Last Chance Cafe

I did finally get to see the new Batman movie. My only complaint is that Tom Cruise sucks because he wouldn't let his zombie bride reprise her role. Damn you Tom Cruise!! Another reason to just hate Scientologists as if you really needed another.

Posted by petefredbob at 03:18 PM | Permalink

Just a little over nine hours to the finals at So You Think You Can Dance according to the Fox web site. Like a lucky character actor on one of those CSI/Law and Order shows owning up to his crime, my private shame becomes public knowledge here as I confess my fascination with this joint.

I somehow avoided heartbreak last week as they dumped Chelsea over my future ex-wife Courtney G, but I'm pretty sure I'll be crying in my Guinness tonight unless Katee suffers an onstage aneurism.

Posted by petefredbob at 12:40 PM | Permalink

I was going to post on how T. Boone Pickens seems to have gotten himself into a mess and is begging for a taxpayer bailout or a bunch of chumps to pony up some cash or screeching for something, but I'm going to do a real public service and ask, "why did they make that new X-Files movie?"

Why I went to see it instead of Batman is complicated, but I ultimately agreed to go because I had fun with the earlier version(s). I now have a headache. I can't recommend strongly enough for you to not make the same mistake.

Posted by petefredbob at 05:54 PM | Permalink

One of the weird things you get used to living in a third world country is the power outage. We're on number four in the past two days, and this past week has contained at least three others. Last night I was at the bar next door eating (bad) pizza when the lights went out. It was kind of fun as I followed the bartender on duty as he ran, flashlight in hand to go start the ancient generator.

By ancient I mean he had to start it by hand cranking, while another patron worked what I think was the choke. I think- because I also think it's a diesel and I don't know how those contraptions operate. I went back to my pizza and was reflecting on events when it struck me that I didn't turn off the computer in the house. At almost the same moment the bartender pointed to the streetlights. The outage had lasted less than five minutes.

I did a quick calculation as to whether the UPS would last that long followed by a mental shrug, as there was nothing to be done about it anyway. It did bring home again how precarious my expensive electronic gear's existence is as I just two days ago regained use of this laptop by some means that continues to escape me.

I can hear the generator from next-door chugging away in the background from one window and the birds and other critters making their noises through the one closest to me. The delivery trucks pulling up to deliver stuff to the mini market seem louder as does the banter from their drivers. When the grid is down it's easier to feel where we are, in a small valley up near the top of the mountain, cut through by streams and rivers, bugs, birds and big rocks spit out by the volcano long ago.

I can hear a dog barking like crazy somewhere up the hill. I was confronted by a dog the other night while I was walking to the main supermarket in town. A few times in my life I've been surrounded by dogs. They seem all too easily to revert, even after thousands of years of domestication, to the ancient pack mentality. There are nights I've experienced in both Costa Rica and Panama where there is just a feeling in the air that the dogs are out. That feeling is also thousands of years in the making.

I felt it the other night and less than a hundred yards from my house I saw a large black dog looking up at me from a few blocks away. It was easy to change my course after one bark, and he didn't come after me. A few blocks on I imagined I saw another, though he didn't see me, and I kept on the main road. I had to cut across town to get to the market and it put me on the road in front of the firehouse, which, for some reason is devoid of streetlights.

I felt a chill before I heard the dog come skidding to a stop alongside of me. About the only thing in my experience that I've come to count on in these encounters is that they won't usually attack you from behind. They seem to need to see your face, or at least your eyes, first. With more than one it's the big dog that gets this face time, the rest spread around the sides according to pecking order, and the smallest one is relegated to the rear to nip at your heels.

I glanced sideways to check out his size and he was small enough to throw if it came down to it. I've learned to never break stride, cross my arms so as not to give them something dangling to latch onto and never look at them directly for more than a moment at a time, especially not in the eyes. It lasted about twenty seconds until I got into the light coming from the supermarket and he backed off.

Last night in the dark, while watching Luis get the generator started I was bumped from behind by the big Golden Lab that my landlord keeps along with her Rottweilers. The dog has a big solid head and he was trying to push me out of the way so he could see what was going on. Sometimes on a Saturday night after payday I'll find him tied up at the bottom of my stairs to keep the drunks on their toes.

Posted by petefredbob at 01:50 PM | Permalink

I have my say on the Harry Potter series over on Little Sheila's Book Fetish blog.

I manage to fit in Hugo Chavez, Libya, torture and rape, economics, AIDS, French President Nicolas Sarkozy's wife and manage to make the review all about me without touching a single plotline or character out of the entire seven book series. And I criticize the critics all in under 600 words.

How do I do it?

Posted by petefredbob at 10:12 AM | Permalink

The fabulous Phil Beecher, Mac Wizard of Boquete stopped by the house this morning as he was in the neighborhood. He asked if he could fiddle around with the laptop and having no better answer told him to go ahead. We took apart the back and reseated the ram chip and nothing seemed to happen.

There was a CD stuck in the drive and as we were yakking and pressing on various stuff that you can press on a computer he managed to make it eject. Then- the damned thing booted.

I've rebooted once, but I've yet to shut it down completely, which is the thing I did before it died. I'll save that for tonight.

Posted by petefredbob at 03:55 PM | Permalink

I got the email this morning and called the local book purveyor. Cover price only. That's 36 bucks for all you Amazon citizens paying half that. This would need to be a command decision on the spot. Do I really need this Now? If I wait it will be all over the internet and the newspapers PDQ, so the urge was definitely there.

Continue reading "Harry Potter Mania Invades Panama!" »

Posted by petefredbob at 03:12 AM | Permalink

Camera and car sale.

It's come down to it. You all knew the car was up for sale, but as it's taking a long time to do so the camera has to go on the block as well. The car is in San Jose, Costa Rica, has well over 20 grand in parts and labor over the past two years. As is, delivered in Costa Rica- $8,000 or best serious offer. Particulars: Loaded '84 Mercedes 500 SEC.

Sales pitch for the Mercedes: Be the new Cauldillo in the Central Valley. Park anywhere you want- just like the most arrogant Tico. Traffic lights are optional in the car that el Presidente used to pick up free hookers at the Del Rey.

For you crazy Patrick Swayze Roadhouse fans this is a dream come true (OK, his was an '89 560, but most Central Americans can't tell the difference).

The camera is here in Panama, but as I'm due for a trip back to the States soon anyway, serious offers will be considered and I'll deliver it to either the Miami or Houston airports (gotta pay in advance for those options) or pick it up in the Los Angeles area. Photos are here.

Sales pitch for camera: Trying out for junior reporter for the Daily Planet? Want a leg up on that Olsen fella? Then plunk down a couple of grand on this reporter's kit that includes reporter's vest, two camera bags, tripod, monopod, Canon 20D with extra battery and grip for extended fieldwork, wide angle lens to capture all those dirty mugs at the secret rendezvous, flash and mid-range zoom for those indoor social functions and a long 400mm for those Brittney nip-slips from across the canyon.

At $2,500 the glass alone is worth this much.

Go here for particulars of the entire package.

This concludes our daily bleg broadcast.

Update Aug. 2: Thanks to Scott the divemaster in David the camera equipment has been sold. No thanks to some jackoff in Florida who claimed he wanted my wide angle lens I got less money for the kit. When it says Craigslist/ Panama you can be reasonably assured the item is in Panama. If you want to see pictures it would serve to click the link for the damned pictures.

Anyway, Scott is soon to be off to Chile as soon as he sells off the rest of the crap from his business and I wish him luck with his new junior reporter kit. In a week or so I'll be visiting San Jose and my car (and la vieja of course). It'll be nice to drive the beast again (the car, the car) but selling it would be better. If it would only stop raining.

Posted by petefredbob at 09:38 AM | Permalink

So I still have my tooth. As I no longer am experiencing pain and my body is chock-full of antibiotics and as the x-ray doesn't show a problem, we're leaving it alone for now. My jaw is still a little sore, but I managed to eat pancakes and eggs for lunch at Amigos without sending myself into a howling fit. The fact that I still have two more pills in case something goes south in the night gives me some semblance of peace of mind.

It turned out to be a nice meeting, we discussed the amount of work and money that went into fixing the tooth last year, and my two days of intense research into narcotics and whiskey as pain relief. Most dentists in the US use some form of narcotic in prescription from Tylenol 3 to Vicadin to much stronger stuff for major problems. Here in Panama they tend to shy away from that stuff, but we went through her book of available drugs from the local distributor and picked out something nice. If nothing else I might have saved some poor bastard in the future from suffering needlessly.

She doled me out some special 'sensitive' toothpaste and some kind of gel to rub on my gums and charged me ten bucks for the two visits and x-ray. I finally asked her what the extraction would have cost and she told me twenty, no more than forty if there were complications. That's my kind of dentist's bill. Which brings to mind the best chiropractor I ever had, Dr. John in Burbank.

Considering that half the town works for Disney and the other half is dedicated to keeping those employees awash in tacos and margaritas, Doctor John will take your insurance, but if you don't have any he'll take $35 cash per visit. That'll barely get you lunch at the Smokehouse or that other place at the corner of Verdugo and Olive (the name of which escapes me but I remember the steak, ummm.) Drop a comment and I'll dig up his number.

The saga continues.

Posted by petefredbob at 03:55 PM | Permalink

It's thirty minutes to extraction time and I'm suffering doubt. The tooth hasn't hurt all day so far and the temptation is to forget about it until it does. It's one of the few bad things about not remembering pain. You're forced to use logic and reason to convince yourself that by purposefully inflicting more pain, i.e., the extraction; you will suffer less pain in the long run. It's eventually got to come out, or be re-root canalled, and with our luck it will all start at the most inconvenient time. So off I go.

Posted by petefredbob at 12:40 PM | Permalink

I've gone through all of my pain pills but one, which I'm eyeing at this moment. They were supposed to last me until Tuesday morning. Non-steroidal anti-inflammatory is what I found on the web about them, kind of like ibuprofen, only way more expensive. Eighteen bucks for eight of them. If the doc won't give me anything stronger today I'll be wolfing down handfuls of Advil to get to sleep tonight.

Continue reading "In Which I Further Explore My Toothache" »

Posted by petefredbob at 11:22 AM | Permalink

Well that was more fun than a barrel full of monkeys. The aspirin stopped working around 2 AM. I had just finished my nightly four episodes of 24 a little after one, and I took the final three 500 mg aspirin tablets that I was hoping to save for the morning. I hate leaving the house before I've had coffee, but it was a small price to pay for sleeping through the night. The buzzing in my head had started, which meant some kind of infection was happening. It was like the noise you get when you drink too much, but not enough to pass out, only now the room wasn't spinning.

Continue reading "When Aspirin Is Not Enough" »

Posted by petefredbob at 11:41 AM | Permalink

Did nothing today but vacuum the house. This is actually a bit more complicated than it sounds as the wood floor here is separated; meaning that the individual wood slats have space between them. I typically do this by sitting down on the floor with that long-nose nozzle thing and map out sections.

Continue reading "A Post About Nothing" »

Posted by petefredbob at 07:26 PM | Permalink

Lost my Powerbook today. The guy on the phone says it's a hardware problem and I either have to go to Panama City or back to the States to have it worked on. Neither option is doable at the moment so I'm now using my 'backup' PC,' which means my fingers feel like individual retards trying to find their way on the keyboard.

Web Goddess Sheila just got me up to speed with my MT password so's I can put this out there and got me into my email panel (and of course reminded me in my hour of need I'm behind on my server bill). It will take me a while to get it together with the new system.

And so it goes.

Posted by petefredbob at 08:16 PM | Permalink

It never occurred to me that I was running myself down, but it's starting to come together today. The screen's a little blurry as I write but my head has decided to allow a little clarity of thought.

Continue reading "Sick Blogging" »

Posted by petefredbob at 08:59 PM | Permalink

It's noon on Saturday and I'm getting a chance to catch up with the blog. Although I had wanted to start again on the back yard today it seems like it will be simply a cleaning day. In Costa Rica I had a huge townhouse type of contraption with lots of rooms, furniture and storage space. My girlfriend and I could spend days not running into each other on purpose- except at bedtime (it was an effort, yes, but we could do it). I even had my own office.

In Panama that has changed drastically. We're in a tiny two-story cabin, the lower half of which will be the business. It suits me well enough, as I've always had this strange fantasy of living over a business, kind of like old school Main Street downtown areas where the family lived above the general store. That said; arrangements must be made.

The past couple of weeks have been spent gathering materials and tools to expand the bathroom area and build a walk-in closet space to put our clothes and stuff. We've been living out of suitcases for months. Yesterday I called the job 'done,' and started the cleaning process of vacuuming, dusting, washing dishes and other stuff exposed to the dust and removing the tools and spare lumber to the downstairs work area.

The only way I've been able to do this is because the little lady is out of town and I could alternately work into the wee hours (no neighbors to speak of to complain of the noise) and sit for half a day staring at the project and pondering my next move. I've also been bombarded with junk email, more so than ever I've been in the past. That's a lot.

I read somewhere that the "king of spam" has just gotten himself arrested or thrown in jail or something, and I think they should throw away the key. If the spammers knew, really knew how hated they are, to the point of a normal person being willing to commit a capital crime against them…they probably still wouldn't stop. This is a prime market for mercenaries once we start drawing down from Iraq. That thought alone could shorten the war. Let the market work.

Tomorrow will be cleanup downstairs to get rid of the sawdust and stuff from, uh, all the sawing. Another coat of bug-killer wood-curer stuff will be required on the two by fours, do the basic layout for the bar, and then back out into the yard with my new hatchet and pruning saw. And the machete of course. I'll also be ordering up some four and five foot stakes to finally lay out the canal and use my new 30 meter measuring tape to order up the PVC pipe for the French drain.

Email will be answered shortly for those of you who are awaiting a response.

Update: I forgot to publicly thank Luke at LYT Rules for notifying me that my MySpace page had been violated and used to send out spam to other users. For the record, this is what I think happened: My girlfriend sent me a 'message' which contained what looked like a YouTube (or other) video offering showing the panty-clad bottom of a young lass. It didn't seem to work, and I thought I had figured out it was spam and deleted it, but that wasn't the end.

I found it on a BUNCH of MySpace pages and, not thinking, I clicked again. More than once. I can be persistent when it comes to panty-clad bottoms. Problem is that it took me to a login page, where I logged in, and it took my password. From then on in it used me like a cheap hussy.

I thought I had a handle on this kind of stuff so I figure this will be a public service message to all the other internet 'experts.' Be careful out there.

Posted by petefredbob at 12:27 PM | Permalink

Remember the Banana Splits? Tra la la.....

Posted by petefredbob at 12:09 AM | Permalink

Corporal Abreu and I were drinking buddies. It was the early eighties in Southern California and we were stationed at the now defunct Marine Corps Air Station El Toro in Orange County. As I did my basic training in San Diego I was colloquially known as a 'Hollywood Marine'.

I think at one time I knew Abreu's first name, but in the service this tends to become an extraneous bit of information. Corporal, Sergeant, Private- was the official first name, and simply eliminating it was the accepted informal way of expressing familiarity.

One day Abreu found his right arm in a cast, which was fine with him as it greatly reduced his workload, but it also cramped his style after hours as the Dominican immigrant had just got himself a fancy new Honda Prelude with a manual transmission.

In the Army it may be standard operating procedure (SOP) to 'not' volunteer for missions, but we Marines have a dumb habit of volunteering for anything, so I accepted the temporary additional duty (TAD) of shifting technician. We field-tested this arrangement at strategic bars in the Orange County area, mostly on a various Kamikaze nights, where reduced prices for strong drink pushed the envelope of multiple hand-eye-machine coordination.

I mention this not because I'm proud of my days of dangerous driving, but because it's Memorial Day, and a WSJ article (sorry, subscription) reminded me that our armed forces are lousy with immigrants (more than 5%), and that 20% of our Medal Of Honor recipients have been immigrants. This doesn't surprise me as Corporal Abreu, had he needed to step up in a battle situation I believe would have done so with aplomb and a wry sense of humor, and for all I know now he might have had to do so after I fled the military life.

I remember a Mexican Sergeant, an immigrant as well, that was one of the most squared away individuals in our squadron. I wouldn't have flinched following him into battle even though at the time he was younger than I. As a matter of fact one of my most hard-nosed drill instructors was Mexican, and just the person I would wish on my enemies. This experience helped shape my opinions on immigration as well as race, rough language notwithstanding.

So Happy Memorial Day to all the immigrants in our nation's armed forces, and their families, who should be at least as proud as I am to have them.

Posted by petefredbob at 04:19 PM | Permalink

Today, Christmas 2006, is starting out like most Christmases have been for my adult life, peaceful (except for that year in boot camp- that was a doozy). The little lady is upstairs snoozing and I’m wandering the internets and listening to the breeze outside in the trees. Maybe one year I'll reside in a non-Christian country and feel a difference in the vibe, but considering this post from Jules Crittenden I'm not so sure about that.

Last night the local fireworks lasted until around 2 am, which may sound a little strange to gringo ears. As most Americans are accustomed to fireworks on the Fourth of July and New Year's Eve, in other places they pick different days to blow things up. I guess if you dig a little deeper and consider the daily explosions of recent vintage in the area surrounding the birthplace of the Christ Child, big booms outside the window on Christmas Eve isn't all that profound.

The new year is coming up pretty quick and will bring some changes, perhaps big ones, to the proprietor of your humble Café. I'm not ready to come home yet, but I'm about done here in this little country. Opportunities await elsewhere, and as plans firm up I'll post the impending new locale. Betcha' can't wait.

Posted by petefredbob at 11:22 AM | Permalink

I had forgotten that Pete Townsend had a blog on Blogspot, of course it's gone now, but he still keeps a diary of sorts on his new(ish) web page that I ran into this morning coming from a news article.

It reminded me anew of how the internet and blogging in particular can be intimate in ways we never thought. The following is a quote from Pete's diary as he's talking about aging as a rocker and his new 'opera.'

…..rock is not dead. Neither is it right. Or wrong. Or a new religion. Or an answer. Or even a question. It’s a process. An island. Walk on, walk off. The kids in my imaginary band The Glass Household in Wire & Glass describe the process as breathing, exploding, imploding, climbing a stairway to a door made from a mirror, and walking through, expecting oblivion in a Black Hole, instead finding a slow after-show party.

I feel as though I’m walking out of the sleepy party, back through the door, down the stairway, to the stage. There’s some cleaning up to do down there before I can go back up and chit-chat about past lives.

Pete is one of the heroes of my misspent youth (verily, in teenage wasteland), and as I chase my adolescent icons into old age (the ones that have survived) it's nice to catch up on the conversation started so long ago.

Posted by petefredbob at 09:33 AM | Permalink

"We're deeply distressed by the fact that they took this man and dragged him here from Bangkok, Thailand, with no forensic evidence confirming the allegations against him and no independent factors leading to a presumption he did anything wrong."

Defense attorney Seth Temin for John Karr.

Um, how about a confession idiot? Nobody alleged or presumed anything but him. Drudge says that things are developing that Karr may be held for child pR0n charges in California.

I can't remember where I read it, but someone else said that the Thai police were looking at him for possible charges of their own, and that his confession in the Ramsey case was likely his bid to escape the Thai justice system. If true, one can only hope that the deal we made with Thailand in getting them to turn him over was that if he walked here, we'd send him right back. I'll chip in a couple of bucks for airfare.

He was also a teacher for a short time here in Costa Rica, which in recent times has had to crack down on sex tourism for kiddies.

Posted by petefredbob at 04:55 PM | Permalink

Vacations just aren't what they used to be. Remember Brad and Janet, er Angelina? They went off to deepest darkest Africa to have a baby or something. Two of the richest people around and they went to relax in a third world country. I think they did a good deed to reduce the official infant mortality rate and help with natal tourism. I wonder if they got a discount.

Anyway, I already live in a second world country and don't have Brangelina's cash to buy off the local officials, so I crab-walked into another second world dive, in the form of Bocas del Toro, Panama. Welcome to the Hotel of the Dawn Waves:

Continue reading "What I Did On My Summer Vacation" »

Posted by petefredbob at 12:48 PM | Permalink

Playing a little hookie from the store this morning, this birthday of the United States. I just got off the phone with my import agent, and even though the people in Miami said my shoes were loaded a week ago, they're not due here until this Friday. Both blessing and curse, of course. I want to get the store open as soon as possible, but I also want it to be perfect when I do, which means I need another week anyway.

The reason for the call from my import agent wasn't about the shoes though, it was about the engine block for the car. Supposedly they sent a document to me last week to sign and return, but I never saw it. The block has been in country for about two weeks just waiting to go to my mechanic. The car has been waiting since December. The paperwork is a nightmare.

Local gringo buddy Charlie called last night and we'll be off to the White House tonight to take in some fireworks. The White House is sort of an institution around here for rich visitors. It's up on a mountain in Escazu with a spectacular view and a helicopter pad. The main attraction is the restaurant, but it's also a boutique hotel and you can rent Harleys there. The owner drives a Hummer with a faux Presidential seal on it.

Which brings to mind that I've been itching to have lunch again at the Gran Hotel de Costa Rica on the Plaza de la Cultura. It's smack dab in the middle of San Jose and one may dine al fresco amongst the local riff-raff separated only by potted plants. Right across the plaza is the Teatro Nacional, which is a pint size replica of the Paris Opera House. Having lunch at the Gran Hotel is a must-do to enjoy a plethora of stereotypes both foreign and domestic. They even have a piano player.

So, Happy Birthday America from Costa Rica, and don't blow off too many limbs or digits. You know you don't want to read the Nanny's scolding in tomorrow's paper.

Posted by petefredbob at 10:58 AM | Permalink

It occurs to me that the account in which I get most of my email has been in limbo (my fault) for about two weeks. I didn't miss it until I noticed I was getting most of my spam in my hotmail accounts. This means that if you sent stuff to me that I should have responded to, I'm not ignoring you, I'm just a dumbass and likely never got it.

All relevant email addresses are working now. At the moment I don't have one available listed on the blog, but as far as I know anything sent to the rpetepeterson url, you know, something @ rpete-etc dot com, should find me. I will address the issue soon with the lovely webmistress to see how I can avoid spam and still have a listed email right here for your contact pleasure.

In the meantime feel free to rag on me in the comments.

Update: That didn't take long. I posted, took a shower, came back and found this in my newly reactivated account:

Dea w r Home O j wne f r ,

Your cr b ed k it doesn't matter to us ! If you O p WN real e f st m at i e
and want I p MMED b IA l TE cas j h to s p pen k d ANY way you like, or simply wish
to L s OWER your monthly pa z yme d nts by a third or more, here are the dea f ls
we have T z ODA l Y :

$ 48 r 8 , 000 at a 3 , 6 v 7% fi m xed - ra s te
$ 37 k 2 , 000 at a 3 c , 90% va w riab j le - rat k e
$ 49 b 2 , 000 at a 3 , g 21% in f teres l t - only
$ 2 f 48 , 000 at a 3 , x 36% f e ixed - ra v te
$ 19 k 8 , 000 at a 3 , x 55% v f ariable - ra c te

H v urry, when these de g aIs are gone, they are gone !

Don't worry about app u rova b l, your c n redi i t will not di u squali k fy you !

V w isi x t o y ur site

Sincerely, Zaira Treat

A r ppr s oval Manager

Posted by petefredbob at 11:15 AM | Permalink

This post (hat tip to waiterrant) reminded me of an experience I had that made me proud. The post above is about a group of employees that walked out on their job.

My deal was that I was having trouble with my boss and got into a yelling match with him. I actually raised my fist to him, and walked off the job in front of my crew. I guess I can get wound up sometimes. I got a call at home about an hour later-- from the local bar, where my crew had retired after they walked off the job in solidarity. Wow. I naturally joined them and basked in the glow.

It was a warehouse job and my crew was non-union. A few of them made more money per week than I did (as their boss) as we all worked minimum fifty hour weeks with a guaranteed ten hours a week of overtime. Real overtime was really nice, for them. I didn't get any extra pay for it. I would occasionally get down in the trailers with them and throw boxes or drive a lift, sometimes when I thought they were moving too slow, other times when it was real busy. I also was one of the few managers in the company that actually fired deadbeats. It got me some respect.

When I got home there were a few more messages, one from the president of the company telling me he wanted to talk. I went back to work the next day with the knowledge that my boss was banned from coming to my warehouse any more, and I had the most loyal crew a guy could ask for.

Posted by petefredbob at 01:18 AM | Permalink

Got tired of looking at the old photo on the sidebar and updated it with one from from an excursion to Tamarindo. I didn't buy the hat, but eventually bought a different one in Panama. I'll start to wear it after I finish the book.

Posted by petefredbob at 10:03 AM | Permalink

The maid ran upstairs, "Don Robert, otro scorpio!" I picked up a handy shoe, belatedly shook it out to make sure it didn't contain part of an advance column, and proceeded downstairs. This would be number three in the past couple of weeks and I figured I now had to do something about it.

I got to the bottom of the stairs and my girlfriend gave me a look. She had a broom in her hand and as I looked to where she was pointing it I realized I had just come within inches of it. The offending critter was on stair number three minding its own business hiding behind a potted plant. The broom moved swiftly, and faster than I could open my mouth to say "No!" a squirrelly scorpion was snapping its claws and spinning at my feet.

Continue reading "Dreams of Scorpions" »

Posted by petefredbob at 08:32 AM | Permalink

We just didn't have scorpions in Jersey. Except for a lot of records and a concert or two. In California we had them, but out in the desert, where I rarely ventured except for a few trips to Vegas, with the AC on and the windows shut. I don't think I ever even stopped except for that Greek place near the giant thermometer.

But here in Costa Rica I've killed two already. In the house. That just ain't right.

Continue reading "This Ain't No Rock n Roll" »

Posted by petefredbob at 09:38 AM | Permalink

7:37 AM on the left coast and I've got a day and a half left of life in the States. I've been here for two weeks getting stuff done, including eye surgery (custom Lasik), a day in court, purchasing car parts, shiny things compra por la mujer (yeah, still speaking pigeon Spanish), and lots of other things stuffed inside of two weeks; including a fond farewell to select coffee girls (notably 'D,' Monique, Kim and Giang for those keeping score). And I saw Harry Potter. And Serenity.

Also missed the New York soiree launching OSM (Pajamas Media) and other events that all seemed to be timed to be just outside of my time and place limits. I failed to hook up with most people I had plans of visiting with, including Luke of LYT Rules (sorry Luke), but I did manage to use my free ticket to the Miss Polonia pageant in Long Beach.

Speaking of OSM, I kind of was ignoring it with being busy and all, until links started showing up on Reynold's site, and I finally clicked through one. Then I searched and found that I actually was linked in there (no, seriously, it's under 'L' for Last Chance Cafe). So, now I have to post stuff. You're welcome.

First off, the eye surgery. Pretty weird. I'm typing now without glasses, but the haze from the screen makes things look fuzzy. When the eyes do focus, things can become crystal clear momentarily, and that's pretty cool. But according to the doctor yesterday (one week post-op checkup) my eyes are still a little swollen, and I had to buy a pretty expensive prescription to use for the next six months. She said this is pretty normal for old geezers getting the operation (45+) but otherwise everything looked hunky-dory.

Driving at night requires attention because of halos around headlights, which can be distracting. We've also been having Santa Ana conditions here in Southern California, which tends to dry out the eyes, which makes healing slow, and creates good conditions for brush fires, I might add. All in all unless something totally weird happens with my sight, or my eyes, I'll just be chilling for the next three to six months to wait and see how everything heals.

The operation was spooky. Anyone who has ever seen A Clockwork Orange will recognize the part where they hold open your eyes for the actual surgery. The only entertaining part was during the first laser on the right eye, when I saw lots of different colored polka dots that distracted me momentarily. I wasn't so lucky with the second eye, which took longer and was less pleasant.

Bottom line is that I'm not blind; I have 20/15 vision in one eye, and 20/25 in the other—when things are clear. If everything clears up on schedule I'll call the procedure totally worth it, but we'll have to wait a bit longer.

Next post this weekend from Costa Rica.

Posted by petefredbob at 08:28 AM | Permalink

I read last night, on Drudge I think, that speculation in Washington has reached a 'fever pitch' over the Flame affair. For once I think the hyperbole is spot on. The Washington Post this morning says, "the legal team of White House Deputy Chief of Staff Karl Rove has been engaged in a furious effort to convince the prosecutor that Rove did not commit perjury". A furious-fever-pitch-effort all around to say the least. Whew!

I actually can't decide who to root for in this case. On the one hand I'm not looking forward to another government scandal to distract from serious business, not least of which is a bunch of Muslim crazies trying to kill us, and using our own money to do it. On the other hand I worry about the mental health of the Democrats on the left, howling in the big tent for the wrath of the Lord, and the glazed over reporters speaking in tongues trying to divine the vibes emanating from the grand jury room.

Everyone seemed ready last night for the news, whatever it would be, and then nothing. This guy Fitzgerald is a sphinx. As it looks like I'll have one more day to be proven wrong, I'll reiterate that I think nothing will come of the original charges; but it looks more likely that somebody, probably Libby, will get the axe for the cover-up.

I now have to say I was wrong about Harriet Miers. Well, not about her exactly, but about her getting a hearing in the Senate. My email alert system just told me she has withdrawn. This post actually started with the thought in mind to talk about her and some of the insanity surrounding her nomination, not excluding the White House's less than deep thinking here.

For me it seemed to be another case of no good deed goes unpunished. All appearances are that top democrats vetted Miers first in order to avoid another fight. She was summarily approved by Harry Reid (and likely other lefty bigwigs), and nary a thought was given to the right side of the aisle. I'm sure it seemed like a comfy pick for George, old drinking buddy and all that. But virtually everyone I respect that thinks about these matters slapped her around like a redheaded stepchild. It's been embarrassing.

Speaking of getting slapped around, the readers of Michelle Malkin's blog politely tanned my hide for a comment I made to her about the Demon Condi Rice photo flip-flop. Though I'm no expert, I've been playing with Photoshop for quite a few years. For those not familiar with the story, the AP published a picture of Condi that was obviously 'adjusted' to make her eyes appear, well, a bit supernatural.

They eventually replaced it with this one and apologized:

A quick glance told me it was a sharpened photo, and I shot off an email to Michelle suggesting that the editors may have posted a picture meant for print instead of the web. In that case the editor may have used a filter in Photoshop called 'unsharp mask,' which is a quick and easy fix to make pictures meant for newsprint 'pop' by sharpening lines; like those around her eyes. A little later on I got curious and clicked over to Michelle's blog to see what was happening. Lo and behold the text of my email was there, right on the blog. I was thrilled. Then I read the next comment, telling me I was full of it. I sometimes forget the power of the blogosphere.

Rightly so, people read my comment and immediately took the picture into their own Photoshop programs to duplicate the results. It didn’t work. I was crushed. So I did it too. And of course it didn't work. Then I took the 'sharpen' brush out of the toolbox and did a quick run over the eyes which did manage to nominate her for the role of principal of Sunnydale High. Waddya think?

Not as bad as the original photo, but it's obvious to me now that this is what went down. I immediately shipped it off to Michelle pleading that my point (that it could have been a simple mistake of posting the wrong photo) held. Me? Thin skin? Nah.

Anyway, my bad for not doing the work ahead of time. So in the spirit of the now obviously lightweight Harriet Miers, I officially withdraw my nomination and slink back to my own corner of the universe.

And finally, speaking of little corners of the universe, Rob Smith from Gut Rumbles (best blog tag line ever: "If my blog does not meet your standards, then LOWER YOUR STANDARDS. Who the hell do you think you are, anyway") has committed himself to rehab. I've been there and done that, and it's no picnic; so if any of you have been in a similar boat, or have enjoyed Rob's cracker rants over the past couple of years, stop over and drop him a line.

Here's the link for snail mail, as he doesn't have access to a computer at the moment, and here's the link with Rivrdog's email address. He's taken on the task of printing and hand delivering email to Rob for those of us no longer capable of licking stamps. Gut Rumbles is being kept up by collective effort and is still worth a look.

This concludes our weekly broadcast.

Posted by petefredbob at 09:05 AM | Permalink

First, a 17 inch Powerbook is not really a laptop, especially if you’re not wearing pants. Second, the iBook was ripped off yesterday (along with my little Powershot camera and cell phone) and I spent many hours afterwards changing passwords and such. I’ve never been able to change the password on my original server and I haven’t a clue as to how to change anything security-wise on MT, so if weird things start showing up on the blog it means somebody else is publishing (I mean really weird things-in Spanish even).

I even had a really really really good post I had been working on since Sunday morning that got lost. And the book is toast. Yes, I had backed it up at one point, but not in months. I don’t know if I’ll be posting much in the near future, I felt I was on a roll for a bit, but I have to take care of some things I’ve been ignoring.

But I feel compelled to tell you that Maxwell Smart has died. I'll let Cathy Seipp do the eulogy as I'm not up for any deep thinking right now. Sorry about that.

Posted by petefredbob at 06:28 AM | Permalink

Being out of the country shields me from network news, which is mostly a good thing. I wind up getting virtually all of my news from the internet, and I'm pretty well informed of what's gone on relative to the hurricane. But there is something missing that I expect from the television. The gulf wars, 9/11 and the like: my eyes glued to the box, transfixed to the disaster. I run the gamut of emotions. Now I settle for a minute of coverage on the local channel in Spanish, then turn to the internet.

It comes to mind as I just found a CBS feed with Shep Smith being interviewed by David Letterman. He (Shep) looks and sounds devastated and defeated. On the program they showed about 30 seconds of feed from one of his dispatches, and I felt that 'missing' feeling.

Brad Delong posted an article describing a New Orleans disaster preparedness plan culled from the New Orleans Times-Picayune. It talks about how local officials came to the conclusion that were a major hurricane to strike and the worst happened, they could do nothing for the poor people. In essence, they are on their own. The officials produced a DVD that was meant to be distributed to the poor folk, but it never made it out to the people. On the video it gave advice as to what to do in the event.

DeLong decries the effort and a good discussion ensues in the comments section.

Posted by petefredbob at 09:39 PM | Permalink

Just as I was going to brew a pot of coffee the power went off. I wandered outside to see if there were lights on in the other houses to see if I forgot to pay some kind of bill. But it was now daylight, though still early, and maybe nobody was up yet. I went to the car to get the gate opener, tried it, and nothing worked. The whole place was dark.

On a whim I walked out to the gate to try my key, which I had never done before, and nothing in my pocket fit the lock. Back in the house and upstairs to pull out the key collection. I knew there was a complete set in there somewhere that the maid (long since fired) used, and I brought the lot of them back out with me to the gate. I found two that worked so I adjusted my collection. I found I also had only one car key.

The complex has a guard that lives in a little shack in front and handles most of the maintenance. He also distributes the bills as they are delivered (here they are delivered by the companies doing the billing). There is no mail to speak of here, though there is a post office and mailmen. There's a plan to put up street signs and number the houses, but as it's been tried before and was a disaster and abandoned I'm not holding my breath. Bills get lost, and a week or two ago the water to the complex was shut off because somebody forgot to pay. The guard claimed he delivered the bills but nobody paid. I never saw one and blamed it on the (former) maid.

It's now six-thirty and the power's been off for a half hour, I can't go anywhere in the car and I can't make coffee. It's time to go back to bed.

Posted by petefredbob at 01:55 PM | Permalink

Well I had an excuse for Monday but not for today, so I'm rushing to hit the publish button before my computer turns into a pumpkin. I can't think of anything of import that I did today except watch most of Mary Poppins. And played with the iMovie and camera on the Powerbook. For some reason I liked that. Just sitting behind the desk, watching myself watching myself as I recorded incoherent blather and playing it back for my own amusement.

I go through periods where I hate the way I look, talk, walk and act. Then some days I look at myself and see a cool, handsome guy, in this case operating a fancy piece of equipment with the opportunity to broadcast myself to all corners of the globe. Nah.

I went to see another mechanic today to discuss the car. He's an interesting bloke and runs the biggest Mercedes repair joint in these parts. The dealer emailed me a quote today that included three options for repairing the car ranging from $300 to $4700. That's quite a spread, and it pisses me off that after having the car for over a week they didn't offer any of these options to me then. I'd rather haul the parts in my suitcase from the States than consider paying nearly five grand for something that I now have no faith in. I'll bring it back to the new guy on Monday as he says he has the parts. I'm afraid to ask how much.

I've been watching a little of the coverage of the hurricane damage on the TV and reading about it on the web. I can't believe how wrong they got it. I mean the various local and state governments. Especially the city of New Orleans. What have they been doing? Well, sad part is, I know what they've been doing. Politics. As they say, Louisiana has the best politicians money can buy. It would have been nice though to have some kind of plan in place to fix the expected breaches in the levees.

Biloxi just got in the way of the storm. That is a disaster I can wrap my head around. New Orleans survived only to find itself a victim of its own foolishness. That's a tragedy. And the looting and the miscommunication among government agencies after all of our recent experience doesn't inspire confidence. It wouldn't surprise me that if W can't pull some kind of rabbit out of his hat this could be the end of the Republican resurgence, exposing deep flaws in our new homeland security department.

I pray for all the people there. And the rest of us, if this is the kind of response we can expect from a national disaster.

Posted by petefredbob at 10:34 PM | Permalink

It's noon and it's a dreary day. I haven’t stepped outside of the room yet and have no serious plans to do so. It struck me while wandering around yesterday that I was in Panama and why shouldn't I get a Panama hat? So I did. I don't usually look good in a hat, but as far as it goes, this one seems to fit better than most. I do have a lingering fear from when I was a kid that at any moment someone is going to come along and beat me up for wearing it.

I was going to go to the locks today and wait for a ship to come through for photos, then go down to a spot I found yesterday downstream from the Bridge of the Americas when there was better light. But I'm not sure the bridge would show well today against the gray sky. The cloud cover is coming from the south, and is not a result of the tail of the hurricane now threatening New Orleans and environs. I've been having trouble since I've been in Central America figuring out exactly where I am relative to the US.

Obviously, I know I'm south, but at the moment looking at one of the hurricane maps, due north seems to run right into New Jersey. From Costa Rica the flying time to New York is nearly identical to that of Los Angeles, which seems counterintuitive, because L.A. is more southern. Regardless of my directional confusion, I'm hoping the weather clears up by tomorrow, and I hope New Orleans fares better than currently expected.

The new plan taking shape in my head is to rent a car and hit the Miraflores locks in the morning, snap a few shots and then head out north to Ciudad Colon [the free trade zone on the Atlantic side [about 80 klicks (50ish miles, I think) away]. The plane to San Jose leaves around 7PM so it shouldn't be such a stretch unless the roads in any way resemble those in Costa Rica. Around town so far the difference is night and day. (I did just find the Ferrocarril (train) on the map that runs relative to the canal. Hmmm.)

The city is very clean with the exception of some well-placed slums on the outskirts, but even those don't have the tin-roof-shack aura present in San Jose. As a matter of fact I haven't yet seen any tin roofs. I would rate Panama City so far as somewhere between the sprawling metropolis of Mexico City and San Jose. There are many tall buildings here, there is a beautiful skyline and prices are of a magnitude less than both other cities. As they also use the dollar here there is no calculating necessary to figure out how much you're being ripped off by the taxi drivers.

Posted by petefredbob at 10:03 AM | Permalink

They called yesterday to tell me the car was finished. Except for the damned steering box. Professional help indeed. I'm out of here for a few days so it would probably be best to take it back to the other mechanic to see if he can have it ready for when I get back, it just irks.

That worked even less than I thought. It's about four hours later and I'm at the airport waiting for my flight to Panama. The gf forgot her house keys when she went to the gym and I had to go home and let her in. I wasn't able to bring the car to the other mechanic. I'll have to wait until next week. Irk more.

There's a special five-dollar tax for gringos to get into Panama. My Brazilian didn't have to pay. There's also a form I have to fill out that's stuffed in my bag somewhere. I wonder if it's getback for kidnapping Noriega. I kinda sympathize, as I thought it was a bit extracurricular. But we did give back the canal, which I also didn't agree with. Makes us even.

I'll cut this one short until I get in country because the airport connection was balking a bit and it's coming up on boarding time.

Posted by petefredbob at 01:44 PM | Permalink

Dipping my toes into the pool of geekdom I've just fully field-tested my mac network. I've worked on networks before where somebody else has done all the heavy lifting and I've just strung along the Ethernet cable, but I had a dream of wireless networking in the casa.

Just this past week I finally junked my Linksys wireless router in favor of a Belkin setup with a repeater downstairs and I'm now fully wireless for the laptops. I had downloaded aftermarket firmware signed up for various user groups and burned much incense to make the Linksys work, but all I got was a signal that sometimes worked and from the weird looks I was getting from the user interface that seemed to threaten to turn itself into a doorstop, I pulled the plug.

Some of my friends have been asking for photos so as I finished the last post I linked a photo from the dot mac account. As I only have two sitting out there in the mac ether I thought it would be fun to post another but I was sitting downstairs at the computer that doesn't have the photos. Hello network thingy! I logged onto the computer with the pics, opened one on this computer in Photoshop, resized and saved directly to dot mac. Three servers involved, once removed from the main wireless router, changing a picture located on one computer while using a program running on another and saving to yet another. The fact that I managed to put together the system and make it work has me tingling all over.

And of course I'll be posting this to yet another server for you to enjoy on your own computer virtually anywhere in the world. I've made a short little attempt to log onto my PC (which is where I make my international phone calls and rip and burn my DVDs) but it makes believe that I don't know my own password. From my limited experience with the Windows world I'm guessing I have to do some more configuration stuff but there's only so many hours in the day and why does Microsoft seem to operate in Greek? And why did it enjoy using my new Spanish keyboard for five minutes and then ignore it?

The answers to these and many other questions will have to wait, but for the time being enjoy the photograph of some happy Brazilians celebrating a goal on the tube.

In the States there is some kind of dividing line in the population as regards sports, especially between men and women. In Brazil there is no such thing. The country bleeds together and celebrates together when the national team wins or loses. I'm not much into this metric football thing but there's something to envy here.

Posted by petefredbob at 12:50 PM | Permalink

Day two of my new enforced writing habit. Pity on you finding yourself here. The new maid hasn't shown up yet (this would be day two for her too) and I feel slightly rejected. Not that I'm likely to fall into an interminable funk or anything, but again it proves the adage that good help is hard to find.

I made a list of things to do in the middle of the last sentence. Took a shower, shaved, watched a bit of a movie on TV, cleaned up my desk and a couple of other things. Anything to take a break from writing. It's times like these where I'm both heartened and wonder whether I should really bother.

I've been scouring the internet for news and other tidbits to give me ideas to write about. I wrote a thing a week or two ago about Steven Vincent, who was doing what I wanted to do, but it sorely lacked. It was all about me at the end and I chucked it. This morning I read his widow's response to the Middle East expert Dr. Juan Cole. It was bracing, and proof of another adage, no good deed goes unpunished.

Cindy Sheehan has been making the blog and news rounds, and I'm glad I had none of it. Caught in the minutiae of the bizarre there is really no answer to events such as this. Each side finds reinforcement for its own views and fault in the other's, thinking that what they think is so obvious. It does reinforce my own views of the idiocy and self-importance of the major media, something that in my version of the perfect world would be reserved for blogs such as this one. I yearn for the learned and wise council of a media that takes its task seriously.

A friend of mine and her daughter are headed for the States this morning. The young one, aged eight or nine, is intended to stay for a year or so to get a taste of the monster. She'll be staying outside of Boston with friends of the family and will be sure, I think, of getting a good dose of liberal education. She's pretty, and spoiled, and will likely enjoy the attention she'll get, but she's also smart and I hope she pays attention to the condescension. It will be fascinating to speak with her in a year's time.

This afternoon I'll break out the book and see what the hell I wrote already. I keep getting new ideas but I have to suppress them, as they don't fit in with the original gist. My original idea of coming down here to write, as I would have none of the distractions up north, has been shot to hell, which proves yet another adage, no matter where you go, there you are. There, aren't you glad you came by?

Posted by petefredbob at 07:25 AM | Permalink

I've just closed and locked the door to the office and the gf is waiting downstairs for the driving instructor to show up. Today then is the first official day of getting back to the work of writing; the blog gets first dibs, although I don't know if that's such a good idea.

It's the rainy season down here, which means it rains a lot, which kind of depresses the urge to do stuff. Having spent 15 years in So Cal waiting out the short and not so rainy season (using it as kind of a break to watch 'journalists' report from the bottom of Malibu Canyon Road as they rediscover the effect of gravity on water), this stuff just seems to go on forever. Going outside consists dodging potholes (wekos) and hoping to notice all the pedestrians and scooters before they attach themselves to the bumper of the car.

I think I'm settling in, sort of. I haven't been able to work out my residency status to my satisfaction (and the local government's) so I have to leave the country for a short bit to renew my visa. This means a trip back to California for a couple weeks of sunshine, which doesn't sound so bad at the moment.

Settling in is a process of getting used to not only arcane government regulations and adapting to local practices, but also getting used to what is or is not available. For instance, the gentlemen who installed the bathroom and shower in my office not only failed to include a critical part (enabling one to turn the water on and off with any degree of certainty), but also installed the shower door so that the water prodigiously leaks when in use.

The missing faucet part is a nylon bushing/key that stops the knobs from turning at the point when the water is either on-or off, instead of just spinning until you have the right combination. Having failed to enlighten the installers as to their lapse (they hadn't a clue as to what I was going on about) I embarked on a two-month odyssey in an attempt to locate said part. I wound up buying an entire fixture to cannibalize.

As opposed to other items not immediately available (such as the ceiling mount for my Epson projector, which can be available from Epson HQ in Costa Rica for one and a half times the US price if I would like to wait two months) this part was simply not to be had. The hardware store I finally found in central San Jose that was the official parts supplier for the manufacturer just stopped carrying it. End of story.

The funny part is that Price Pfister (the manufacturer in question) products are ubiquitous in virtually every hardware and plumbing supply store I've visited. Now you may be asking yourself, "why didn't he just order the part from the States?" This is where we get into another of those charming local quirks: there are no addresses here. There are directions.

From what I've gathered with my shotgun approach to learning the Spanish language, the term for address is: direccion. This is taken quite literally. For instance, my direccion is quinientos metros al sur Carrion de Multiplaza, Escazu. Roughly. Which means you have to know where the Multiplaza is in Escazu, then find the store called Carrion, then find the road directly south of it, then travel approximately 500 meters south.

This confuses hell out of people up north, and there is not usually space enough to write it, and it has to be in Spanish, and describing said direccion is more of an art form than settled science. One needs to choose the most likely recognized landmark to start from, and distances are arbitrary at best.

Anyway, I now have an address in Miami to send all this crap to which eventually shows up here on the back of a scooter.

Posted by petefredbob at 11:03 AM | Permalink

I had a coffee disaster this morning. It began around 4:30 AM when I realized that the neighbors had yet to go to sleep. One of their guests started beeping the car horn for them to open the gate, and as the party was so loud it took five minutes worth of it to get someone's attention. About an hour later it was time for coffee.

My things arrived from the States yesterday, which means everything in the cabinets was switched around again, and the maid was still sleeping. I swore I had bought coffee the other day but couldn't find it in the dark (yeah, Edison invented the bulb). I had only half the amount of beans left that I normally use so I ground them up real fine to try and extract something worthy of my effort. In my sleepy state I forgot to put the pot under the drip. After thirty minutes of cleanup and cursing Black and Decker for what I took to be a horrible design, I strained the grounds out and drank what was left of the weak and lukewarm brew. Then I found the new coffee.

I offer now one piece of advice for anyone considering a move to another country: sell everything. It's not worth moving stuff. I did it backwards. Because everything imported from the US is so expensive (he says as he prays for CAFTA) I actually bought more stuff before I left. All told it cost me at least double, not to mention the import taxes on stuff ten years old, and the wait.

The instigation for shipping my stuff was that I haven't been able to sprawl in my king-size bed for two years and became obsessed with getting it out of storage. When I decided to move to CR it followed that it would come with me. This then required a small container instead of consolidating with some other sucker, that then spawned the possibility of moving all of my crap. Which I did.

Once here I bought a sweet 40's style bedroom set to cradle my new old-fashioned box springs (also bought in the US) that support the dreamy Miralux pillow-top. Yesterday I found out that the woman who sold me the furniture really didn't know the difference between an Eastern King and a California King after all. I'm now pondering the idea of fitting the headboard to the metal frame I brought with me instead of returning everything. I do have a new power drill.

Posted by petefredbob at 06:50 AM | Permalink

Happy Fourth of July from Costa Rica. Unlike some recent expat Americans scurrying north to escape the ascendance of Jesusland in the US, I've escaped south into more Catholic climes. Not that I felt the need for more religion, but because as a free man I decided it was time for a change of scenery, and Canada is too cold.

Whether it's actually true or not (time and experience will tell) it seems freer here on an individual level than in the States. Maybe it's just the rampant corruption and lack of a visible police presence.

My day, as usual, hasn't gone as planned and it's now 7:40 PM or so and I never got this posted. I've got more but I keep getting interrupted so to all those who've wondered whether I'm still alive-here I am. More tomorrow.

Posted by petefredbob at 06:41 PM | Permalink

My first time in a VIP lounge at the airport. I feel a kinship to Ben Stein at the moment. Especially as I've read criticism of a recent piece of his about Deep Throat and Nixon, and I've just erased most of what I wrote the other day about Nixon to avoid the same hysterics. Nixon is the devil. Period. To say otherwise is akin to invoking the Hitler comparison in a comment thread. Nobody will pay attention to anything further you have to say. Unless you compare Nixon to Hitler; then it's a party.

The airport is still a crappy place to have to be, thanks in no small part to the terrorists. And the anti-smoking Gestapo. Ooops. Was that too close to a Hitler comparison? Whenever you fly, thank the terrorists. I think if everyone were encouraged to do so every time they had to take their shoes and belts off, we'd get a lot more people volunteering to go to Iraq to help out because the experience may not be much worse than flying, especially coach, in the first place. Imagine, a brigade of pissed-off flyers armed with nail clippers, Bic lighters and penknives. It may not sound like much, but I trust the TSA that these items are dangerous, and never underestimate the fury of frequent flyers with somebody to actually complain to.

Anyway, I've never been invited to a VIP lounge before, and never thought to ask. I assumed for the most part you have to join the "Admiral's Club" or whatever, but the nice lady at the ticket counter said were I to care to do so, I could lounge away from the teeming masses. Another first since 9/11, no special attention from the TSA even though I have a one-way ticket. Two out of the three nuclear luggage machines were down, which gave me a little extra exercise, but all said and done, I had a typical run-through.

The lounge is quiet, except for a fella watching a Mexican variety show at low volume. I have a wireless signal, but no internet access. The nice girl nodded her head and said everything should be fine, yet had no idea what a web browser was, and the guy across the room can't connect either. About six months ago I gave my friends a wireless router for their coffee shop, but whenever I return the signal is good, but no connection. They never know what is wrong, and I've pretty much given up reconnecting for them. They still don't know what a web browser is either.

Posted by petefredbob at 05:38 PM | Permalink

I've pretty much ignored my statistic page until recently when I read a couple of different things about how to use them. Mostly it said put the counters on all the archive pages, since that's how most people find your blog, and then make sure everyone can access the logs. I'm guessing that's so everyone can see how popular you are, and all the cool kids will subsequently ignore you if you don't measure up, and all the dweebs will come back as they feel affinity with your loser stats. Welcome dweebs. Just kidding.

Anyhoo, so I started looking around the stat site and found that other blogs actually link to me. On their blogroll. I've had a couple of guys recently email and say they did so..but there are others. Then I went to Technorati or whatever it's called and found some more.

So, thanks to everyone who has linked, and I swear I'll redo the research again and find you and thank you by name in a post so we can raise the old Google rankings a millimeter or two for everyone. Soon. Really.

Posted by petefredbob at 12:41 AM | Permalink

Just checked the UN blog for any interesting or mock-able posts, and found that they have already become an echo chamber for the usual suspects in the mainstream press: Bad news in Iraq-UN does good deed. How unique. It could even become counter-productive for them. The more they toot their own horn the less inclined the press may be to repeat it. Let's hope so.

Via Instapundit I found a NY Times article by David Greenberg about his guest blogging experience at Daniel Drezner's joint. To have a writer of his stature bitch that he's not cut out for blogging makes me feel just a mite better about my itinerant effort here. It's better than feeling lazy, which is what I really am most of the time.

I've given myself another week or two in the States before I return to CR. This is mainly because I found there's a lot more crap to deal with than previously thought. The mail-forwarding thing is most problematic. If I were sending stuff to Korea, Vietnam or the Philippines there's a dozen or more places in my own neighborhood. As it turns out, Miami is the jump off point to CR, which means I have to relay my stuff from California to Florida first. It's all about getting the paperwork right for customs and using the right people so you don't lose your stuff at the gate.

These last three paragraphs could have been three different blog entries now that I look at them. Just imagine them as such and I'm working three times as hard. Peace out.

Posted by petefredbob at 06:54 PM | Permalink

After spending the last hour or two mindlessly switching channels between mindless L.A. morning shows I finally got bored with Dorothy and Jillian and slumped down in front of the iBook to look for more UN blog funnies. I haven't made it there yet but after clicking through a Reynolds link I was reminded that Moxie is still hot (sorry, I searched the site and I can't find the good black and white picture of her in her undies that was up a couple of years ago, oh yeah and I swear I didn’t download it and then lose it). And reminded that, even though I live near enough to her I've never met her at one of those blogger bash thingies. As a matter of fact I've never been to one of those joints, even though they have them all the time and I yearn to belong.

I haven't linked to Moxie in a while so here's another link, so click because she's hotter than Ann Coulter (Ann Coulter's hot? –ed) and still has a link to this blog for some reason on her sidebar. Oh yeah, and she's even more offensive than Ann Coulter, if you like that kind of thing, which I find kinda' hot. And has a gay houseboy named Andrew just like Arianna Huffington.

And yes I am blogging without pajamas.

Posted by petefredbob at 08:13 AM | Permalink

I've managed to sign up for Pajamas Media, which I'm not exactly sure of what that means, except that they guarantee that I don't have to change out of my pajamas to post here. It also means that I belong to some sort of official club, which I hope means that I get some kind of discount. On something. Plus Roger Simon is involved and he gets lots of hits and has made a pact with Satan to get the goods on Kofi Annan, so I respect him. Plus he actually makes money at writing and I've heard that some people read his books.

That aside, I've returned, however temporarily, to the good old Estados Unidos. To my dismay I discovered upon my arrival that two of my favorite coffee girls have flown the coop (one to Vietnam for five weeks and one to start a custom auto parts store), but the ones left behind are filling in nicely. I've yet to be able to talk any of them to come with me to start a southern branch, but there's time. They still apparently haven't given up on the American Dream.

For myself it's time for a change. L.A. and environs are nice, and full of good stuff, but I yearn for a return to the old days when I could share a smoke with a pregnant woman while grocery shopping. Now I can't even smoke on the soiled, oiled and seldom-used beaches of Long Beach, as well as smarmy Santa Monica. It's a crime.

In other less than ideal news, it turns out that my flight to L.A. was the last nonstop flight out of CR for the next three months as we enter the 'low' season--or the time when it rains too much for tourists. This flight was the only reason I gave up collecting miles on Continental, as they've actually graduated from Asshat Airlines to Almost Asshat Airlines since I had to fly them all the time a decade or so ago. American is OK, but it seems that their planes are older or something, or maybe it was just the ones I've been stuck on recently. Anyway, I've still got more miles on Continental and I keep having the fantasy that I'll be able to cash them in for something someday.

The big decision now is where I want to make the stopover. I'm thinking Mexico City, as it's halfway to San Jose and should prove more interesting than Houston. Nothing against Houston, and I hear they have a rather large Spanish speaking population, but it lacks the mystique of being one of the most polluted cities on the globe. And there're no pyramids within a day's drive. I think. I'll check. I'll entertain suggestions. As long as Continental flies there or I get miles from a partner asshat airline.

Update: Continental really wants me to stop in Houston, even before I get to Mexico City. Qiero mas trabajo.

Posted by petefredbob at 09:19 PM | Permalink

The car came out of the shop today; and will go back in tomorrow. It always seems that the moment I fix something, another thing goes wrong. As I sat down to write an angry rant here at DV, much to my surprise, Ed hobbles over to the table, assisted by his sturdy carbon fiber monopod. Bracing at the bit during his recovery from the accident, Ed threw away the walker, grabbed his hi-tech cane and hopped in the truck for his first solo night out in 40 days. Rock on.

Last night on the way back from Samy's Camera I was looking in the rearview for a car that seemed to have disappeared. Even paying close attention I was surprised by a bike passing on my right. It was the final straw in my thought camel's back of buying another street bike. It's time to think of a track-only bike so if the shiny side goes down it's my own damn fault, and not somebody on the phone.

My eyes blurred over today trying to figure out the new camera. I took one photo, on full auto, and it was really cool, but, it needed work. Back to the books tonight and back to the store tomorrow for a less monstrous bag for just the camera and one lens. F-stop this and iso that and what the f*** is this about infrared? Depth of field focal length aperture yadda yadda. Ed gets to answer questions tomorrow.

Posted by petefredbob at 08:59 PM | Permalink

The temperature's dropped a little more than is comfortable for sitting outside at the coffee shop, but I like the privacy. Plus, the girls all get Goosebumps when they come to refill my tea. The tea is all that's keeping me warm at the moment, and I'm guessing I'll call it an early night. I'm five episodes behind on this season's 24 and the plan is to catch up before Monday night's installment. There are also those books on the nightstand.

Two more paperless transactions set up: the car insurance and the bank statement. The IRS is next, although it frightens me to give them access to my bank account. Not that they couldn't just take it anytime they wanted to, but it's just that much closer to tempting a future mistake on their part that I anticipate would be hell to cor