I've Heard of Point Shaving, But ...

You can read a complete, more-than-you-ever-wanted-to-know discussion on the topic of point shaving in this Wikipedia article, but that's not the sort of shaving I was actually thinking about this morning.

According to this article I read yesterday, a Maryland girls' swim team was retroactively disqualified and lost its county title because one of its members shaved improperly. And I'm not talking about her points.

It seems that the rules for swimming, diving and water polo competitions published by the National Federation of State High School Associations stipulate that athletes can not shave before, during or after a meet once a team is at the location of the competition. Because one of the competitors from the Broadneck (no pun intended) High girls swim team shaved in the locker room just before the competition, the team - which had won the Anne Arundel county championship - was disqualified.

FLAG ON THE PLAY! ILLEGAL REMOVAL OF HAIR!!

Oy.

Apparently the rule about not shaving on site is intended to protect the competitors from possible exposure to each other's blood; however, there don't seem to be equivalent rules that prevent athletes participating in other sports from shaving in the locker room before or after a competition.

I personally don't care whether ladies shave or not, and in any case it seems like a silly thing to give up a championship over. I'm reminded of the skit by comedian Alan King in which he imagined life for Romeo and Juliet if their story had had a happy ending:

Juliet: "You didn't shave this morning, Romeo."

Romeo: "It's Saturday. Why should I shave?"

Juliet: "My mother is coming over."

Romeo: "So? She doesn't shave on Saturday, either."

A few years back, Deanna Carter had a popular song titled "Did I Shave My Legs for This?" ...

And there are plenty of cartoons on the subject ...

But that's enough hair-raising discussion for today. It's time to leave for work, where I can tear my hair out rather than shaving it.

I'm nothing if not realistic.

Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

Bachelor, Class B (Geographical)

A while back, I introduced you to some military slang with the term "tracks" as used to describe the insignia of a Captain (in the Army, Air Force, or Marine Corps, that is ... the Navy has to be different, and a Navy Captain is the same as a Colonel in the other services. Go figure.).

Today, we take another stroll through the vocabulary of military service as I describe my current condition ...

Yesterday Agnes departed for her trip to Germany to visit her cousin Anna in Reutlingen and her parents in Singen am Hohentwiel, landing in Frankfurt a full 45 minutes ahead of schedule in spite of the ongoing ground workers strike. She'll be gone for two weeks, leaving me - in the slang of the military - a "Class B" or "geographical" Bachelor.

A person in military service is often transferred on a temporary basis to a location other than his (or her) usual duty station. The Army and Air Force refer to such an assignment as "temporary duty," or "TDY;" the Navy, again having to go its own way, refers to it as "temporary assigned duty," or "TAD."

In the olden days, before there were large numbers of women in the Service, it was generally the husbands who left for TDY or TAD, for periods ranging from a few days to six months. These husbands often referred to themselves as "Class B" or "geographical" bachelors ... single by virtue of distance. Some men took this as an opportunity to fish in new waters and plow distant fields, if you get my drift; others used it as a chance to catch up on sleep, read a few new books, or buff up with some extra time in the gym. Wives generally tended to assume the former, and Class B bachelors returning from their trips were carefully examined by their suspicious spouses for the presence of stray female hairs or lipstick stains on clothing.

I am fortunate in that Agnes has full faith and trust in my faithfulness in her absence. Leaving aside for the moment the fact that I think fooling around is wrong, being married to a German redhead is a great motivator of fidelity. We all know about the image of the fiery redhead ... and the warlike German ... now combine the two, and ... well, let's just say that it's a lot safer to be faithful.

There's also the ankle bracelet and the GPS tracker. And a reinforced battalion of friends at the dance studio and around the neighborhood who serve in the unofficial Spousal Fidelity Monitoring Service.

And then there's Nessa, who is charged with barking ferociously at any woman under 75 who approaches the house or comes within 50 feet while we're out for walks.

The ladies in this family stick together.

So, this Class B (Geographical) Bachelor will be spending the next two weeks cleaning house, walking Nessa, playing with the grandchildren, and generally being a good boy. Because who knows? - Agnes may bring me a treat when she gets back.

One can only hope.

Have a good day. Faithfully. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

100 Things Every Man Should Know

I'm not sure where I stumbled across this link to an article from December 2009's Popular Mechanics magazine, but I thought it was interesting, and that you might as well: 100 Skills Every Man Should Know: 2008's Ultimate DIY List. The link takes you to the complete list, which broken down into sections (automotive, home, outdoors, medical myths, etc), and each individual skill has an associated video. Very cool. Sort of a merit badge list for aging boy scouts. Or, as the introduction to the list says, "Brains and charm are fine, but a real guy needs to know how to do real stuff."

Oddly enough for as inept a handyman as I am, I'm able to handle quite a few of the skills on the list ... some better than others, of course. 23 years in the Air Force taught me to shine shoes very well (Military Know-How, #48), and growing up in Western Pennsylvania - the snow and pothole capital of the western world - taught me all about changing a tire (Teach Your Kids # 67), handling a blowout, and driving in snow (Automotive, #'s 1 and 2).

The list is interesting and comprehensive, but I think it does miss out on some important skills that every modern man (okay, woman, too) should know. My list would include:

Critical Thinking. Essential to separating the wheat of important information from the chaff of political bullshit.

Reading to Children. Most adults don't know how to read a bedtime story with flair, gusto, and multiple voices for the characters ... trust me - children love it.

Using Common Courtesies. Little things matter, and nowadays many people act as if simple acts of courtesy - like saying "please," "thank you," and "excuse me" are symbols of weakness or subservience rather than essential social lubricants.

Accepting that Others Might Have a Point. This one is one of the skills most desperately lacking nowadays, especially in the take-no-prisoners, I'm-right-you're-a-clueless-ass political shouting that has replaced sober discussion of serious issues.

The corollary to the last one is ...

How to Compromise. In today's overheated political climate, compromise has become a dirty word generally equated with selling out one's bedrock principles. Unfortunately, we've lost sight of the fact that nobody (except for every single religion) has a monopoly on truth, and that the best courses of action may come from combining elements of different approaches to solving problems. I don't see many people today earning this particular merit badge.

So, Dear Readers, what skills would you add to the Popular Mechanics list? E-mail me or leave a comment, and if there are enough good responses, I'll publish them in a follow-up post.

For now, though, it's time to finish getting Agnes packed and delivered to the airport for her trip to Germany. Although the weather is cooperating, it seems that the airport in Frankfurt many not ... there's an ongoing strike by some ground personnel that has caused flight delays and cancellations of all sorts.

What's life without a little drama, eh?

Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

SNOWSTORM!!! I Mean, snowstorm!

I'm channeling the title of a fifties-era science fiction film ... The Amazing Colossal Disappearing Snowstorm!

Yes, Dear Readers, our mighty snowstorm that started out with apocalyptic predictions (for Disneyland-on-the-Potomac) of four to five inches of the terrifying white stuff ... which then diminished to one to two inches ... then to an inch, mostly on cars and grassy areas ... to ... well, according to the old Pittsburgh tradition, it counts as "snow" if you can track a cat in it. Which you can. On the grass. Assuming you have any interest in finding a cat.

Oh, and the temperature today will be over 50 (that's 10 degrees Celsius for you, Jean-Luc, Craziequeen, and Amanda).

Now, I'm not sad that we've dodged the crystalline bullet, as we already have enough experience of major snowstorms for which our local governments are woefully unprepared and in the face of which local drivers grow unaccountably hysterical. But for pete's sake, if we're going to have a winter, let's get on with it!

At least we won't have the experience of Agnes's last trip to Germany, when she was scheduled to fly during our last Snowmageddon. You may recall that at that time, her flight to Germany was cancelled two days in a row ... then it flew as scheduled on the third day, but we were snowed into our neighborhood and couldn't get to the airport. She ended up leaving a week later.

The Old Farmer's Almanac (online edition) had predicted a major storm with heavy, wet snow along the East Coast for this time, so I guess they called it partly right. We dodged this storm, which tracked more to the south, but the next one the Almanac is calling for is supposed to hit on or about March 7^th ... which is the date Agnes returns from Germany.

Oy.

So, let's all do the No-Snow Dance so that we can avoid this ...

... at least until Agnes gets back.

Have a good day. Stay warm. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

Guest Post

Hey, everybody! Nessa here once again. How's everyone this morning? I'm feeling comfortable and well-rested, thanks for asking...

But yesterday was a bit grueling, though. Let me tell you about it.

Bilbo and Agnes went out early in the morning to watch their granddaughters' swimming lesson, and they left me here to guard the house from burglars, itinerant political hacks, squirrels, deer, and other dogs. It's a job I can do very well, especially since I can do it from the sofa under the window or - as you can see in this picture - from my nice cushion in the upstairs hallway, right between the doorway to the kitchen and the steps down to the front door (from here, I have a great view out the transom window, so no evil mailmen or delivery people can get past my watchful gaze).

Oh, and speaking of my nice cushion ... why don't they make these things bigger?

But I was talking about yesterday, wasn't I?

Anyhow, after Bilbo and Agnes came home, they felt guilty (I helped!) because they'd left me alone for a while, so they decided to take me for a nice long walk up to the local shopping center. They do this fairly often, actually ... we walk up to the shopping center, and then Bilbo waits with me on the sidewalk in front of the Giant (that's a store that sells dog food and lunch meat and treats, and some other stuff that people need) while Agnes goes in to buy whatever they need. This is a pretty good deal, since I get to rest up for the second leg of the walk AND have people fuss over me while I sit there with Bilbo.

Bilbo says I'm a babe magnet, which is true. Women love me. They'll cross the street to come up and ask Bilbo, "Can I pet your dog?", which he almost always allows. And then the women always comment on how cute and well-behaved I am and all that. Which is all true, of course.

This is a bit frustrating for Bilbo, though. He told Agnes yesterday that it doesn't make much sense to have a dog that's such a babe magnet now that he doesn't need it any more. I think he wishes all those good-looking women would scratch him under the chin and kiss him and rub his tummy and all that stuff.

Sometimes, it's good to be the dog.

So anyway, Agnes finished buying all the stuff she needed and then she came back and we got ready to walk home. I picked up my stick (I always have to have something to carry, you know ... it's that retriever thing) and Bilbo and Agnes divided up all the bags and we strolled on home. People in passing cars looked at us and smiled, because I think they enjoy seeing a good dog taking her people for a walk.

And I am, of course, a good dog. Don't listen to what that #$@! cat down the street tells you.

Well, it's going to be a quiet day here. Agnes is getting organized for her trip back to Germany, Bilbo is trying (again ... or is it still, I don't know) to clean off his desk and organize his study, and the weatherman says we're going to have something happen this afternoon. I hope it's snow, because it's really annoying when it rains a lot and we come home and Bilbo smells like a wet human.

Have a good day. Bilbo will be back tomorrow.

Woof!

Nessa

Cartoon Saturday

Just when you thought it couldn't get any crazier ...

A 29-year old man from Morocco - an illegal alien, no less - was arrested for planning a suicide bombing of the US Capitol building (evidently not realizing that Congress has already done a thorough job of reducing it to twisted, smoking wreckage); having nothing better on which to report, news outlets across the country devoted 24/7 coverage to the death and funeral of singer Whitney Houston; in an attempt to regain some shred of profitability, the Postal Service has requested a rise in the first-class mail rate to 50 cents an ounce ... evidently not realizing that no one sends any first-class mail any more; German President Christian Wulff resigned amid a political scandal, confusing observers around the world who had no idea that Germany even had a president; and Congress finally approved a plan to extend the payroll tax cut, as legislators were anxious to move on to other topics on which to conduct shameless election-year political theater.

Just another week in the land of I-Couldn't-Make-This-Stuff-Up.

We begin with our semi-traditional Ghastly Pun of the Week Cartoon ...

Those of us of a certain age sometimes have difficulty with the latest technological innovations, as we see here ...

And here ...

I have an enormous collection of cartoons, and try to keep track of them by sorting them into categories ... one of which is cartoons about symbols. Here are three new additions that just popped up recently ...

And ...

In case you can't read the word bubble in that one, it says, "For some odd reason, I find myself really attracted to you." And, finally ...

I think this one explains a lot about how the political system works ... or not ...

You may recall that last week's Cartoon Saturday featured one of my favorite "Far Side" cartoons that I liked because it was so totally bizarre. This week, I bring back another of my Far Side favorites, along with a related take on the same off-the-wall idea ...

And ...

And we round out this week's Cartoon Saturday collection with a look at the old ... uh ... bait and switch, restaurant division ...

It looks like it's shaping up to be an ... interesting ... weekend here in Disneyland-on-the-Potomac, not least because we're awaiting the arrival of our first "real" winter storm tomorrow which, in true Northern Virginia weather fashion, will roll in and hit us with anywhere from rain to four or five inches of snow. Meteorological prognostication is not really an exact science around here.

For today, we'll spend some time with the local grandchildren, then join a million of our closest friends as they mob the stores in search of the crucial supplies needed to survive a winter storm: beer, bread, toilet paper, and cold cuts.

Not necessarily in that order.

Have a good day. Stay warm and dry.

More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

What This Country Needs Is a Good, Five-Cent Nickel

We tend to think of the cost of money in terms of the interest rates charged by banks, credit card companies, and loan sharks (often, the same) for its use. But there really is an actual cost of money, as I was reminded the other day when I read this article: Obama Wants Cheaper Pennies and Nickels.

According to the article, in 2011 it cost 2.4 cents to mint a single penny ...

and 11.2 cents to mint a nickel ...

figures which include both the cost of the metal used and the cost of production. This got me to wondering about the cost of printing "paper" money, and a quick internet search yielded figures ranging between six and ten cents to print a dollar bill ...

mostly based on the costs of cotton (yes, your wallet is filled with recycled underwear) and ink. According to the Bureau of Engraving and Printing (BEP), during the year 2011 about 5.8 billion banknotes of all denominations were printed at an average cost of about 9.1 cents.

You can find all sorts of fascinating facts about the money you don't have enough of at this website run by the BEP. Follow the links at the left of the page for even more neat stuff, including a store from which you can buy uncut sheets of bills in various denominations. Think of it: you can buy a small, inexpensive gift for your Very Best Beloved, then wrap it in a sheet of fifty dollar bills!

But let's get back to the cost of the penny and the nickel. If it costs 2.4 cents to mint a penny (of which the US Mint produced about 4.3 billion last year) and 11.2 cents to mint a nickel (of which some 913 million were pressed last year), that means that your government actually lost money by making money.

I can't believe that the Republicans haven't used this as a campaign cudgel with which to beat President Obama, but I'm sure they'll get there soon enough.

And all this is fascinating, but because I need those pennies and nickels and bills of various denominations, I need to go to work to earn them.

Have a good day. My birthday is in November, and you can wrap my gift in one of those sheets of $50 bills if you like.

See you tomorrow for Cartoon Saturday.

Bilbo

Hair-Raising Thoughts

The story of Rapunzel is one of the classic fairy tales: a beautiful young woman is imprisoned in a tower by an evil witch (no, not Michelle Bachmann), and the only way to reach her (since the tower has no door) is to call "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair/that I may climb the golden stair!" Rapunzel backs up to the window and lowers her tremendously long hair, which the standard handsome prince is able to climb.

The rest of the story depends upon whether you are reading the adult or the children's version, if you get my drift.

I hadn't thought about the story of Rapunzel for a long time (other than in the context of the wonderful animated film Tangled) until I saw this online article the other day: Rapunzel Number Helps Scientists Quantify Ponytails.

It seems that there is a particular number - the Rapunzel Number - which provides a key ratio needed to calculate the effect of gravity on hair relative to its length, determining whether the ponytail looks like a fan ...

or whether it arcs over and becomes nearly vertical at the bottom ...

This is a generally a matter of interest only to a limited audience. According to the article, scientists say the Rapunzel number and related studies of hair "(have) implications for understanding the structure of materials made up of random fibres, such as wool and fur and will have resonance with the computer graphics and animation industry, where the representation of hair has been a challenging problem."

Hmmm ... and here I thought long hair was just an attractive feature of some ladies.

It can be dangerous, too. Until you've danced a fast swing with a lady with a long pony tail or braid and had that hair smack you in the face at high speed as the lady spins, you don't know just how dangerous.

But not all ladies choose to wear their hair long. And for those who choose to wear it short, there are a few "fightin' words" we observers should avoid. According to this article, here are seven things you should never, ever say to a woman with short hair (with my helpful translation of what the lady hears when you make the mistake of saying them):

1. "May I help you, sir?" What the lady hears: "I'm an inobservant twit."

2. "It totally reminds me of Sandy Duncan in Peter Pan." What the lady hears: "You look like a 1970's fairy."

3. "Did you just give up when you had the baby?" What the lady hears: "Please rip my head off and beat me to death with it."

4. "I loved you back when you had long hair." What the lady hears: "I only loved you for your hair."

5. "Don't worry - it'll grow back." What the lady hears: "You spent $150 on that?"

6. "You look so much better with short hair." What the lady hears: "You were ugly before."

7. "Your short hair makes you look thinner." What the lady hears: "You're fat."

Hair, long or short, has been described as a woman's crowning glory. Just tell her she looks beautiful and no one will get hurt.

And I don't think that "Hey, baby, I'll bet you've got a great Rapunzel number!" will ever be a good pick-up line at the club on a Saturday night.

Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

Two Stories About Tracks

Many years ago, shortly after the earth's crust cooled and the dinosaurs died out, I was commissioned a Second Lieutenant in the US Air Force. Now, for those of you who may not be familiar with military ranks and customs, I will just tell you that no one gets any less respect than a Second Lieutenant. You're expected to be young and stupid, to keep your mouth shut and learn to be - as crusty old Sergeant Bowmar, who was responsible for me, once said - a real officer. Two long years went by and I was promoted to First Lieutenant ... and crusty old Sergeant Bowmar told me that I was almost there - when I finally made Captain and got my "tracks" (the slang for a captain's insignia) ...

... I'd be a real officer. Fast-forward two more years, and Captain Bilbo strode proudly into the office, whereupon old Sergeant Bowmar closely examined the new insignia glittering on my collar and grunted, "Humph! Narrow gauge!"

And, speaking of tracks, here is a little bit of history that I'd heard before, but of which I was reminded by my old co-worker Dave in a blog fodder e-mail he sent me yesterday ...

The US standard railroad gauge (distance between the rails) is 4 feet, 8.5 inches. This is a bit of an odd measurement ... why was that particular gauge used? Because that's the way railroads were built in England, and English expatriates designed the US railroads.

Why did the English build them like that? Because the first rail lines were built by the same people who built the pre-railroad tramways, and that's the gauge they used.

Why did they use that gauge then? Because the people who built the tramways used the same jigs and tools they had used for building wagons, which used a wheel spacing of 4 feet, 8.5 inches.

So, why did the wagons have that odd wheel spacing? Because if they tried to use any other spacing, the wagon wheels and axles would risk breaking on some of the old, long distance roads in England, on which the wheel ruts were 4 feet, 8.5 inches apart.

So, who built those old rutted roads?

Imperial Rome built the first long distance roads in Europe (including England) so that they could move their legions quickly from place to place. Those roads were so expertly designed and laid out that they have been used ever since.

And the ruts in the roads? The original ruts were formed by the wheels of Roman war chariots, which were designed to imperial military specifications. Because a Roman war chariot was drawn by two war horses, the roads were built to accommodate the passage of a war chariot drawn by two horses.

Yes, Dear Readers, the Roman military roads - on which the gauge of today's railroads were ultimately based - were laid out to accommodate the original design specifications for an Imperial Roman war chariot ... which, in turn, were based on the size of horses' asses.

Bureaucracies live forever.

So, the next time you are handed a specification/procedure/process and wonder, 'What horse's ass came up with this?' you may be exactly right ... because Imperial Roman army chariots, and their supporting roads, were made just wide enough to accommodate the rear ends of two war horses.

Now, the twist to the story:

When you saw a Space Shuttle sitting on its launch pad, you probably noticed that a huge booster rocket was attached to each side of the main fuel tank. These were the solid rocket boosters, or SRBs, manufactured by the Thiokol Corporation at their factory in Utah. The engineers who designed the SRBs would have preferred to make them a bit larger, but the SRBs had to be shipped by train from the factory to the launch site. The railroad line from the factory ran through tunnels, and the SRBs had to fit through those tunnels. The tunnels were slightly wider than the railroad track, and the railroad track, as you now know, is about as wide as two horses' behinds.

So ...

A major design feature of the world's most advanced transportation system was determined
over two thousand years ago by the width of a horse's ass.

And you thought being a horse's ass wasn't important?

Little did you know!

And that's today's little bit of history for you, courtesy of your ol' Uncle Bilbo.

Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

Valentine's Day, 2012

Today is February 14th - Valentine's Day - the most obvious symbol of the worldwide, anti-male conspiracy launched by a sinister cabal of florists, restauranteurs, jewelers, candy-makers, and greeting card printers to force men everywhere to spend money to stay on the right side of their ladies.

If you're a man, you know what I mean. If you're a woman, this will go over your head because Valentine's Day is just part of the tribute you have been trained from birth to expect from your drooling love slave. Or your husband, whatever.

You can read what I wrote in this space about Valentine's Day last year here. But another year has gone by, and it's time to take another critical look at the sinister phenomenon of Valentine's Day.

This is how life goes if you're a man ...

Sometimes, it's more like this ...

Now, I'd be willing to admit that, sometimes, we men aren't all that good at planning the lovey-dovey, spur-of-the-moment things our women say they like ...

It's often hard for us to say the right thing ... and we don't always get the response we were hoping for ...

And we all know that women are very, very good at stockpiling grievances ...

Even pets are not immune to the evil lure of Valentine's Day ...

Nevertheless, in spite of the fact that we know we're being set up, we men lurch forward blindly each year into Valentine's Day. We know what's expected of us, and we perform our steps in this annual kabuki dance in the way we've been conditioned. Our ladies play us like fine violins, drawing the bow of female expectation expertly over the strings of male guilt and sexual desire. Yes, we all play our parts, because we've been conditioned to do so. And because we hope that, for once, we'll manage to do the right thing and get our reward.

Good luck.

And with that, we close out another Valentine's Day post with this classic video from Joan Jett ...

Have a good day. I hope all goes well between you and the object of your fondest desire. Or your wife or husband. You decide.

More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo