My Tree

In the movie "Braveheart", there's a crazy Irishman who claims the entire land mass of Ireland as "my Island". Well, I claim this Y-shaped oak tree standing at the end of Island View Avenue in Long Beach, Mississippi, as "my Oak Tree". When my family moved to Long Beach in 1980, Dad pointed it out on one of our first trips into town as we turned onto Island View from Beach Boulevard (Highway 90 to locals). He told me it was my landmark. Even if it was dark or if I missed street signs, when I saw that Oak Tree, I knew I was almost home.

When I would come home from college, a lot of times I'd take the beach route intentionally just so I could pass by my Tree. Now that I live halfway across the country, passing by my Tree on the way to the house is a ritual. Since Dad's death, on every trip home there are two places I go by myself. Biloxi National Cemetery is one; this corner of Island View is the other.

I have no idea how old my Tree is. I just know it was here way before me, and I hope it'll be around long after I'm gone. It survived Hurricanes Camille, Frederic, Elena, and thankfully Katrina. After the 2005 monster storm, I drove home with supplies to help out family and friends. After making sure everyone was safe, I anxiously waited for the National Guard to lift restrictions on access to the beach - I wanted to make sure my Tree was still standing. It wasn't until a subsequent trip home that I was actually able to get to the end of Island View and see that, indeed, my Tree had weathered yet another storm. Traffic on Beach Highway must have thought I was some environmentalist freak as I actually hugged the Tree.

And I found Dad was right, yet again:
For a while after Katrina, there were no man made structures along Beach Boulevard, no familiar buildings, no street signs. Navigating along the beach was a frustration even for life long residents. However, as soon as I saw my Oak Tree, I knew I could relax. It was my landmark. I was almost home.

The Bootlegger

Here are the facts. Hyman Strachman is 92 years old. He's a WWII Pacific Theater combat veteran. He is a widower whose bride of more than 50 years died in 2003. He is considered a folk hero to the current generation of soldiers serving in Afghanistan. He's also in danger of felony bootlegging charges, a 6 year prison sentence, and $250,000+ in fines.

Inspired by soldiers' requests for movie DVDs, "Big Hy", as he's known, burned and shipped hundreds of thousands of new release movie titles overseas to the troops free of charge. Well....not exactly free. Those blank DVDs, professional multi disc burners, even the shipping costs were borne by Hyman himself to the estimated tune of $30,000.

Big Hy didn't count this cost, however. The walls of his home are adorned with pictures, letters, and other mementos from the troops who've been recipients of his shipments of unique Americana and reminders of home. These soldiers' "Thank You's" appear to be the only thing he'll take as payment for his efforts. There's a feeling of kinship known only among those who've been separated from home and family and know the bleakness of a battle field. This bond apparently transcends generations. Big Hy felt this bond with his brothers in arms in Afghanistan and wanted to do "something", so he did.

These are the facts. Hyman Strachman has run afoul of copyright infringement and anti piracy laws. He's admitted his guilt. He knows the penalties. He did it anyway. In this public forum (and with a pending security investigation) I cannot condone his actions. What he did and is doing is wrong.

However, with insurmountable evidence and an eight year window of activity, no one in the Department of Justice, the US military, the US Postal Service, and most tellingly in the MPAA has moved to press charges against Big Hy.

Sources:
April 26, 2012 Article by Alan Schwarz, "The New York Times"

Lawyers.com: Penalty For Selling Bootleg Movies

EHow.com: Federal Penalties for Pirating Movies

My History of Music Technology

I have my favorite music, and like most folks, I like to have that music around me as much as possible. In my family, during the 70's, this started as LP's and 45's that I "borrowed" from my folks and played on my own turntable. Since these albums belonged to my parents I was pretty much stuck listening to their musical tastes. (I still have a fondness for Marty Robbins and Roger Whittaker, much to Andrea's chagrin.)

A few years later, I remember packing 8-tracks when the family would take long road trips. I was no longer constrained to what was playing on the radio, a virtual Godsend on the back roads of Nebraska. Personal music collections became highly portable, at least by 70's standards. I still remember cruising through the American Heartland with "Brickhouse" by the Commodores blasting from the tinny speakers of our Ford Econoline van. (As a kid, it was just a cool sounding song. When I actually listened to the lyrics years later as an adult, I wondered if Mom and Dad were feeling awkward at the time.)

An interesting property of 8-tracks was the tape player could loop the tape. So, unlike vinyl that you had to flip from side to side, the 8-track innovation allowed you to listen to an entire album, on repeat, ad nauseam until you literally wore out the tape. Yup. Eight-tracks were cool, but they were still clunky.

Technology marched on to the next milestone: the smaller form factor of the "Compact Cassette." I believe the cassette's biggest cool factor was, along with an affordable tape recorder, it allowed Joe Public to record his own music. Ripped from the record player, radio, or some other source, you could compile a cassette of your favorite artist's songs or, if you were thinking outside the box, different songs, artists, and genres (whoa!). For the first time ever, "El Paso City" by Robbins could be followed immediately by "Texas Women" by Bocephus.

This capability began the tradition known to all teens of that time of "making a tape." This creation gave voice to your angst du jour to share with peers of like mind, or, as demonstrated by John Cusack in his early flicks, to express feelings for that special someone you admired from afar.

The reign of the cassette lasted for years as it increased in capacity and fidelity. "Is it live or is it Memorex?" Other technologies were spawned: you were the 80's version of "the shiznit" if you owned a Walkman. However, cassettes still had an Achilles Heel. Tape players loved to eat them.

Enter the CD. CD players let you skip and/or repeat tracks easily, and play them in any bloody order you wished. Compared to cassettes, these silvery drink coasters were also darned near indestructible. Tack on the ability to record to them (double whoa!) and you're well on the way to kissing your radio good bye. How could you possibly improve on this?

Well, along comes the MP3 player that can do everything a CD player can do, only faster, easier, and with capacity out the wazoo. I've got our entire CD collection on a single device where I can access every artist and track from Bach to ZZ Top and Willie Nelson to Whitesnake. All this on a gizmo that I can fit into my pocket. This, my friends, is music junkie Nirvana! Surely we've reached the pinnacle. Could it ever, possibly get any better? You betcha! But...that's another post....

I've Coined a New Term

I was once trying to explain to a supervisor that the requirement we'd been given would greatly increase our workload but would gain us very little operationally. He couldn't see my point so I told him a story.

The USS Conyngham (DDG 17) was on a training cruise off the Virginia coast in May of 1990 when a massive fuel oil fire broke out. The all hands effort that ensued was a 23 hour battle to save the ship. Unfortunately, she lost 1 sailor and 18 were severely wounded. The Navy issued more than 50 medals to the crew as a result of their actions.


When the Conyngham got back to Norfolk, I was able to tour the fire zone. The space was a continuous black char. Throughout, massive reinforcing timbers were erected, making it look like some nightmare forest. As I walked around, the deck rose and fell under my feet like a crazy funhouse room at the carnival. I shot a glance to our guide and he just nodded grimly, "Yeah, the entire deck was close to buckling." We made our way back to the dock and we passed sailors scraping the superstructure and painting. Back on the pier, I watched Navy divers hit the water near her stern. A little while later a crane lifted her massive screw from the water and laid it gently on a barge. I looked back up at her decks at her sailors painting and just shook my head.

The Conyngham was never again going to move under her own steam. Her forward boiler room was gone, CIC was gutted, and her screw was floating away. Yet, someone thought it would be a good exercise to give her a fresh coat of paint.

So as I was trying to explain to my supervisor that we would see very little gain for the amount of work we put in, I told him he was "painting the Conyngham."

There, it's out now. Feel free to use it in normal discourse, particularly with your supervisors. However, I want credit...

Of Bards, Bulbs, & Bushkill - Part I: Bards

This past Labor Day weekend was pretty much picture perfect. The weather cooperated fully, and the crowds, while present, weren't oppressive.

The fun started Saturday with the Maryland Renaissance Festival, a yearly tradition for the past 33 years in Crownsville, MD. The premise, as you walked through the front gates, was you entered a town in Tudor England decked out in celebration of a visit by the court of Henry VIII. The pinestraw and woodchip strewn paths meandered through the shire as you passed the shops of smiths, tanners, potters, and the like. To get you into the spirit of the event, all merchants, the royal court, entertainers, and many of the crowd were in period dress and addressed you in period vernacular. Being a guy, I was drawn to the few armorers and their wares of chain and plate - and swords; some were period and some were definitely fantasy (Klingon bat'leths were very rare in Henry VIII's court). One armorer in particular was definitely on my must see list. One of these days I'll commission some pieces for Andrea (you'll have to ask her). This year we picked up a stylized dolphin print (think Navy) from Allen Ye Printmaker. We've gotten replica nautical prints from him in the past.

Ale was available to slake your thirst, as were more modern descendants of the brewer's art (I had Blue Moon). The traditional sustenance at the fair, however, was the Henry VIII staple, the turkey leg. Folks strolled down the paths with turkey leg in hand, punctuating their conversation or pointing out items of interest by stabbing it at the air. Meanwhile, little kids would swing theirs around like edible maces, parental admonishments of "Don't play with your food," predictably, falling on deaf ears. "Aww, Mom, it's a turkey leg!"

Entertainment included real elephant rides (possible anachronism), stage shows, strolling bards and minstrels, and of course, a demonstration of period martial arts including the joust. The musical shows were great, but humorously, the dialogue of some comedy shows weren't kid friendly. A friend of ours who caught one of the acts with her youngsters found herself waiting uncomfortably for her oldest to ask, "Mommy, what's a pimp?" Suddenly, over the din of the crowd, I heard bagpipes. I love bagpipes. Now really, as a Filipino, I have no cultural or ethnic reason to love bagpipes, but I do. After listening to a few numbers of the stage band with the bagpiper, I, predictably, bought a CD (definite anachronism).

We also caught one of the tournaments at the list. Pennants were flying, trumpets sounded, and the royal court was seated at the head of the field. Knights in full armor rode out to the respective cheers of their sections. Mounted combat and accuracy with the spear were demonstrated. My mind wandered off, contemplating a time when proficiency in this skill set could establish the prestige of your house, ensure your survival, or at least cause the blue-eyed, freckle-faced, red headed maiden to swoon. The contests continued on until the Mac Daddy of them all, the joust.

At a signal, riders spurred horses to a full gallop, and the thundering staccato of hoof beats grew louder and louder as the two knights converged. Lances were lowered, dust filled the air. You could feel the knights brace for the shock as the distance closed. Then - contact! Lance impacted steel and wood splinters flew. I knew it was 2009 - I was sporting Ray Bans, Nikes, and a cell phone at my hip - but sitting in the bleachers watching the scene, I could easily have been a spectator in some 16th century township. After a few seconds of visual cacophony we saw our knight was still on his mount - the illusion was complete. Huzzah!

Moon Shot

Should Michael Vick have been allowed to return to football? Absolutely. Those of you who know me are undoubtedly shocked I'm weighing in on this issue. For those who don't, here's my frame of reference:
I'm not a football fan. I don't watch, follow, or play the sport - not even fantasy leagues. Curiously, I like football movies - "Remember the Titans" comes to mind.
I don't currently have a dog, but I like dogs and have had several throughout my life.
I am not currently nor have I ever been a member of PETA or any other militant animal rights group.

There's a Demotivators poster that says, "Not everyone gets to be an astronaut when they grow up." I think it's funny as hell, but it's also rather poignant - how many of us are doing what we dreamed of doing as kids? I imagine Michael Vick dreamed of playing pro ball as a youngster and worked hard and sacrificed much to see it happen. The fact that he succeeded is testament to his talent and determination.


Unfortunately, he suffered a severe lapse of judgment. He committed a crime. He was charged, tried, convicted, and imprisoned.

This is a key point. Upon conviction, he was sentenced to a term in jail. He served his time so the demands of the law are satisfied.Now, our actions create consequences. Michael Vick will have to deal with his. As a convicted felon, he may be prohibited from owning a firearm and voting, but he is certainly not prohibited from playing football. However, he does face loss of seniority (he's not the first string quarterback), the lack of sponsorship (and loss of income), and public disdain (or even assault by more militant types). Not severe enough? How about this: he worked years towards a goal. That's a lifetime of sacrifice, discipline, and determination. The culmination of his efforts were rewarded and he got what he wanted, his goals were met, his dream became reality. Then at the pinnacle of success, his own actions shattered what took a lifetime to achieve. His dream died by his own hand.


I believe in the confines of his cell, alone with his thoughts, this is what haunted him most. A series of stupid, inhumane decisions cost him his life's work. He lost his shot at going to the moon.


In every interview I've heard or read, he appears truly remorseful, and for the record, I believe him. There is an earnest plea in his voice for a second chance - a chance to prove he's changed, he's truly sorry, he is a better person than what was manifested by his past actions.


But why am I, a confirmed non-fan, talking about one of football's hot topics?Because it's not about football, it's about redemption. To fully achieve your heart's desire is a grand rarity, and allowing it to carelessly slip through your fingers can haunt a man to his grave. He's been given an opportunity to ransom his dream, a second chance to "go to the moon." I for one wish him well on his journey.

Scrap Cash for Clunkers

Don' get me wrong. If I were willing to part with my faithful old truck with 180,000+ miles on it, I'd love to take advantage of this government offer. I understand this program is wildly popular, however, this is not a sound financial policy. Congress just passed and the president just signed a 2 billion dollar extension for the program. This is reportedly enough to last through labor day and fund approximately 500,000 vehicles. This means with the initial 1 billion, this program will subsidize around 750,000 vehicles.

Supporters claim it's a boon to the auto manufacturers, their parts suppliers, and the dealerships. Also, because clunkers are exchanged for reportedly more efficient, greener vehicles, environmental advantages are claimed.

Here's the bottom line. This subsidy is unsustainable, the economic boost is temporary, and the environmental benefits are negligible.

I recently had a chance conversation with someone who is a long time Detroit resident and asked them how the town was responding to the the gov't cash infusion. I was told there were no visible benefits of the program. No wonder. Back in the day, the Big 3 could send millions of cars down the assembly line. Cash for clunkers will only cover 3/4 of 1 million cars.

Despite reports of dealer lots being emptied, I wonder how many of them merely liquidated their standing inventory - inventory that's been stagnant for the better part of a year. As for the environmental benefits, again, we're only talking about less than a million vehicles. We could have a bigger environmental impact just by keeping all the other cars on the road properly tuned and not driving like aggressive idiots.

What about the economic lift? This program has undoubtedly boosted car sales tremendously from last year's numbers. However, again, it's unsustainable. I have neither a degree in economics nor and MBA, but even I know it would be foolhardy to ramp up production to meet this temporary demand. What happens after labor day when the program is expected to end? Are you going to mothball factories and lay off workers again?

So what's the answer? I suggest using tax credits. This bypasses the pot holes of subsidizing a specific sector with finite funds. We could use tax credits to boost sales for other durable goods. For example, our dryer started making an awful racket during operation. The decision to repair or replace would be simplified if the gov't offered a sizable tax credit. Hmm. Perhaps the gov't should take over Maytag and Amana, too...

In the end, even tax credits won't fix the real problem. The real answer is to increase our manufacturing capacity across all sectors and decrease our trade deficit. Well, gee, how do we do that? Unfortunately, that's another post involving corporate policy, NAFTA, and the prevailing political winds. For now, I'll say I know we can't continue on this sugar high of the Clunkers program. When it wears off, that'll be one doozy of a crash.