Joey Devilla points out NASCAR now has romance novels.
Is it worse that (a) they exist or that (b) they might be successful?
Joey Devilla points out NASCAR now has romance novels.
Is it worse that (a) they exist or that (b) they might be successful?
We suspect most business travelers with a consistent and long-term destination do what we do, which is arrange for the hotel to hold onto one’s major suitcase over each weekend of the contract. (Some are able to escape the weekly packing/unpacking ritual entirely, by arranging for a long-term rental of the room, but the economics of this are sketchy at best.) Doing so greatly streamlines the whole airline thing; we fly with a briefcase and a small carryon with any other incidentals or return/replacement clothing, check nothing, and have nothing with us that requires a pointless TSA baggie.
The fine folks at the Holiday Inn Express in ClientTown have been very nice about this from week one, and we’re very glad of that. They are quite used to seeing Mr Heathen arrive, tired from the road, ’round about 11 local time each Sunday evening. We pass over the all-powerful Amex, pick up our key to 108 — it’s always 108 — and head down the hall to drop off the travel bags before returning to pick up the big-ass rolling hanging bag we leave here. It’s a routine.
In recent weeks, we’ve actually taken more advantage of this hospitality: we’re now leaving two bags, and have discovered that they’ll gleefully hold onto any leftover beer for the weekend as well, kept safe and cold in the office fridge. Perhaps in response to this, or perhaps because they’re just darned nice people, they’ve started being even more helpful: in the last couple weeks, the Sunday night girl has taken to bringing our bags to the room as soon as we check in, instead of waiting for us to knock on the office door. This isn’t a hotel with bellmen; it’s a business deal without so much as a coffeeshop, so it’s definitely more service than we expected.
Well, this week they did one better. As we checked in, we were informed by the nice desk lady that our bags were in fact already in our room, as was our leftover beer. “Have a nice night, Mr Heathen.”
That was nice. We liked it.
Bored with marathons? Try this one. (Via Rob.)
Mrs Heathen prefers to confuse him with certain Soprano characters, but according to his wife, the real, live local CEJ is a year older today. See you tomorrow, buddy!
We bought a Playstation Portable, and therefore managed to blink away the entire 3+ hour flight yesterday fighting terrorists.
We note that our virtual kills were precisely as effective and protective as anything TSA did all day.
(Seriously, this thing is pretty excellent. We need game recs.)
Via BoingBoing, we find Esquire’s list of 60 things worth shortening your life for. Call us crazy, but we’re pretty sure 5., 12., 15, 35., and 39. all sound like good ideas. Don’t miss and 14. and 32., just for the writing.
(Seriously, we want some of that coffee.)
We don’t think we’ve ever seen a liquor store shelve wine by brand before.
We had to return to the hotel at lunch to pick up something, and accidentally got off the Interstate one exit early. No problem! We’ll just take the surface streets over!
Er, no. First, it appears that there’s no simple way to do that, as every apparent road — and there weren’t many — turned out to curve inappropriately away from our destination.
Then — second — we found a promisingly named thoroughfare, only to discover that the grandly named “Western Maryland Parkway” is in fact a DEAD END.
Nice.
So, what with the travel, we have little time in the Heathen World HQ to handle bills & etc., so that gets done over the phone and Intarwub. This is ordinarily not a problem, except today.
When we started this gig, we realized we didn’t want our net access filtered by Swedes, so we picked up a Sprint EVDO modem to use with the Powerbook. The first bill was due, but we didn’t remember to bring it until this week. What follows is our attempt to pay the bill:
Call the number on the bill. Select “pay bill” when asked. Input the phone number of our device (yes, the modem has a phone number). Get told that we should “hand up and press Star-3 in order to pay.” Unless, of course, you don’t have a phone. Nice one, Sprint.
Head to the web site and try to register. Jump through an inordinate number of hoops to discover there’s some kind of problem, and we’re somehow not authorized to pay our own bill. Right.
Call the number on the bill and press “0” over and over until we get an operator. Explain our frustration to the idiot scriptreading girl. Explain we’d like a summary of the current bill (yes, they’re stacking with additional charges, which is why everyone hates telcos, but whatever). Then have this conversation:
HEATHEN: Ok, I’d like to pay the whole bill with my Amex. IDIOT: How much did you want to pay? HEATHEN: Um, let’s put the WHOLE BILL on my Amex. IDIOT:And which credit card did you want to use? HEATHEN: For the third time, let’s put the WHOLE BILL on my AMEX.
Sigh. Previously…
“It’s really easy to get caught up in that dog kind of man.” Learn your man to earn your man, ladies. Public access goodness from Alexyss K. Tylor. Remember, if your man won’t get you shrimps from Long John Silver, you’ve got a problem.
It’s wholly unsafe for work, but good GOD it’s hilarious. Don’t miss it.
If you eat there enough, Janka at the Outback will let you borrow a wine glass to finish the bottle of wine you bought at Pomodoro. She knows you’re coming back.
Jo has the bestest picture for celebrating Mr Kim. Check it out, and HFBD to Mr Kim!
(Also, happy Friday the 13th, a day which we hold near and dear to our hearts owning to the first one to occur in the Year of Our Lord Nineteen Hunnert an’ Seventy.)
We mean it, really. Right, Mrs Heathen?
(Sofa King weird.)
No, really!
(Please, Jesus, don’t let anyone be masturbating to this, okay? It’s a sweet video of a zookeeper scratching a tapir. There’s nothing wacky or weird about it, aside from the sheer existence of the tapir, and we mean no disrespect by that, really.)
Lunch.
In order to get enough hours most easily, we eat on-site in the cafeteria every day. Even the bad-for-you options like burgers and such are terrible there. Leaving the plant, however, produces only nominally better options, so we stay in. Most days, it’s a cold turkey wrap.
Days like this are simply not possible. Dammit.
In re: hotels…
The case study for both of these ideas is pretty simple. We stay in a Holiday Inn Express during the week on the current consulting assignment. It is neither good nor bad. It’s one of those new style hotels with no restaurant or bar, but they do offer a continental breakfast for free in the mornings. There’s a cursory pool and workout area, but that’s it.
Contrast this with the Westin Embassy Row in DC, which is a fancy, high-dollar-ish hotel in the heart of Dupont Circle, which is where Mrs Heathen and I stayed this weekend. This hotel had a nice restaurant, a fancy bar, concierge service, valet parking, minibar, and a delightfully cushy bed.
HOWEVER: at the Holiday Inn, there’s a conventional cable package of some 60 or 70 channels, and free wi-fi; on the first floor, you even have the option of a wired ethernet connection. At the Westin, the TV had 12 to 15 channels, tops, and they wanted $12 a day for Internet connectivity — this on top of a rack rate 2 or 3 times that of the Holiday Inn.
We understand that those who stay at the Westin are necessarily less price-sensitive than those who stay at the business no-frills properties, but at the end of the day that’s really not an excuse. Starwood is opting to attempt to suck more cash from its guests by nickel-and-diming them on services like Internet and, of course, local phone calls ($1.50 each, natch; they’re also free at the Holiday Inn). We certainly liked the hotel amenities the Westin DID offer, but we left there feeling taken advantage of despite the fact that the room itself was paid for in Starwood points by Mrs Heathen’s mother. That’s probably not the kind of response they’re striving for.
Evangelical Christian and CNN contributor Roland Martin has a great deal to say about the myopic and counterintuitive brand of Christianity pushed by most of the American Christian community:
When did it come to the point that being a Christian meant caring about only two issues — abortion and homosexuality?
Ask the nonreligious what being a Christian today means, and based on what we see and read, it’s a good bet they will say that followers of Jesus Christ are preoccupied with those two points.
Poverty? Whatever. Homelessness? An afterthought. A widening gap between the have and have-nots? Immaterial. Divorce? The divorce rate of Christians mirrors the national average, so that’s no big deal.
The point is that being a Christian should be about more than abortion and homosexuality, and it’s high time that those not considered a part of the religious right expose the hypocrisy of our brothers and sisters in Christianity and take back the faith. […]
As a layman studying to receive a master’s in Christian communications, and the husband of an ordained minister, it’s troubling to listen to “Christian radio” and hear the kind of hate spewing out of the mouths of my brothers and sisters in the faith.
In fact, I’ve grown tired of people who pimp God. That’s right; we have a litany of individuals today who are holy, holy, holy, sing hallelujah, talk about how they love the Lord, but when it’s time to walk the walk, somehow the spirit evaporates.
A couple of years ago I took exception to an e-mail blast from the Concerned Women for America. The group was angry that Democrats were blocking certain judges put up for the federal bench by President Bush. It called on Americans to fight Democrats who wanted to keep Christians off the bench.
So I called and sent an e-mail asking, “So, where were you when President Clinton appointed Christian judges to the bench? Were they truly behind Christian judges, or Republican Christian judges?
Surprise, surprise. There was never a response.
Mrs Heathen and I were checking into the Westin on Embassy Row in the District just now, and ran into people from Houston I haven’t seen in 5 or 6 years. Wacky.
(Gar: Nate and Truly.)
Tony’s in Kosovo. This is his blog.
We don’t think it’s because they’re particularly devout, but as of now — 1500 local time — the Client office is nearly deserted. Good Friday is a holiday. Many of the resources we depend on for project information will also be out on Monday, presumably also due to religious fervor.
The wild variance in point awards for our 5-night stays at our hotel confuses us. The last 3 weeks have been in the same room type, but have resulted in very different point awards.
Each includes at least one large bonus award, which we presume to be due to our greater-than-4-night stay (especially in light of an earlier 4-night stay with a drastically lower point award), but obviously the bonus is inconsistent. We think there must be a random number generator involved here somehow.
We cannot decide if it’s sad or not that we’re eagerly anticipating hitting platinum status, which should occur in about 3 weeks, whereupon our point award rate will increase dramatically due to the “rich get richer” clause common to affinity programs (at Platinum, you get a 50% bonus on base award points). Of course, if they stop giving us the 3K extra points, it’ll take longer, but who can tell?
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
Joe Warmbrodt was one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. He was struggling with a lower-GI problem when I knew him that was misdiagnosed for years; even with it, he was never negative or down. Having Joe in the room was always a net positive. I didn’t know him well, but I knew him well enough to know I liked him, and that I wished I had time to get to know him better.
Bye, Joe. We’ll miss you.
You don’t fly much? Really? That’s great. Lots of people don’t fly much, or ever. It’s not a crime, and it doesn’t make you stupid.
However, if you don’t fly much, and you expect the airport to coddle you through the whole process, and you further fail to read any of the VERY prominent signs explaining the [bullshit, useless] security checkpoint protocol, well, that’s when you’re stupid. It’s not fucking hard. The web site has lots of guidelines, but all you really have to do is READ THE SIGNS IN THE AIRPORT before you get in line.
Yes, the whole thing is bullshit security theater that probably makes us LESS safe, but right now it’s the set of rules we have to tolerate. Learn how to get through quickly, and THEN write your congressman.
First: Check your damn suitcase. If you haven’t read, or can’t understand, the rules for what can go aboard with you, check your suitcase and be done with it. You’re scared about TSA riffing through your crap? You’re afraid your bag might go to Hoboken instead of Honolulu? Not my problem. Check your bag and get out of the fucking way. Keep a carryon by all means, but don’t slow me down because you’re confused about what “gel or liquid” means.
Second: How is it possible that you’ve gotten all the way to the front of the line without emptying your pockets into your carryon bag, at least loosening your shoes, and having your boarding pass ready? Seriously, what the fuck, man? Just because the TSA is stupid doesn’t mean YOU have to be.
Third: No, 18-eyelet high-heeled boots are NOT reasonable security checkpoint shoes. I don’t care how good they make your legs look. Dumbass. (This goes for men, too, but that seems to be a smaller problem.)
Fourth: That said, I travel in frickin’ WORK BOOTS, and I still manage to be completely ready before I’m at the head of the line. Use the time in line, genius, and you can wear whatever the hell you want without incurring the ire of the road warriors behind you.
Fifth: Look, if you’re flying with a laptop, how can you POSSIBLY not know to take the damn thing out of your bag? No, it doesn’t make any sense, and has no bearing on our security, but you know good and damn well that Cleetus is going to need to check your bag individually if you don’t follow the rules — which, by the way, are POSTED ON VERY BIG SIGNS ALL OVER THE DAMN PLACE — and that means you’re slowing me down.
Sixth: Ask Cleetus McTSA NO questions. Read the signs. Follow the simple directions. Do not engage the slackjawed drones in white shirts. They do not know the answer. If they give you an answer, it will be wrong. In either case, you’ve slowed down the line, and have therefore irritated me and the hundreds of people like me behind you in line.
What’s hard about this, people?
Yesterday, we apparently lost our pocketknife, a Victorinox Swiss Army to which we are very attached. It must’ve slipped out of our pocket(s) during the day; we didn’t notice until we got to the hotel, and were discouraged to discover that it wasn’t in the rental car. Oh well.
This morning, it turned out not to be in our desk area, either — but on a lark, we checked the floor of the conference room where we had our only meeting yesterday. It wasn’t on the floor; instead, it was on the file cabinet behind where we were sitting, together with a quarter that had apparently also escaped the clearly-too-shallow pocket of the khakis we had on yesterday.
Cool.
Hit me baby one more time…
These trees sure are cool.
In which we balance our choices, and declare a loser.
Continental, you’re fired. We’ve got two tickets left on your airline (3/25 – 3/30 and 4/1 – 4/13), but after that it’s SWA all the way on this gig. Bite me.
Once more into the breach…
You know you love it. In addition to the Geeky Lefty Triumvirate of The New Yorker, The Atlantic, and Harper’s, sometimes we read crap:
We received a communique from HeathenFrau Brun in re: a particularly fine quote from a cable documentary:
Anytime you’re attacked by someone who’s last name is Skullsplitter, you have reason to worry.
Not much to argue with there, is there? While it’s not immediately applicable, we’re going to keep it around for use later. Hopefully in a strictly metaphorical sense.
Here’s a screenshot from our Southwest Airlines Rapid Rewards account page. A key piece of data is that “16” is a magic number; after 16 flight credits (most commonly in the form of 8 round trips), you get a free ticket. It’s easily the simplest and lowest-bullshit affinity program we can think of:
Now, what’s broken there is the “Credits earned” line, which clearly shows 16. That’s technically true; the rolling window they show there does in fact include 16 credits. However, that’s misleading and weird, since what they’re NOT showing is that we broke the 16 barrier in January and were issued an award ticket that, if we recall correctly, Mrs Heathen used to visit the L’ilest Heathen Niece. Their figure of “16” includes both spent and unspent credits, and is therefore about as useful as tits on a bull (or, more concretely, a check register showing only deposits).
Thinking there was a problem, we actually called SWA for clarification, which means this little interface flub has cost them money. Once you know what they’re doing, it’s easy to infer the actual credit balance using the second figure, but it’s not obvious. Math (arithmetic, really) isn’t vexing to nonstupid humans, but the data presentation is — especially considering SWA’s usual level of quality.
(Yes, we stole the title.)
Here we go again:
It’s 75 today.
It’s supposed to snow again on Friday.
Mrs. Heathen kept her streak of birthday surprises alive by orchestrating a pile of cards, faxes, and gifts delivered to our hotel yesterday.
We love everybody. Thanks!
It’s our birthday.
So, just when we’d gotten adjusted to the early start of consulting for a manufacturing company — a reality further complicated by the fact that said client is in the Eastern time zone, instead of Central — Congress has to go and fuck with DST.
It was dark when we left the hotel this morning.
We expect there will be several of these.
At least, compared to these guys. (thanks, rob.)
Kitten on a treadmill, backed by MC Hammer. Taken from this collection of silly cats.
Our birthday is in about two weeks, and it has come to our attention that the best Goddamn Bond Movie EVAR is now out on DVD.
You do the math.
It starts with “Might as well have another…”
His headline: “Apparently, People Have to be Told That.”
No, not us, but the Jackson Office has a delivery on the way. Word has it that the production personnel had sort of hoped to have to work at this longer, if you take our meaning.
Mrs Heathen and I cannot WAIT to start teaching the little tyke terribly inappropriate things and providing the all-important noisy, noisy gifts complete with tiny, breakable parts.
Technology Review on the rampant scientific illiteracy in the US and the world:
Okay, now let’s talk (dare I say rant?) about the 200 million Americans out there who cannot read a simple story in, say, Technology Review or the New York Times science section and understand even the basics of DNA or microchips or global warming.
This level of science illiteracy may explain why over 40 percent of Americans do not believe in evolution and about 20 percent, when asked if the earth orbits the sun or vice versa, say it’s the sun that does the orbiting–placing these people in the same camp as the Inquisition that punished Galileo almost 400 years ago. It also explains the extraordinary disconnect between scientists and much of the public over issues the scientists think were settled long ago–never mind newer discoveries and research on topics such as the use of chimeras to study cancer, or pills that may extend life span by 30 or 40 percent.
As Carl Sagan eloquently wrote in The Demon-Haunted World, ignorance reigns in our society at a moment when science is on the cusp of doing amazing and wonderful things, but also dangerous things. Ignorance, said Sagan, is not an option.
Via Mark Pilgrim, we find this story, which includes this photo.
College freshmen have never lived as adults or even near-adult persons in a world not dominated by post-9/11 hysteria, fear, paranoia, and surveillance.
We’re used to meeting people for whom the Cold War is an abstract history-book concept, but this is a little weird for us.
This is wholly unfair, but we’re running it anyway.
Right.
Yeah, so, it gives a certain freedom, especially when the WSJ runs stories like this.
The first floor of Heathen Central has had a minor water stain in the ceiling for years, but we just noticed a new development near it — i.e., more staining. Obviously, somebody needs to look at this. Anybody local got a name we can trust?
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