Becoming one of the nerds

Last week I read my friend Jesse's blog to find out he had something in common with Dwight Schreut...He loves Battlestar Galactica. It made me chuckle, "oh, Jesse falling for another bad TV show". Then later in the week my roommate Abinadi was watching it too! Now Abinadi is a sucker for all sorts of TV shows (Scrubs, Bones, House, Grey's Anatomy...well ok, I don't think he actually watches Grey's, but you get the idea). But on Saturday while I was sitting down in an attempt to read some more of Ayn Rand, I found myself catching a little peak of the show every now and then, but before I knew what happened it was 2AM and we were half way through season 3. I realize this is not what one would consider great television, but wow...I'm hooked.
And Dwight isn't the only nerd who I have a common interest with, I cracked up this morning when I found out Greg Mankiw also likes Vampire Weekend!

Speaking of things I'm addicted to here are a few songs I have listened to about 3,785 times in the past week.
Flobots
Paul Simon (I think I've watched the whole Central park concert about 47 times...it's just sooo good)
Pretenders (The original was good...but this is even better)
Okkervil River (My favorite songs aren't on youtube, but I'm obsessed with all of their music)
New Pornographers (My new favorite band...I can't stop listening)

Boom, Blam and Blanton

the Blanton is free every thursday. So if you want to be cool like this guy check it out.

The World has a new ruler

After nearly 2 months of a long (and often stagnant) Risk game. I can say I finally came out the victor. My victory was mostly due to people giving up, and feeling sorry for me when I only had one country...which is exactly what I expect to happen tonight when I get together with some friends to take over the world.

Bye Big Tim

Like every one else I was shocked when I heard that Tim Russert had passed away Friday. Really there aren't any journalist like him. My roommate Abinadi summed it up best when I asked him, after watching one of the democratic debates, who he thought had won. "Tim Russert" he replied, which I think was typically the case of any debate were he was the mediator.
Now had you asked me last week who my favorite journalist was, I would have said "John Stossel" without a moments hesitation. I grew up watching stossel on 20/20...It came on right after TGIF. His bits were always the highlight of the show (takes a lot to compete with Urkel and boy meets world). When I read his book Myths, Lies, and Downright Stupidity I told all of my friends about it. I loved it. But, when it comes down to it I have to admit Stossel really can't hold a candle to Russert. Now Stossel has found frauds and crooksters all over the country (typically the crook ends up being uncle Sam). But, when it comes to being an unbiased interviewer he is no Russert, he proved that last year when he interviewed Ron Paul. Stossel's interview actually wasn't aired on TV. Although you could find it posted all over the internet by angry Ron Paul supporters, using it as proof that the "main stream media" wanted to keep Ron Paul out of the race. At first I thought the interview was great, but the more I watched the more painful it became. It was like watching a father pitch baseballs to his son who he is afraid won't be able to hit...he starts off throwing slow underhand pitches, and if he can't hit those out of the park he just holds the ball and lets his son hit it right out of his hand. It became almost sickening to see Stossel try to come up with easier and easier questions for Paul to knock out of the park.
When Ron Paul went on Meet the Press, Tee-ball was over, this was the big league. Russert threw everything he had at him. It was by far the hardest interview I saw with Ron Paul. Tim knew all of the facts, he knew all of the hard questions, and unlike so many other "tough" interviewers he gave Ron a chance to answer his questions. I found out a lot about Ron Paul in Russert's interview, it became clear that he is no where near perfect, and showed where the holes in his campaign. Where as after watching Stossel's interview I felt as though I had been watching a 30 minute TV ad.
So for all the people who don't just say what they want you to hear, but work hard just to get at the truth...we will miss you Tim.

The Clark Kentization of Gavin Gee

Last week I joined the elite group of mild mannered super heroes hiding their true identities by wearing a pair of think spectacles on the tip of their nose. No longer do I have to live the stressful and high profile life of the bare foot bandit. Several innocent civilians have mistaken me for a professor, so I may start using that as my cover. I will help unsuspecting kids solve thermodynamic problems by day and by night I will save the trees by throwing the recycling bins into the dumpster...the barefoot bandit strikes again!

Save the cows, eat more beef

The other day I threw away a stack of paper. Someone near by suggested I recycle it. "No thanks, I don't recycle" was my reply. She was shocked others in the room seemed to be panicking, perhaps they were looking for a child so they could cover their ears. A few people in the room nervously laughed and asked if I was kidding. No one could believe that I would not recycle. But it is true I don't (at least I don't recycle paper). Ever since captain planet swooped down and saved the universe our country has been on the recycling ban wagon. Anyone who isn't on said bandwagon, by nature must be evil and therefore should be shunned.

So before you commence your shunning of me for the next 7 years. Let me explain why I don't recycle, and if you are a tree hugging hippie then you shouldn't either.

Imagine for a minute it is possible to recycle cows or meat (yeah, I know it's disgusting, but just imagine). You would be able to eat a steak and then by recycling you could get 2/3 of the steak back to make another stake. Now assuming everyone doesn't instantly loose their appetite this would seem like a victory for the cows after the steak had been recycled until there was nothing left you would get 3 steaks for every original steak. That means you would be "saving" the life of 2 cows for every cow killed. But, in reality we would be killing off the cows. Cattle ranchers would quickly cut the size of their ranches as the demand for cows would decrease. In fact the cow population would decrease by 2/3.

The same argument follows for trees if we are able to reduce the amount of trees we cut down by 2/3 then it won't be long before we have 2/3 fewer trees. Paper companies will have less incentive to replace cut down trees because the demand for new trees will decrease. By not recycling you are actually increasing the demand for trees so trees become more valuable and therefore more people will want to grow trees. If you want to save the trees start throwing that paper in the garbage.

Next time you get that warm fuzzy feeling after saving a stack full of paper from the evil garbage can just keep in mind that you are NOT saving any tree, the only thing your helping is your environmentalist ego.

Why small cars don't scare me

After my last post several people mentioned that even if you drive more carefully and are less likely to get in an accident while driving a small car, you are definitely more likely to die when you do get in a wreck. This statement is true, but it hasn't changed my opinion of small cars. The problem is many people feel if they aren't in the biggest car on the rode then they aren't safe, so hence the reason cars just keep getting bigger. But the real reason I'm not scared of getting a smart car when people say I'll get crushed is because I a smart car is far more protection then I have on my bike. Because I know anytime a bike and a car fight, the car is going to win. Just this week in Mexico we were reminded of how bikers are really putting their lives in the hands of the drivers on the road.
Fortunately I haven't had any crashes as severe as this one, but it shows how defenseless bikers are against cars. So of course it would be much more safe to start driving around in a big hummer, SUV or the Oscar Mayer Wiener car. But, I like to think I can trust my fellow drivers enough not to run me over. So please next time you see me riding down the road feel free to give me plenty of space, because regardless of what you might think, I don't want to play chicken.

One for the Little Guys

Sitting on a subway in Stuttgart Germany I saw a smart car for the first time. I remember turning to the group of missionaries I was with and telling them how cool I thought it was.
"That little thing, I would totally run that over with my Dodge Ram if we were back in the states."
"I would love to get in an accident with you while I'm driving my dad's hummer."
"If I ever see your smart car in a parking lot I'm going to pick it up and throw it in the back of my truck."
I was starting to believe American's had grown up out of that phase though when I was looking for a new car about 2 years ago. I mentioned to several people I wanted to get a SMART car, this was just a wish since the car still wasn't available in America. I was shocked at the response. Without fail every response was nearly the same. "Your going to get killed." "Your first wreck is going to be your last." "I'd like to see what's left of that thing when you run into a SUV."
From their responses I began to wonder how many of my friends expected me to be driving through monster truck rallys on my way home from work. Having friends that plan on getting in so many wrecks is a little disconcerting considering how often I ride with them. Although I will admit the thought of someone picking up my car and putting it in the back of their truck is really funny. But personally I hate being in a big car, the smaller the better. Of course the only problem is--as I quickly found out while speaking to friends--everyone else likes to drive big cars. Which wouldn't be so bad but the people in those huge elephants appear to be the same people who think Mopac was intended to be a demolition derby. I was beginning to think there was no hope for the little guys on the road.
Until this summer, when an unexpected hero came to save the day. Who was our Knight in shinning armor...High Gas Prices! Suddenly driving the big trucks is becoming less and less appealing, and yesterday one of the friends who said I was going to be crushed by an oncoming Hummer just bought a Yaris. So while the rest of the country is complaining about outrageous gas prices I'm going to thank our quiet hero and encourage him to keep on climbing.

*Addendum: Actually large cars have contributed to turning our highways to into the bumper car range. Drivers who feel more safe driving are more likely to get in an accident. So driving a small car will actually decrease the chance of your getting in an accident. Although if we really wanted safe roads several economist have said installing a knife into the steering wheel pointed at the heart of the driver would decrease the number of accidents dramatically.

**Someone commented after seeing this post that I am another crazy environmentalist. To be clear I share the same view about environmentalist as Steven Landsburg.

Bike to work

A few weeks ago I said how silly it is to bike to work. I still stand by everything I said, but in honor of National Bike to Work day I am encouraging everyone to bike to work. Not to save money or to be green, but because biking is FUN! And honestly you are less likely to run me over on your bike than you are driving in your car while talking on your cell phone, flipping through your iPod, shaving, and giving yourself a pedicure. So leave the car at home, dig the bike out of the garage and I'll see you on the road.

popping the bubble

I mentioned in my last post a co-worker was sure the price of gas was inflated and eventually the bubble will have to burst. Today Paul Krugman states otherwise. It's starting to scare me how many times in the past few weeks Krugman and I have agreed.

$30?

This week a co-worker of mine sent me an article that suggest the price of gas has been inflated, by shading dealings in future dealings. The article suggest oil should be closer to $60 a barrel, instead of $120. Now if that is correct then eventually we will see a sudden drop in gas prices, personally I think it is bunk. I'm still predicting you'll be seeing $4 prices before the summer is out (In fact I'm so confident in that I'm going to be some Exxon stock tomorrow). But the presidential election may give an opportunity for us to test this theory. Now true to my word I'm staying with the badical sabatical and I won't mention the election. But I will mention an idea some of the canidattes have. Two "defenders of the poor" want to get rid of the gas tax for the summer. That would save us 18 cents a gallon or an estimated $30 over the summer. Now if my friend is right and the price is inflated than we will save close to 18 cents on the gallon (you will never actually save all 18 cents, part of the tax is absorbed by the oil companies). But if the demand is still high enough for oil (ie. high enough to keep raising prices) than we will actually only save 8 or even 6 cents a gallon.
So far 2 presidential candidates (one from each party) think it is a good idea.
And 2 economist (Krugman and Mankiw) think it is lunacy.
As usual, I'm siding with the economist.

Life on the bike

After my last post several people have asked me why I continue biking if I don't think it helps the environment or my pocket book. And last Wednesday when a misguided fellow, who apparently hasn't been reading my blog, tossed some garbage at me while I was riding my bike home, I started wondering; Why do I do this?
It is somewhat of a miracle considering initially the one rule my parents gave to my babysitter was I had to spend at least a half hour learning to ride my bike. I still remember Valerie Etchel trying to talk me into riding to the end of the street. I would argue that my parents didn't like me riding to the end of the street, because of all the traffic on the end of our street. Looking back I realize this wasn't the best excuse, seeing how I stayed on the sidewalk and never even ventured out onto the road. That, and the fact that we lived on a dead end. And had a total of about 7 cars drive on our street per day. I never even took the training wheels off until my uncle brad (yes, the same Uncle Brad who would have me sit in the back of his trailer so branches wouldn't fall out, the same one who would have me fix roughs on three story houses with a 45% slant, the same one who once told me to watch out while throwing a chain saw in my general direction) told me he would hold the back of my bike while I rode up the street. I wish I could say the feeling of finally riding without training wheels was a liberating one, but it was actually just as terrifying as realizing that uncle Brad actually wasn't holding onto the bike or as terrifying as the crash that followed that realization. No, my biking career didn't start to promising. But for some reason in junior high I wanted to get a mountain bike. Looking back the only reason I would want to buy such a ridiculous item was that Greg LeMond had been on the cover of Boy's Life. Whatever the reason for wanting it was, I must have really wanted it because, my parents remarkably got it for me. Now to many of my readers this may seem a run of everyday events, but getting something from parents who were struggling to make ends meet with 7 kids is usually considered a miracle like unto the feeding of the 5 thousand.
And shortly after getting it I got to go on a bike ride with my scout troop. It was a 50 mile ride (25 miles to our camp site, and 25 miles back the next day). After that ride I considered myself to be a member of that elite league where only a select few made it (namely Greg LeMond, Lance Armstrong, and my scouting troop). I had plans to continue making 50 miles treks for the remainder of my life, but for one reason or another the bike got tossed aside and probably didn't get another 50 miles on the tires for the remainder of it's life.
But in high school a friend of mine was a mountain biker, I went with him once and I was hooked. I quickly started laying money aside so I could purchase a new mountain bike.
Eventually I saved up about $250 in excess founds, and I headed up to the highlander bike shop. The reason I went to the Highlander shop was a member of our stake owned it, Doug Moffit. Since Doug was a member of our stake I didn't really question his suggestion of bicylces. But I was a little skeptical when he showed me a shiny blue Nishiki bike. Most of you have probably never heard of Nishiki bikes, indeed I hadn't either. In fact my friend had mentioned several good brands of mountain bikes, and Nishiki wasn't on the list. I mentioned this to Doug and he was quick to point out the reason my friend hadn't heard of Nishiki bikes was because he was American (as it turns out my friend was indeed an American) so I didn't argue the point. Had I thought for a second I would have realized that Doug was also American, and one quick look at the bike would have revealed the large American flag that said Made in the USA across it. And an astute observer may have asked "so in what country would they have heard about Nishiki". Since that little trip to the highlander shop I have been to Germany, Japan, and China yet I still haven't seen a Nishiki bike. But at the time I still wasn't very astute. So I bought the bike and decided to take it on it's maiden voyage up to my grandparents house. My dad drove off ahead and I started the trek. Unfortunately I didn't really have a good route to get there, and so I took (what I would later find out was the worst route possible) 27th up to my grandparents. This is where I was introduced to the pure hatred Salt Lakians have for bikers, particularly inexperienced ones. After riding for over an hour I arrived at my destination, thinking I had just made the worst purchase of my life. My dad gave me a ride home, and I wondered if I would ever ride the bike again.
A few months later though I was faced with a slight conundrum. The problem was I loved swimming, and I wanted to continue doing it throughout the summer, but my parents wouldn't be able to provide the taxi service I required (I lived about 15 min away, on the freeway, from my school). So if I wanted to swim I would have to ride my bike to the pool. I still remember getting up at 4 that first morning, just enough time to do my paper route and then head up to school. It was about 15 miles away going up (and I mean up. Mt. Olympus is not very merciful to bikers) I basically had the whole road to myself. I think sometime between 4:30 and 5:30 one of those summer mornings I feel in love with biking. But like any relationship you have to keep working at it, or before you know it you don't even know the person sleeping in your garage...well, maybe that doesn't apply to all relationships.
To insure my biking relationship didn't go stagnate I decided to take it to the next level. And, as circumstance would have it, I did so with the help of my Uncle Brad. Brad after graduating from high school had decided to move to hawaii, while there he fell in love with the women who would become my aunt, and the bike that he would eventually give to me. The bike had two names; the Honolulu express, and the '77 special. Both coming from the licensed sticker it had from Honolulu in '77. Although, my roommate Jared tried to change the name to the bikecetomy, mostly because the only padding on the seat was a small piece of leather Brad had taped on, and also...well the rest of the story we will have to save for another time.
Typically a fairly stoic person, few things get me choked up, and as a general rule I don't grow attached to any possessions, but just thinking about the '77 special still requires me to go grab a kleenex. There are two reasons for that. The first was due to my ignorance upon receiving the bike. After Brad gave me the bike I let it sit outside for a month or two, when I finally looked at the bike the tires where flat and looked completely tattered. So being the ignorant person I was decided to to pull the tires off and replace the tires and tubes. I quickly realized the tires weren't coming off as easy as I had thought, and what was even stranger was the tire didn't seem to even have a tube at all. But being ignorant as I was, I continued scrapping the tire off of the wheel. I bought new tires and tubes and the Honolulu Express was back on the road. It took about 2 months before I realized my crime. Brad asked about the bike, I told him how much I was liking it. He then asked if I liked the tubeless tires. There was a long awkward pauses followed by me saying "yeah, it is riding great". I couldn't believe it, I ripped out tubeless tires! I felt sick to my stomach...and still do anytime the memories of the '77 special come back.
Once I had the new tires on the Honolulu Express I decided to take it for a spin. Originally the plan was to just take it for a spin, with no particular route in mind. It was the middle of summer so one would think I would have brought a water battle with me, but with no destination I wasn't sure I was going to be out all that long. After wandering through Salt Lake for about 45 min. I found myself at Hogle Zoo (the base of Emigration Canyon). I paused at started to consider how I was going to make my way home when I saw (as strong bad would say) "a challenger". Actually it was a whole team of challengers, in full biking gear. I couldn't see them well, but I could see them getting close, and fast. This was my chance to go head to head with what appeared to be real bikers. I couldn't back down to the competition, so I started to make it up the canyon. I don't remember if I had initially planned after starting if I would go up the whole canyon or not. I had only been all the way through the canyon once and that was at night, and years ago at that. I also had a friend who lived up the canyon. I knew her house was a ways up, but I didn't know if her house marked the half way point, the three quaters mark, or if it was considered base camp. After what seemed like for ever I finally passed by my friends house. I was sure my legs would give out at any time, but seeing the team of bikers behind me kept me motivated to continue riding. Finally I came to a very steep hill, I had been biking uphill constantly for the last 2-3 hours the grade had been around 5%, but now it was more like 15. My legs couldn't go any more. Now with improvements in modern technology they have instruments that could have tracked my movements to let you know that I was indeed moving forward, but this was still in the last melenium and those instruments weren't available, so when the team of bikers passed me they undoubtedly thought I was just standing still. So perhaps they thought it was a tree talking when I asked them, in the weakest most feeble voice I have ever used, "How...muuuuch...fuuurrthhhher?". Whatever they thought I, a tree, or one of the flies who had found his final resting spot on my helmet had asked the question, they chose not to answer and they just biked on by. I was certain I was going to die there somewhere in emigration canyon. When just then I turned the bend and saw the team of bikers standing next to their bikes resting. I had reached the top! I very slowly started making my way toward the group of bikers hoping they would spare me a few drops of water. But, as soon as they saw me coming toward them, they hopped back on their bikes and started on the road toward Park City. I tried to yell out to them as they left, but it was to no avail. In the past 27 years I have met a lot of bikers most of which would do anything to help a fellow biker/anger passing car driver, but I am fairly certain those guys must have been commi's who figured the government was going to send someone to help me.
I took the next few minutes to look out over the valley to see my achievement. Then fearing I was on the verge of dehydration, I began my trip down. When I finally made it to This is the Place park (the place where Brigham Young declared, yes you guessed it, "This is the Place") I was estatic. I found the visiting center. I could see a drinking fountain just inside one of the doors so I parked my bike just outside and ran in to get a drink. I nearly died when I saw the "Out of Order" sign pasted across the fountain. Not wanting to leave my bike unattended I hurried on hoping to find a park with a fountain near by, or perhaps there would be a fountain at the zoo.
I had no such luck, and not seeing anything coming out of the canyon I continued home as fast as I could. I was starting to loose focus and was not thinking clearly at all when I saw sugar house park which after carefully combing it in it's entirety I did not find one drinking fountain. I say I was not thinking clearly because I looked everywhere except for in the large bathroom facility in the center of the park, which I found out later does have a fountain. I guess this is just a long way of saying when I made it to Liberty park and drank from the fountain for a good 10 minutes, it was the best water I had ever tasted.
After that trip the '77 special and I would make 4 more trips to the top of emigration canyon, I was never as tired, they never took as long, and I was never that thirsty again.
But that brings me to the second reason I get sad when I think about the Honolulu Express. After leaving on my mission I let my brother Gardner use the Honolulu Express, and my roommate Jared use my mountain bike. Sadly they were both stolen while I was in Germany. I don't really miss the mountain bike at all, but I still think of the good days I spent on the '77 Express.
I replaced it with a very nice road bike a few years later, it was never quite the same as the '77 special though. But that bike gave me a little more courage and biking prowess. It was on that bike when I started biking daily during rush hour on busy streets. It was there were I was reintroduced to the hatred Salt Lakians have for bikers. I had garbage thrown at me for the first time, had people try to run me off the rode, and eventually on my last day of work (and the day before I was to compete in another triathlon) I was hit. It was rather funny, I was hit on my last day of work. Which was ironic since the only 2 days of work I was ever late for was my first and last day.
It has taken me several years to buckle down and get a new bike and start riding again, but I am happy to say the bike and I have reconciled our differences, and I once again am loving life on the bike.
So why do I ride if I don't feel it is saving me any money or helping the environment? Because I love the bike.

Cost of Green

Go Green, Save Your Green.

That was the slogan in our corporate newsletter this week. It seems everyone at my work is trying to become more "Green". And as a result every week there is an article from someone preaching the gospel of green. This weeks installment had to do with making your commute more green. It gave suggestions such as Carpooling, riding the bus (that doesn't come within one mile of our work), or, the best option, riding a bike. Several years ago, when I considered myself to be somewhat of an environmentalist, if someone would have asked me why I bike everywhere, I would have been quick to explain how I was saving the environment or saving money. But, seeing how I now longer consider myself to be an *idiot, I cringe whenever someone suggest that the reason I am biking is to become more green.
I realize there are possibly a few people out there (apparently more than a few at my work) who still consider themselves to be mentalist, so I will explain why biking to work is not the best way to make the world green.
Today it took me approximately 2 hours and 30 minutes to ride to and from work. Covering a total of 26.5 miles, which by happenstance is the same amount of miles my car gets to the gallon. Earlier today I heard the average gas price was $3.50. So by biking today I saved $3.50. What it cost me was 1 hour 54 minutes (it takes me 12 minutes to drive to work, and 24 minutes to get back). It also cost me a sore bum, having to be yelled at by passing drivers (they must have forgotten to read my blog last week), and narrowly avoiding being hit twice. Actually my story here is somewhat normal, the average commute is 15 miles and 26 minutes (slightly more than mine).
I work at an engineering company where the average salary is around $70,000. Which translates to approximately $35 an hour, so that 2 hour ride is costing an employee $70. If an employee is really serious about making the world more green he would drive to work (saving $70) and buy a tree, the next day he drives he could use the 2 hours to plant the tree. Keeping this up it wouldn't take anytime before he was "carbon negative".
Some people may argue there is another benefit to riding a bike, exercise. In my case if I don't ride my bike to work then I typically will go run on town lake. It takes me a total of 45 minutes to run 4.3 miles on town lake (that includes the drive to the lake, warm-up, and warm-down). When I do that I get a much better work out because I don't have to worry about getting run over, I don't have to stop constantly at traffic lights, and I don't have exhaust being blown at me (that isn't to mention not having garbage thrown at you, being yelled out, getting flats, or getting clipped by cars).
Another argument is that "well, no one is going to take all that money and plant trees". I would agree, when it comes right down to it, most people aren't *idiots. But them working on just about anything would be almost as good as them planting trees. If they are working (particularly if they are engineers) they are going to be helping grow that economic pie. And the real reason we have people writing articles about going green is due to how much green we have. Because you can bet your bicycle no one is worrying about how to make their commute more green in Zimbabwe.

*a.k.a. environmentalist

Make it stop

Six months ago I was glued to youtube. Anytime there was a debate I didn't want to miss a second (yes, I suffered through all of the democratic debates. Although I did enjoy when Tim Russet had to tell Gov. Richardson he wasn't dealing with funny money). I hung on every word (well, at least when Ron Paul was talking). My political engine was fueled and revving in the red zone. Yet, this week when a co-worker asked if I would be watching the debates I cringed...When will it end!
By now, I, and probably you too, am sick of hearing how the bitter poor are clinging to Hillary. And the elite snobs are avoiding the sniper fire by placing their audacity in Obama.
I used to look forward to reading the Op-Ed columns in the NY Times. Now I shutter at having to read what Hillary did to destroy her chances or why everyone loves/is sick of Obama.
Something needs to be done. First, I was going to submit a bill to congress putting an moratorium on all presidential election reporting until August 1, but then I remembered I'm not a democrat. So to avoid being a hypocrite I have come up with another plan. Instead of changing the government, I will change the world. I hereby declare the beginning of the Badical Sabbatical. Yes, that is right, a sabbatical from any presidential election jibber jabber until August 1, 2008. Seeing how this blog is basically the trend center for the internet and web 2.0, I think it will only be a matter of a few weeks until the NY Times follows suite. My fellow bloggians of the world UNITE! be badical, join the sabbatical.

Solving the Vagabond mystery

My good friend Bryant has me all figured out.