Max: Thank You, Hud

I haven't known too many people who have served in the military. A cousin of mine was in the Air Force. My friend Jim was in the Marines briefly until they figured out that he is gay. I don't really know Hud all that well. We have met in person all of once. That was pleasant enough. Poor communication and heartfelt beliefs have led us to clash in much of our later communication here on IWDC. But regardless of any of that, Hud, like many brave men and women, you have committed to put yourself in danger so that the rest of us can have some hope of going about our lives in peace and security. I respect and honor that. And for that, despite anything else, you have my eternal gratitude.

Max: Judge: Parents can't teach pagan beliefs

Judge: Parents can't teach pagan beliefs

"An Indianapolis father is appealing a Marion County judge's unusual order that prohibits him and his ex-wife from exposing their child to 'non-mainstream religious beliefs and rituals.'"

First Amendment? We don't need no steenking First Amendment!

Jericho: Kitten Hunting

In an attempt to keep up with Mighty Max, I will do a Day in the Life post - right here before your eyes! Actually, today was a little more interesting than average, so it might be worth a shot.

As some of you know, we put down one of our cats a couple of months ago. Punky was old and in poor health. So, we have only had our two here since then. But, it's that time of year, litters start arriving to the shelters by the truck load. We have been talking about adding to our herd for a while now. Steph has long wanted an orange colored cat, she had a great marmalade colored kitty growing up; Odie. She would like to get a pair of kittens who can grow up together as pals. We feel that a pair of kittens will play with each other, and leave our oldest cat, Tigger, alone with her paranoia. We also feel that a pair of kittens will totally terrorize our youngest, Wesley, as it should be. Amen.

We knew today would be the day to go look. Shelters are starting to gear up for the season. The Humane Society hosted an event today that peaked our interest. They took over a window at Barney's in Downtown, Seattle. There, they placed a male model with a load of kittens to play with - very Benetton. The kittens were cute, as all kittens are. But, we are looking for long haired kitties as well as an orange one if possible. No luck at Barney's.

Next was a sheleter in Everett. By ths point, my alergies were out of control. The weather here in Seattle has been very odd. We have in the last two weeks gone from thunderstorms and unseasonable cold, to balmy, clear, high 80's and warmer. For we web footed Northwesterners, this is a lot to bear. Along with the heat, pollen and mold counts are through the roof. Add in a little cat dander, and I'm a walking mucus factory. If we could figure out a way to harness the power of a human sneeze, I'm sure I alone could keep the west coast from seeing a rolling black out ever again.

The shelter wasn't as filled with kittens as we had been lead to believe. The few there were either in quarantine, still nursing or already adopted. That just left the feeling that one was standing in a cat prison. I hate shelters. Steph likes them because she feels that it's a hopeful thing - these cats will eventually go to good homes. I just end feeling like I'm not doing enough to help these poor animals that just want to be loved and let out of their cages. Depressing.

Back home to the too-hot house. We have one window unit air conditioner in the bed room. I lay down in there for a while to allow my alergies to ease off and let my meds do their work. I slept through most of two movies - in one dream, cast members of Ghostbusters were having a terrible arguement. I'm afraid their team will never be the same.

I woke up and Steph had been on the phone with more shelters. We will probably go look for more kittens tomorrow. We went to find an air conditioned restaurant for dinner. We decided on pizza - we're back on Adkins next week - we mean it this time. Then, off for DQ Blizzards!

One of the main things I did today was avoid working on my comic strip. I have zilch for this week. I have no strips, no scripts, no photography - nothing. This was my fear, that I would let myself get behind - and I've gotten behind at the worst time. Work has gotten on my final nerve - I'm just so stressed out I don't know what to do next. Anything requiring cncentration is beyond my grasp. This is what killed my last attempt at a comic strip. On top of this, I have struck upon an idea, and as Max will tell you, I am a sucker for a new project. I think the strip might come to an end, much sooner than I thought it would. We'll see. I love doing the strip, but, I was hoping it would take off sooner than it has. I have thrown a lot of money at it and seen no return. I've done a lot of work and no recognition. There comes a point when you have to admit that an idea isn't flying. I'm very close to admitting that. Besides, I need a way out of the 9 to 5 thing, and the strip isn't getting me there.

So, what's the idea? Well, here, have a look at this. Okay, it's a girl in a pink tee shirt, right. The shirt is by Buddhist Punk, the tee shirt features pictures of members of the Rolling Stones. So, this is licensed merchandice from the Rolling Stones and a new, hot design house. But, click on the pic and check out the price. Yup, $128, for a tee shirt! If you look around the Internet, you can find other Buddhist Punk creations - I haven't found anything less than $75 and I have found things for a WHOLE LOT more. None of this stuff is made in any outstanding way or of any insanly cool materials. It's all just silk screen on rayon and cotton - they aren't even handmade. So, I started thinking, if I design something, that makes me a designer. What if I started to produce one of a kind, hand made, silk screened and air brushed tee shirts. Outragious designs and every one of them with it's own serial number - guaranteeded to be unique! I can sell them on-line to start. Set up a store front, put a few on eBay, etc. I can make stuff as good as these dufuses and I'll charge half the price! Designer chic for the masses! And, I won't just make shirts in "small" either! Fuck that! Guys who wear 7X shirts wanna look cool, too! Besides - it's a bigger canvas for me to do my thing on. Rock, rock on!

Now, I just have to learn how to do silk screening, get the junk to do it with and find some space in the garage to set up shop. This idea appeals to my creative side. I like the idea of working on a product that feeds my creative need and will serve a functon when I finish. I also like the idea of sticking it to the fashion elite! My little protest in the battle against stupidity. Who knows - maybe I will become a big-time designer and I'll be able to sell a $5 tee-shirt with a $1 worth of acrylic paint for $200 some day. And, maybe Jean Paul Gaultier will fly out of my butt.

Or, I could just go play with my action figures and camera and complete a project for once!

Max: Blah, Blah et Blah Encore

My alarm went off at 9. I muttered my usual Thursday morning obscenities. Tuesday and Wednesday are my weekend so Thursday is my Monday. The work week is too long, and the weekend far too short.

Part of my new fitness regime (half-assed as it is) involves cutting back on my beloved fizzy caffeine. So, without benefit of my usual morning fuel, I showered, ate and dragged my ass to work. It says something about the scheduling issues we have right now that I took about 5 calls from 11:30 to 5:30, and about 20 from 5:30 to 8:00. During days we are so overstaffed that we get 45-60 minutes between calls. During evenings we are so understaffed that there are often 45-60 calls in queue.

Usually when it is slow, my supervisor will have me do email support. Email support is good and bad. It is good because I get to be off the phones. It's bad because when I am on the phone those 45-60 minute gaps between calls can be spent reading or surfing. While on email support, it is nothing but answering emails.

The emails themselves fall into 3 categories. The first are legitimate requests for help. We have preformatted responses for most common technical issues and these are dealt with quickly and easily. They comprise about 10% of the overall volume.

The second are moronic request for help. Like emails that say, "My email doesn't work." Another example, and my personal favorite, was the email that said, in its entirety, "I keep getting the error." These take a little more cunning as we try to devise a way to ask the emailler just what the fuck they are shooting for, while taking care not to call attention to their obvious stupidity. These comprise about 20% of the volume.

Third, and comprising the remaining 70% of the volume are cranks who are hoping that the people who answer the emails are both higher in rank and lower in IQ than the people who answer the phones. Usually they will have already called in and they are complaining that the evil, awful, horrible person who answered the phone tried to troubleshoot their problem rather than just admit that we were fucking with his service for shits and grins. Or the person who is shocked, shocked, that we would be so incompetent as to cut off his service just because he hasn't paid his bill for four months. Of course, the only reasonable course of action, in their opinion, is for the rep who informed him that we will turn back on his service if he paid his bill, and the supervisor who actually agreed with the rep, be fired immediately. Then we must immediately give him at least three months of free service (in addition to erasing the overdue charges) if we are to have any hope of him considering keeping us as his provider.

Oy.

Today, however, it was so slow that the email support had already been done. So, I was forced to chill for extended periods of time between calls. At least until the vast majority of the other reps clocked out just in time for the phones to go nuts.

After that, it was home, tuna helper and some TV. Likely, the same pattern will hold true through Monday, so don't be too surprised if these "day in the life" posts dry up a bit until the weekend. But I am sure if we asked Jer nicely to do his own day in the life posts, he would be only too happy to tell us all to fuck off and die.

Max: Fitness Day at IWDC

It's great to keep the bod in shape. Or at least I assume it would be. I wouldn't know from personal experience. But we need to keep the gray matter in shape too.

Jericho: NEAT Fit

Check this out. All of those years of teachers telling me, "Sit down, Mr. Brown" and "Stop fidgetting, Mr. Brown" and "Stop picking your nose, Mr. Brown," have set me up for a life of low matabolism, obesity and an early death. Thanks! Guess who has been walking around his desk every few minutes for the past few days!

This, however, is even cooler. I have been talking about this kind of thing for years. I've even said that they should build treadmills that are connected to turbines so that we could collect the electricity created by the movement. Does anyone listen to me? No, the "doctor" from the "Mayo Clinic" with his "grants" and "research" gets all the credit. Oh, well, maybe the world will pay attention this time!

Max: Just Another Day

I got to sleep around 1 AM last night. For almost a year I did the 9-5 thing and never managed to fall into a good sleep pattern. For less than a month I have been working 11:30-8 and I have settled right into it. I guess this proves I am nocturnal after all. That'll be great after we have a kid. I slept quite well and was up around 9:30.

I pretty much spent my morning reading. Around 1, the estimator from the insurance company came to look at my car. Did I mention that I was rear-ended last week? The damage is superficial and the car is still drivable. It's just ugly and I can't get into my trunk. It is going to cost at least $2500 to fix. Now we just have to wait for the insurance company to decide if they wish to admit it is the other driver's fault and pay the whole thing or to try to blame us thus meaning we have to cough up $500.

After that, the Mrs and I took the dog for a walk. It is rather sad how out of shape I am. I used to be able to at least handle the rigors of a casual walk. Today I was getting worn out after maybe 20 minutes. I guess it is time to start walking more and using the damn exercise bike again.

We came home and I made dinner. I bbq'd some pork steaks and made some rather good corn. Well, at least I thought it was good, Laura thought it was too spicy. I put a couple tablespoons of butter in a pot with two cups of frozen corn. I added a heavy pinch of kosher salt and fresh ground pepper, about a tablespoon of minced dried onion, a pinch of dried crushed red pepper (like you find in the shakers at pizza joints) and a quarter cup of chicken broth. I put it over medium heat, stirring occasionally until the corn was heated through.

After that, I read for a while, watched American Idol then hit the grocery store to pick up a few items we missed yesterday (our own dime, this time). Now I think I am going to go grab my book and chill until bedtime.

Max: Compost

Ever since we moved to this house, Laura's parents, who live just up the street, have been threatening to get a riding lawn mower for us to share. Today, they carried through with the threat and bought a shiny new John Deere. They brought it around to our house to give a trial run. Laura got the first ride, doing the front yard in a fraction of the time with a fraction of the effort it took me to mow it a couple of weeks ago. And while I was just short of killed by the effort I put out back then, Laura was more than capable of standing upright when she was done.

When it came time to do the backyard, we ran into a bit of a snag. The mower would not fit through either of our gates. So, my father-in-law - who seems to find the word "impossible" missing from his vocabulary - grabbed some tools and turned a section of our fence into a new gate wide enough to allow the mower in.

While he was doing that, I noticed some rather healthy looking vegetation growing in the gutters of our garage. Laura climbed up on a ladder and started pulling out what looked like dry compost. It was kind of nasty, but it came out pretty easily. Although my fear of heights means I am not normally a fan of ladders - or step stools or shoes with soles that are too thick - I volunteered to do the other side of the garage as we have a bit of a poison ivy problem over there. Laura is highly allergic to the demon weed while I have so far proven immune. Big mistake. The downspout on the other side had been well clogged. While Laura had pulled out dry compost, I was pulling out wet chunks of organic matter that would have made Swamp Thing gag. When I cleared the downspout there was a diluvian flow out of the opening.

I finished that just in time to start tooling around my backyard on the mower. I have been mowing lawns off and on for about 26 years. This is the first time I actually had fun. Once got the hang of the mower, it was like my backyard had become my own personal go-cart track.

The yard work finished, the day's filth finally showered off of me, I settled into one of the lawn chairs in the afternoon shade. I just sat, and thought and watched the dog run around like the hyperactive nutjob she is. For the first time in a long time I felt good. I felt at peace. Then Laura came out and reminded me about the argument we had last night. After a short reprise we made our peace and headed out to do some grocery shopping on the in-laws' dime. Have I mentioned my in-laws are fairly awesome?

We just got home. Laura is watching the great, prime time karaoke contest that is American Idol. So I figured I would share the details of my day with you, the vast fanbase that makes IWDC the awesome place it is. You two are great!

Max: 11 AM Jazz

"You can't hold no groove if you ain't got no pocket."
- Victor Wooten

That quote may or may not have anything to do with what I write here.

It is a little past 11 AM. I finally managed to sleep for a few hours. I am looking out of the window of my home office at my back yard, where at the moment my dog is diligently trying to find a place to pee. I wonder why she can't just let go anywhere in the grass. Back at our old place, I had assumed it was because she shared our yard with our tenants' dogs. But she is the only dog to have used this yard in over a year and she still sniffs around for a while, trying to find the perfect place to pop a squat.

A bit beyond my yard, someone with a sledgehammer is beating the shit out of a section of sidewalk in the subdivision behind my house. The thought occurs that I view this as a perfectly legitimate activity because he has a Bobcat and a dump truck with him. But really, for all I know he is just a particularly thorough vandal who likes to clean up after himself.

It's a nice day out. It's sunny and somewhere in the upper 60's to lower 70's. I wish I had a table and chair on my front porch. It would be nice to drag the laptop out there and surf/write while watching the traffic flow by. I guess I will have to satisfy myself with an open window and watching my dog eat grass. Actually, I just yelled at her to stop. I'm not in the mood to clean up dog vomit.

I was somewhat reluctant to move to the county when we bought this house. With the exception of the first year Laura and I were married, and the odd trip to my parents' lake house and such, I have spent my entire life in cities - mainly Saint Louis and London. The smell of diesel exhaust still takes me back to wandering around London. But our last place in the city was crowded in. Most of our windows looked out on our neighbors' houses, five feet on either side of us. It is a bit less claustrophobic here.

I'm trying not to think about my bad mood last night and the past few days that put me in it. When I do, I start bitching to myself and that really doesn't lead to much beyond making sure I stay in a bad mood. Right now I am willing to settle for my current sleep deprived numbness over the agitated, powerless feeling of the past few days.

Anyway, I'm going to wrap this up. Have a nice day and thank you for choosing Irate Weirdos.

Max: 3 AM Blues: Part the Second

I don't know quite why I am here or what I am going to write. I just know it is 3 AM and I am not in the best of moods. When I look back at my old journals, my meager collection of fiction and doggerel, I am somewhat astounded. A decade or so I barely ever wrote. But I wrote more than I do now. I guess part of it is that I had more free time. Another is I often wrote as a response to stress, depression and other icky emotional crap. Now my response to all that is to shut down.

That said, I have written a little more over the past couple of weeks than I have in a while. A while back I got one of those "What if" scenarios going through my head. Some years ago I got the urge to create what I called the Super Taco. It was really more of an ambitious pile of nachos. I just took a pound of ground beef, browned it and threw in a packet of taco seasoning. I then spread a layer of tortilla chips in a pan, threw down a layer of beef, some cheese and some hot sauce, topped with a few more layers of the same. Jericho and I then scarfed. Once the beast was conquered, Jericho, paraphrasing a line from Red Dwarf, cried out, "Oh God! I've been Super Tacoed to death!" From that memory my mind put together a scene that I found amusing. I kept playing with that scene - the people in it, etc. Somewhere along the way I started thinking of it as a scene in a movie. Most ideas like this die a merciful death when something comes along and distracts me from them. But I kept coming back to this one. It excited me in a way few ideas have. I thought about the characters, including modified versions of characters Laura and I once thought up for a comic book.

Then a few days ago I sat down and wrote out some dialogue between two of the characters. It was a little rough, but not bad. It was a little darker and angstier than I had been planning for this little project. But with the lightness before and after it, it becomes more of a counterpoint to the overall humor of what I had in mind. After writing the dialogue, I went a few days without writing anything more on it. But it stayed on my mind. I spent days wrestling with what the story was to be about, about where it was leading to and what was to be the ending. I wanted something of a non-ending ending - more of a plagal cadence than V-I resolution. I wanted something that would satisfy, that would show that all the sound and fury of the story lead to something. But I also wanted it clear that these characters were going to live on beyond the end of the movie. I wanted, "I guess this will do for now," rather than happily (or tragically) ever after. I have had a Notepad window open for the past few days where I jotted down my thoughts. I think I have found where I am going. That will make it easier to flesh out the characters and the story.

If I continue.

The past few days have been particularly unpleasant. The job seems more intolerable than ever. My usual inability to do anything right has grown exponentially. Generally I a disgusted with my life and myself and it seems hard to see this movie idea as anything more than another distraction that will lead to nothing. But at least it is a distraction. If I am going to hide from everything, why not hide in a story of my own making instead of someone else's? That's what I used to do.

Of course, everything that I used to do is what lead me to where I am now.

Max: Richard Dawkins

At his best, Richard Dawkins is one of the greatest advocates of knowledge and reason over ignorance and superstition. At his worst, he can spout anti-religious sputum that is as close minded and ignorant as anything that comes from a fundy. This is and example of him at his best.

Max: Wise Words from Bill McClellan

You may find them here.

Max: Episode III, An IWDC Review

I liked it.

You might like it or hate it.

Decide for your own lazy, fucking self.

Jericho: Brain Slide

Okay, time to induct another Honorary Irate Weirdo. This guy is an insane genius - too bad he doesn't have more work out there. But, maybe we have enough proof of his instanity.

Here's Proof.
More Proof.
A little more Proof over here.

There more on the site. Total whack. Way to go!

Jericho: Ben's BBs

If this doesn't make you think, nothing will.

Join True Majority - it's fun, it's free and it may be the only voice you will ever have in our government.

Max: 3 AM Blues

It's 3 AM and I am pretty much wide awake. I have spent the better part of the last month in a drug induced haze as I sought to fight off the disease. It would seem the disease is finally going quietly into that good night. As I don't have to go to work tomorrow, I figured tonight would be a good night to go cold turkey from the myriad of narcotics my Doctor had me on to suppress my cough and help me sleep. After about four hours of staring at the ceiling I thought it might be a good time to see if TV is as boring at 2:30 AM as it was when I was working overnights as turkey bacon. It is.

I had no idea about what Jer has been going through these past few days until I read it here. I have always had my own personal compartment in Jer's life. Even when he lived in STL I rarely met his other friends. When I did, misunderstandings and/or GURPS campaigns tended to result. So, I ended up being kept in my cage. In another way, I have been all too aware of what he is going through. Maybe it has been the drugs breaking down my mental barriers. Maybe it has been my unconscious deciding it is time I started facing up to what happened. Maybe it has just been that I am fucked in the head. Regardless, for the past week or so I have been having flashbacks to my daughter's premature birth and all too premature death. Not just memories. I mean brief but all too vivid flashbacks.

Sometimes it seems like life is a process of losing everything you care about. Loved ones die. Dreams fade. Impermanence is often the greatest cruelty about life. This person/thing/event/sensation that means so much and makes life worth living is someday going to be gone and we have nothing to do for it except to try and find something to fill the void. Or to learn to live with the void. Or fall into the void and join the silent majority in oblivion. Each time, with each loss we are faced with that choice. The joke it, none of them are a good choice. Nothing can ever truly fill the void, only mask it a bit. Living with the void means living in pain. And falling into the void only succeeds in passing the void on to others.

Fuck it. I'm taking a Tylenol PM and going to bed.

Jericho: Coeur d'Alene, Idaho.

I sat bolt upright in bed. My cell phone was ringing. I slipped out of bed so as to not wake Steph and dove across the room to grab my phone before it rang again. No caller ID. "This had better be good," I barked as quietly as I could.

"Jericho, it's God. How are you?"

"Oh man. Why do you only call me in out of state hotel rooms?"

"How was the service?"

"This is total bullshit. How did you get my number? Who the hell are you?"

"Jericho, you feeling okay? It's God. We've been through this. Remember Chicago?"

"Yeah, I remember. I should have hung up on you then, too. Two other people are in this room and they don't need to be woken up by your shit. I'm hanging up now."

"We won't disturb them."

"What?"

"Have a little faith. They will never know I called." I looked over at the beds. The hotel room was quiet except for some soft snoring. My wife was in one bed, our friend was in the other bed. It was as if nothing had happened. "You have questions, don't you, Jericho?"

"No. I have no questions. I have only contempt."

"I see. So, you don't understand?"

"What's to understand? A young, smart, interesting, beautiful person gets aggressive brain cancer. She turns to her faith for answers and help. Nine months later the cancer kills her. Yet, Rush Limbaugh still walks the planet. Makes perfect sense."

"She was ready. She had done her work. It was time."

"So, when our time comes, when our work is done, we are given unending migraine style headaches until our brains are crushed inside our own skulls? Totally logical."

"Jericho, I know that tone, you always get cold and sarcastic when you are confused and defensive."

"That's all you have to say?"

"Of course not. I just want you to know that I hear you and I want you to talk to me, not just make stabbing remarks about the situation."

"All I have is sarcasm. Without sarcasm, I might as well not talk at all - my vocabulary would consist of monosylabic grunting, tongue clicking and high pitched whistles."

"Are you going to talk to me or are we going to do this all night?"

"Do what? This is the second time in two months I've gotten a cell phone call from God. If I'm still sane, I would be totally shocked."

"You asked for this Jericho. You wanted to be one of my prophets."

"I asked for it in college! Do you own a calendar?"

"You weren't ready. You're ready now. I talk to my prophets. Always have."

"Are the guys walking around Seattle wearing newspaper for pants and talking to the sky your prophets as well?"

"A few of them. This isn't an easy cup you have asked to drink from."

"Robert Tilton?"

"I thought we were talking about you."

"We aren't talking at all. I can't believe any of this. As far as I'm concerned, I have proof God doesn't exist. So, that means you are just some crank and I get to hang up on you now and go back to sleep."

"You have proof I don't exist?"

"Sure. Occam's Razor. Which is more likely? An omnipotent God who creates life, the universe and everything so that all of creation can worship Him. Or, man makes up God to comfort himself as he struggles to understand this great chaotic ball of chemistry and physics around him? A God who would create a spiecies simply to worship Himself would have to have an ego like a black hole. I don't think a being like that would allow itself to exist for very long. So, either God would have destroyed Himself just after the book of Genesis or He never existed in the first place."

"That's your proof?"

"She came to you for help. You either ignored her or you don't exist. Which is it?"

"She chose faith as her medicne."

"Right. She healed her soul as her brain was eaten by a tumor. Some medicine."

"She ministered to her friends and family. She was a witness to my love."

"Love? What love? Pal, you are truly messed up in the head! Brain cancer is your idea of love? YOU need a CAT scan!"

"So, I don't exist."

"You allowed an innocent person to die in one of the worst ways possible. Yeah, you twisted fuck, you don't exist."

"We're done?"

"We're DONE!"

"Okay. By the way, Jen said to open your heart and give Steph a hug for her."

"FUCK YOU!"


I'm sorry, Jen. I'm really sorry.

Max: How Light Sabers Work

Build your own real life light saber. No, really. Really. Stop laughing!

Jericho: Stuff

I figured out how Hillary Clinton could win the presidency in 2008. Her running mate should be black. Male or female doesn't matter. They should be competent and black. The disenfranchised will feel like they finally have someone to vote for! No longer will we have to decide between the lesser of lessers. What a change that would be, huh? Of course, if Arnold runs ...

There are several methods used to fight male pattern baldness. Various drugs, plugs and the one I'm considering, scalp reduction. One of these methods, the micro transplant, moves small bits of skin with only one or two live hairs, from the back of the head to the front. The back of the head doesn't have the same marker to go bald as the front and top. It occurs to me: would cadaver transplants work as well? I don't know about rejection issues, but it would seem that if you had a large amount of donors, you could match tissue fairly easily. This would also be monetarily enticing to the family of the donor. The back of the head isn't shown when the body is on display in the coffin. The donation could result in a monetary return of several thousand dollars, depending on the market. Even white or grey hair would work, as it could be dyed and eventually it will match the natural color of the transplantee. It also seems like it would be a simpler procedure to replace a large flap of skin than trying to build a natural looking hairline with a bunch of micro grafts.

The wrist watch is an amazing instrument. But, what I find more amazing is the acceptance of the watch. No matter where you go on the planet, watches and clocks all look the and act the same. We all operate on a 24 hour clock, each hour has sixty minutes - they tell time the same way in Berlin, Brooklyn or Beijing. We can't agree on one language for the planet, but we all managed to agree that time keeping be conducted with the same devices and the same method. Maybe there is hope for mankind yet.

$25 bucks for 10 gallons of gas! That's the cheap stuff and that's only an average cost. I remember a Bloom County strip where the character in the strip was going insane because gas prices had dropped to $.69 cents a gallon. This would have been in the mid-eighties when everyone still remembered the energy crunch. We didn't listen. In the 70's they started talking about alternate fuels. That was thirty years ago. At the time, we were running out of fossil fuels. Not so any more. Technology improved in the last 30 years. Now they are finding oil in amazing places and drilling for oil in places they couldn't drill thirty years ago with an efficiency that defies belief. They say the price is due to problems in the middle east. Bullshit, I say. There is more oil than ever before. We seem to have a limitless supply. When was the last time you went to a gas station and they were out of gas? Right. Not for twenty plus years. And Bush wants to build more refineries to pump out even more gas - you would think that his fortune and that of his family was based on oil or something! I say that OPEC and the rest are charging what the market will bear. We're dumb enough to pay whatever they demand because we have structured our lives around our cars. A friend of mine has taken the attitude that higher gas prices mean fewer cars on the road, which means less traffic for him - his commute in Orange County is much faster. We are reliving the 50's, 60's and 70's. In the last twenty years, cars have gotten bigger and bigger. Instead of land yachts, we have SUVs. We have more cars per family than people did in the 70's. And now, OPEC has us by the tailpipe. I think that if alternative fuels do actually catch on, we will see gas fall below a dollar a gallon again. They will try to keep us hooked anyway they can. For now, they are going to wring our wallets dry. Have fun America! You made this bed - now go poor in it!

Max: New HHGttG Radio Series on BBC Radio 4

Listen to it here.