March 09, 2005
BattlePark 2005
The Spring BattlePark 2005 Rocket Launch is scheduled for the weekend of April 29, 30 and May 1st. Located in Culpeper, Virginia, this is one of the premier events in the east, with rocketeers attending from all over the eastern U.S. and Canada. I'll be there both weekend days, and Mookie usually makes at least one if not both. This launch features some of the most interesting projects and flights around. As usual, spectators are free, kids fly their rockets for free, and you'll never meet a friendlier group of people. Come on out, walk around, talk to folks, ask questions, and be prepared to say 'wow'. And for those wondering about how high they might go, the club has already obtained an FAA waiver for flights to 15,000 feet.
You are invited and welcome. Contact me if you have any questions.Posted by: Ted at 08:07 PM | Comments (11) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Mmmmmmm
Look for a couple of Rocket Jones original recipes coming soon.Posted by: Ted at 05:49 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Bare neccessities
There's a case to made for travelling light, toting nothing more than your bindle with the wind at your back. But for some of us, bringing along the essentials means at least one extra piece of luggage.
(in the extended entry)Posted by: Ted at 04:31 AM | Comments (7) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 08, 2005
It's snowing in Maryland
...and blowing straight sideways through Virginia on it's way to West Virginia.
A pair of cross-country skis and a sail and I'd be home in 15 minutes.Posted by: Ted at 11:58 AM | Comments (8) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Die (insert your choice of scum here)!
This morning on the commute to work, we had that perfect set of conditions where the darkness and headlights and misty rain and rolling tires combines to make each vehicle look like it was trailing smoke.
Glancing to my right to make sure my wingman was covering, I eased in behind the Fokker. Apparently oblivious to my presence, the range closed until I could practically knock the bloody hun out by throwing rocks. Instead, he got a long burst from my Lewis gun. I saw the pilot slump as his plane sideslipped down and away.
The lumbering Heinkel was easy pickings. Either the tail-gunner had been killed by a lucky long-range shot, or his gun was jammed, because there was no defensive fire coming from his rear arc. I had to throttle my Spitfire way back to avoid overtaking him, and when lined up perfectly I let loose with everything I had. I was close enough to see large pieces of his plane break free under the withering fire, and within seconds the starboard engine was trailing smoke. He veered away in a shallow dive, heading back across the Channel to his base in France. One less kraut making his delivery to the shipyards at Liverpool.
What a farrago! Everywhere you looked the sky was full of planes, twisting and turning, occasionally trailing a dark plume as he made his final dive. I saw a chute open below me, and noted that the pilot would come down to the south of the Yalu. A MIG flashed by in front of me and I snapped off a burst. He was gone too quickly to assess, but I had other problems, as another Red was trying to turn inside me to get on my tail.
I have no idea where he came from, he was just suddenly there in my sights. Before I even had target locks I was squeezing the trigger, and we were joined by twin beams of light. I saw a plume of flash frozen atmosphere erupt from behind the crew compartment, and they suddenly decelerated. As I rolled past them in a defensive vector, I wondered whether that crew had been suited up when the hull was breached.Some mornings you don't even have to turn on the radio.
Posted by: Ted at 05:45 AM | Comments (9) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 07, 2005
Air Force Blue - Part 16
I almost titled this one "Martha of the D'Iberville".
This will be another one of those rambling posts about my military days, this time a very special time that happened around 1980-81. For those coming in late to the story, I was a military policeman in Grand Forks, North Dakota. Frozen blue. I was getting near enough the end of my first tour to think about what to do next. Being one of the Strategic Air Command's finest, I thought I'd be a natural for law enforcement. Problem was, all the queries I'd sent out came back saying that I was overqualified for regular police duty, and they weren't looking for SWAT at the moment, thanks for asking. It was looking like I had a fine future in the pizza delivery field or as an armed receptionist. Plan B was needing to be implemented, and plan B was to cross-train and reenlist. The Air Force has this nifty program where you can pick another career field and they'll train you for it, and all you have to do is promise them a few extra years of your life. I did a little research and figured that computers were the way to go. I decided that I wanted to become a computer programmer, because that sounded more interesting than computer operator, plus it had a bigger bonus. That's right, Uncle Sam would pay me some serious bucks, plus train me in a new field, if I stayed in. Only problem was, everyone wanted to become a computer programmer. I knew of four of us cops who applied, one the week before me and two the week after. I lucked into an open slot and got what I wanted while the other three got orders to computer operator school. I'd be travelling to Biloxi, Mississippi for my training. It was a condensed twelve weeks of insanely intense pressure, at the end of which we'd be real live gen-u-wine computer programmers. Boy howdy. I might have told you this before, but I once met another AF programmer who decided to get a head start by taking a semester of "Introduction to Computers" at a community college before reporting for tech school. At the end of the first day, she called her husband in tears because they'd covered everything in that semester before lunch. We're talking seriously condensed, to the point that those twelve weeks gave me almost a year of college credit. Intense. Spending all day in classes, after classes in smaller groups getting tutoring for the concepts you didn't pick up during the day (the instructors were the best I've ever had, and incredibly generous with their time - they understood what kind of pressure cooker environment it was). Most nights were spent at the computer lab, punching card decks (yep, the good ol' days), debugging programs, and helping each other by looking over output listings. At the end of each block was a test. Pass the test, you move on to the next block. Fail it, and you 'wash back' into the following class to take the block again. Two wash backs and you were out. I think only about 40% of our class made it all the way through without a wash back, and probably 20% didn't make it at all. Of course, there were moments of surreal. One lady in our class was having a horrible time with her program logic, so a group of us sat down with her to go over her listing and figure out what the problem was. The first problem was obvious, every single variable and data name was in French! We couldn't make heads or tails of the code because of it. Byeeeeeeeeeee. She washed back. I hope she learned that lesson. One day I was called in to see the Superintendent. Seems he had a problem with my headgear, because I was still wearing my blue beret. This was before *everyone* in the Air Force wore the beret, it was a cop thing and I was proud of it. The conversation went something like this (civilianized version):Sup: You can't wear the beret, you aren't a cop anymore. Ted: What is my specialty code? Sup: Cop. Ted: When does it change to Computer Programmer? Sup: When you graduate. Ted: When do I graduate? Sup: In six weeks. Ted: So I'm still a cop for six more weeks.We compromised, and I wore the beret for another three weeks. I was right, but he had the stripes. It evens out. But Ted, I can hear you saying, you were in a military training town! Tell us about the strippers and hookers and bars and stuff! I never met Christopher Walken. I went to the strip joints one night early on, and they were lame. Biloxi was trying to clean up their act, figuring that the only way they'd manage legalized gambling was to be squeaky clean first. It worked. Biloxi is now the Atlantic City of the gulf coast, for whatever that's worth. Hookers? Never saw one that I know of. We did go to an adult theater one night, and that's a tale worth telling, but there's a little setup needed first. Remember those block tests I told you about earlier? Well, my normal celebration for passing those consisted of getting a couple of six packs of malt liquor and getting thoroughly smashed by dinner time. That way I could pass out and still be sober enough for class the following morning. One night after a block test, several buddies came to my room. I had a car, they wanted to go to an adult theater. They bundled my extremely inebriated self into the back seat and off we went. At the ticket counter one of my friends had to pull out my wallet and pay for my ticket, because I couldn't figure out how to work my pocket. Once in the door, I leaned against something to steady myself and a whole rack of skin flicks crashed to the floor. My friends parked me in a seat at the back of the theater, and all I remember was staggering back and forth to the bathroom a dozen times over the next couple of hours. Beer does that to me. Ok, so maybe that wasn't a tale worth telling. But that brings us to "our" bar. On one of our first nights out, four of us kind of wound up together in a group that stuck together throughout the course of the classes. And that first night, we stopped in at one of the fancier hotels along the beach, the D'Iberville. We sat down, ordered drinks, and started listening to the band. It wasn't half bad for what you'd expect in a hotel band. I still remember their name: Dave Dudley and Breezin'. Cheesy, in a good kind of way, and a nice change from the slime pits we'd just come from (those strip joints). Our drinks arrived, and mine was wrong (Dewars scotch on the rocks). Hell, three out of the four were wrong. We flagged down our waitress and tried again. This time only mine was wrong, but one was completely missing. Another try and we finally settled in with our glasses. After ordering the second round, we discovered that this wasn't an isolated incident. Our waitress (barmaid?), who's name was Martha, just couldn't get it straight. By the end of the evening, we'd adopted her as *our* waitress and looked forward to whatever liquid randomness she might deliver next. Not that we drank whatever she brought, we'd just keep sending 'em back until she got it right. The following Friday we decided that the D'Iberville was the place to be. Relaxed and mellow without being boring, after our stressful week we needed that. When we entered, we immediately asked to be seated at one of Martha's tables, and Dave Dudley and Breezin' had undergone a roster change. The bass player was missing, and for the rest of our almost three months there, the bass parts were handled by the capable left hand of the keyboard player, who also managed most of the singing (I don't remember if he was Dave himself, but it seems likely). Martha completely screwed up our first drink order.
Martha got half of our second order wrong. Well, you get the idea. She wasn't killer cute or anything either, kinda plain actually, but she tried hard and that was enough. A simple "Er, Martha? This scotch has soda in it." worked well, and she'd look embarrassed and go make it right. By the fourth week, she was getting the drink orders straight. Actually, I think the bartender recognized us coming in, and since we always ordered the same thing, he started ignoring what Martha asked for and just poured from memory.
Like most of these stories, this one just peters out without a real ending. We eventually graduated and went on to our next assignments. I heard from those three guys a time or two and then we lost touch again. My wife and I visited Biloxi several years later and I just had to visit the D'Iberville again. Dave Dudley was long gone, the bar had been redecorated, and there was no sign of Martha. In short, it sucked. For a short time though, it was the most perfect bar in the world to me.
Posted by: Ted at 04:58 PM | Comments (9) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Mad Genius
Jack Parsons was one of the founding members of the famous Jet Propulsion Laboratory (JPL). Prior to WWII, he was part of a group researching rocket propulsion.
Parsons, moreover, came up with the first "castable" rocket fuel (so called because it could be cast in a mold), replacing conventional black powder with an asphalt mix. This innovation made rocket fuel safer and easier to handle, and set the stage for the use of solid fuels by the space shuttle and other spacecraft in later decades.He was also rather better known as a figure in the world of the occult. Try a google on "Jack Parsons" for a whole slew of odd sites. For instance, there's Jack Parsons & the Curious Origins of the American Space Program or this Rotten Library entry on the man. There are at least two biographies available from Amazon: Sex and Rockets: The Occult World of Jack Parsons, and a newer one Strange Angel : The Otherworldly Life of Rocket Scientist John Whiteside Parsons. Via Transterrestrial Musings.
Posted by: Ted at 05:44 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Hockey Whoopass Jamboree
Cindy, aka Squipper, of Dusting My Brain fame (who is also a podcasting pioneer I might add), is rooting for the Hamilton Bulldogs in the Jamboree this season. Her Bulldogs edged the Barons in this weekend's game and so I'm posting her team logo here.
Posted by: Ted at 04:50 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 06, 2005
Update: Important Medical Announcement (International Edition)
This just in. Japanese pinup star Yuki Aoyama has just been informed of my previous announcement, and we had a photographer on hand to capture her reaction.
She looks pleased. (click photo for superbig most-happiness size - safe for work)
Posted by: Ted at 06:30 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Something I heard recently
Sensible:
One secret of good managers is to keep the people who hate you away from those who are undecided.The first thing I thought of was pirate captains.
Posted by: Ted at 09:50 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Someone's in the Kitchen with Dinnnaaaahhhh!!!
This one is simple and simply wonderful. If you've ever eaten at Chipotle, they add some rice flavored with lime and cilantro into every burrito. It also makes a great side dish.
Cilantro-Lime Rice 2 cups uncooked rice3 1/4 cups water or chicken stock 1 small lime
1 bunch fresh cilantro Cook the rice in the water or stock however you normally do. For this recipe I like the rice a little drier, so the amount of liquid is less than what you're probably used to using. When the rice is almost done, zest the lime (see notes below), and then cut and juice it too. You want a couple good tablespoons of juice. Pull the leaves off of the cilantro stems and then mince the leaves until you have three or four tablespoons worth. Put the rice into a bowl and fluff it, then sprinkle the lime juice, lime zest and cilantro. Toss until it's well combined. Notes: I use a microplane like this one to zest citrus, and let me tell you, it makes the task easy. I heartily recommend this kitchen tool. Before slicing the lime for juicing, roll it around on the counter firmly between the surface and your hand. Try to smash it flat (but don't). This crushes the little juicy pulpy bits inside before you cut it open and you'll get more juice easier that way. I've also heard that microwaving the fruit for 10 seconds first helps, but I've never done that.
Posted by: Ted at 09:24 AM | Comments (13) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 05, 2005
Ain't no blues 'round here
This morning I let oldest daughter sleep in a little bit before having her follow me over to the tire store. Despite getting there an hour after they opened on a Saturday morning, the wait wasn't too awful.
Talking to the guy at the counter, I told him I wanted the cheapest steel-belted radial possible in that size. I'm planning on trading in the truck this spring, and can't see spending lots on a new tire right now. Besides, there's good tires already on the beast. The guy tried to talk me out of buying a tire. The only one they had in stock is a really crappy tire (from a good name). Lots of problems with it, blowouts and sidewall failures, and they won't sell them anymore once the current inventory is gone. Wasn't a very good price either. But it was convenient and I didn't feel like making this an all-day event to save a few bucks, so I told him to check the flat. If it could be repaired, then do that, otherwise I'd take the new tire. We told them we'd be back in a half hour to see what was up and walked next door to the grocery store. I bought another brisket. On the way back, oldest daughter asked why she was carrying this gigantic slab of meat, so I started in with the double-entendre jokes about my enormous meat. My meat is so big it needs it's own seat in the car, and other juvenile comments. I also called my wife at work and sang Leo Sayer's "You Make Me Feel Like Dancing" to her - loudly - in the parking lot. Oldest daughter finally tired of the public humiliation and drove back home, with instructions that my enormous meat was so valuable that she was to immediately put it in the freezer. The tire guys showed me where I'd picked up a screw that caused the slow leak. Easy repair, for about 1/8th the cost of the new tire. So if I'm singing the blues, it's 'cause I wanna.Posted by: Ted at 07:58 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Cultured pearls before swine
Mookie has been expressing an interest in classical music, so when mom and I saw a multiple CD collection arranged by composer, we had to get it. Brahms, Bach, Beethoven, Mozart and Chopin (I explained that it was pronounced "show-pan", Vivaldi, a couple of the Russians (that I won't bother misspelling here), and even one of Gershwin.
She's been working her way through the set, and I had to smile when she said her biggest problem was knowing where she left off, because right now it all sounds pretty much the same to her. She'll figure it out, and she seems to be giving it a real chance, which makes me happy. In related news, I became so disgusted with our local "classic rock" station that I took them off the main buttons in the truck and replaced them with classical. It's been a nice change. What did the classic rockers do? Besides the most annoying collection of DJ's I've ever had to spend time with, they've decided that the Beatles and Rolling Stones are responsible for 30% of all classic rock worth listening to. That gets old fast. Adios Ringo and Mick. Hellooooo Wolfgang.Posted by: Ted at 04:35 PM | Comments (13) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Secrets, unpleasant and otherwise
Apparently my "medical announcement" brought some unexpected responses. Oldest daughter has a web site that I didn't know about (and I've been asked not to search for, since it's a rant and vent place), and she linked to that particular post. Later, she got a phone call from her roommate from last year - different college, different state - that was directly about my announcement. I'm sure much "ewww"ing was involved. *smirk*
All I can say to the roomie is, young lady, that the one time I met you, you were drunk, passed out and about half-dressed. *bigger smirk*Posted by: Ted at 07:43 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
What's left?
Courtesy of Dustbury, 1,159 words the NFL won't put on your authentic football jersey.
Posted by: Ted at 07:10 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 04, 2005
Nothing spoils my Friday
I work early hours so as to avoid traffic. I'm in the office before 6am and scoot out at 3 in the afternoon. Usually it works pretty well. Today though, as I walked up to my truck, I saw the right front tire was mostly flat.
I've had this truck for almost 5 years now, and never have I had any problems with it. Not even a flat tire. But what the heck, that's a simple thing to take care of, so I took off my tie (yep, all dressed up), and got ready to get it done. Everything went fine until I'd gotten the flat tire off and went to put the spare on. Problem was, the jack was fully extended and it wasn't up high enough for the wheel to fit back over the lugs. Couldn't fit the flat back on there either, because it wasn't a complete flat so it had regained it's shape without the weight of the truck on it. I think the jack is broken and won't extend as far as it should. As I was standing there laughing (my car insurance coverage includes this kind of situation, but on a Friday afternoon it'd take forever. I was resigned to it now.), a coworker walked by and suggested one of the guys in the office who drives in (most everyone - except me - takes mass transit to work). There ya go, I borrow his jack, get the tire on, and I'm outta dodge. Done, done and done. With very little additional complication, I pulled out of there an hour late and right into the teeth of weekend getaway traffic. My normal 35 minutes drive took an hour forty-five, thanks to a couple of accidents way south of where my exit was. And I'm still in a good mood. We had dinner, and then Liz and I went to the grocery store together to get the hell away for a little while. We haven't done shopping together in ages, so that was nice. Tomorrow morning I'll take the tire to the service station and see if it can be fixed. If not, I'll get a new tire. Ho hum. Not a problem. No sweat. No biggie. It's not gonna spoil my weekend either.Posted by: Ted at 09:25 PM | Comments (8) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Cue strings
Happy (327th) Birthday to composer Antonio Vivaldi.
Posted by: Ted at 12:25 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Carnival of the Recipes #29
There I was, sitting at my desk. The only light in the room came from the blinking neon sign outside and the occasional flash of lightning. That was fine by me, because it fit my mood, as did the glass of smoky single malt in front of me.
Then she walked in. Her hair shone like spun cotton candy. She had cherry lips and plump breasts. Half turning to close the door, I admired her prime rump and appreciated her succulent thighs wrapped in a tight skirt. Definitely not chicken legs. Before she could speak, I said, "let's go sister, I'm hungry." Before long we were sitting in a booth at Clancy's. I could tell she had something to say, but she kept quiet, waiting for the right moment. I like that in a dame. Finally, Clancy himself brought two drinks to the table. He knew what I liked. He brought her the same. Her first words, "I thought you were hungry?" Ok, so no chorus of Angel's from on high, just an ordinary voice. Still, I'd better take control of the situation. She'd come to me after all. "I'll ask the questions, sweetheart." She sipped her drink and looked at me over the rim of her glass with lidded eyes. "First question," I began, "do you like Tzatziki?" That took her by surprise. But it broke the ice, and before the end of the second drink, I knew her story. I also knew that I could help her.St. Paddy's Day Toast - Bobo Blogger Tzatziki - from Cathouse Chat Quite Early One Morning, Greek Eggs. Yogurt Cheese, from A Mentsh Trakht Helen's Salsa - a nifty slideshow presentation.
Suddenly the door burst open and a guy ran in, yelling and waving his arms. There was something odd about him, and I finally figured out what it was: his words didn't match the movements of his mouth. With another wild yell, he rushed back outside just in time for a giant reptillian claw to come down and stomp him flat. I grabbed her arm and we hustled out onto the sidewalk, where I saw the monster topple a skyscraper. Damn, I liked the restaurant there too. When the lizard turned back our way, we joined the throng of people stampeding for safety as behind us, the giant monster destroyed the city.
Crab Cakes from Eat Your History. Sante Fe Salmon from Boudicca's Voice Inside Allan's Mind, Crab Imperial.
Lowering his binoculars, the General looked grim. "Poor bastards never stood a chance." Nodding to his second-in-command, all eyes turned towards the skies as a flight of jet fighters peeled off into attack formation. The lead pilot squinted into his sights as he mentally calculated his escape route to avoid the monster's swishing tail. He was in a hurry to get home, because it was
Daily Pundit's Tacos al Pastor. Enchilada Pie, from AZ Perspective and Junk Rocket Jones's California Chili
"There they go, Sarge," sighed the Corporal wistfully. "That's the life for me. Lounge around until they need you, fly where they tell you to go. Drop a couple of bombs and head for home." The gruff Sergeant looked over his platoon. He was rough on them, but he knew that it was the best way to keep them alive, to always be there watching over them. Behind a pile of rubble, three soldiers were discussing mom's home cooking. The sarge listened for a moment as each described in loving detail his favorite homemade meal. It was time. "Let's go, ladies," boomed the Sergeant as he stood up. Bailey, the new Private, looked up in terror. "Sarge, I'm scared." With a grim half-smile, the Sarge said "So am I, kid. Now, fix bayonets!" And he began his walk into battle, knowing that his platoon would be right behind him.
The Glittering Eye - Open Faced Moussaka Shephard's Pie, from Aussie Wife. Daly Thoughts - Brunswick Stew Publius & Co. - Beer Can Chicken
As long as I stay moving and don't think too much, the Ninjas cannot harm me. Staying focused yet relaxed, my body continued to move in measured forms. Always just enough to make the throwing stars and flashing blades miss. Around me, the ground is littered with the remains of my enemies, and more than a few friends. I would mourn for them later, when there was time. Only then would honor allow for needs of the flesh.
Prochein Amy's Stuffed French Rolls Leniwe Pierogi (lazy pierogi) - from bebere.com. Egg Salad, from Booklore.
They fought hard even as they fell back, and we, sensing victory, pressed all the more. Eventually, only a small knot of warriors remained, exhausted but still defiant. Formed into a defensive circle around the Princess, the wizard pulled aside a slab of stone, grabbed her around the waist and jumped into the hole thus exposed. We quickly slaughtered the rest of the warriors before they could join him. No one was keen to follow the mage into those stygian depths, where the very bones of Mother Earth were visible. But the Princess depended on us.
Golabki Casserole and Spinach Artichoke Casserole, from Shoes, Ships & Sealing Wax. Helen's Christmas Roast - a slideshow presentation. Blog d'Elisson - Lil Pachter’s Braised Brisket.
"What's that, boy? Timmy fell down a well?"
Triticale - Crockpot Breakfasts. Let's Play Restaurant! with Single Boy's Breakfast. Easy Egg Pie, from Punctilious.
Fine. You take the remote.
A quick note about my blog name. Jones isn't my last name, but one of my hobbies and passions is rockets. I am, literally, jonesing for rockets. The kids and I build and fly model and high power rockets, hence the name. Check out the sidebar for links to online resources and rocketry vendors, and my rocket-related category archives are here and here.And for those not into rockets (although I can't possibly imagine why not), have a look through the Rocket Jones Cult Flicks archives and be prepared for all kinds of cheesy cinema wonderfulness.
Posted by: Ted at 05:24 AM | Comments (21) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 03, 2005
One ringy-dingy... two ringy-dingy...
We had to buy new phones for the house, and it got me to thinking about phones and how they've changed over my lifetime. The set we bought (yep, a whole set) consists of four cordless handsets with intercom capability between them, a "base station" with four built in voice mail boxes and caller ID, and associated charging cradles and such. We didn't go for super quality this time around (for a very specific reason that I won't go into here), and I'll be happy if they last a couple three years.
Four handsets? Well, there's one for the basement where my workshop and computer are. One for the main floor, and two for upstairs (master bedroom and Mookie's room). The intercom feature will be a welcome feature. Are you old enough to remember when you didn't even own your telephone? Growing up, I recall the telephone man showing up to install your phone, and hearing mom complain when the phone was broken and having to wait for the repairman to show up. It was a big deal in those days deciding where to put the phone too. We always had ours hanging on a wall in the kitchen. And then we had a second phone put into the master bedroom after someone tried to break into the house one night (Dad worked nights). But those weren't our phones, they belonged to the phone company. When Liz and I got married, things were just switching over to where you actually bought your own phone (some 25 years ago... wow, it just hit me that I've been married for a quarter of a century). We went to the "phone store" and looked around at all different models, and it was amazing because suddenly it wasn't just colors you could choose from (I'm guessing maybe six colors on three or four models), but all kinds of choices were available. And man, did you pay premium prices for your phone. Our first telephone was kind of fancy looking because my attitude was that we might as well spend extra up front for something we liked instead of paying all over again later to upgrade. I mean, why would you ever buy another phone? This one ought to last forever. It had a rotary dial. Oh yeah, my crystal ball was clear as mud on that one. Then phone stores disappeared and the market was flooded with hundreds of models from who knows how many brand names. You could buy a telephone in almost any store, and most of them were incredibly cheap. As in crap. There was a little slide switch on the side of most of them, so you could make the push-button phone act like a rotary dial, because not all phone systems could handle digital. Remember flip-phones? Forerunner to the cell phone, before cordless was available. And the era was you bought new telephones on a regular basis, maybe because the last POS fell apart or quit working, or you wanted the latest in technology (ooooo, light-up buttons!). Two line phones! Whoa. Car phones. Still had a cord and you looked like you were talking into a beige brick. Then cordless came along, for a price (naturally) and you could walk around free talking into your beige brick. I remember borrowing a cell phone at a picnic to make an emergency call (I was getting ready to get in the car to drive to a pay phone when he offered), and I hurried through the call knowing that every second was costing big money. I'll never forget what the owner of the phone told me: "It's an expensive luxury". I still think that's true, and I wish more people would remember that. Not that I mind paying for my wife and daughters to carry one at all times (I still don't have one though). When we were stationed in Germany (late 80's), they still operated the phone system the old-fashioned (to us) way. Maybe they still do, I dunno. Everything had that odd European styling that I could never get used to, including the phone. Our phone was pumpkin orange, because that's what it was when we moved in, and getting it changed meant a wait measured in months and a hefty service charge. Screw that. The phone was also in it's own little alcove in the hallway, on a short short cord so you were leashed to the spot whenever you used the phone. There was a counter on the phone, which is how you paid for your phone service. For every call, the counter would click over during your conversation, and the farther away the other party was the faster the counter turned over. Call your bud on the next block? Tick... tick... tick... Call Mom back in the States? Tickticktickticktick, fast enough to make the numbers blur. It seems like every new cell phone today has a camera built in. It also seems like every day you hear about some place forbidding the use of cell phones with built-in cameras. The US Department of State has a new directive out saying you can't have them on premises (or maybe "use" them, I'll have to check again). Anyways, I have a new phone setup at home, with a whole bunch of buttons I'll never use and would probably never miss.Posted by: Ted at 11:58 AM | Comments (20) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Wish I'd said that
From Blather Review:
Y'know, I was eating Alpha-Bits one morning and was surprised because I saw that it read "oooooo." Then I remembered that I was eating CheeriOs.There's more, and it's all good.
Posted by: Ted at 11:39 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
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