The Fly and I

Doug and Gail, LHC friends, stopped in Santa Fe, NM en route to their MN home.  I suggested they eat at Harry's Roadhouse, a popular restaurant south of town where Trish and I had dinner last summer.  They did eat there, said they enjoyed it, but didn't mention seeing the infamous fly.

Last June: Trish and I arrived at Harry's about 5:30, decided to sit outside, perfect weather.  She ordered a margarita; I, a local microbrew.  We’d only taken a couple sips when this pesky fly arrived, quickly determined that I had excellent taste in handcrafted ales, and decided to help itself.  I wasn’t inclined to share and became irritated after several dive bomb attacks.

Fly, you’re gonna die.  I took a wild swing, a forehand smash, attempting to catch the fly in midair and then squish it.  Wham!  Crash!  Splash!  Missed the fly but nailed both the beer can and the nearly full mug of beer.  Beer everywhere!  Luckily, Trish wasn’t in the line of fire and the next table was vacant, so there was no collateral damage.  

I was disappointed that the other outside diners didn’t cheer and applaud.  Boring people.  No sense of humor.  Granted, it wasn’t my best performance ever but I thought it merited some recognition.   

I apologized profusely to the waitress as she cleaned up the mess, then ordered another beer.  The fly disappeared, possibly intimidated by my killer instincts but more likely sitting in the corner laughing its ass off.

That best performance ever?  It occurred in Oregon a few years ago.  We’d just finished dinner, which was enhanced by a bottle of champagne.  I topped up our champagne flutes, then picked up Ranger’s ball; he’d been patiently waiting to do his fetch thing.  I wound up and winged that ball a good one – right into the top edge of my full champagne flute.  It was spectacular!  A champagne/glass hand grenade!  Yee-haw!  Floor, walls, cabinets, everything down range within 20’ got a taste of bubbly.  Both Trish and I cracked up and continued chuckling while we did the cleanup. 

Don’t cry over spilled champagne.  Or beer.

3 Laws

Issac Asimov originated the Three Laws of Robotics.  They are the basic marching orders built into sophisticated, humanoid/android robots, a moral safety net if you will.  They provide robots with priorities in dealing with humans and other robots.  The laws:

1.     A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.

2.   A robot must obey the orders given to it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.

3.   A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.

At first, I thought they were brilliant, thought they concisely covered all the bases.  But they don’t.  There are many potential conflicts.  For example, how does one define ‘human’?  Cyborgs are humans with non-biological enhancements.  Is there a tipping point, some definable boundary where adding one more piece of hardware changes it from cyborg to robot?  My ruling would be if it started out human, it’ll always be human, and vice versa.

Another problem: can a robot possibly know every action or inaction that might cause harm to a human?  I don’t think so, too many possibilities and scenarios.  Several authors have referenced, analyzed, tested and modified the laws, and some have added complementary laws that deal with the conflicts. 

The imagination and creativity of some sci fi authors boggles my mind, especially when they delve into the moral, legal, social and philosophical issues that arise with artificial intelligence (AI) and alien species.  AI is real.  It’s being developed rapidly and some experts predict that it will replace nearly 50% of the current work force within a decade or so.  Scary!

Are aliens real?  Depends on your definition.  Given the billions of planets in the universe, I have to believe there’s life out there.  Is there sentient life, some kinda critter that ‘thinks’ - as we humans define the term?  Probably.  I doubt that aliens have visited earth, though.  Space is too vast, too many light years between us and our ‘neighbors’.  I can’t imagine any device, technology or power source capable of traveling several light years to distant planets.  But, I couldn’t imagine microwave ovens, cell phones or the internet either.    

Favorite Quotes

Golf: A great walk ruined.  Mark Twain

I refuse to engage in a battle of wits with an unarmed man.  Unknown

I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy.  Randy Hanzlick

Fish and visitors smell after three days.  Ben Franklin

He has delusions of adequacy.  Walter Kerr

It's better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.  Abraham Lincoln, Mark Twain, Confucius or George Elliot

We have met the enemy and he is us.  Walt Kelly (Pogo comic strip)

You can't fix stupid.  Ron White

You make me wish that birth control was retroactive.  Redd Foxx

Beat me, whip me, make me write bad checks!  Laurence Kirwan

Some cause happiness wherever they go; others, whenever they go.  Oscar Wilde

Those people who think they know everything are a great annoyance to those of us who do.  Issac Asimov

Politicians and diapers have one thing in common. They should both be changed regularly, and for the same reason.  Jose' Maria De Eca De Queiroz

If designed by a perfect god, why are we so horribly flawed?  Mike Delaney

Summer 2014

This is our route map for this summer's travel, a counter-clockwise loop through 9 western states and BC Canada.

 The numbered 'stops' aren't all actual stops. The map was generated by Streets and Trips software, which has built-in route preferences. When my preferred route differs from the ST route, I have to override the software by inserting bogus stops on the preferred route. And, some of the non-bogus stops are just overnights in locations of no particular significance.

The software generates a list of turn-by-turn instructions for every trip segment and every stop. The list is sometimes helpful, like when driving side streets in a strange city, but is otherwise massive overkill on details.  For instance, a 20-mile stretch of curvy road with numerous crossroads may have a dozen needless instructions, noting every curve and every intersection.  We sometimes use GPS and our smartphones for navigation; smartphones are especially handy for finding and navigating to nearby grocery stores, gas stations, Red Box machines, etc.

The mapped route totals 4565 miles.  That number will be close to the actual towing miles but we'll log another 1500+ miles on the truck, sightseeing, visiting friends and running errands. 

PB at Mike's

On most Saturday mornings, October-April, we play Pickleball at our home.  There's usually about 6 players, all retired folks like myself, mostly snowbirds.  We only play doubles.  The players I invite are more advanced and competitive than average, so there's plenty of action and exercise.

  

Doug F serves up the ball to David.  Doug's wife, Gale, is his partner. 

Doug C is David's partner. 

 

 

Doug and David mirror each other, both going for a low one.

 

 

The net is new, a replacement for one I used for 35 years.

 

 

The disassembled net support fits into a 40" bag of heavy duty fabric.

The bag has a carry handle, weighs about 25 pounds when filled with the goodies.
 

Dragon Fruit

It first came to my attention when I saw it on a package of green tea packets.  The flavor of the tea was dragon fruit-peach.  Never heard of dragon fruit.  Never even met a dragon, let alone had a meaningful discussion with one about its culinary preferences.  However, since they eat fruit, they have to be either herbivores or omnivores. 

I'm thinking omnivores.  Don't they have a reputation for hauling young women (preferably princesses) off to their caves?  Your typical princess doesn't do household chores and has little entertainment value although the younger ones are most likely tender and tasty morsels.  Unless the handsome prince made a timely appearance the princess probably became dragon chow.  "Here's your dinner, Drago, a delicious young princess.  Would you like some dragon fruit with that?  Fresh ground pepper?"

Dragon Fruit

Thank you, Trish, for giving me a hand with this picture.

We were in Santa Fe when I discovered the existence of dragon fruit and I immediately started scouring grocery stores for them.  Trader Joes: no.  Whole Paycheck: no.  Safeway: no.  Yesterday, I finally scored, spied a few hanging out with the tomatoes at Smith's (Kroger chain) right here in LHC.  This one was grown in Vietnam; it's also grown in Central and South America, and Texas is getting into the act.  A form of cactus, it likes hot climates. 

Okay, got one, now what?  How do you tell when it's ready to eat and how do you eat it?  Checked online: it's ready when it has the squeeze resistance of a ripe avocado, at which time you cut it in half, scoop out the inside and have at it.  The flavor is said to be something between pear and kiwi, which we found to be accurate albeit more mildly flavored.  We liked it but aren't raving about it.

 

 

 

Looks like poppy seed salad dressing.

 

Had I checked the price I may not have bought it.  It cost $7.20 and weighed just over a pound.  The cost will decline as domestic production increases.  It's a 'wonder fruit', has lots of nutritional value, maybe more than even Wonder Bread (builds strong bodies 12 ways!).  Wonder Bread, my ass!  That stuff has the same nutritional value as Styrofoam - but less flavor.      

 

Bad Influence

It so happened that my personal Independence Day occurred on my 18th birthday, the day I left home, left the farm, left the cows and pigs and sheep and chickens and manure and hay bales, and trundled off to college.  The happiest day of my life!  I was ecstatic!  Free at last!  And, oh so ready to enjoy life for a change. 

Moorhead State was a liberal arts college.  As such, it had a foreign language requirement and I signed up for Spanish my freshman year.  The prof was a dapper, proper Latino gentleman - formal, straight laced and utterly humorless.  He was about 5' 6" and 125 pounds soaking wet.  His tolerance for high-spirited, fun loving students (like me) was nonexistent. 

Although I wasn't aware of it at the time, he was unimpressed by my lighthearted attitude, decided early on that I wasn't the scholarly, serious student he preferred in his classes.  Finally, 30 years later, I discovered just how unimpressed he was: my freshman dorm roommate said the prof called me a 'bad influence.'  I was incensed!  The nerve of the little prick!  He was entitled to his opinion of course, but trying to alienate my friends (he failed, by the way) was way out of line.  A few years later, another college friend told me the same thing.  For all I know, the little shit got it published on the front page of the New York Times!

The 'bad influence' thing didn't bother me for long, though.  In fact, I soon came to embrace it.  A few years ago, Trish gave me business cards for Bad Influence, Inc., with me as president.  Last Christmas, Trish gifted me with a custom license plate frame, the kind that let you choose your own message.  Several days back I finally chose the wording and ordered the frame.  Here it is.