Valder's Musings

Sunday, January 30, 2011

Favorite things

There are certain things that everyone who knows me....and most people that have even met me in passing, would be able to say I am passionate about.
However, having started a new job, I am starting to notice that I get the confused look when i wear a different sport/team jersey to work every Friday, lol.
So, here we go, a little list of my favorite things!
The things I am passionate about:
1. My friends/family
2. Music - fave bands include
Bon Jovi
The Monkees
Journey
LL Cool J
Halestorm
Pearl Jam
Public Enemy
Anthrax
Rammstein
N*E*R*D*
Tim McGraw
Fourplay
3. Photography
4. Aviation. Particularly Military aviation and Aviation History
5. Automotive. I love cars, especially 60s muscle and European Exotics.
6. Sports. I LOOOOVE sports. Including, and generally in this order:
Racing- Track and Field, Cross Country. I may not be able to compete any more, but I still love to watch.
Auto Racing- F1, IRL, Grand Am, LeMans Series, WRC
American Football: NFL-Denver Broncos LFL-Tampa Breeze
Basketball: San Antonio Spurs and will also watch the Boston Celtics
Soccer: any I can catch ;)
Baseball: Boston Red Sox
7. Modelling. The plastic type. Wait...that's still confusing. The kits you buy and build. I'm more comfortable behind the lens when it comes to the other kind.
8, Reading. You name it, I'll read it.

Aaaand now the Rolex 24 broadcast is about to be back on. Enjoy your weekends, people! And Welcome to February in a couple days!

Sunday, January 16, 2011

One of my new fave sports, the LFL

As most of you know, I have never exactly been the type to “keep it between the lines”, and love to go my own way whenever I can.

No surprise then that I have that most of my close friends also think that way, and that I have always admired people that look at the mass of followers that say “You can’t do that”, and just say, “oh yeah….watch me!”

It surprises no one that some of my idols, if you will, are James Doolittle, Charles Lindbergh, Eugene Bullard, Chuck Yeager, Larry Bird, John Elway, and Lance Armstrong. (Feel free to look up those you don’t recognize…or just ask ;) )

Some, however, look at my personal library and are surprised that I also consider Amelia Earhart, Lydia Litvayak, Jackie Cochran, Lyn St James, Patty Wagstaff, Hanna Reitsch, and Sarah Fisher pioneers and idols as well.

I like strong personalities, and I love women. Put the two together, and the fact that, while maybe not a feminist, I love strong women, shouldn’t really surprise anyone.

Don’t get me wrong about the “not a feminist” thing. I think women are every bit as good as any man, and need to have the same chances. I just hate labels and don’t conform well to putting them on myself.

“Geek” is about as far as I go that way, and it’s a rather broad term.

Everyone also knows I love any sport that has to do with running and jumping, and will play or watch them whenever I can. I’m not a bad athlete myself, and have played Soccer, Baseball, Basketball, Football, Volleyball, and Rugby at various levels, and have had some success in Track and Cross Country.

It should come as no surprise, then, that I love the LFL, which combines the two things I mentioned above.

I am fortunate enough to call one of the ladies of the Tampa Breeze LFL team, Carie Small, a friend. She is the one that introduced me to the LFL and ended up inviting me to my first game, ironically, AFTER she was no longer an active player. More on that later.

Carie and I goofing around pre-game

Let me give you a little background on the league:
The LFL, which stands for Lingerie Football League, though no one calls it that, started as a gimmick to go opposite the Super Bowl Halftime Show. Models dressed up in lingerie and “played” football.

It was the epitome of the term “Powder Puff Football” when it started.
Then, in 2009, that gimmick expanded into a league.

The models disappeared, and were replaced with athletes. (However, many of these women are very easily more attractive than your typical model. Thought that is a personal observation, as I have always enjoyed healthy, in shape women over the anorexic starving waif look that seems to be popular lately.)

Bryn Renda snags a catch in warmups

The games are set up on the same rules and groundwork as some of the old Indoor Football league, with 7 on 7 for 17minute halves, and many of the women play iron man, being on both Offense and Defense.

Passion Breaking a Run

Quick Screen Pass

Getting Ready to Go

Run it down their throats

Handing off

It is a gimmick no longer, although, unfortunately, it is still being marketed as if it were one.

The thought of watching scantily clad women play sports lures people in to the game……and unfortunately endangers the players, as well as putting preconceptions in some people’s minds.

The LFL’s image actually hurts it in terms of being taken seriously as a sport in some ways. The uniforms are called Lingerie……but they aren’t. It’s more of a sports bra and short shorts, or bikini, type outfit. As you can well see for yourself.

Split WRs

Breeze head onto the field

In the trenches

The sport isn’t really well marketed, and tends to rely on word of mouth to get butts in seats, and then MTV2 really doesn’t do the game justice, showing chopped versions of the games late at night and one or two weeks later.

It needs to be seen live, full length, and maybe even on ESPN. I mean, really, ESPN shows poker, spelling bees, and billiards, none of which are sports (the first and last are GAMES people), but they don’t show real athletes playing a real sport.

And trust me, these women are real athletes. They train, promote, and play hard for a sport they love to play.

And that is one HUGE difference between the LFL and NFL, in my mind.

The players play for the love of the game in the LFL, something that, sadly, has been missing in recent years from the NFL.

Hence the pending lockout. Don’t get me started.

If Tom Brady played QB, for, say, the Miami Caliente, wearing just the uniform they wear (which is a thought that will haunt my nightmares. Brady in a bikini. AAARRRGGGH. My mind….my miiiiiiiinnnnnddddd. Though, in fairness, he has longer hair than some of the women I know ;) ), he would not be getting up after taking the kind of hit these women deliver. Let’s face it. Brady is probably the Princess of The league as far as QBs are concerned. I don't dislike the guy....not a fan of his BS though.

Maybe he was a bad example, but, pound for pound, these ladies could go toe to toe with most NFL players their size….and I’d put odds on the women.

They don’t play around, and the amount of injuries these athletes sustain will attest to that.

There def has to be more thought given to player protection, I mean, those women hit HARD (And this is from an ex rugby player), and the hockey helmets don’t really do much for protection from that. These women only have shoulder pads, but NONE of the collisions really seem to happen at shoulder height or above.

Injured Breeze on the sidelines

As Carie and I have discussed, most of the hits are well below the pads they wear, and hitting that artificial turf doesn’t help matters either. Back to my friend Carie, she is one of the several injuries that have been sustained this season by the Breeze, the local team here in Tampa. Her ankle got shattered and her leg broken in a practice, badly enough that she is now, as she jokingly calls herself, a Cyborg.

In my first LFL game, where the Breeze played the Miami Caliente, two other women were seriously injured and didn’t finish the game, and in the second game, versus the Passion, while no one was injured out of the match, more than a few of the girls were sporting large turf burns due to the impractical, if attractive, uniforms. And with the teams playing both sides of the ball, the opportunities for injury are even larger.

Touchdown Coming Up....

Reciever in motion

Pregame warmups - Philly Passion

In the middle of that scrum is the ball carrier

WR, meet the Breeze DB

But I don’t think, unfortunately, that the LFL is marketing towards safety minded sports fans just at the moment. Just look at some of the team names and you can see what direction they are marketing towards. Orlando Fantasy. Philly Passion. L.A. Temptation. Chicago Bliss. You get the idea.

Safety doesn’t get butts in the seats, even though if the ladies were able to wear NFL style uniforms (face it, the NFL boys wear stretch pants with pads), with obvious modifications to the upper body padding, they would still be attractive AND protected.

However, I don’t see that happening any time soon, at least until they have a larger league and more games, which in turn brings in more funding. Safety and protection don’t put butts in seats in the world we live in.

Innuendo and skin do. Which, sadly, is just a reflection of the world we live in.

Of course, would I be saying this if I didn’t personally know someone on the team?

Well, it’s me, so, yeah, probably.

Either way…….I’ll be at all the Breeze home games I can manage!

If you are a true sports fan, do yourself a favor….look past the trappings and go to an LFL game if you have a team in your city.

Believe me, you’ll be hooked. Everyone I have ever brought to a game is now an LFL fan, both men AND women!

Saturday, January 8, 2011

2010 Catchup and hello 2011

Welcome to 2011 my friends and followers!

It's been a little while since my last post, so I'll try to wrap up some of the things that have gone on in the tail end of 2010 and the trouble I shall be getting myself into come 2011 ;)

So let's get started, shall we?

When last I left you, I was getting ready to head over to Fantasy of Flight for their 15th Anniversary celebration.
The celebration was three days of aviation goodies, with Kermit flying fifteen aircraft over the three days. I went on the third day, where he flew the Avro Cadet, Fiesler Storch, North American P-51D Mustang, and Travel Air B-4000, the first and last of which I hadn't seen fly before. I also got to crawl in each of their cockpits as a perk of being an annual member ;)

The Avro Cadet banks overhead

Grumman Duck

Travel Air

inside the cockpit of the Storch

In the beginning of December, I hit the Tampa Bay International Auto Show hosted by Motor Trend, as I do every year.

Gorgeous day to drive some cars........or all of them. Which you know I eventually would.

I'm up next in the Camaro SS ;)
After spending a couple hours outside driving everything available, I headed inside to shot the cars on display.

Stingray Concept

Geek wet dream

The New Ford Focus. Every time I see this car, especially in this color, I think of Clarkson using it as an Amphibious lander in Top Gear!

I also managed to get some hobby work done in the latter part of the year.
You'll be glad to know that the Doolittle B-25B finally got decaled and flatcoated. Here she, and a few other new builds, are:

Some of my recent builds. Only the F-117A, F-15E, F/A-18E, F-14D and A-6E are pre this year.

The Doolittle B-25B Mitchell all done and the Junkers Ju 88A-4 representing Opa's bird from KG 30.

Erich Hartmann's Bf-109G-10

A good view of the Ju 88 I did to represent my Opa, Wolfgang Reidel's KG 30 mount. I unintentionally made the call letters spell out Abwehr, or German SpecOps. The WR was on purpose for Wolfgang Reidel. The AB I had extra letters of. ;)

In none me-centric news, but keeping it in the family, my little brother's novel 47 Echo
is to be published in just over a week. I guess that means I have to get the Stanley stuff published now :P

Job wise, the year has been a mess. I had the volunteer days at Star Wars Celebration V, then the two week tease at JP Morgan Chase back in November. Cannot TELL you how sick of wearing a suit to interviews i have become.

Finally, we can all quit looking for work. With Scott and Caroline at a job fair in Clearwater. That's right, I got a job. Started it the very last week of December, working Tech Support for AOL out at CGS in north Tampa. That's been keeping me pretty busy, actually.

I have also made a couple of new friends this year, both of whom, ironically, I met at Celebration V while working there back in August. Since then I have gotten to know both Lindsay and Carie better and am honored to call both of them friends. Linds is an amazing artist and geek in Orlando. Carie, though currently on IR, in addition to being hella cool and from the same area as my family, plays in the LFL for the Tampa Breeze.

LFL's Tampa Breeze Offense takes the field, and the league, by storm

I got introduced to the LFL while getting to know Carie Small, and went to my first game last month.
I'm heading to another game on this coming Thursday with Steve and Lindsay, to harass Carie and watch the Breeze take sole control of the LFL lead. The LFL is something I enjoy, but I'll mention more on that in my next blog, hopefully next weekend, when I think I'll devote a blog just to the sport, after i take some better shots this weekend ;)

In developing news, I may be working as an airborne photog at an upcoming airshow in March, so keep your eyes open for that one ;)

Lastly, I opened a Deviant Art account as well. feel free to pop by and harass me there too ;)

Friday, December 24, 2010

If Just For One Night

Superhero Stanley
If Just For One NightBy
Brian R. Kupfer

I was up to my usual lofty prowling on the rooftops of the city, just before dawn, when something in my peripheral vision caught my attention.
It seemed to be a trail of sparks in the night sky, losing altitude and heading to the north of the city. The sparks seemed to be just like what you would see coming from a malfunctioning bit of machinery, except for the fact that there WAS no machinery in sight and the sparks were moving across the sky all by themselves.
There was no juking, weaving, or other sharp maneuvering, but the little spark trail was definitely moving under some sort of control, occasionally climbing to avoid buildings as it continued to lose altitude gradually on its flight across my city.
I also seemed to be the only person that had noticed it, as I couldn’t see anyone else looking towards it.
Then again, there weren’t a hell of a lot of people dumb enough to be on top of these cold and windy rooftops in the tail end of December, either, so, it was hard to be sure.
I didn’t know what the hell it was, so, technically, I was seeing an Unidentified Flying Object, or UFO, in the epitome of the definition of the term.
Which means I was never going to hear the end of this from the crew.
In fact, since I was already close to the airport, and Joeda’s pad in a General Aviation hangar, maybe he would have an idea of what was going on.
Never hurt to check.

____________________________________________________________________________________

It took me fifteen minutes to get to the edge of the city’s downtown district, and therefore the end of my ability to hop from roof to roof with the help of my modified version of Kitten’s grapple, longer than usual because I had to carefully avoid the seemingly thousands of holiday lights strung along and between the buildings downtown.
If I had it bad, I could only imagine poor Spider-Man’s consternation at trying to swing through Manhattan during this time of the year.
Besides, my armor and clothing was probably a lot warmer than his red and blue one-piece!
Once at the edge of town, I rappelled down the building next to the parking garage where I had parked my green Bricklin before swinging over to the garage’s top floor.
The sun was already peeking over the eastern horizon and the sky lightening by the time I got into the gull-winged car and started the ignition.

From there, it was a short trip along a nicely twisty back access road over to the General Aviation side of the airport, where I headed to the sixth, and furthest, of the hangars on that side of the building.
You could see it from nearly half a mile away, what with all the festive lights and inflatable lawn decorations Joeda and Syn had put up over the last couple of weeks.
So much for Joeda’s original idea of a “hidden lair”. I thought.
Of course, looking around, the other five hangars were only marginally less enthusiastically lit up themselves.
Maybe the kid knew what he was about after all.
I pulled the SV-1 around towards the rear of Joeda’s hangar and parked it beside my “normal life” replacement for the Durango, a black GMC Terrain. Which was next to Joeda’s Honda Civic hatchback and Syn’s black Harley with the orange and pink flames on it.
Parked a little further off was a nondescript black Dodge Charger that was trying too hard to be unnoticeable, thereby standing out as Captain Dodge’s unmarked PD cruiser, and a newly-purchased BMW Z4 that belonged to Kitten.
Hail, hail, the gang’s all here.
And now I had that annoyingly cloying song from The Pirates of Penzance stuck in my head.
This early in the morning, all of them being here could only mean one thing.
The womenfolk were planning something, possibly to the detriment of Joeda and I, but more than likely a Christmas party.
Which, really, amounted to the same thing.
Walking past my Terrain, I shook my head upon noting it now had giant fuzzy antlers attached to the rear doors, and a big red nose on the grille. Obviously Kitten’s doing.
Still shaking my head, I entered the rear door of the hangar, noticing that the interior, if anything, had more lights and decorations strung around than the exterior.
The next thing I noticed was that there was Christmas music booming across the space from the front part of the converted building. Off to the right of the door, Joeda’s Buell is on a jack stand, half disassembled.
I wandered into Joeda’s office, only to find him at the front bay windows of it.
Walking up beside him, I can’t say I blamed him. The view was unreal.
Captain Dodge sat on one of the oversized sofas in the main living area, wrapping gifts on the coffee table in front of her, wearing her “nothing to see here, move along” gray business suit she wore when on duty, her black trench coat tossed over the back of the sofa.
Syn and Kitten are busy finishing up decorating the massive fifteen foot tall tree in the middle of the room.
In red “Santa’s Helper” outfits, complete with fur trim and those puffy-ball hats.
With Syn up on a folding ladder attaching the star atop the tree.
It was like a fetishist’s vision of a Norman Rockwell Christmas scene.
Except for “Die Hard” playing on the sixty-inch LCD HD TV on the wall, that is.
It had just gotten to the part where the elevator doors open and “Tony Vreski” is revealed in his grey sweatshirt wearing the words “Now I have a Machine Gun. Ho-Ho-Ho”.
I wondered how the hell he’d managed to convince them to do it.
And where my camera was.
With that thought, I looked around the office, knowing we had a stash of cameras for surveillance work, and grabbed out a Sony Alpha DSLR.
You would have snapped off a dozen photos, too.
After spending perhaps a little more time than was absolutely necessary watching the two festively clad women decorate the tree, I turned to Joeda and mentioned the flying spark trail.
After summing up what I had seen and fending off his suggestion to be on the History Channel’s “UFO Hunters”, I asked him if he had any ideas.
“You said whatever was shedding the sparks was descending towards the north of town?” Joeda asks.
“Yeah. Why, what are you thinking?”
“Could be old Klaus. He lives out that way.”
‘Klaus?” I asked.
“Yeah, Klaus Von Sankt, old hermit that’s got half a screw loose, spends most of the year locked up in his old farmhouse, no one ever sees him until December or so, when he starts tinkering around in the barn like a man possessed. Some kind of experiments with an old car or something, I’ve heard. No one’s ever seen it. Dunno why he would be tinkering with an old car, he’s sort of filthy rich. Brand new SLS AMG sitting out front, cherry red.”
“Nice wheels. About where does he live?” I asked.
In response, Joeda wanders over to one of the seven desktop computers he has running in the office. Pulling up Google Earth, Joeda zooms in on the city, then rolls his trackball north, centering on a farmhouse just past the city, and barely south of the Canadian border.
“Huh. That’s about where they were headed, all right. Coulda been a dark-painted aircraft and there is plenty of room to land anything shy of a 737 on that land.”
“You’re going to go take a look, aren’t you?” Joeda asks him.
“You know me too well.” I comment with another long-ish glance into the next room.
I must be nuts. I thought to myself as I headed back out into the sub-zero night, the Alpha still in my hand, visions of red-clad women dancing in my head.
______________________________________________________________________________________

Almost a full ten hours later, I pulled the Safety Green colored Bricklin to a halt in front of the metal cattle gate that stood open by the dirt road heading off towards the farmhouse.
Once I had left Joeda and the women, I had headed home, taken a shower and a nap after having spent all night on patrol.
I woke up, had my “breakfast” at almost a normal person’s dinner time, left a message with Kitten as to where I would be, since it was the night before Christmas Eve, after all, and headed out of town for Klaus Von Sankt’s place.
After deliberating for a moment, I turned down the dirt road and headed towards the barn I could see tucked amongst the trees at the edge of the property.
I could have called ahead, but Joeda had found no listing for Von Sankt, nor any evidence that the man had ever had a phone.
So it was time to do this the old fashioned way.
The house was nearly a half-mile from the barn, and the red Mercedes SLS AMG that Joeda had mentioned was nowhere to be seen.
I parked in what counted for the driveway, where I could see signs of a vehicle having recently been there, and angled the SV-1 with the nose pointed towards the entry road.
So I skulked around to the back door, peeking in the windows on the way, just to be sure no one was home.
Trust me, when dressed up in the Superhero uniform, it is impossible NOT to skulk.
Not seeing any movement in the white one-story dwelling, I headed in a jog across the open meadow between the house and the old barn.
Where it had once obviously looked like the stereotypical American barn, with red painted sides, white trim, hay door above the main doors, and black tiled gambrel roof, it had seen better days, and, indeed, was slouch backed in the middle of the roof. The sides were no better, the paint faded and peeling and the windows boarded over.
That having been said, the walls were still mostly straight and none of the boards in them were loose, plus the main doors seemed rather sturdy.
Maybe the place wasn’t kept up to “Better Homes and Gardens” standards, but neither was it exactly neglected.
In fact, I was willing to bet that the roof had been designed to look like it was falling in as camouflage.
I futilely checked the main doors, but knew in the back of my mind that they would be securely locked.
I was right.
So out came my miniaturized pneumatic grappling hook, which I fired through the hay door and seated before scaling the front of the barn.
Once in, I inched my way across the hayloft until I was able to reach the railing overlooking the barn floor below.
And I just stood there, looking.
Couldn’t believe my eyes.
Still can’t quite explain what I saw in that barn, without having you think I am completely nuts.
But here goes.
Sitting dead center in the middle of the barn’s floor was an ancient sled of northern European origin, from around the early 1800s, if I was any judge.
I was obviously well cared for, and stained a subtle dark cherry, with long steel runners extending at least twenty feet from six inches past the front of the livestock harness attachment on the front to almost a foot behind the rear of the well-preserved transport.
Set up much like a modern full size pickup truck, the sled had a leather-upholstered bench seat spanning the width of the sled in the front, with a wooden divider just behind the back of the bench seat.
The rest of the length of the winter vehicle was given over to payload, whatever may have been carried in it.
However well maintained this sled was, it was obviously not a museum piece, nor being restored to be such, as evidenced by the state-of-the-art components and attachment mounts scattered around beside it and in the process of being mounted to it.
I wanted to get down there and snoop around, I knew no one would believe me if I didn’t have SOME evidence, so I shot a few photos of the sled with the Sony Alpha.
A shelf had been added along the front of the driver’s area, molded in a plastic the same color of the sled’s original wood. Mounted to the shelf was a GPS unit and a set of modern aviation radios, with wiring contoured along the floor into the box the leather bench was mounted on.
Dropping to the barn’s floor, I noted a seventeen inch Viao laptop, IFF squawk box, transponder, and radio direction finder display as well.
Even more strangely, while looking into the front of the sled, I saw writing etched under the bench seat, which I had lifted up, that was grey-toned in age and seemed to have been burnt into the seat base when built.
It was in Old Dutch.
At about the time I noticed this, the main barn door opened silently, and a tall man, about my own height of six-four, rangy but strong looking, like an old oak, with a long grey-white beard and sparkling black eyes, stood there for a moment before running away from the barn and back towards the house.
In the flash of a moment I saw him, I barely registered he was wearing a red jacket and pants.
As I stood up and started to chase after him, my foot stepped on one of the livestock harnesses.
Which jingled, thanks to the small silver globe bells attached to it.
I sped up to catch the old man, who was surprisingly quick.
This had to be Klaus Von Sankt.
Thinking of the man’s name, and the sled I had just been inspecting, something clicked.
It wasn’t a sled at all.
It was a Sleigh.
Capital S and all.
Klaus Von Sankt.
Klaus of the Saint.
Saint Klaus.
Sinterklaas.
There was no way in hell.
Couldn’t be. Just a myth.
But I knew damned well there was only one way to find out.
Sprinting at full speed across the meadow, I could hear the growl of a dual overhead cam, 6.2 litre V8 as the SLS AMG came to life.
I could see the cherry-red gullwing reversing past my Bricklin and turning around to head back out of the farm’s property, and by the time I reached my ‘Look at me” green car, all I could see of the Mercedes Benz coupe was the taillights.
Great, I was about to be in a race with a person who possibly had mystic powers, and, on top of that, was in a thirty-five year newer car.
Both had V8s, 351ci for mine and 378 for his, but my car weighed about a hundred pounds LESS than the newer Mercedes.
Which meant, by rights, that he should leave me in the dust, since the posted 0-60 time for my car, when NEW in 1975, was 9.9 seconds.
The SLS was rated at 3.8 seconds for the same test.
I would just have to hope to keep him in sight.
Of course, I did have some experience at high-speed chases through this city.

It took only about twenty minutes to get into the outskirts of town, as there was enough traffic to let me keep sight of the red coupe, and it soon became apparent that Von Sankt was heading into the heart of the city, though that seemed to be the dumbest place to go, since his car would easily outstrip mine on the freeway, whereas the maze-like layout of streets and nighttime congestion in the city’s center would allow me to close the gap.
Then I started to notice the uniformity of dress of the people on the sidewalks.
A lot of red with white trim.
Of course.
SantaCon was this evening, as our city had the third latest one in the country, on the 23rd. Only Temecula, California and Boulder, Colorado had theirs later.
Everywhere else had had theirs at least a week ago.
I had to close the gap now or I would never find a man with a beard in a crowd of red-suited, fake bearded men and women.
Which is exactly what happened.
I passed the SLS parallel parked about two blocks from the heart of downtown, but Klaus was nowhere in sight.
Didn’t help that some of the female Santas were, er, slightly distracting. Especially this one brunette……but my plate was already full.
So, since I had lost the man himself, and I thought I knew what the problem was, I did what I do best in my Stanley guise.
I stuck my nose in.

___________________________________________________________________________________

“Joeda, without our help, he’s never going to get this thing working again. I know what’s wrong, and you’re about the only guy that can fix it in time. Meet me over at Klaus’ place as soon as you can get there.” I stated over the Bluetooth headset as I pulled the SV-1 around through the maze of one-way streets to end up heading back out to Von Sankt’s barn.
Joeda met me there, and was standing in the driveway of the house beside his little blue Civic.
It took us most of the night, but we had all the tech gear wired into that Sleigh by the time the sun rose, and were both happily ensconced in our own beds with no one the wiser before eight in the morning.
It was already Christmas Eve.
That night, around eight, we met up back at the hangar again, for our traditional Christmas dinner, since tomorrow we’d be with our genetic families.
Tonight was for the family we’d chosen.
Karen and the Kitten had spent the majority of the afternoon cooking, utilizing utensils in the hangar’s kitchen that Joeda hadn’t even known he had owned.
When I showed up just before eight, Dodge was pulling in right behind me, having just gotten off work at the Precinct.
Of course I teased her about the handcuffs. It HAS to be done.
And she threatened to use them, which didn’t help the situation any.
When Sarah and I entered the hangar, Karen and the Kitten were sitting on one of the sofas drinking wine and watching “It’s a Wonderful Life”, which was about five minutes from the end.
The cop headed for the kitchen area.
Joeda and Syn were nowhere in sight, but I could imagine what they were up two. Those two were like damned rabbits.
Yeah, so I’m a little jealous, but I have my own relationship issues to deal with, as evidenced by the two brunettes in front of me.
Things were still tetchy on that front, since, technically, Kitten and I had never quit dating, if that was the current euphemism, when Karen and I fell for each other.
In my defense, everyone had thought the Kitten was dead.
I tell you, I walked into that room with all the excitement of a man going to the oral surgeon.
Luckily, Dodge saved my bacon by tossing a cold brewski at me, which gave me something to put in my mouth besides my foot.
By the time the movie ended, I was finished with the first beer of the night, and the two boff monkeys had decided to make an appearance.
We may be dysfunctional, but we’re all we’ve got.
As we were all settling around the table (I took one end of the rectangle to avoid being trapped between the women in my life), I hate to say, but, outside there arose a clatter.
Sure enough, we rushed to the rear hangar door to find old Klaus Von Sankt standing there, his Sleigh nowhere in sight.
“I just wanted to stop by and say thanks to all, and leave you a gift.” The jolly old man stated.
He looks nothing like what people thinks he looks. He’s not at all fat, for one thing, and his face is more of a light walnut color, like a Dutchman that has spent many years in the sun, than rosy.
After having said his piece, he embraced each of us in turn, calling us all his special helpers, with a sideways glance at Joeda and I.
You should have seen those two the other night I thought, remembering Syn and Kitten decorating the tree.
‘Who says I didn’t?’ I heard without sound.
After embracing each of us in turn, ending with Dodge, he turned, walked ten paces, and simply disappeared.
I could swear I heard little bells and saw a movement overhead.
But the night was overcast, and I’m still not sure.
Either way, our night was filled with warmth and cheer, and Dodge’s on call phone did not go off that night.
All was peaceful in the city, for one night at least.
And I knew that this night, the Superhero Stanley would be not be needed on patrol.
And that itself was a minor miracle on Earth.

So, from the characters in my head, to the Characters I am blessed to have in my life, Happy Holidays.

Friday, December 10, 2010

One Week

Tron: Legacy comes out next week.

Damned right I'm geeking out.

Who's coming with me?

I'm drivin, LOL

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Bri's Driving Tips for the Common-Sense Impaired.

Driving.

We all have to do it (unless you live in Manhattan, Chicago, ect....you know, a city with mass public transit. Or are just afraid to do so. Or, obviously, have a disability).

Many of us do it every day.

But the VAST majority of us walking monkeys in America don't do it very WELL.

Every day I see behavior on the roads that makes me grit my teeth, make up new curse words, and just generally wonder how some people have lived this long.

Darwin. Was. Wrong.
Man changed his laws. Technology has let the weak and useless not only survive, but thrive.
And, sadly, drive.

But that doesn't make them drivers, no sir-ee.
I call them Operators.
The have a license to Operate a Motor Vehicle.
And, unless they truly love cars, operate is all they do. They're happy to be just barely proficient enough to pass the exam and get a car.
And then get on the roads with people who ENJOY driving.......but now hate traffic.

So, here are a few tips gleaned from my nearly twenty years of driving experience.
You're Welcome. ;)

1) Texting and driving: Trust me, you CAN'T do it. I know you THINK you can, but no matter how good you think you are at it, I'm here to tell you, as the guy coming up behind to pass you while you weave drunkenly between lanes, miss stop lights, and never notice people coming up behind you: you can't. Period. It takes two hands to text. Most people have ONLY two hands. WTF are you now controlling the car with?

2) Talking on your phone: Unless you bought a bluetooth, it's sort of the same as #1 above. You have to hold the phone with your hand to talk into it. And that leaves one hand to drive, signal, and shift with (for those that actually still have a REAL transmission). And lets face it, most people on the road don't have the extra attention to spare, trying to split between your conversation and traffic. So, no blue tooth, no talking on your phone.

3) Just leave the freaking phone in the trunk. See 1 and 2 as for why.

4) Ladies. Seriously. DO THE MAKEUP AT HOME. I know you think you're being smart by multi-tasking, but it's REALLY the same as #1. Do EVERYONE on the road a favor and wake up 15 to 30 minutes earlier and do your makeup (and hair....yeah, we've all seen you too) at home. Actually BE ready to go when you leave the house. We will all thank you.

5) This isn't the Fast and The Furious, Bullitt, or Days of Thunder. I'll be the first to admit that I like to go fast. And that I think everyone else is going too slow. But I also know better than to come up on a group of cars at 20mph over the speed limit and zig and zag through traffic, riding bumpers, cutting people off, and generally being an asshole. I drive a truck. You tailgate me in a little Civic and I am already having a bad day, you MIGHT just find out what the word tailgate means. When it comes through your windshield as I test my brakes.

6) Proper following distance. I know, I know. Leave 3 seconds. I know you can all recite it, but....and Floridiots, listen up.....THREE SECONDS IS NOT THREE CENTIMETERS. When you follow that close, not only can I not see you in my rearview any more, but you have zero chance in hell of not hitting me if I need to stop suddenly.

7) Weather. Oh, yes. I'm going there. When it rains........now I want you to hear this.....Slow down a little. A LITTLE. Ok? Not freak out, start driving 20mph UNDER the speed limit (or just 20mph period) with your four-way flashers (or hazard lights, depending where you are from) going and creep along until it stops. Those speed limits they post everywhere? That's the MAXIMUM SAFE SPEED IN ADVERSE CONDITIONS THAT THE ROAD CAN HANDLE. You can still drive right up to and near that speed in the rain, IF your tires still have good tread, you have proper following distance, and you understand how your vehicle (and maybe even you) react differently in the rain. I have driven through hurricanes and tornado seasons, and NEVER had to slow down to an unreasonable crawl. Cars ARE made to be able to be driven in all weather conditions. This isn't NASCAR, after all. For god's sake do NOT stomp your brakes, because you WILL spin and that makes you EVERYONE's problem when you go sideways across the road, ok? Use your fraking wipers and lights. If it's raining, both wipers and headlights need to be on. Period. It's not that hard to figure out. Your 4-Ways should NEVER be on unless your car has broken down. As for snow and ice......well, if it's Black Ice....good luck to you buddy, you're on your own. Normal snow/ice/slush conditions, add an extra two seconds of following distance and follow the same rules for rain. But MOST importantly: If you are uncomfortable driving in rain, snow, slush, or ice: DON'T. When you're scared to drive in these conditions you are hyper-reactive and a danger to yourself and others.

8) Driving scared. If you are afraid to drive your car over 20 miles an hour, not only is the Interstate system not for you, but you REALLY need to look into taking the bus. If you are afraid to drive on the highways, don't. It's REALLY that easy. The more afraid you are of the cars around you, the more likely you are to be involved in an accident. Because you are afraid to drive so have no real idea how to react. STAY HOME.

9) Interstate Etiquette. If you INSIST on driving 10miles or more an hour under the speed limit.....STAY IN THE RIGHT LANE. That is the only lane you should ever be in.
Those comfortable with driving at or above the posted speed limit in dry weather, middle lane. The left lane should always be clear of all traffic, and only used to pass. Once you have passed the slower car (I assume you were in the middle lane), go BACK to the middle lane. Almost every state has this law on the books. It's called the left lane law. Unfortunately, it is only RARELY enforced. You should NEVER. EVER. EVER. BE. IN. THE. LEFT. LANE. if you are doing ANYTHING under the posted speed limit. Because, let's face it, you're now a rolling roadblock, and everyone is annoyed with you.
Pass with Authority. You know if you are faster than the car ahead of you or not. It should NEVER take more than two seconds for you to overtake another vehicle. Six seconds max for the entire pass. Two to pull to the left, two to pass, two to pull back to the right. There is NO REASON ON EARTH you should be side by side with a car in the lane to your right for any length of time. That just blocks up the flow of traffic. ANY MORONS DRIVING THREE OR FOUR ABREAST AT 10-20 UNDER THE LIMIT SHOULD BE SHOT. If we all follow these simple rules, we would NEVER have daily traffic jams, with the exception of accidents, obviously.

10) Rubbernecking. Seriously, why do you slow down to look at an accident? Do you not realize that is the best way to be involved in one yourself? Or to see who a cop has pulled over? It's not you....move along.

11) Stoplights. When they turn yellow, slow down and come to a stop, because they WILL turn red. If you live in Florida, when a light turns red, it does not mean "Lets see how many more cars can make it through the light before the cross traffic hits the intersection." Yellow means slow down, red means stop. Stop signs mean stop too, not barely touch the brake and see if the intersection is clear before blasting through. When the light turns GREEN....drive. There is no reason I should be able to out-accelerate you from the lights on my Trek, when I do, there's a problem. There is no car on earth that takes 2 miles to get to 35-45 miles an hour. Therefore, neither should you. You're just holding up everyone behind you. Refer to #8 above.

12) Spotting Bad drivers. Here are a few hints to help you spot some of the people that are going to make your day longer on the road.
(A) People with political stickers or fish emblems. Invariably, these people will be driving under the speed limit by quite a lot, usually in the left hand lane, oblivious to the fact that everyone is passing them.
(B) low budget or import cars with different colored body panels, bolt-on rear wings, or loud mufflers. These people, usually kids under 20, think they are Paul Walker and that the highway is a video game.
(C) ANYONE with a FL license plate. I don't care if they learned to drive somewhere else and moved to Florida, if they have lived in the state long enough to get a new license plate odds are they forgot how to drive. There are a few exceptions, but aren't there always?

I hope that these rules help you out.
Of course, most of the people that will read this are having a good laugh right now, but the vast majority of people on the road could learn a lot from these twelve simple rules.

Postscript: While writing this, I got a phone call from work. My training class has been let go due to budget cuts. Classy way to let us know. Anyone know anyone that is hiring???

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Exit, Stage left, even

Thought I'd hit you with a couple LOW passes, a flame-shooting dragster, and a bunch of goodies for Thanksgiving.

Taken at Fantasy of Flight's Roar and Soar back on the 13-14 weekend

Everyone enjoy your Thanksgiving.....those that have to work I will see on Friday!!!!