Josh Agle (aka SHAG) greets the public at the opening reception for his newest works. I’m glad to see him returning to happier subjects, as his last few shows have been pretty dark. Some great pieces on display, great popping color. You rarely get the backstory on a piece, but this show had little QR codes next to each one that brought up a little detail to the milieu. Fun stuff!

I looked up the tax tables. It was pretty clear that people making $350k+ should be paying 35% in taxes. I myself am in the 28% bracket, and am pretty sure I made less than Warren last year. It would seem to me that many of the wealthiest Americans have their own little loophohes. For example, Bill Gates gets most of his income in Microsoft dividends, which enjoy a special tax rate of only 15%.

So my proposal would be to classify all forms of income, “income”, and enforce the tax tables that the rest of us scrubs have to adhere to. That means inheritance, lottery winnings, dividends, the money you made selling “medicinal” pot out of your garage – all count as plain old “income”, and let the existing tax table tell you where you stand.

That, or I’m going to have my boss start writing “dividend” on my pay stubs.

Over the years, I’ve owned a number of vehicles, and have been to spray wash places all over this great country of ours. The way they work is, you pull in, spray/brush your car, rinse it off, then pull forward to the vacuum stations to dry off the car and vacuum it out. You’ve been to one, you’ve been to them all, right? Not so for the one down the road from me.

This magical facility adds an extra degree of angst and frustration to the drying process in that what could arguably be the world’s most overfed and incontinent pigeons bomb the hell out of your car while you’re drying it off. Not just talking a little plop, but a giant gooey purple splat. As soon as you clean it off and make your way to the other side of the car, you discover another. Cleaning that and returning to the original site of the carnage, you discover a fresh one. This stupid game goes on at least four or five times over the course of drying off your car…at which point you’re tempted to just back up into the relative safety of the spray area and just start over with another five bucks of quarters.

I’d be mildly upset if this was an isolated anomaly, but this has happened all three times I’ve been to this place. It has never happened at any other spray wash place I’ve been to.

But here’s the kicker – It wasn’t happening to the lady with the Camry or the guy in the wood paneled station wagon next to me. No – just the guy with the white BMW. Which brings me to the conspiracy part.

Pigeons can be trained. There are residential areas and rooftops that could house coops and spotters on three sides of the vacuum area of this car wash. It doesn’t take much to figure that a spray wash owner could likely bilk more quarters out of the owner of a nicer car who gives more of a shit about it’s cleanliness and appearance. Run it through the wax cycle, the rinse cycle, use the funky tire cleaner setting, etc. Time is quarters for these guys, and they know that people like me are willing to spend a little extra time to get the car looking just right. But for guys with a BMW who spend the minimum amount for one spray cycle just to get the leaves and sap off the hood – that’s not good enough. He calls the mobile of his partner on the adjoining roof, with instructions to deploy the bombers. If the hapless victim is still not backing into the bay and fishing out more quarters, send another wave. And another.

Sounds crazy, right? Maybe – maybe not. If you have a nice car, try the place out and see if I’m just being paranoid. Bring extra rags.

Date: Nov. 1, 2010

Subject: missed robot meeting

Pat,

You missed the robot meeting this past Monday 11/1 for both your team and the combined meeting. What happened?

No one from Cedar Park showed up, so I am trying to figure out what went wrong.

Thanks,

Mr. ********

Computer Science Teacher

CPHS Webmaster | UIL Computer Science Coach

Cedar Park High School

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This email has been scanned by the MessageLabs Email Security System.

For more information please visit http://www.messagelabs.com/email

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Photo Trends. Disturbing new trend is for people to do the “duck lips” thing. What the hell is that? I’ll tell you what it is – a warning sign that you only date douchebags, and are one of those people who keeps Jersey Shore on the air. Pass.

New Business:

Winks. I personally don’t mind the wink thing. Sending or receiving. Take the wink for what it means: “I think you’re cute from your photo, but don’t know enough about you to strike up a meaningful cold conversation.” Now I could write that out in an email, or just send a wink and see if there’s a response. You can even wink back. It is not rude to ignore a wink. It is also rude to keep firing winks at someone. Oh, and if you’re one of those people who haughtily explain how you “don’t respond to winks”…be glad there’s not a “fart” button.

Who Viewed Me? Match and a few other sites have this feature. It is usually triggered by someone who clicks through on your photo or username and opens your profile. You can use this effectively in conjunction with the wink. Send a wink, see if the person checks you out. If you don’t get a response, move on. It is also interesting to just log on and see who’s checking you out. A narcissistic way of stalking yourself.

Can’t Believe I’m Doing This. People who rant in their profiles how embarrassed they are to be on the site, or that their friend put them up to this are like vegans who come to the barbecue and preach about how meat is murder and cows have rights. Seriously, STFU. How is someone supposed to respond to that? “Hi, I can’t believe I’m here with all these losers either. We should get together, delete our accounts, and take a Silkwood shower of shame together. I feel so unclean.”

After looking at a bunch of photos, I find interesting patterns. I’m not going to copy and paste photos here, because someone would probably try to sue me. However, ladies – check your profiles and see if you have a few of these.

1. Front seat photo. This is a self-portrait, taken from the driver’s seat of a car. The subject is almost always in sunglasses. This is one of those situations where I have to ask, “Is this when you look your best?”

2. Bathroom mirror photo. So you’re heading out for a night with the ladies and you make one last check of the ‘do and outfit in the mirror, and  - oh what the hell…snap a shot with your pink bedazzled iPhone. Better yet – post 2-3 shots with the same pose, different outfits, on your profile. I get it. You like to go out.

3. “He’s just a friend” photo. These always crack me up. A hot girl usually has 3-4 of these pics on her profile. She’s got a froo-froo drink in one hand, a big smile, and her cheek is pressed up against a scruffy jaw of some dude that’s been unceremoniously cropped from the rest of the shot. Ladies, stop posting these photos on your profiles. Here’s what guys really think about your male friends. (pops)

4. The 3/4 turn. Really? A shot of you with your head turned almost all the way around made it out of the shoebox and onto your dating profile? Wow.

5. The dot on the horizon. Oh wow. It’s Machu Picchu. You must be that little speck in front of the rock. Wait – is that some dude next to you? WTF?

6. The postage stamp. Folks, it is 2010. The camera on your phone takes pictures at least three megapixels in size. What the heck is up with posting a blurry, pixelated photo that is 45 by 25 pixels? Are you from Lilliput?

7. The Glamour Shot. You know the one. Big, teased hair. Pat Benatar playing in the background. Eyeliner that would make a raccoon say, “damn!” And so many diffusion filters on the lens that you could sop up the Gulf oil spill with them. You’re not fooling anyone. The 80′s are over, and these pictures sucked then, too. Let’s see your wrinkled ass in the 2000′s, Mm-kay?

8. Girls Night Out. If you even suspect that your friends are hotter than you, don’t post group shots. Just sayin’.

9. First impressions. You’re three or four decades old by now. You’ve been in hundreds of situations where photos of you have been taken, or maybe you took a few of yourself. Out of dozens of shoeboxes and gigabytes of digital photos, the best you could do is a blurry shot of you in huge sunglasses, a baseball cap, scarf and windbreaker? What made this one stand out to you and say, “This is a wonderful representation of myself. It captures my true essence with a hint of whimsy and flirtation. Hell, I’d date me.” Are you on the lam or something?

More to come. Agree? Disagree? Think I’m a pig? Want to post links to pics? Hit the comments.

Having watched a few shows on the channel – Phineas & Ferb, Suite Life, Wizards of Waverly Place, Hannah Montana and others – I have noticed a recurring theme. These shows portray adults as clueless, out-of-touch incompetents who shrug their shoulders helplessly (often to a laugh track) when their kids smart off, run rampant and get into trouble. Every so often, they come in with a line or two in support of a moral lesson the kid has learned (usually with no help whatsoever from the adult). In most cases, families are portrayed as wealthy, upper-middle class, and the parents are noticeably absent or uninterested in their children except to provide a limitless source of funds for the extravagant lifestyles of travel, adventure and designer clothes.

What I’m left with is a 9-year-old who thinks it’s OK to cop a ‘tude with Daddy when he asks her to help out around the house with simple things like “clean your room”. Talking back to my parents was just not something you did if you valued your well-being. Mom had a ruler, Dad had a belt. They were rarely used, but knowing our parents were “armed” was enough to keep the kids in line. In retrospect, I’ve never had to spank my daughter. Looking around the house, I’m not sure what would be my “switch” should I ever have to. Maybe i won’t need one – these days, I can “ground” her by shutting off her iPhone via remote switch.

I pine for the Super Friends and Scooby-Doo. They never made me think about stuff like this.