Judgment Day

Everyone has their day in court. Lucky for us, a lot of people choose to have that day on national television.

There are a lot of court shows on the air these days. Sometimes it seems as if they are the only thing on. There’s The People’s Court, Judge Judy, Judge Joe Brown, Jude Mathis, Judge Alex, Judge Hatchett, Cristina’s Court, Judge Maria Lopez, Divorce Court, Judge Jeanie Pirro, and Judge David Young.

The one court show that stands out from the pack, in ratings as well as overall entertainment value, is Judge Judy. Presiding arbiter Judith Sheindlin is a no-nonsense legal powerhouse with the refined skill of narrowing down the truth in a matter of minutes.

Judge Judy and shows like it involve soliciting the participation of people who have filed small claims court cases. If both parties of the lawsuit are willing, Sheindlin hears the case in her television courtroom. She then renders a verdict that is binding under the rules of arbitration that the parties have agreed to prior to the hearing.

Participants are paid for their appearance on Judge Judy. There is a production fund that pays any monetary judgment to the winning litigant. The balance of that fund is then divided between the parties.

One of Sheindlin’s strongest skills is her ability to ask a series of investigative questions that leads the person she is interviewing to give her the truthful answers she desires. She is very intolerant of deception and is known for getting to the bottom of the issues at hand quickly and without listening to irrelevant testimony.

Sheindlin was appointed as a judge in the New York Family Court system in 1982 by Mayor Ed Koch. In 1986, she was named Supervising Judge for the Manhattan District where she heard over 20,000 cases. She was known as a tough but fair judge with an open-court policy and an emphasis on personal responsibility.

A 1993 article in the Los Angeles Times profiled Sheindlin, which led to a 60 Minutes interview that gave her national exposure. She retired from the bench in 1996 and began a second career as “Judge Judy.”

With an estimated 10 million viewers, Sheindlin is one of the highest paid personalities on television, earning over $30 million a year. She has authored four books based on her experiences, Don’t Pee On My Leg And Tell Me It’s Raining (1996), Beauty Fades, Dumb Is Forever (1999), Keep It Simple, Stupid (2000), and a children’s book, Win Or Lose By How You Choose (2000).

By all accounts, Sheindlin is not someone you would want to run into in a legal dark alley.

“The time for change was yesterday,” says Sheindlin. “The time to wake up is now.”

The World Is Outside

Author Ray Bradbury once said, "I don't understand this whole thing about computers and the superhighway. Who wants to be in touch with all of those people?"

He makes a good point.

Too many people, especially the younger ones, think that the Internet is the greatest thing since sliced bread. You need bread to live; you don’t need the Internet.

The Internet is a great resource tool. Email has its place, and porn that should never see the light of day is just a click away.

People spend a great deal of time perfecting their MySpace and Facebook web pages. They constantly email and text message. They have iPhones and BlackBerrys with Internet access. What is so important that people feel the need to be in constant communication?

It’s not that I don’t “get it.” I get it, I just don’t believe it’s the way to live. I’ve seen the world before the Internet and I’ve seen it since. It was a lot better before.

Of course, I’m also a hypocrite. I’ve downloaded an iPod’s worth of MP3s, I email people I don’t feel like talking to in person and yes, I’ve even peeked at a few dirty pictures.

A lot of great things have come from this technological boom, but it’s also responsible for many of the problems the country is experiencing right now.

The job market has suffered from a technological glut. Many things that needed to be done by people are now being done by computers.

There used to be plenty of entry-level clerical, data entry, and filing work. Now that most of these things have been automated, those jobs are disappearing.

Computers have replaced human employees in a variety of tasks. Science fiction writers like Bradbury predicted that this would happen. Sure enough, it did. I know from experience.

I wasn’t replaced by a computer, but many of my co-workers were. They were replaced because of me. They were replaced because I designed and programmed a medical claims auditing system that eliminated their jobs.

When word gets around that you’re the reason their friends were laid off, it doesn’t exactly make life easy in the workplace. I was friends with them too, but it didn’t matter. I did what I was supposed to do.

This is the kind of thing that is happening every day at companies around the world. Once automated computer systems are in place, it only takes a few employees to do the work of many.

Technology can only take us so far. We have to remember that we are smarter than the machines that seem to be taking over. We have to remember that the world is outside and not on a computer screen.

Using technology should improve your life, not make you a slave to it.

Prop 8: It Ain’t About Hate

There’s one thing that people against Proposition 8 don’t understand. Everyone is equal.

That’s what the opponents of Prop 8 are trying to say, but it’s not really what they believe. Everyone is equal, everyone’s opinion is equal, and everyone’s vote is equal. Yet here we are, enduring the threats of the opponents of Prop 8, people who will apparently stop at nothing to extinguish my rights in favor of theirs.

If this is about “equality,” then why does my vote not matter? Twice. We voted on this issue twice. The results of the votes were the same both times. The majority of voters do not want gay marriage. Those on the losing end can’t accept it, so they want to play lawyer-ball until they get their way.

This is not a decision that belongs to the courts. Gays have exactly the same right to get married as any heterosexual person. There is no denial of civil rights. They can marry anyone they choose as long as that person is of the opposite sex.

To be honest, I’m not even entirely opposed to gay marriage. Perhaps more people would be open to allowing it if they hadn’t forced it down our throats in an “in your face” way. You just can’t tell people that their views are wrong. Like everyone else, I am the world’s number one authority of my opinion and what I believe cannot be wrong.

The two things the opponents of Prop 8 preached were that it was “unfair” and “wrong.”

Unfair? Life isn’t fair. My mom’s been telling me that for as long as I can remember. And it really isn’t. The income tax code isn’t fair. Affirmative action isn’t fair. The ban on talking on cell phones while driving isn’t fair. What isn’t fair doesn’t matter. Love the one you’re with and leave me out of it.

Wrong? There is no right and wrong when it comes to the law. Wrong is a judgment call. What one person thinks is wrong may be what another person thinks is right. The best we can do when it comes to right and wrong is try to get along. That’s where the vote comes in.

They’ve also claimed that Prop 8 is hateful. If you want hate, I’ll give you hate. I hate being told what to think. I hate being told that my opinion is wrong. I hate people who think their opinion is more important than mine. I hate that my vote doesn’t seem to matter.

I’m not going to go into how many gay friends I have or that I have had gay roommates in the past. It really doesn’t matter to me. I don’t think any less of them; I say live and let live, just don’t demand my endorsement.

It’s always been kind of a tenet of the gay community to not care about what people think of their lifestyle and that’s great. I do think it’s kind of sad, though, that gay people who want to get married demand my approval and a piece of paper from the state to validate their love.

For anyone who opposes Prop 8, don’t worry. It’s likely that gays will be allowed to get married in California sometime in the future. I might even be persuaded to change my mind if opponents of Prop 8 would be a little nicer about the whole thing.

They’re the ones spewing the hate and anger. I don’t hate anyone. I don’t want to stop anyone from having a committed relationship. I just want to be free to believe what I want without being made to feel like I'm evil.

Free Beer!

Finding a restaurant that serves a great hamburger shouldn’t be difficult. After ordering the burger at Hoppy Brewing Company, only one thing can be said: the search goes on.

Hoppy Brewing Company is a happy little brewpub located on Folsom Blvd. in Sacramento. The place is what it appears to be from the outside, a drinking establishment that happens to serve food.

Inside the brewpub is a long bar with a full array of liquor and plenty of taps for dispensing a variety of pilsners, including several that are brewed on the premises. The dining room itself is not particularly large, but it isn’t intimate. Tables are easily arranged to accommodate groups of different sizes. There is limited outdoor seating, but those tables only seat two.

Seating a party of seven wasn’t really a problem; the wait for a table was reasonable for any restaurant during peak dining hours. However, there wasn’t much room for waiting. Standing around the hostess’ podium as other diners and the staff navigated through was a bit uncomfortable.

The restaurant was particularly noisy and it was difficult to carry on conversations. Above the chatter was a sound system that played music. While the chatter is something to be expected and overlooked, the music was unnecessary.

Once seated with menus, the waiter promptly took drink orders. A free pint of beer was offered to those who had voted in that day’s presidential election. In addition to the varieties of light and dark beer, the menu features a decent selection of wines and spirits. For those with limited wine knowledge, the menu lists the location of the vineyards to aid in selection.

Without a free pint of beer (not for lack of voting), the soft drinks were of the Pepsi variety. Ordering a Coke and receiving the “Is Pepsi okay?” comeback, root beer was my drink of the night. A bit overpriced at $2.50, I was expecting a refill before the end of dinner but was offered none.

The menu is complete enough to cater to the desires of most diners. The appetizers are typical for a brewpub: potato skins, hot wings, calamari and cheese sticks. Much of the entrée menu seems a bit ambitious for this type of dining establishment. Pizza, mahi mahi, ribs, steaks and pastas are difficult foods to prepare well. Many restaurants that specialize in those kinds of foods don’t always succeed in quality.

The entrées that made more sense for a brewpub to serve are burgers and sandwiches. The hamburger was the most appealing, reasonably priced entrée for me. Rather than having half a dozen different hamburgers on the menu, burgers are available with an interesting variety of fixings.

Included on the burger are lettuce and tomato. For forty cents each, different seasonings, cheeses, sauces and toppings like mushrooms, pineapple and jalapeño peppers can be added. Unfortunately, adding onion to the hamburger was a forty-cent addition as well. Charging extra for onions on a hamburger borders on the unthinkable.

Hoppy’s was hopping but all of the food came quickly, in about 15 minutes. The burger was prepared medium rare with lettuce, tomato and onion, exactly the way it was ordered. The shape of the burger was perfectly round and flat, a telltale sign that what I was about to eat was recently a frozen 1/3 pound industrial patty. One bite of the burger confirmed that suspicion.

There was nothing terrible about the hamburger; it just wasn’t anything great. For the $8.25 plus the forty cents for the onion, I expected something more than a factory burger. It was better than a Jumbo Jack from Jack-In-The-Box, but those are less than two bucks and they come with onions.

The service was completely professional and efficient. Plates were promptly cleared and individual checks were issued without having to ask who ordered what. The entire experience was pleasant and enjoyable. I would dine at the Hoppy Brewing Company again, but I would order something other than the hamburger.


On the Net
http://www.hoppy.com/

Hot Diggidy Dog

It's no secret that Americans love to eat tubes of mystery meat on a bun, otherwise know as the hot dog.

They're offered up at every major league sporting event. They're sold on the street out of portable hot dog steamers. They're sold in most movie theaters. They're available in every supermarket and at thousands of independent hot dog stands around the country.

New Yorkers boast that Nathan's of Coney Island serves the best hot dogs. While there are many Nathan’s locations in the New York area, the one actually at Coney Island is the place to go. Millions of New Yorkers also patronize the famous Sabrett's hot dog carts that can be found throughout the city.

Detroit lays claim to the best "coney islands," restaurants that specialize in chili dogs. Chicago also claims to have the best hot dogs with the most unique toppings, like pickle spears, tomato and relish.

Hollywood is home to Pink's, with its wide variety of topping-laced dogs named after celebrities and golden, delicious chili cheese fries. Its walls are adorned with pictures of hundreds of celebrities who frequent the joint.

As good as any of these hot dogs may be, there is a chain of hot dog stands in the San Fernando Valley called Cupid’s that out-dogs them all. Their menu is simply hot dogs, potato chips, and sodas.

Cupid's has been a Valley landmark since the chain opened in the early 1940s. They serve up their hot dogs with no pretences. A chili dog costs $2, and "everything" includes mustard, onions and chili. And while it is practically unheard of in Los Angeles, I take ketchup on mine.

The hot dogs are prepared on wooden paddles with curves on them that hold the bun and dog in place while the toppings are quickly applied by the expert staff. They can be eaten on the spot at the provided picnic tables or wrapped to go.

When you unwrap your Cupid’s dog at home, the chili stays on the dog thanks to a special dual wrapping process. One layer holds the chili in place while the second wrapper, placed at a 45 degree angle, covers the bun securely. The bun remains soft and chewy, and when you take that first bite, the flavors explode in your mouth.

The tart deli-style mustard gives the dog zing, while the onions provide a crunchy texture. The chili is soft, smooth and solid so you can safely eat the dog without worrying about dripping ingredients on your favorite shirt.

Given America's love of the hot dog, it's surprising that fast food chains haven't cashed in on that love. Yes, there is Weinerschnitzel, but no hot dog aficionado would willingly eat there.

We can be grateful for this lack of commercial interest in the hot dog. It leaves more room for the local and regional chains and independent stands. Could you imagine the McHotDog?

Ambien Dreams

Parked in a driveway somewhere, I sit in my car waiting for someone. A car pulls up next to mine. I get out, walk around the back of my car and over to the other car’s driver window. The window opens. Gunshots spurt from an Uzi, striking me in the chest.

I fall down, slowly feeling the life leave my body. Things are beginning to go dark. The car pulls away. I die. For a long time, I feel only darkness.

When I wake up, I am slow to realize that it was all just a dream. The images haunt me, though, and for a while all I can think of is what it feels like to die in a dream. I always thought people didn’t actually die in dreams. I wish it had been the first time, but my own death in dreams has become a theme in my nighttime world.

They say that Ambien can cause vivid and intense dreams, but I’ve been having these kinds of dreams way longer that I have taken the popular prescription sleeping pill. They also say Ambien is habit-forming.

It probably is habit-forming, but given the number of nights I’ve suffered without sleep in my life, I’ll take the addiction, bad dreams and all.

One night, I was on a plane that went down. The sensation of the plane falling to the ground seemed so real that when I woke up it took quite a while to convince myself that it wasn’t real.

The worst dreams I’ve ever had involved nuclear explosions. I’ve had three of them in the past year. If you’ve never experienced the sensation of being hit by a nuclear blast, it is like seeing a bright flash then feeling a burst of powerful, hot wind that destroys everything in its path.

Most of the Ambien dreams are ordinary ones, though incredibly detailed and lucid. They’re a lot like watching movies, and often I’m not even in them. They have distinct characters and story lines and I often become emotionally involved with what happens in them.

The dose of Ambien I am on is relatively strong, and it leaves a hangover-like grogginess to the following morning, sans the nausea. I don’t like having to take a pill for something that comes to most people naturally.

Ambien is better than tossing and turning hour after hour until I’m so frustrated I get out of bed and watch infomercials all night, or worse, Will & Grace.

Triggered Traffic Lights Leave Sacramento Timed Out

Sometimes technology overwhelms common sense. Such is the case with many of the Sacramento area’s traffic lights.

In Los Angeles, where I come from, there’s a saying that every destination is “twenty minutes” away. Of course this is not true, but it sure feels about right when you drive it. Around the Sacramento area, it’s really hard to judge how long it will take to get where you’re going.

In Sacramento, sometimes I can get to my local Target in a few minutes. Sometimes it takes forever because I have to stop at five consecutive traffic lights in less than a mile.

As the region grows and expands, so does the traffic situation. The solution that local authorities have chosen is to place sensors in the pavement to change signal lights based on traffic flow. And there must have been a sale on left turn arrows because this area is overflowing with them.

It all seems logical, at least on the surface. When the sensors detect vehicles at intersections, the traffic lights change accordingly. The problems with this system become very apparent very quickly.

One problem is that traffic signals stop all the vehicles on one road when a single car hits the sensors on a cross street. It may be nice for that one car to be able to proceed, but it’s not logical to halt the flow of all traffic for a single vehicle.

Another problem is reaching the sensors before the signal changes. This is especially frustrating with left turn arrows. As soon as the sensors detect no vehicles, the light changes. If you don’t hit the sensors, you’re forced to wait through an entire traffic light cycle before you can proceed.

The reason I find these triggered traffic signals frustrating comes from many years of driving the streets of Los Angeles. In L.A., just about all of the signals are timed and only major intersections have left turn arrows.

Timed signals mean that if traffic is able to flow at or about the speed limit, vehicles can get through multiple intersections without having to stop. I was often able to get through six or seven intersections on my way to and from work and not stop once.

Since relocating to the Sacramento area last year to finish college, I have noticed that my fuel consumption has decreased by about 3 miles per gallon. These triggered signals are forcing a stop-and-go pattern of traffic that’s sucking down the gas.

Considering the price of oil and concerns about the environment, it’s kind of surprising that the region has gotten carried away with a system of traffic signals that waste gas and cause a lot of stop-and-go traffic.

It’s not possible to compare traffic in L.A. with traffic in Sacramento, but in L.A. we share what I would describe as “mutual frustration.” That is, we all know traffic is a mess and we all know we’re stuck in it so we might as well work together to get through it.

Unlike Sacramento, drivers in L.A. are generally more patient when allowing lane changes and navigating through freeway and surface street traffic. While the volume of traffic is greater in L.A., my frustration with traffic in the Sacramento area has convinced me that people up here just don’t know how to drive.

I’d also like to meet the Einstein who designed the Watt Avenue and Highway 50 interchange. To get on or off the freeway at Watt, vehicles have to cross over in shared lanes. Stupid. I can’t think of any way to describe it better than that.

Steve Harvey’s “Only In L.A.”

As your flight descend into any one of Southern California’s busy airports, you can’t help but look down in amazement at the tangled maze of streets, freeways and buildings that extend endlessly across the horizon. When you leave the airport and venture around this vast wasteland, you are in the second most populated area in the country.

Everyone has an opinion or preconceived notion about Southern California. The mystique of Hollywood. Surfer Dudes and Valley Girls everywhere. Terrible traffic. Gang fights, freeway shootings, and earthquakes all the time. Sure, these things do happen, but for most of the 13 million plus residents of the Southland, it’s life as usual in their neighborhoods.

There is one man who has managed to make the grand metropolis less vast and a little friendlier to live in. Columnist Steve Harvey writes and compiles a column called “Only In L.A.” for the “California/Local” section of the Los Angeles Times.

It is a charming column, part local history lesson, part crime blotter, and part reader contribution, almost always good for a chuckle or three. In addition to interesting tidbits about life in Southern California, Harvey frequently posts photographs with his column. The photos are typically of unusual and misleading signs, similar to Jay Leno’s funny headlines segments.

Except “writes” isn’t the correct word to describe Harvey’s Times column these days. Harvey was laid off by the Times in August of 2008, though he will occasionally contribute to the paper’s online edition. In an email sent to a colleague, Harvey simply states “...just wanted you to know that I've been laid off and the column is kaput.”

He was one of the most senior staff members at the Times. Harvey spent 16 years as a reporter and six years as a writer for the Opinion section until he became a columnist in 1990. He compiled a book in 1996, The Best of Only in L.A.: A Chronicle of the Amazing, Amusing and Absurd.

Harvey, a native Angelino, attended the University of Southern California, graduating with a degree in journalism in 1967. He worked for the Los Angeles Herald Examiner from 1964 until 1967. He also worked as a commentator for National Public Radio from 1981 until 1990.

The good news for fans of Harvey is that he has transplanted his “Only In L.A.” column to Blogspot and continues to satisfy his loyal readers with his musings and observations.

What I like most about Harvey is that he gives Southern California a small-town feeling. His columns are on the lighter side of the news. A typical column would discuss the sightings of the parrots living in the neighborhoods around the Budweiser plant in Van Nuys, how certain streets got their names, or the best way to get to LAX.

The reader is especially important to Harvey, and he often answers questions from the readers about local mysteries and goings-on. If Harvey doesn’t know, he knows someone who does. If he doesn’t know someone who does, he waits for another reader to provide an answer.

Most of all, Harvey’s column reminds the diverse millions of citizens of the Southland that we are not so diverse after all. Sometimes, we’re the same. We share the same experiences, we laugh at the same things, and a lot of us appreciate Harvey’s light style even if the Los Angeles Times doesn’t.

On The Net
http://harveysonlyinla.blogspot.com/

The Confessions Of A Former Coke Addict

It’s difficult for me to admit that I used to have a problem. I wasn’t in denial; I knew what I was doing was really bad for me but I did it anyway.

Coke had a hold over me. I never imagined I would be able to live without it. Then they came out with Coke Zero. Three letters: w-o-w. It tastes way better than regular Coke.

Coke Zero doesn’t contain sugar so it has no calories. It’s not as sweet as the real thing, which is what I like about it. I’ve been on Coke Zero for over a year, and now whenever I have regular Coke I don’t like it.

The Coke Zero brand is marketed to males ages 18 to 35. The visual appearance of the brand is a modern black, red and silver color scheme using a fat-to-skinny font for the word “Zero.” They’ve teamed up with the NFL this year as an official sponsor. Celebrities like Brad Pitt and Paris Hilton have been spotted with Coke Zero in hand. There have even been paid Coke Zero endorsements in video games.

The smartest thing Coca-Cola did with the Coke Zero brand was not label it a “diet” soda. The word “diet” does not appear anywhere on the can. It is simply called a “zero calorie cola.” For men, diet sodas have a certain stigma attached to them, mostly because they don’t want to be thought of as on a diet. Calling it something else, even when it is what it is, has turned out to be a wise marketing decision.

When I set out to acquire a case of Coke Zero, I notice that the stores are often short on supply. On more than one occasion I have walked out of the market with the last case. Once, I left empty handed and was forced to drive three miles to another store to get my fix.

Other Coke Zero fans have commented about my choice of soda when I drink it in public. There’s an old guy who works at my local In-N-Out restaurant who always comes up to me to express his love of Coke Zero when I bring one with me when I eat there. I have also confined myself to seeing movies at a theater in El Dorado Hills where Coke Zero is served on tap.

In recent years, the sugarless trend has produced some great tasting products. Likely due to the sharp rise in diabetes cases, sugarless products are everywhere. Chocolates, candies, ice cream and cookies can be made without sugar thanks to Splenda, a no-calorie sweetener that is inexplicably made from sugar and tastes like sugar.

It’s not all about the soda, though. I drink a lot of beverages. I love milk and fruit juice too, and I drink a lot of water. But when I am in the mood for soda, I turn to Coke Zero. Or Cherry Coke Zero.

A Fight To The Finish

There’s nothing quite like watching a presidential debate with a roomful of journalism students.

Journalists are, of course, impartial observers and reporters of events. The experience was pretty much what I expected, except I was under the impression that Senator John McCain was running for president, not trying out a standup comedy routine.

The giggles and snickers directed at McCain were not unexpected. I have come to accept my role as a lone soldier in the battlefield of academia, but there just isn’t any reason to laugh, especially with the world the way it is today.

In a town hall setting at Belmont University in Nashville, McCain took on his rival, Democrat Senator Barack Obama in the second presidential debate. With four weeks left until the election and the candidates running an almost even race, many people are looking for answers to the issues that may help them decide who they are going to vote for.

Obama began as expected by taking a shot at President Bush, then mixing in the usual liberal pandering to the middle class by promising tax cuts. He blamed the free market for the financial troubles that have affected the economy, which simply makes no sense. Obama talks a lot, but he doesn’t say very much.

McCain countered Obama’s tax plans by emphasizing that all taxes should be lower, or at best not increased. He criticized the federal government’s excessive spending, and he emphasized his plans for the mortgage crisis. McCain also managed to work in the word “cronies” to describe some of Obama’s connections, a very apt description to be sure.

Democrats can always be counted on for favoring government involvement, and Obama promises that he will not deregulate the financial system. After all, a few statements earlier he blamed the free market. Obama continues to reference Bush and the “last eight years,” and everybody (almost everybody) gets a good laugh.

McCain makes a point of distancing himself from Bush, a well-deserved point. All is fair, but there really is no comparison. In fact, it has been said that McCain and Bush don’t even get along.

As he spoke, McCain had a noticeably softer tone than Obama. It was almost as if Obama felt he needed to talk louder and with more emphasis to be heard and understood. At times, Obama seemed a bit flustered and unsure of his words. At other times, he prattled on about subjects that weren’t even related.

Obama did not like to answer direct questions, and McCain made not one but several references to Obama’s inability to speak to the issues. When asked about Medicare and Social Security, Obama went off in a direction that I would need a map to follow. He ended up calling the system “not fair.”

Both candidates did agree on many issues, though each took turns saying pretty much the same general things about the environment and the dependence on foreign oil.

The best way I can summarize what I have seen in this political contest is that John McCain has the ability to be a statesman. Barack Obama does not come across as someone with the experience to be a world leader, let alone the leader of the strongest nation in the world.

Sunday Night Is For “The Simpsons”

Watching television is supposed to be an escape from reality. You wouldn’t know it these days, what with all the cheap, half-baked, glorified game shows and insane celebrity docudramas that have left a once proud television nation’s streets cluttered with trash. Leave it to “The Simpsons” to remind us that life ‒ and television ‒ isn’t all bad, unless your name happens to be Milhouse.

With nearly two decades of precious, timeless ‒ and sometimes tasteless ‒ episodes in circulation, “The Simpsons” has to be doing at least a few things right. The nineteenth season picks right up where the previous eighteen left off, following the timeless adventures of Homer J. Simpson (the J. stands for Jay), his family, and the quirky goings-on of the residents of Springfield, U.S.A.

There aren’t any after-school special dramas or hard-hitting life lessons in the world that “The Simpsons” occupies. Everyone behaves in character, no matter how off that character might be. Signature catch phrases like Homer’s abrupt “D’oh,” Mr. Burns’ drawn out “Excellent,” and Marge’s disapproving “Mmmm” give the brain what it wants, candy and more candy.

There is no problem that can’t be solved with an amusing outcome in less than half an hour. While the show sometimes builds on the previous experiences of its characters, we are always reminded that they are in animation limbo. Nobody gets older, no matter how many Christmas episodes they do.

Perhaps this timeless quality is what so many viewers enjoy. So many things are uncertain in life, but when that theme song begins and the show jumps to life, it’s nice to take some time from the real world and trade it for something simple, entertaining, and worthy of being in cartoon form.

The time is coming when “The Simpsons” will end its historic run on broadcast television, possibly after its next season, for an even twenty years on the air. Fortunately, there is no end in sight for the show in reruns and on DVD.

The Great Catalytic Converter Caper Of 2008

“Mommy, they hurt my Tacoma!” I cried into the phone.

Before you jump to the conclusion that I am a momma’s boy, you should know that my mom and I are Toyota Tacoma pickup truck buddies. We don’t have matching jackets or anything, we just love our trucks.

Her Tacoma is newer, but I’ve had mine longer. The “Silver Bullet” is hers, a 2006 model that is usually coated with a thick layer of dust and speckled with bird droppings and tree sap. Mine is the “Love Princess,” a tasty black 1998 model with low miles that I keep as shiny as possible.

It’s something we have in common, which is kind of nice and we have fun with it. That’s one of the reasons I called my mom after my neighbor rang my doorbell last Thursday morning to inform me that my truck’s catalytic converter had just been stolen.

A catalytic converter is an exhaust component that cuts down the toxicity of an engine’s emissions. It is located under the vehicle between the engine and the muffler. Catalytic converters contain small amounts of valuable platinum and palladium, making them the target of thieves in recent years.

My neighbor Eric, who is in the military, had left for work earlier that morning but returned home because he forgot his driver’s license. He says he immediately knew what two strange men were doing to my truck because it happened to his brother a few years ago.

The two men had already unbolted my catalytic converter and were about to leave in a white pickup truck driven by a third man. The pickup truck took off, but Eric was able to follow them in his car while he called the police. He drives a new Mustang GT and was only happy to have the chance to give chase.

Rancho Cordova police, the California Highway Patrol and Sacramento County sheriff’s deputies all became involved in the pursuit. The pursuit ended a few miles from my house when the pickup truck slammed into a traffic light pole and knocked it down. The men abandoned their truck but were apprehended in the immediate area by a sheriff’s canine unit.

Back at the scene of the crime, Eric showed me the video and pictures of the crashed truck he took with his camera phone. A sheriff’s deputy arrived and interviewed me briefly. Another police cruiser pulled up, took my information again and called for the CSI unit to come by to dust for fingerprints.

We chatted with the officers for a while, and they explained that Toyota trucks were a popular target for these kinds of thefts. They said that they recovered four catalytic converters at the scene but would be unable to return mine right away because it was evidence. Now facing a bill of at least $800 to replace the converter, I called my insurance agent who arranged for the repair of my truck.

Being the victim of a crime is something new to me. I don’t like it, but it makes me think about what the world has become. Things could have turned out much different than they did. They could have had weapons, someone could have been hurt as they tried to elude the police, or they could have stolen the whole truck instead of just a small part of it.

As much as I love my truck, I realize that it is just a thing. But, it is a thing I earned myself and that I am proud of. I’ve been pretty lucky in life so far, but these criminals did more than steal my catalytic converter. They stole my peace of mind, and I will never be able to start my truck in the future without wondering if someone's going to steal it again.

On the Net
http://www.sacsheriff.com/media/0919_arrest.cfm

From Virgin To Whore

If you were going to build a house, you wouldn’t hire a kid from a high school shop class to build it. And if you were going to pay a woman for sex, you wouldn’t hire a virgin.

Especially when she’s asking what it costs to build a house for her virginity.

Taking the Internet by storm is 22-year old “Natalie Dylan,” the pseudonym of a woman who literally believes that one night with her is worth at least a quarter million dollars. And not surprisingly, there are men who have large sums of money burning holes in their pockets who are desperate enough to pay for the so-called privilege of being her first.

Ms. Dylan describes her virginity as a “capitalist” asset and claims that while she is prepared to auction that asset, it may not be to the highest bidder. Despite her apparent desire to be a prostitute, she is looking for a devirginizer with whom she has “chemistry.”

The story is that Ms. Dylan is from San Diego and a graduate of Sacramento State’s women’s studies program. She has ambitions of attending graduate school, hoping to earn a degree in family and marriage counseling. Due to some fraudulent student loans obtained in her name by her stepfather, she believes that auctioning her virginity through a brothel in Nevada, the same brothel her sister works at, will not solve all her problems but will help her on her way.

A quick scan of the Internet reveals the same general facts about Ms. Dylan, something that is quite uncharacteristic of the online world. All of the stories about her are similar and the same two photos are used repeatedly. Her age has been said to be 21 and 22. Her degree goals have been said to be a master’s or a doctorate. She has been said to be from San Diego and Sacramento. We think we know where she’s from and where she went to college, yet nobody has come forward for their 15 minutes of fame to reveal her true identity to the media.

Something just doesn’t seem right. A women’s studies major prostituting herself, an evil stepfather who stole from her and a sister who works at the very same brothel she wants to utilize sounds more like a David Letterman monologue than the actions of a chaste woman with dreams of furthering her education.

The official web site for the brothel she is offering herself through does not have any bidding mechanisms in place. There is simply a brief statement about her, the same two pictures everyone has seen, an email address and the promise of a chat room featuring Ms. Dylan in the future.

Even radio personality Howard Stern, who recently featured Ms. Dylan on his program, has distanced himself from the topic. There are no prominent mentions of the subject on his official web site and it has been reported that he was not as involved in the matter as has been mentioned in the news.

It takes too much energy to make moral decisions for other people. Right or wrong, it’s legal to do what she wants to do whether or not there is a Natalie Dylan. So everybody’s talking about prostitution, which seems to be what the owners of the brothels in Nevada want, especially since the courts have recently ruled that they may start to advertise their businesses in Reno and Las Vegas.

What will happen? Nobody knows and way too many people care.