts, and a frivolous denial about global warming in the real sense as well as in the creating some jobs sense.

Are people angry? Of course they are. Are there times and places for anger? Of course there are. The tricky thing though about the emotion of anger is how it can work well within a healthy personal relationship at times, and yet can wreak havoc within business or public relationships. Within a strong personal relationship, anger sometimes sounds the alarm that problems need to be addressed. And if they are, the relationship can grow and become even better. However, in a business, group or public setting, anger often transcends being an emotion. Interest in mending or improving the relationship can quickly take a back seat to the gathering of allies, winning of the battles and later to losing the war.

I fear that this is the current state in much of American politics and culture today. Carl Paladino, running for governor of New York State as a Republican this fall, perhaps exemplifies the angry man of today most aptly. He holds himself together as he declares himself to be ‘mad as hell’ in a video clip on the paladinoforthepeople web site. I get the angry Tea Party coziness of his statement. I wonder though if he gets the Freudian slip side of being one who is ‘mad as hell’ as in crazy, nutty and irrational. As in someone who would send a letter to Andrew Cuomo, the Democratic choice, running for governor in the Empire State, in which, on September 20th, Paladino made several remarks about Mr. Cuomo and his lack of ‘cojones’. Or someone would refer to former NYS Governor George Pataki as a ‘degenerate idiot’. Or someone who thinks a well thought out idea is to 'take a baseball bat to Albany'. Or someone who would attempt to make an analogy that connects Sheldon Silver, the NY Assembly speaker, with Hitler and an Antichrist. Or boil over into some kind of implied threat when taunting, ‘I’ll take you out buddy’ ,while arguing with a New York Post editor in a hotel lobby near Lake George. And certainly he would not connect being ‘mad as hell’ with the extreme divergence of judgment required between wanting to lead a State of 19 million people and forwarding racist, vulgar and immature e-mails without thought, in what he has labeled ‘poor judgment’, as has been reported in the media. Notwithstanding the madness, this trendy position of showing anger without discussing solutions to the individual, public, current and future problems only serves to divide our energy and will likely keep us mired in our hole right up to the midterm elections in November and beyond.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, President Obama (the unruffled man) and his administration have disappointed many by the lack of tangible projects and solutions brought forth to get the country back on track following the disastrous Bush era. I am not so sure that Andrew Cuomo can get the job done with any less disappointment here in New York.

But when I enter the voting booth on November 2nd, I will pull a lever that I believe provides a chance for focus, strategy, equality, progress, growth and maturity. Snowballing anger, void of sincerity, usually just begets more anger and little gets solved. No matter what party I look to I want to vote for someone with ideas and principles that make good sense, not good punch lines.

It is currently very hard to for me to see any individuals who meet those criteria because the shovels are still largely in hand and tons and tons of bulls@#$ are still being tossed around in the emptiness. Forget the baseball bat; negotiating our way out of this stink hole may require each of us to be packing a can of Lysol.

© 2010 Christopher’s Views

Monday, September 13, 2010

beyond our sight

Somewhere up there a higher power may or may not be in control.

Except for a few lighthearted pieces on food and driving I fulfilled my summertime goal of clearing my mind by staying clear of my desktop.

And that my lightheartedness would end while looking into a clear blue sky is a bit of a surprise. Though, by comparison, it is very similar in nature to that of an early morning, just over nine years ago, that quickly led into the darkest of days in New York City. Hearts will be eternally heavy over the losses suffered on 9/11. Memories will be perpetually marred. Reflecting pools, memorials and monuments will be built. But we will not bring anyone back and we cannot turn back in time.

I knew a few people who perished that day, but no one who was close to me. Individually, whatever the level of pain, we carry on as best we can while continually working through the anger, sorrow and grief.

As a nation, following the attacks, we embarked on a war against the terrorists who happen to be Islamist extremists. Along the way, and through great controversy, our military has tried to improve the lives of the many other millions of Muslim people living in the war torn region. Nearly three thousand people were killed by al-Qaeda during the attacks on 9/11. Since that day, over five thousand American troops have been killed fighting terrorists in Afghanistan and Iraq. Controversy included, and mistakes or not, our government and largely our citizens felt compelled to stay and help Muslim citizens rebuild their homelands into a better place to live.

I don’t expect the nation to ever fully heal from the emotional wounds rendered by watching the Twin Towers fall. But I do wish that a majority of us were able to discern that aside from the business dealings, greed and opportunism, the zealous and vehement opposition to the proposed building of a Muslim Community Center near Ground Zero is misguided.

And I don’t think the flames fanned by those who choose to desecrate the Quran should be confused with unhealed emotions. They are simply unhealthy extremes unto themselves.

How can we have the bravado to send five thousand troops overseas and to their death in defense of our nation and all that we stand for, including freedom of religion, and then be too afraid or too prejudiced to live the life we stand up for?

I suppose that I will never understand the mystery of a so frequently observed riddle. Why on earth is it, that mankind’s various quests for the divine so often spill over into fear, hatred and bigotry?

© 2010 Christopher’s Views

For more Posts of the Week, visit Hilary at her wonderful site, The Smitten Image.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

candy or gum, toll, ticket or tax?

I estimate that I am in the vicinity of logging my one millionth mile behind the wheel. Along the way, I have been unnerved by countless blind potholes, traffic snarls, unexpected detours and scores of aggressive drivers.

Yet vying for top billing of catalysts to induce irritable road syndrome upon me is the toll declaration approaching the Verrazano Bridge, which connects Brooklyn and Staten Island, on the southwestern side of New York City. Here, my self-talk turns to humor, in order to thwart a surge of anger, while I ponder the frills surely available for the hefty eleven dollar fee allowing me to move from one GPS point to another within the city.

Are there carnival booths and water flumes up there in the zebra stripes? Might I be able to take in an Off-Broadway show? Is there a rest stop offering massages and a happy ending? Where’s the value?

To be almost equally outraged, there are other cross borough bridges (RFK, Whitestone and Throgs Neck) that will cost an equal sum for a round trip. But, at the Verrazano Narrows gap, the entire payment is collected on the journey southwest towards Staten Island and New Jersey. This can be unlucky if someone has multiple destinations in the NY/NJ area and plans to circle back northeast of the city, as my schedule sometimes necessitates. A moment of decision develops, requiring a choice. Trek back south, wasting time and gas in order to cash in a prepaid entry, or pay another one way rate to more effectively navigate a northeastern arrival at one of the other aforementioned pricey re-entry points, for a total sum of $16.50. While reversing the start and end points of this excursion would mean subtracting $5.50, instead of adding it, the perpetual crawl of the more nightmarish traffic flow would bring me to my knees.

I view the set-up to be a hidden tax, with a loophole that I cannot apply, rather than a toll. And, in step with recent news accounts, I am beginning to get the same feeling about the proliferation of photo enforced traffic tickets as well.

In spite of all my time spent on the road, I have only been starred in three pictures since the still flicks were rolled out a few years ago. But I see their intense, paparazzi like, frequency of flash every day. I have minimal faith that this technology is without kinks and I have full faith that its primary duty is to increase revenue, as opposed to enhancing travel safety. Hopefully, many of the unflattering snapshots will fall into the mailboxes of justly deserving offenders. I suspect that bags full, however, are destined to fall through the cracks and garnish $50 to $100 from the hands of folks who cautiously waited a bit too long when making a left turn. Truly unfortunate are those who may stop outside the crosswalk to let an emergency vehicle pass. And beware to all those who are camera shy when driving on a wet or snow slicked road. If the driver behind you can’t stop in time, forfeiture of wages may suddenly appear more attractive than showing off your rear end.

When corporations snare our money in arbitrary fashion, cries alleging price gouging and slamming often follow. Where is this going? When the bridge is $20 and the red light robots have doubled, tripled or quadrupled in volume will the traffic beast be satiated or will it constantly thirst for more? Anyone that’s not a fan of being micro-managed is sure to find this trend to be insufferable.

Besides transportation taxes, many residents of the Greater New York region and the United States, already struggle with high Federal income taxes. Add in State or local income taxes, Social Security, Medicare, real estate, property, school, sales, transfer, inheritance and a variety of sin taxes and it becomes clear that government, in fact, does loom very large.

I am on a quasi-summertime break from clicking on Fox News or Tea Party agendas, thinking red or blue, liberal or conservative, midterm election or dysfunctional foreign policy. However, notwithstanding benefits afforded by E-ZPASS and a defensive driving course, simple signposts inspire simple sentiments.

I want government to be precisely big enough to deliver an array of services on par with the endless mining of my pockets. Amusement park rides on the house would be a good start.

© 2010 Christopher’s Views

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

out goofing or golfing around

I’m around. But the summer and heat has sidetracked me from my usual blog routine.

Friday, July 9, 2010

Am I crazy, or did I just put a brownie in my mouth?

Macaroni salad, the side dish, is a nonevent in the world of taste buds. My grandmother, Nana as we used to call her, somehow managed to raise the bar for her macaroni marvel, essentially endowing it to become a meal-though a la carte. She managed to achieve a perfect balance of dressings, vegetables and spices that came together to create a culinary gem. In my more youthful days, I could (and often did) eat 2 pounds of her delightful summer surprise, down it with a Coke and experience gastrointestinal nirvana for the rest of the day. ‘Best in the world’ is what I told her every time she made it.

As for myself, I can parlay a few special ingredients to whip up above average French toast, BBQ’d onions or linguine with clams. But, at the core, I am mostly a cook to eat and survive person. My adoring companion, as I may or may not have let slip by, is by nature only capable of making or eating food with a three and a half star or better rating. I am often blessed with lamb or pork chops (from a local gourmet shop naturally), flawlessly mashed potatoes, and then topped with a vegetable gravy so wonderful that I eat without breathing. Occasionally, birthday’s etc., I am the recipient of a stepped up and grand eggplant dinner. And her pasta salad, with its own special blends of oils, olives, peppers, cheeses and zing is so appealing that I had to stop bringing leftovers to work for lunch. A major distraction would unfold, as everyone in the room wanted a sample. So for years now, with cooler in hand and dining by car radio as my most frequent workday option, the pasta never leaves the boundaries of my front seat.

Now enter in a fact that would be easily deduced by most of my readers: I try to give thought before I provide opinion.

Impulsiveness, however, brought on by 27 years of ingrained familiarity with esteemed comrade, caused me to suddenly chime in when her long locked siblings were ready to crown the title of ‘best brownie maker’ at our 4th of July annual this past weekend. ‘Excuse me, dear sisters, but my mother (who can’t hold a candle to lady’s meats, gravy’s and eggplants) is hands down the best brownie maker that I have ever known. And while we are handing out awards, no one in any home or castle has ever made Irish Soda Bread better than my mom as well.’

Chuckle, chuckle, chuckle and you are all wet is the response that I received from the gallery in attendance, including a fellow blogger. But after some additional fishing and reflection I have discovered the impasse. Fairest is a nutty person and Mom is not (is that right?). I suppose a better clarification is to mention that when I leave for the grocery store, instead of the classic ‘don’t buy any green bananas’, I hear ‘make sure you get a bag of almonds.’ Born again of a different core and not being a nutty person either, my only craving comes before boarding an aircraft. And while I have little doubt that my favorite chef does make terrific brownies, my abilities to cast an honest vote have been compromised.

A second and more dramatic eye-opener confounds this clash to boot. No mention was made of my lover’s truly over the top, unquestionably and unbeatable dessert special. I am referring to a bowl of such rareness, that when graced with the optional (should be standard) dose of heavy cream, I think of .400 averages in baseball and other records unlikely to ever be surpassed.

Now back to addressing the chuckle part. I have decided to take an action that will preempt any possible impetuous outbursts. I will annually, post to my blog, five inductions into a newly established Great Hall of ‘Best in the World’ homemade food or drink. The parameters for induction are simple, yet exceedingly difficult to achieve. The side dish, appetizer, entrée, dessert, drink or baked specialty must be so fabulous that I have never ingested even a worthy runner-up in any home or commercial establishment. Rule number two: If I cannot give an objective opinion because of a character defect, allergy (ex: crab meat) or other unforeseen circumstance I must then obtain no less than 5 ‘Best in the World’ nods from committee members. Please let me know if you would like to be on the committee. Rule three: Inductions shall take place the first Friday following the 4th of July.

And so, after five days (common theme here) of consideration, here are the 2010 Christopher’s Views, ‘Best in the World’ hall of homemade delights and the honorees:

Macaroni Marvel

Nana is being inducted posthumously and most likely laughing from heaven.

Out of this World Irish Soda Bread

I have no intention of letting these slices of splendor slip away. I have procured the recipe plus secret. Noteworthy hint: The secret is not in the raisins. My first two loaves baked came quite close to earning an authentic grade label. I believe that I will capture glory in the third round.

Chicken Supreme
Mom’s sister

Fair lady thinks she knows the secret behind these tender chunks, water chestnuts and mushrooms. But she has yet to fully master the exact flavors and crunchy allure of this indulgence. It is another complete meal unto itself, and affectionately referred to as my aunt’s chicken whenever served at home.

Majestic Manicotti
Mom in-law

I have been nearly negligent so far in providing little mention of this Queen of cuisine, who is arguably the most versatile of all the candidates and a plausible challenger for multiple awards. These thinly wrapped harbingers of digestive pleasure move along the palate without effort. They will add up though-I recommend knowing your limits. Additionally, I never order this specialty in a restaurant, for if any wait person mispronounces the name my faith is lost before even getting served.

Can't Miss Apple Crisp

Each year, in the early fall, our family trek’s to apple orchards in Upstate New York. We follow military style orders regarding which varieties and quantities of fruit are to be garnered. However, the overtime work of that one day pays a great dividend. We are bestowed with enough daily portions of the absolute best in the world crisp to transcend us all the way to Thanksgiving Day.

The hall has spoken. I look forward to collaborating with committee volunteers, in preparation of the 2011 ceremony. I have already got my hopes up for a promising Cajun fish recipe, a holiday pie, medal winning Pina Coladas, a few men to cross the threshold, and of course-closure for the brownies.

© 2010 Christopher’s Views

Saturday, July 3, 2010

Oh beautiful…

We are living in the midst of continually difficult economic times. The jobless rate officially slogs along at around 9.5%, and there is substantial debate that the true unemployment number is much higher. Interest rates are at, or near all time lows, but few people are buying homes. Hordes of students are graduating from college with jumbo loans and few prospects. More likely than not, what many experts are calling the Great Recession of today, would be another Great Depression if not for the government assistance and social service programs which were nonexistent in the 1930’s.

Our nation is struggling with winding down the war in Iraq, bringing about stability amid the corruption and confusion in Afghanistan, and fighting against home grown terror.

Business owners and residents along the Gulf of Mexico are stuck in the persistent trauma and nightmare caused by defending against the largest offshore oil ‘spill’ in American history.

All this said, and I haven’t even touched on anything beyond page one of the news.

Personally, balancing my commitments to a relatively middle class life style is as stressful as any time over the past twenty years.

Perhaps that is why I am glad to escape into the land of beaches, boardwalk’s, firework shows, BBQ’s, Tiki torches, golf clubs, ball games, and outdoor music this 4th of July weekend.

Along the way, I will see many U.S. flags flying. I will, at times, think of: ‘life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.’ I will think of the men and women in the armed forces who have and who are defending the ‘land of the free and the home of the brave.’

I will, for a moment, give thanks while I ‘stop and smell the roses’.

© 2010 Christopher’s Views

Friday, June 25, 2010

and the survey says???

My fair lady and I both tag on a lot of miles driving for work. I used to drive my cars right into the graveyard at about 180,000 miles. But over the last decade, my slightly older body began to beg for a return to comfort when the odometers clicked out the first of 6 figures. Lady has also joined that club.

So recently we decided to investigate a new all wheel drive vehicle worthy of replacing her 5 year old chariot. I did all the shopping, as my limited patience for the car buying experience is unfortunately trumped by her zero tolerance.

And now that my inbox has received a post sale/customer satisfaction inquiry I am left to ponder how to reply. Will I be brutally honest? Or, will I be overly gentle?

We actually really like the car, and that single piece of truth will likely be the driving force behind my answers. However, instead of winding me through 25 or 30 questions about facility comfort and inventory, I would much prefer the more obvious. For example: Were the folks at the dealership consistently jovial and whimsical enough as they tried to screw you three different ways?

For as friendly as they can be, deception seems to be the prime agenda in these ‘negotiations’. I know that there are some programs and dealerships that participate in flat, and supposedly no nonsense deals. But, the way I view it, there are still 3 basic ways they can bleep you.

They can bleep you on the price of the car. They can bleep you on the trade-in. And they can go all out on the financing. Was it a coincidence that my sales rep forgot to put the rebate on the order as first written? Were the (never before noticed) dings on my used car, and the still original timing belt as costly a factor as they wanted me to believe?

Regarding the financing, I won’t even speculate. I know they were trying to f@#$ me there. ‘Impossible’ is what the twenty-eight year old finance expert told me of my interest rate petition. Impossible, I reminded him, is usually what some other people are already doing.

After finally coming down to earth, and falling $120 per month in payments, he tried hard to make it seem like he valued our relationship. Was that before he was trying to take me for a dim-wit or after realizing that he had still made a sale?

All this unfolded, as my son tested the limits of my serenity, as he himself tested every single button, keyboard and plasma screen they had on location.

However, the most amazing part occurred when I picked up my cell and advised my cleverly absent lady to come on down-that ‘the price is right’. I then recognized that I do have a bit of ‘happy idiot’ in me. And all was forgiven as we gleefully admired our new transport and paid close attention to the instructions (like we wouldn’t have figured it out anyway) for each new device on the dashboard.

I imagine it’s time for me to bestow some 8’s along the grid on their survey’s 1 to 10 rankings. ‘Probably will’ is the likely answer concerning whether or not I would consider doing business with them again. I say this with the awareness that when I now park my 4 year old, slightly dinged up and less advanced vehicle next to my bride’s new stallion, I hear a little birdie saying-you’re going to be f@#$ed again soon.

© 2010 Christopher’s Views

Sunday, June 13, 2010

besieged by the brown tide

This past Friday, upon a second reach for the snooze option of my cell phone that was placed on my nightstand, I was simultaneously awakened by a chirpy Cardinal outside my bedroom window at 6am. I waggled myself downstairs and slipped into my flip flops in order to retrieve our morning paper. Quietly, I reached among some plastic cups in the dish washer, trying to avoid clanking glasses and waking others before their set times. I poured myself some juice, changed into my running clothes and sneakers, then embarked upon an early 5k.

Half an hour or so later I returned home to grab a vitamin container and make my son’s breakfast.The morning quiet was broken when my favorite first grader allowed the toilet seat to slip from his hand while I was preparing his cream cheese on a bagel. Concurrently, I gained a lipstick marked cheek from my lover as she gleefully departed for work. After about 10 minutes of munching cereal and reviewing spelling words, I handed off a field day lunch cooler to the antsy elementary school student, and off we walked.

Once the school drop off was complete I headed back to my driveway to begin my search for another coffee, plus an onion roll from a local bakery, even though they use the polystyrene cups that I detest. I was grateful though that I could once again enjoy a hot drink in my car, as the a/c has been repaired, and the black dashboard no longer feels like an enemy combatant.

Suddenly, on the way to the business Expo I was attending for the day, I remembered my boss and his obsession with shoe polish. Luckily, I was able to dig out a quick shoe-shine sponge, which I had tucked away beneath a bag of golf balls in my trunk.

I spent much of my day trying to drum up new clients, giving away ball point pens and observing some of the more lavish displays among vendors. When garden hoses and pumps are brought in to support a fountain, first prize might be achieved-but then regretted come knockdown time.

For me, dismantle meant simply turning off my laptop. Before heading off I needed to fill my sedan’s 16 gallon gasoline tank, which was near empty, in advance of any attempt to transverse the end of week rush hour traffic. I then made a short stop for pizza on my way home, along the many miles of asphalt roadways encircling New York City.

After dinner I decided to upload some pictures from my camera, as I prepared some web page changes to mark my return from a mini sabbatical away from blogging. I also needed a distraction from the 24 hour news reports, detailing the seemingly incredible and insincere actions and inactions associated with BP’s continuing catastrophic oil disaster in the Gulf of Mexico, so I played an all acoustic CD for background music as I logged onto my desktop.

Just then, my mind gained a bit of clarity, as I heard Alanis Morissette on track 8 while I peered into my monitor. And I was reminded that the attack on our shore lines is ‘a little too ironic…and yeah, I really do think’ that if we don’t change our ways soon we may well be holding ‘a death row pardon two minutes too late.’

*items highlighted in brown are a mere sampling of products commonly made from petroleum.

© 2010 Christopher’s Views

This post was included as a Post Of The Week. Please visit Hilary, the host, at her wonderful site: The Smitten Image.

Friday, June 4, 2010

a blank screen for now

I feel somewhat like a blank screen. To be sure, I have about a dozen topics I want to write about. But, factoring in a few days away, a busier than normal work schedule and no a/c in my car until the part finally arrives tomorrow-I am currently ineffectual as a blogger.

However, I still cannot even login to my dashboard without expressing how utterly appalling the oil catastrophe in the Gulf of Mexico has become. I rarely put much faith in the moral integrity of any large company to ‘do the right thing’. For that reason, I am much more troubled by what appears to be an inability on the part of our government to adequately manage and protect our coast.

And I hope to utilize better management of my blogging time soon.