Where Do You Think It Comes From?

And where the fuck do you think it goes?  A study (granted, a study by a bio-plastic company) was found that 72% of Americans don't know that conventional plastic is made from petroleum products.  And a full 40% believe that plastic will biodegrade.  So are their compost piles pocked with soda bottles, that for some reason haven't changed into dirt yet?   I guess that might be one reason you see plastic litter around; they think its the same as throwing an apple core out the window.  This is almost as embarrassing as our pitifully low evolution acceptance rate.

70% Of Americans Don't Know Plastic Is Made With Oil (TreeHugger)

Strangely Familiar.

I drank a Vault yesterday and the first thing I thought was "this tastes like Surge."  And other seem to agree, although die hards like on savesurge.org are quick to note that it is yellow, not green.  Which surely diminishes the enjoyment.  As for "finishing like an energy drink"  I don't know what the hell they're talking about.  I still think energy drinks are bullshit, this one being no exception.  Placing my head in a large pot and banging it with a wooden spoon would be a little more effective at stimulating me than drinking bubbly sugar water.  I mean, sure its got more caffeine than coke, which losers who like to fake a chemical addiction get all hot and bothered about.  But come on.  If all that's keeping you going is yellow liquid, maybe you should step away from the LAN party and go eat a meal.  Take a nap.  Walk around outside for a while.

• soda vault and surge - Google Search

Fast and Philanthropic.

Two weeks ago I had my first test drive. I guess that's long enough ago for this to be funny now. This was no ordinary drive, it was part of BMW's ultimate drive in partnership with the Susan G Komen foundation. Which means that for every mile you drive, they donate a dollar to the breast cancer charity.

Maybe my expectations were unreasonable, but I figured they'd give me the keys and tell me to come back in an hour. After all, the sign ups were in hourly increments. Not so. They had a 17.2 mile route mapped out, so there was no hour long cruise. But on the up-side that meant you got to take out more than one car. I imagine they let most people take out as many as they're interested in; after all its an advertisement.

I'd signed up for the 325Ci but there was a Z4 sitting there when I arrived, so I jumped in that one first. First impression: that car is small. My second impression: that car is tiny. I know I say I like small cars, but my civic seems roomy compared to that shoe box. The mirrors seemed like they would hit me in the head and I had to slouch severely to see through the windshield. I don't know what I would have done if the top was up. So basically I was very disoriented for a few minutes, but finally got used to the size and figured out the paddle shifting.

Paddle shifting is stupid. All it helped do was distract me from the road while I tried to figure out what gear I was in. Anyway, I proceeded along the route following the laminated directions and praying they didn't blow out of the car.

I got stuck behind a maintenance truck and the cars began to pile up behind me. A 5 series. An X5. Another Z4. A 7 series. All with the pink logos and impatient looking drivers waiting for this truck to get the hell out of the way. Finally he turned off and we got some driving done. There was a nice little back road with twists and weaves and bobs; perfect for carving some esses.

I got the distinct feeling that I was on the old time car ride at Hershey Park. (The big numbered decals on the cars probably helped with the illusion.) You know that one with the gas powered cars on a rail so you can't drive off? Bumper to bumper cause that one kid in front has a busted ass car that goes half as fast as everyone else's. Not that my car was busted, but this was my first time on the route and I had no idea where the next turn was.

Even at our (what I'd call) leisurely pace we came upon an old maroon VW rabbit who was flying along at oh... 15 miles an hour. It was grueling. Finally he slowed and turned right. I hit the paddle twice, down shifted and put some horses on the road. As I rounded the next bend I glanced in the rear view. The five series is behind me but moving very slowly and I see the 7 series as it round the corner and slips out of view. Shit. That was Lime Kiln road, wasn't it? I hit the brakes as the 5 ducks into a driveway. I rev up the road till the next one and pull in to turn around. I got back to Lime Kiln pretty quick and felt the difference in rear wheel drive as I rounded the corner. Now I was at the end of the line, which was fine with me. I didn't need to set the pace or find the route. We hit the highway after a couple minutes more and zipped back down to the dealer at, lets say, more than the posted speed limit. It was kinda neat; a caravan of BMWs painted with pink logos moving amongst the normal traffic.

Next I waited for my 325Ci. I liked that car way better. I could sit in it and not feel freakishly huge. Plus I felt like it had more pickup than the Z4, despite its higher weight. The same guy who was in the 5 series behind me last time was in a 6 series this time. The two of us proceeded through the loop and didn't get stuck behind anyone for very long this time. Rounded Lime Kiln road like a pro, hit the highway, and pulled into the lot. An event organizer walked over.

"Hello Sir."
"Hi."
"We got a call from the police about the speed you were traveling."
"Really?" (which I'm hoping came off as "Really? Was I going too fast?" and not "Really? I didn't see any cops.")
"Unfortunately we're not going to be able to let you out any more today."

Yes, I was asked to stop participating in a cancer charity. Not that I wasn't going faster than they'd have liked, but I just sucks that we were the only two that got ratted on. But I drove the two cars I wanted to so I didn't really feel shorted; its just a little embarrassing. Plus those usual fear-of-authority thoughts rolled around in the back of my head. "The cops? ...are they... coming here?" and "So... are you going to tell them who was driving number 5? Should I expect mail?" I don't think any of that went down, it was more like a bartender cutting off that really drunk dude. He can't give you any more right now, but he really hopes you come back tomorrow with a bunch of your friends.

I've been busy.

Alright, I'm done shopping for cars. I discovered my civic stopped holding its oil so well at the last change. And I needed new tires. And a new timing belt soon. So I made the call that it was time to send the good old boy out to pasture. I tracked down some leads and I pulled the trigger last night. I continued my peanut butter sammich for lunch regiment but midway through I realized that I had not portioned the butter properly and thought I might die on 495. Not from high velocity collision like most people, but from peanut butter asphyxiation. Luckily I choked it down, but didn't finish the sandwich. So it occurs to me that the dealer, not only got our agreed price and a well used 1996 Honda Civic but (whether they know it or not) a bonus half a peanut butter and honey sandwich I'd placed in the driver's side door pocket.

So my first real car buying experience down, I've come to the following conclusion:
Car shopping on the Internet makes you feel like a deep cover agent talking to his handlers in the middle of an op that is blowing up in everyone's face...

"I'm so glad you contacted me, we need you to come in."
"You really should stop by so we can talk in person."
"I'd like to get you in for a test drive, are you busy right now?"

Very mission impossible.

The only downside I can think of to the way this went down is that I had 199,975 miles on the Civic when I traded it in. I only noticed when they wrote down the miles on the trade-in form, otherwise I woulda put the last 25 on there just to see all those 0's click. But other than that I'm pretty happy. I got a 2005 RSX type S. It is smoke. The color is smoke. I love telling that to people and watching the facial expressions of about half of them. Its like a Labrador puppy tasting pop rocks for the first time. Or something.

So the end of an era, the fall of Civic. It was as true a car as any. It only broke down once on me. And I was in highschool then. And on a date. And it was raining. So who's complaining? Yes that car was the finest of wingmen, and I mourn his loss.

Baaaaaad dog.

Stole this from one of Dee S. Nutts profiles.

Several Australian companies have been selling poodles to people in japan, where the poodle is little known and fairly rare.  The price is rock bottom, about half of competitors prices, which might seem like a good deal till you hear how they pull it off.  No, they don't cut the dogs in half or anything like that.  There are, in fact, no dogs at all.  They're selling sheep.  Unbeknownst to the Japanese buyers, who have little ideal what a poodle should look like, lambs are being taunted up a bit and hoisted as pedigree canines.

Hilarious.

A well known actor brought a picture of her "dog" on a talk show complaining that the dog never barked and would not eat dog food only to be informed that it was, in fact, a sheep.  I wish I could see that conversation.

"My poor dog, he's so quiet.  And he never eats.  I think he's depressed."
"Well, that's a sheep.  So maybe your sheep is depressed."

What happens when these "poodles" grow up?  Aren't sheep bigger than most dogs?  They're certainly heavier.  And how the hell do you overlook hooves?  Honestly hooves!

• metro.co.uk: Dog Owners fleeced

Not Cool.

This is kinda effed up.  Truckers are protesting something or other by driving ass-slow around the beltway this week.  The site says that cops cracked down on truckers with empty loads to interfere with the protest but every highway I was on and arteries leading to them were fucked.  Not that it effected my commute, but I passed a lot of pissed off folks headed the other way.

• "Save America Fund"

Apparently the protest is over Mexican truck drivers taking away jobs.  You know what?  If they work for less and don't fuck up the beltway with protest "slow-rolls" then I'm all for it.  Why can't you assholes get out of your truck and have a damn picket rally like everyone else?  If I'm upset and work for the department of public works, can I poison the water supply?  Best of all they're wasting countless gallons of fuel and most likely causing accidents by creating stop an go traffic.  Screw you guys, I'm all for passing whatever you're against.

Old People Material.

Last week I ran across an article about a guy in Washinton who was suing spammers and the legal difficulties he went through.  I didn't write about it and lost interest.  I don't even know what site it was on.  Maybe Slate.  Maybe Slashdot.  It doesn't matter.  What did stick in my mind was one of the complaints (in an unrelated case) that was lodged against a judge.  Among other complaints of loosed tongue indiscretions Gary W. Velie had apparently

stated to an attorney in open court and in front of a female court reporter and female clerk that the attorney looked like he had been "jacking off a bobcat in a phone booth;"

That is freaking hilarious.  Not just the mental image (Imagine how you would go about such a thing and what the pitfalls might be.  I'll wait a sec for you to stop laughing... .... ... all set?  Me neither... ... ... ok lets go.) but that this dude found it a normal way to characterize an attorney in court.  If I ever go to court, I want that judge.  Anyway, I think we should start using this expression.  The next time one of your friends walks in looking particularly disheveled, whip it out.  He'll never know what hit him, all courtesy of the honorable Gary W. Velie.

Washington State: Comission on Judicial Conduct (scroll to Feb 7 1992)

Mixin It Up.

So last week I started my peanut butter experiment.  It went honey, honey, banana, honey.  And I'm finding it a little repetitive.  After lunch on Friday I didn't think I could eat any more peanut butter; luckily its Monday and my zeal is refreshed.  Mildly.  I'm thinking of busting out my marmalade today.  Does anyone know if you have to refrigerate that stuff?  I know the company says you have to, cause there are no preservatives, but come on.  That's just covering their asses, right?  Its sugar, and I don't refrigerate sugar.  What could happen?

Yes this is an odd gambit to be playing because the fridge in the kitchen, not 20 steps away always has plenty of space.  But have you ever reached into a drawer and pulled out all the supplies you need for a week of lunches?  Its like my own hammer space.

Under Dressed.

I went to a concert on Friday in the city.  As I waited out front for the other members of my party, I sized up the other patrons entering the theatre.  It was an odd mix, but resulted in an amusing show.  Anyway, as I waited I saw person after person wearing VT hats, jerseys, ribbons, and even with their faces painted.  I began to think I missed a memo, I mean, I knew some bad shit went down there last week.  But why the hell are you all wearing VT gear?  This is a concert for a semi-popular group from Newfoundland and we're in DC.  There's no direct link, right?  Do you really need to show your support for the victims of disaster (or crime) by wearing their products?  And furthermore, does it make me a dick for not?  Am I saying, by my conspicuous choice of grey t-hirt and unpainted face, that I do not support the VT students and families?  Cause that wasn't my intention, I just didn't think that my wearing a hokies shirt would make them feel better.  Course I don't really get "compassion" and "support" anyway so...

Let The Nav System Wars Begin.

Face it, the commute many people undertake every day is war.  Sure, we'd like to think that everyone around you is working together to get where you're going safely, but that's not the case.  They want to beat you there and they don't care if it happens safely or not.  Some road warriors spend money on horsepower or height, others opt for fancy intel systems in the hopes of getting a leg up.  Sucks to be them cause the age of counter-intelligence is ramping up.  Two Italians have figured out how to fake traffic information signals received by many in dash navigation systems.  They can fictionalize traffic reports using an FM data stream that reaches about a mile.  Imagine being able to re-route cars out of your way a full mile before you get there.  That's even better than the ambulances have it.

• Don't let your navigation system fool you | CNET News.com