Let's climb into the Wayback Machine

I heard a news story on the TV the other evening about the government releasing the Census data from 1940 for public inspection.  I went to the website and have had a fascinating journey through both time and my memory. It's all here.

With just a bit of basic information of locations (and if you are really fortunate, street names,) you can find records indicating income, occupation, education, birthplace. etc. of your ancestors and old neighbors from when you were a kid.  It really is a lot of fun to recognize some of the old names and make some discoveries that will surprise you.  I know I did.  Depending on  whether it was a rural area at the time or not, name of streets may have changed or not even existed.  Regardless, with a little patience and a a lot of determination, you can find info on people from long ago.

It's a more educational way to spend 2 hours than wasting it away on Facebook.  

Enter the Dragon

I spoke with Rat Bastard G yesterday. It was another dimwitted conversation that we normally engage in on a periodic basis. Nothing of any real value except one nugget of information I gleened that I thought was a bit ironic.

It turns out that at the beginning of the year in the wee hours following his New Years Eve celebration, he had made a commitment to the year as one of the best he would ever have, a memorable milestone year in his life, a year upon which to look back and reflect upon and think, "Wow. what a year of accomplishment". I asked G what he was doing to facilitate and help himself to reach this designation and he replied, "nothing". He was simply going to let life come to him, hand him whatever it would, and them close the books on it December 31st and declare that 2012 was the year of the G. I thought that was a bit odd as I thought you have to live life fully rather than taking what life gives you, but no, G assured me that he was going to pull up his chaise lounge and just watch things parade past. He even told me that like the current Chinese lunar Year of the Dragon, he had taken it upon himself in his own vain manner to refer to it as the "Year of the Rat" and compose a song similar to one of our earlier Friday selections.

It will be interesting to see.  For the record, G was actually born under the Chinese symbol of the Rooster.  Before political correctness, this was always referred to as the Cock.  Dragon, Rat, Cat, Rooster, Cock.  I hope he doesn't get his symbolism mixed up.

Jukebox: That Lady could sure sing

We're hiring

It is with bittersweet feeling I write today's post.  My able bodied Assistant/Resident Trustee, Giacommo, has accepted a position outside of the area and will no longer be able to fulfill his duties here at FTI.  Of course, I hate to lose him as he has become, over the months, a trusted confidant of all things abnormal.  Generally, the little knucklehead has proven to be a reliable individual, though, persistent questions remain concerning his involvement in  this incident a while back and his ability to keep some matters confidential.  Regardless, I conducted an exit interview with him last night and wish him nothing but the best in his future endeavors. He has been a fine apprentice and is certainly ready to fly on his own.

My only question of his abilities are that I am not sure he is fully developed in the matter of keeping some subjects confidential. Last night was a good example. Somehow, some way, Gosh,-I-just-happened-to-be-in-the-neighborhood, -got-thirsty, -and-didn't-know-you-guys-were-here, Old Short Arms swoops in and joins us during the out-processing meeting. I didn't bring it up with Giacommo as it would be pointless at this juncture of his affiliation. True to form, however, the little miser was able to mooch a glass from the bartender, share in the pitcher of our ceremonial sacraments, score another round from a generous stranger, skillfully time his need to use the restroom just as the conversation lulls while the glasses are empty, and accomplish all of these tasks while only parting with $2 for a bowl of peanuts. In some ways, I am in awe. I don't know how he consistently does it.

Giacommo, I wish you good luck. I know you have the foundation, skillset, and where-with-all to succeed in you new endeavor. Just learn to discern what you share with some people. Especially those with Short Arms.

Hey kid, you are bit old, aren't you?

I note that a kids  Easter Egg hunt in Colorado has been cancelled this year due to the behavior of  aggressive  parents during last years event.

Sadly, this hits a little to close to home as it reminds me of a local charity event where cash and prizes were to be distributed that was also cancelled due to the rowdiness, pushing, and, in the case of one individual,  insistence of rights to "remuneration".  The only memorable identifying trait is that this person had unusually short arms in relation to the coat he was wearing.

This is an odd description.  I can't think of anyone I know who fits it...................

Jukebox: Hey I know this one!

That exercise and shower thing doesn't work

I received word from Gummo, the Balloon Boy, yesterday alerting me to the fact that he suffered a potential serious injury that would prevent him from participating in Institute events for a short time. As it turns out, he was lucky to escape with minor bruising and a cut, but, it could have been much more serious.

Like countless days before, Helium Man practices his daily grooming habits of a first-thing-in-the-morning shave and shower. Running a bit late, Gummo decided to save a bit of time and combine both his shower and exercise regimen into one. Gummo's normal workout includes one morning rep consisting of full arm extension twirls, reverse arm twirls, 180 degree full body helicopter pivots, and ending with a full speed front face lunge. Doing all of this in a bathtub, however, is inadvisable. In this case, the lunge was aimed at the bath faucet and resulted in a minor gash and goose-egg on the forehead. This self-developed regimen appears to be a bit silly at best and, in this case, highly dangerous. After all, one would think that if your are going to engage in this type of high impact aerobics, you would at least do so on a padded carpet or workout mat.

After mopping up the blood and his forehead looking like a windshield that had just been hit by a golf ball, Rocky Balboa was good to go and soldiered on through the day. I have alerted the FTI maintenance staff to install an alarm much like the one picture above in Gummo's dormitory room. It will tell us when he is exercising.

Oops! My Mistake.

No truer commitment to excellence, truth, and support for both our readers and staff  can be found anywhere in relation to our efforts to produce this endeavor.  With the help of the Truthometer Deluxe on a semi-periodic basis to use as the true arbiter of Truth, the shining light of veracity guides us on a daily basis.  When a mistake or slight is made that results in casting some one or thing in a negative light, I will immediately correct or retract any statements made here on behalf of the FTI collective groupthink. Today is such an example.

Yesterday's insinuations that the little miser had been watering down the beverages at his annual St. Patty's bash was met with an immediate and belligerent phone call of protest that as a true-blooded, generous, authentic descendant of Irish lineage, Dickey the Peap would simply never, ever, absolutely not, cheat or inhibit anyone's rightful privilege to liquor of any type on any day for personal financial gain. Especially St. Patrick's Day. It simply was not true. He may have a a reputation for creative ways to raise revenue, but, short pouring drinks at a social event was simply not one and he demanded an immediate apology and retraction.

Upon further reflection, I have examined my thoughts in the last 24 hours and come to the realization that I have, indeed, been wrong and that an apology to our 2 faithful readers is in order. I personally know the Peap and realize that though he is a bit, ahem, "stingy" when opening his wallet, I could ask him anytime for a drink and he would willingly and cheerfully give me all that he had and wouldn't think a thing about it. Loss, cost or value would simply not enter into the equation. Financial advantage would not be a consideration.

For the record, I faithfully and dutifully acknowledge my error from yesterday's posting and apologize for any confusion or hurt I may have caused or any damage I may have cast upon the character of our resident Darby O'gill. To summarize: HE WOULD NOT SHORT POUR DRINKS FOR FINANCIAL GAIN.

I am however, still trying to understand the need of a $20 per head "seating fee" for an event at a private residence. That seems a bit excessive.

Stretchin' the green

While spending the weekend of St Patty's doing absolutely nothing close to approaching any type of celebration in honor of the Irish Saint (including drinking of any sort), I happen to turn on the local news. It's the same weekend stuff: sport scores, the weather, fluff baby animal pieces, mindless chit-chat from the B-team news reporters,etc.,  but, do catch a snippet of a teaser comment that catches my ear. Apparently a party over the weekend was broken up that got a bit too out of hand resulting in the detainment of one senior citizen for out of control noise, fighting, and general disruption of the neighborhood.  Now, this gets me to thinking because I know the Frugal One had made a passing comment that he was planning a get together over the weekend.  I figure I will wait for the report after the commercial and listen to the story.  As it turns out, one of the revelers got into an argument over the fact that the little miser had filled Jameson Irish Whiskey bottles with colored water, pouring a generous splash of it into a glass coffee mug, filling with coffee, topping it off with whipped cream, and then trying to portray this concoction as an  Irish coffee drink.  All of this effort to save money when throwing a party.  Unbelievable.

I think it would be better if our boy had thrown a St. Seamus day.  At least the Scotch admit they are "thrifty".      

Jukebox: Is this really 37 years old?

Men have no idea

Following our weekly staff meeting yesterday, I assigned a small thinking exercise to the Misfits in order to measure what little of their actual functioning minds actually produce. Giving credit where credit is due, I thought this example by Dickie the Peap was noteworthy. Not useful, but noteworthy.

Women always say that giving birth is way more painful than a guy getting kicked in the nuts.

Here is proof that they are wrong:

A year or so after giving birth a woman will often say "It would be nice to have another kid".

You never hear a guy say " I would like another kick in the nuts".

I must say, perhaps the little miser isn't as much a lost case as I had originally thought.

Jukebox: No, there's always a reason

You just have to have the right equipment

Though I avoided any embarrasing incidents as we did not have any guests over the other night, I have been still under pressure to repair the icemaker in the FTI commissary as detailed in  the previous posting.  Failure simply was not an option, something had to be done.  I knew that swift, decisive, meaninginful action needed to be taken.  Enter the FTI maintenance staff.

A related branch division of our heretofore mentioned FTI IT dept. (the most reviled department here at FTI), I had an inkling of some possible success as they promptly responded to the maintenance requisition  I had placed earlier in the day, neatly attired in their coveralls and shoe booties ( to keep Mrs. Kfred from complaining about wearing the shoes in the Executive living quarters), and ready to go.  It truly was a marvel as they rummaged through their toolkit to perform their own form of life restoring surgery to the icemaker and leave everything in like new condition.  At one point, I did note I thought it odd that having  a turkey baster, old bicycle seat,  and a single colored Rubik's cube among the collection of wrenches and screwdrivers a bit puzzling, but hey, these guys are the professionals.

In the end, the icemaker was brought back to life and all is well. Before they left, though I had to ask,"what's with the single  colored Rubik's cube? They have 6 colors.  Why only one?"

"Inspiration.  Whenever we get stuck on a problem, we go to the cube, twist it a couple of times and get all sides to be the same.  We figure if we can do that, we should be able to fix anything else."

I know not to question this type of logic.    

Sure, it's nothing that $200 can't fix

I have been informed by Mrs. Kfred that the icemaker on the refrigerator in the FTI commissary is non- functioning and not producing any type of ice presently.  Of course, this type of situation calls for direct action by me that consists of much like my snap analysis of any car engine trouble when stranded along the roadside.  The similarities are striking:  1) opening door to inspect said unit; 2) wiggling  dispenser bar repeatedly, 3) unplugging and replugging the electrical cord back into wall outlet, and 4) pronouncing, "There. That should do it".

I have a distinct feeling that tonight's scheduled happy hour will explore a new trend by serving guests refreshments at room temperature.  

Now, c-c-c-c-cut that out!

I just returned Friday night after a few days out of town on non-Institute business in support of activities in Dilbertland.  They always do a nice job in these types of meetings and give  us lots of information to go and do what is needed to be accomplished.    Normally, we always have conducted these meetings at very nice locations with the finest of service, food, and entertainment.  Everyone looks forward to it and this year was no exception.  I did, however, have one unsettling experience.  The hotel that served as our headquarters is an old hotel built back in the late 1880's.  It is a magnificent property with numerous amenities, and, also has a reputation for housing a ghost.  I think I met it.

After a full day of meetings and presentations on Thursday, we had dinner that evening and a few cocktails to socialize with everyone.  Since this is a luxury hotel and the good folks in Dilbertland constantly remind us that budgets are tight, we were each assigned a roommate in order to  afford to stay in a place of this grandeur.  Anyways, as my roommate does not drink and I had had plenty of fun and games the night before, we thought Thursday night would be a good night to call it an early evening.  I know I was asleep within 3 minutes of hitting the pillow.  I was tired.

Later, as it turned out, around 2:40 in the morning, I was in a state of semi-consciousness, halfway between sleep and still aware of where you are (Does that make sense?  It's that point where you are sleeping but really don't want to open your eyes.  That's where I was.) when the inside of my eyelids flashed.  I am a big fan of lightning.  I love it.  I have always been fascinated by it and thought there was an electrical storm going on.  Remember, during this time I am half asleep.  Opening my eyes, I realize that the light is coming from the bathroom that my roommate failed to turn off after using it in the middle of the night.  Collecting my senses and thoughts, I look over in the adjacent bed and see my roommate with his arm under his head, face up on the bed, nose pointed to the ceiling, deep asleep.   I thought, "how could he forget to turn off the light?"  About that time, the light clicked off and the room was dark.  Now this is a bit weird, but, I figure the light is off, so we are no worse for the wear.  It must be a short in the wiring.;  it's an old hotel.  About 20 minutes later, after getting  settled in, I hear a distinctive "CLICK" noise.  The light is on again.  This time, the hair on my neck is on end and a shiver goes through my body.  My mind now recalls the conversation in the lobby during check-in that this hotel is haunted.  I hadn't thought of it before.  Now this is a bit freaky, I am definitely uncomfortable.  The light is on in the bathroom, no one went in their since the last time and, yet, there it is blazing away.  I am not sure whether to pull up the covers a bit tighter around my neck or get up and turn the damn thing off.  After about 2 minutes it goes off again.  10 minutes later, it goes on again!  Now I am concerned. I say out loud "What the hell is going on?" loud enough to wake my roommate.  He rousts awake and is saying "Huh?  What's going on?  Did you forget to turn out the light?"  I explain this has happened 3 times and all of a sudden he is awake.  Fast.  I get up turn of the light manually and that is the end of it for the rest of the evening.  

Now, in fairness, I must disclose that the switch in the bathroom is a motion activated switch on a timer; it's not a standard toggle switch.  I guess something like an insect or flying bug could have activated it.  I am unaware of any type of light switch that has that kind of sensitivity connected to it , but hey, I will give it the benefit of the doubt.   I just know what I experienced  and I never saw a fly, butterfly, bee, or any other winged creature in that room.  I do not believe in ghosts.  But I do believe there are things that can't be  explained.  And I think this was one of them.

We have contingency plans

I am out of town for the next 3 days on  non-Institute business attending a meeting along with my peers from Dilbertland.   We get together once every year or so for yearly kickoff meetings and I am looking forward to making re-acquaintances with some old chums.  It should be fun.

As a result of my absence, I once again have to invoke the emergency vacancy clause of our bylaws in order to keep Institute business running and legal.    This single act broadens my powers to act decisively should any emergency occur (up to and including imposing martial law here at the compound) while I am not in actual physical presence at the FTI Control Center. I undertake this act solemnly and understand it should never be taken for granted. Such as it is with leadership.  Power has it's burdens.  

With this single act accomplished, I only have one final task to complete before my departure:  Ask Mrs. Kfred to sign my leave request.

Giving back to the Community

As Executive Director here at FTI,  I wear many hats.  Though Mrs. Kfred primarily acts as Director of Institute Safety, she is, in reality, our Chief Financial Officer for Institute purposes.  Basic accounting and day to day financial transactions are handled solely by her.  For our personal responsibilities, though,  when it comes to taxes, that's my baby.

As noted in the About FTI tab above,  our endeavor here is to offer policy analysis, event commentary, and recount observations.  Any financial gain along the way is secondary.    Accordingly, by listening to the investment advice of one D., the Peap, investor/extraordinaire, who's can't miss, sure-fire, investment picks include such industry stalwarts as Enron, Washington Mutual, and most recently, Kodak, our tax liability is, has been, and continues to be, ahem, negligible.  (Investment tip to our 2 faithful readers:  Ignore any advice if given by an individual who regularly develops temporary blindness everytime a lunch check is presented at the table. His memory of can't miss stocks seems to be affected in the same manner.)    Anyways, after reporting and accounting for the personal compensation as Executive Director I receive here, scouring tax code for every possible deduction I can find, and arguing that I should be eligible for hardship pay, it looks like Mrs. Kfred and I are going to receive a whopping $185 refund from the government.  Big deal.

In reflecting over how to best give back to the  FTI community with my modest windfall, I am torn between adding to the funding for our annual membership drive or buying a folding chair to create interest for our upcoming 2nd FTI "Western Hemisphere Relations Forum /Auto Parts Swap Meet".   Our first outing was, ah, disappointing.  It is my intent and fervent hope that with the additional seat available, someone might actually attend and participate.

Chevy parts are over there.

An embarrassment of Riches

Well, now isn't this a quandary.

I am exploring a rival Institute's offer to join their organization. My dilemma is over the fact that our succession plan has never been fully developed or adopted and that is a problem. As discussed a few years ago, the glacial pace at which our plan is developing is troubling. Oh sure, I have my able-bodied Assistant Director/Trustee, Giacommo, waiting in the wings to take over the wheel on a split second notice.  I do note, however, that befitting our membership, the wheel  is rusted shut due to the inactivity and lack of any creative output emanating from our assembled brain trust.  As a result, Giacommo might not be prepared to deal with the normal day to day headaches I confront each day.  For example, Gummo, the Balloon Boy's, repeated requests for swimming lessons are not easy to repeatedly deny.  I deny these, not so much to spite Gummo, rather, to save the instructor the frustration and heartache of knowing  no matter how hard you try to prove otherwise, Archimedes principle is really a hoax.  So it is with Gummo.

Our weekly staff meeting/Valentines party later this morning, may give me a clearer indication if I can find a worthy successor. Based on the gifts I have received to date, though, I am a bit concerned.  After all, how many dyed, hard-boiled eggs can one eat?        

Jukebox: Leon, where did the years go?

It's gonna cost ya

The economic upheaval we have all experienced for the past 4 years  has produced a number of nasty surprises.  One unfortunate consequence  I have increasingly  observed from all of this is the practice of various businesses to gouge their customers with bullshit fees and charges.  Today's case in point:  the good folks at Charles Schwab bank.

I am currently in the process of refinancing the FTI compound.  Due to the vastly superior intellectual endeavors and policy position's emanating  from our nerve center, we have been in the enviable position of maintaining an assessed value that helps us to qualify for a variable rate mortgage of fixed 2.875% for the first 5 years of the loan with no appraisal necessary.  In my mind, that is a pretty sweet deal!  Of course, I know of the pitfalls of an ARM, but only plan to use it as a vehicle to eventually have the compound itself mortgage free which will allow for a free cash flow to pursue our ultimate goal: developing an FTI taxidermy studio.  But, I digress.  One small detail has held me up, however.  I do have an open line of home equity credit which acts as a second mortgage held by Schwab bank.  And there is the rub.

My line of credit is worth $90,000, but, has a $0 balance owed.   I have never used it.     I merely opened it as a method to have some available cash if I or Mrs. Kfred ever need it for some type of emergency.  The limit, however, is figured into any refinance equation and acts as another debt against my house.   The good folks I  am refinancing with  (Everbank in Jacksonville, Florida) were OK with this open limit and had finished all of my paperwork and merely needed Schwab to sign off on the subordination to hold second place on the mortgage.  Schwab got a little nervous about this and insisted that now an appraisal would be in order even though they currently are in second position anyway.  In a nutshell, the only thing changing are the terms with my first lender.  Schwab is not involved.  To make a long story short, I chose to close out my line of credit and informed Schwab bank of my decision.    Schwab was "sorry to lose me as a valued customer" and confirmed that I owed nothing on the line, but, would need to generate a payoff statement just the same.  I need this document to give to the first lender.  So far so good.  Here comes the complaint: They could put it in the mail to arrive in 3 days or they could fax it to me for a $20 charge!   $20!  For a fax!  With unlimited long distance minutes, I know it is no longer phone charges.  I can't, for the life of me, figure out the labor involved to send a fax.   I guess labor must be expensive.  I told my customer care representative to drop it in the mail.

 I have learned from this experience.  I am contemplating making this site a members only/annual membership, paid access type of forum from this point forward.  The revenue generated would be nothing but bottom line revenue to apply to the Misfits vacation fund.  On deeper analysis, however, perhaps our 2 faithful readers might balk at our anticipated $3000 annual assessment.   I might have to think of some alternative methods.  I guess I will talk to Chuck.