Think Tank
Hello World,
So here we are, already at the last weekend in January, once famous for the Super Bowl, and now stripped of even that distinction, alas. I know that everyone is aware of what's happening around here, because the alarms have been going off non-stop since the temperature dropped below 30 degrees last week, and we had a couple of snow flurries. This cataclysm has been burning up the wire services, and keeping the 24-hour news stations occupied around the clock. They've actually sent out correspondents to stand outdoors and tell us how cold it is. Honestly, you'd think that no one had ever seen cold or snow in New York in January before, for all the news coverage this is getting. At this rate, I don't know what poor Lindsay Lohan is going to have to do, in order to get any attention from anyone.
I have been notified by any number of alert readers that the Fizza-ma-Wizza-ma-Dill is not technically one of the animals celebrated with its own year in the Chinese calendar, but rather, a cartoon invention of Dr. Seuss in his classic book, "If I Ran the Zoo." Oh well, nobody's perfect. I apologize for any inconvenience this discrepancy may have caused, especially for those people who already had their invitations printed up. Next time, I will instruct the research department to be much more rigorous in its efforts, to avoid any inadvertent repetition of this unfortunate lapse in pinpoint accuracy that is the researcher's credo, and I ought to know. Perhaps I just had Dr. Seuss on the brain, although if I was thinking of any of his wonderful creations, it would more likely be my all-time favorite of his works, "If I Ran the Circus," which never fails to delight. (That is super-Stoo-Pendus! Stoo-Mendus! Stoo-Roarus! And when I play "Dixie," please join in the chorus.) Somehow, the Fizza-ma-Wizza-ma-Dill must have slipped in there as an errant thought escaped from the zoo.
Speaking of errant thoughts, we get the following from Bill, who is always recognized for his intellectual properties as he should be, although perhaps not exactly in this way --
==============================
Someone sent a Confidentiality Agreement from McDonald's to sign. Yikes! If any of the provisions of it were to be enforced, they would own just about everything and everyone here! My favorite paragraph specifies:
" 'Work Product' includes, but is not limited to, all products, equipment, compositions, processes, formulas, recipes, techniques, innovations, discoveries, ideas, names, concepts, developments, writings, inventions, technology improvements, trade secrets, trade marks, service marks, designs and know-how related thereto and all intellectual property and other proprietary rights, whether or not patentable, copyrightable or otherwise subject to intellectual property protection."
Gosh! They own my THOUGHTS! Sure hope they don't ask me what I THINK about that!
==============================
Hmmm. I can tell you that there are some days that McDonald's would be welcome to my thoughts at work, and they certainly wouldn't want them, believe me. Talk about "Stoo-Roarus!"
Meanwhile, in my continuing efforts to stay awake in church during the pastor's long and boring sermons, I brought the owner's manual from the Escort with me last week, and learned a few things that should come in handy. It has a useful diagram of the dashboard which explains all of the lights and switches, so I finally know what those strange knobs are next to the door, as well as some other curiously enigmatic pictographs scattered about. The knobs are for the purpose of remotely adjusting the side view mirrors on the front doors, and the reason they didn't do anything when I fiddled with them previously, is that you first have to move the selector switch for the left or right side door, so it knows which mirror to adjust. Once the book explained that, I tried it and it worked fine. But I found it odd that the previous owner(s) apparently had so much call for adjusting the side view mirrors that they had completely worn the markings off the knobs until they were entirely blank. The car also comes equipped with an innovative feature, that is for anyone who hasn't bought a car since 1973, of interior courtesy lights that come on when you open the door, and even one that lights up the ignition switch so you can see where to insert the key. This would be a whole new step in a new direction for me, since the Gremlin doesn't have them, and I was excited to find out about it. Of course right now, the courtesy lights only seem to work if you open the rear passenger side door, and not any of the other doors, which does tend to somewhat limit the convenience of this feature, compared to opening the driver's door, for example. But I give Fabio points for trying (it's an Escort, you see, so I call him Fabio) and keep in mind that this is still a work in progress. Of course, I can take it back to my mechanic, but he's not even as old as my Gremlin, and all he seems to care about is whether the radio works or not. So first I have to pull the wires off the driver's side speaker, and then ask him to fix that and the courtesy lights. It's all a question of priorities, don't you know.
So far, one of my favorite things about the car is that it has such teeny-tiny, itty-bitty, eensy-beensy (my father always said that) little tires, especially compared to other cars I've driven. They're like lawnmower tires, they're so small. I had a pair of 15-inch monster snow tires on the Gremlin, so I know from big tires, and to see these little toy wheels on the Escort, they are just too darned cute. They look like you could go to the movies, and they would give them away with a set of dishes. In fact, you could easily keep a spare set of them on hand, because they would take up no room at all, compared to real tires, not that these aren't perfectly adequate. I find the Escort handles pretty well on curves for the most part, although when I took it into the parking lot at work last week when we had a little bit of snow, it didn't have the kind of sticking power that I would have hoped for. It's possible that it needs a little bit more ballast to settle it down in slippery conditions. I could probably scrounge up about 250 pounds of firewood with no trouble.
But the owner's manual did have some bad news for anyone planning to use a 1993 Ford Escort in a movie chase scene, and I figure I might as well get this out of the way now, before anyone asks me later. Apparently this model comes equipped with a fuel cut-off switch, so that in the event of an accident, the gasoline doesn't continue to pour out of the tank, where a potential spark could blow everything to pieces. For all of you movie fans out there, this means that at the end of this hypothetical car chase, the Escort would not explode in a fiery crash, that mainstay of special effects wizards and stuntmen everywhere, but rather ..... well, I'm not sure what it would do instead, but it shouldn't explode. I don't mind saying that a safety feature that keeps my car from exploding is something that I can rally around, so I have no squawk with this. But they go to great lengths, and great detail, to explain how to reset this feature so that you can continue to drive the car in case it deploys at an inappropriate time, such as hitting a pothole or slamming on the brakes. Resetting the switch is a complicated procedure involving many steps, with incomprehensible diagrams as well as tools, and climbing into the cargo area from the hatchback, which is something that I would not recommend for the faint-hearted or people carrying 250 pounds of firewood for ballast. The manual makes it sound as if this switch is erroneously triggered on a routine basis, by everyday occurrences such as dents or loud noises, or perhaps even bad karma, unfriendly vibes or despair. So I've been very careful to drive around holes and bumps, maintain an even speed, and keep thinking positive thoughts, so as not to activate the fuel cut-off switch in error, and then have to go all the way around Robin Hood's barn to reset the darned thing. I'm beginning to wonder if an exploding car is such a bad idea after all.
That's about all the automotive news around here at the moment, although I'm only halfway through the owner's manual, so there may still be some surprises ahead of us yet. At least, I hope there will be some surprises, because it won't do to read something boring while I'm trying to keep awake during the pastor's sermon, heaven knows that's enough of a challenge as it is and then some. It occurred to me that someone should invent the "pastor cut-off switch," so that if they're droning on and on and on, you could give them a jolt (here I'm thinking a carefully aimed hymnal would do the trick) and stop them dead in their tracks. After all, you wouldn't want them to explode, now would you, so I believe there's a genuine safety issue at stake here, not to mention the rest of us falling asleep in the pews. But I'm determined to keep thinking positive thoughts, at least for the sake of Fabio, my Escort, as well as McDonald's, in case they're listening in. Of course, once I invent the "intellectual property cut-off switch," all bets are off.
So here we are, already at the last weekend in January, once famous for the Super Bowl, and now stripped of even that distinction, alas. I know that everyone is aware of what's happening around here, because the alarms have been going off non-stop since the temperature dropped below 30 degrees last week, and we had a couple of snow flurries. This cataclysm has been burning up the wire services, and keeping the 24-hour news stations occupied around the clock. They've actually sent out correspondents to stand outdoors and tell us how cold it is. Honestly, you'd think that no one had ever seen cold or snow in New York in January before, for all the news coverage this is getting. At this rate, I don't know what poor Lindsay Lohan is going to have to do, in order to get any attention from anyone.
I have been notified by any number of alert readers that the Fizza-ma-Wizza-ma-Dill is not technically one of the animals celebrated with its own year in the Chinese calendar, but rather, a cartoon invention of Dr. Seuss in his classic book, "If I Ran the Zoo." Oh well, nobody's perfect. I apologize for any inconvenience this discrepancy may have caused, especially for those people who already had their invitations printed up. Next time, I will instruct the research department to be much more rigorous in its efforts, to avoid any inadvertent repetition of this unfortunate lapse in pinpoint accuracy that is the researcher's credo, and I ought to know. Perhaps I just had Dr. Seuss on the brain, although if I was thinking of any of his wonderful creations, it would more likely be my all-time favorite of his works, "If I Ran the Circus," which never fails to delight. (That is super-Stoo-Pendus! Stoo-Mendus! Stoo-Roarus! And when I play "Dixie," please join in the chorus.) Somehow, the Fizza-ma-Wizza-ma-Dill must have slipped in there as an errant thought escaped from the zoo.
Speaking of errant thoughts, we get the following from Bill, who is always recognized for his intellectual properties as he should be, although perhaps not exactly in this way --
==============================
Someone sent a Confidentiality Agreement from McDonald's to sign. Yikes! If any of the provisions of it were to be enforced, they would own just about everything and everyone here! My favorite paragraph specifies:
" 'Work Product' includes, but is not limited to, all products, equipment, compositions, processes, formulas, recipes, techniques, innovations, discoveries, ideas, names, concepts, developments, writings, inventions, technology improvements, trade secrets, trade marks, service marks, designs and know-how related thereto and all intellectual property and other proprietary rights, whether or not patentable, copyrightable or otherwise subject to intellectual property protection."
Gosh! They own my THOUGHTS! Sure hope they don't ask me what I THINK about that!
==============================
Hmmm. I can tell you that there are some days that McDonald's would be welcome to my thoughts at work, and they certainly wouldn't want them, believe me. Talk about "Stoo-Roarus!"
Meanwhile, in my continuing efforts to stay awake in church during the pastor's long and boring sermons, I brought the owner's manual from the Escort with me last week, and learned a few things that should come in handy. It has a useful diagram of the dashboard which explains all of the lights and switches, so I finally know what those strange knobs are next to the door, as well as some other curiously enigmatic pictographs scattered about. The knobs are for the purpose of remotely adjusting the side view mirrors on the front doors, and the reason they didn't do anything when I fiddled with them previously, is that you first have to move the selector switch for the left or right side door, so it knows which mirror to adjust. Once the book explained that, I tried it and it worked fine. But I found it odd that the previous owner(s) apparently had so much call for adjusting the side view mirrors that they had completely worn the markings off the knobs until they were entirely blank. The car also comes equipped with an innovative feature, that is for anyone who hasn't bought a car since 1973, of interior courtesy lights that come on when you open the door, and even one that lights up the ignition switch so you can see where to insert the key. This would be a whole new step in a new direction for me, since the Gremlin doesn't have them, and I was excited to find out about it. Of course right now, the courtesy lights only seem to work if you open the rear passenger side door, and not any of the other doors, which does tend to somewhat limit the convenience of this feature, compared to opening the driver's door, for example. But I give Fabio points for trying (it's an Escort, you see, so I call him Fabio) and keep in mind that this is still a work in progress. Of course, I can take it back to my mechanic, but he's not even as old as my Gremlin, and all he seems to care about is whether the radio works or not. So first I have to pull the wires off the driver's side speaker, and then ask him to fix that and the courtesy lights. It's all a question of priorities, don't you know.
So far, one of my favorite things about the car is that it has such teeny-tiny, itty-bitty, eensy-beensy (my father always said that) little tires, especially compared to other cars I've driven. They're like lawnmower tires, they're so small. I had a pair of 15-inch monster snow tires on the Gremlin, so I know from big tires, and to see these little toy wheels on the Escort, they are just too darned cute. They look like you could go to the movies, and they would give them away with a set of dishes. In fact, you could easily keep a spare set of them on hand, because they would take up no room at all, compared to real tires, not that these aren't perfectly adequate. I find the Escort handles pretty well on curves for the most part, although when I took it into the parking lot at work last week when we had a little bit of snow, it didn't have the kind of sticking power that I would have hoped for. It's possible that it needs a little bit more ballast to settle it down in slippery conditions. I could probably scrounge up about 250 pounds of firewood with no trouble.
But the owner's manual did have some bad news for anyone planning to use a 1993 Ford Escort in a movie chase scene, and I figure I might as well get this out of the way now, before anyone asks me later. Apparently this model comes equipped with a fuel cut-off switch, so that in the event of an accident, the gasoline doesn't continue to pour out of the tank, where a potential spark could blow everything to pieces. For all of you movie fans out there, this means that at the end of this hypothetical car chase, the Escort would not explode in a fiery crash, that mainstay of special effects wizards and stuntmen everywhere, but rather ..... well, I'm not sure what it would do instead, but it shouldn't explode. I don't mind saying that a safety feature that keeps my car from exploding is something that I can rally around, so I have no squawk with this. But they go to great lengths, and great detail, to explain how to reset this feature so that you can continue to drive the car in case it deploys at an inappropriate time, such as hitting a pothole or slamming on the brakes. Resetting the switch is a complicated procedure involving many steps, with incomprehensible diagrams as well as tools, and climbing into the cargo area from the hatchback, which is something that I would not recommend for the faint-hearted or people carrying 250 pounds of firewood for ballast. The manual makes it sound as if this switch is erroneously triggered on a routine basis, by everyday occurrences such as dents or loud noises, or perhaps even bad karma, unfriendly vibes or despair. So I've been very careful to drive around holes and bumps, maintain an even speed, and keep thinking positive thoughts, so as not to activate the fuel cut-off switch in error, and then have to go all the way around Robin Hood's barn to reset the darned thing. I'm beginning to wonder if an exploding car is such a bad idea after all.
That's about all the automotive news around here at the moment, although I'm only halfway through the owner's manual, so there may still be some surprises ahead of us yet. At least, I hope there will be some surprises, because it won't do to read something boring while I'm trying to keep awake during the pastor's sermon, heaven knows that's enough of a challenge as it is and then some. It occurred to me that someone should invent the "pastor cut-off switch," so that if they're droning on and on and on, you could give them a jolt (here I'm thinking a carefully aimed hymnal would do the trick) and stop them dead in their tracks. After all, you wouldn't want them to explode, now would you, so I believe there's a genuine safety issue at stake here, not to mention the rest of us falling asleep in the pews. But I'm determined to keep thinking positive thoughts, at least for the sake of Fabio, my Escort, as well as McDonald's, in case they're listening in. Of course, once I invent the "intellectual property cut-off switch," all bets are off.
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 3:25 PM
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