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Thursday, April 26, 2007
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Bureaucracy's Beginnings...a parable
Three vacationing government employees, are on safari deep in a jungle. They travel with an experienced guide who is familiar with the dangers of the wild and continually alerts his charges about what steps they need to take to ensure their continued safety. The trail is well marked and has the earmarks of the presence of previous parties. A pile of stones here...a name and date carved into the trunk of a tree there...a skull on a pike.
They arrive at a fork. Someone has crudely fashioned a sign and pegged it to a tree with a tiger's fang. The sign has two arrows on it and reads: "Safe Passage," with the arrow pointing left, and "Tiger Trap," with the arrow pointing right.
The guide sagely informs the trio they should take the left fork. But the trio huddle and after some discussion tell the guide they want to take the right fork. The guide asks them why, and they explain that since tigers can't read, one would be unaware of the trap ahead. But since they can read, they will be on the watch for any perils they may encounter. And they really want to see a tiger close up. Maybe there's already a tiger in the trap and they can get pictures.
Astounded at their stupidity and stubbornness, the guide tells them they are completely crazy and resigns on the spot. He hurls their money at them and heads off down the left fork. As he storms off, he relents slightly and calls out to them that he'll wait for them at the junction at the end of the trail for one hour. If they get there alive, he tells them, he'll guide them the rest of the way back to civilization. The trio respond that when they get to the end of the right trail, they won't need him and laughing, they pocket their money. He flips them off and tromps away into the jungle mumbling about what idiots government employees can be.
With a confidence that could only be borne of ignorance, the three government employees head off down the right trail. A couple of hundred yards further on, they encounter large a pile of leaves.
One of the trio tells the other two that he he grew up in the city and never had a chance to leap into a pile of leaves and that he always wanted to do so. The other two are skeptical of this plan, feeling that this might be the trap they were warned of, and say so. But the first replies that this couldn't possibly be the trap. It is too obvious. Tigers are vicious but they're not stupid. Even a tiger wouldn't fall for a leaf-covered pit.
Swayed by the irrefutable logic, the other two shrug and stand back. With a running start, their companion leaps directly into the middle of the leaf pile. There is a cracking sound and he disappears instantly, as if swallowed up by the Earth.
His friends approach the leaves with caution and hear him cursing from below. They carefully feel their way to the edge of what appears to be a deep and narrow pit. Their friend is dusting leaves off himself and standing in a pile of sticks and rough-hewn boards. Above ground, the pair attempt to formulate a plan to extract their friend. Several plans are put forth, and after some discussion, it is decided they will go down and make sure he is alright before helping him to the surface. A few vines hang down into the pit and they lower themselves down.
Just as they reach the bottom, there is a loud, low growl from somewhere above. They look up to see the largest tiger in the entire world, peering down at them licking his lips. The trio immediately grab for their cameras, for this big fella was most certainly a prize.
But before they can get off a single shot, the tiger leaps down into the pit and circles them threateningly. Suddenly, and moving with (natch) cat-like speed, he pounces on all three and sends body parts flying all about. The beast then proceeds to indulge in a government worker smorgasbord.
His appetite sated, he easily scales the trap's dirt and root walls in a single leap to seek a patch of sunlight and a nap. What little remains of the three government workers lays strewn about the pit, and in time decays. Dust to dust...
Now, unlike the warm jungle canopy, the pit is cool and damp. And it happens to be reptile mating season. Pretty soon, snakes of every color, pattern and size begin slithering down, finding potential mates and forming enormous mating balls. Before long the tiger trap has become a pit full of snakes, writhing about the remains of dead government employees.
And that dear reader, is the model for modern day bureaucracy.
They arrive at a fork. Someone has crudely fashioned a sign and pegged it to a tree with a tiger's fang. The sign has two arrows on it and reads: "Safe Passage," with the arrow pointing left, and "Tiger Trap," with the arrow pointing right.
The guide sagely informs the trio they should take the left fork. But the trio huddle and after some discussion tell the guide they want to take the right fork. The guide asks them why, and they explain that since tigers can't read, one would be unaware of the trap ahead. But since they can read, they will be on the watch for any perils they may encounter. And they really want to see a tiger close up. Maybe there's already a tiger in the trap and they can get pictures.
Astounded at their stupidity and stubbornness, the guide tells them they are completely crazy and resigns on the spot. He hurls their money at them and heads off down the left fork. As he storms off, he relents slightly and calls out to them that he'll wait for them at the junction at the end of the trail for one hour. If they get there alive, he tells them, he'll guide them the rest of the way back to civilization. The trio respond that when they get to the end of the right trail, they won't need him and laughing, they pocket their money. He flips them off and tromps away into the jungle mumbling about what idiots government employees can be.
With a confidence that could only be borne of ignorance, the three government employees head off down the right trail. A couple of hundred yards further on, they encounter large a pile of leaves.
One of the trio tells the other two that he he grew up in the city and never had a chance to leap into a pile of leaves and that he always wanted to do so. The other two are skeptical of this plan, feeling that this might be the trap they were warned of, and say so. But the first replies that this couldn't possibly be the trap. It is too obvious. Tigers are vicious but they're not stupid. Even a tiger wouldn't fall for a leaf-covered pit.
Swayed by the irrefutable logic, the other two shrug and stand back. With a running start, their companion leaps directly into the middle of the leaf pile. There is a cracking sound and he disappears instantly, as if swallowed up by the Earth.
His friends approach the leaves with caution and hear him cursing from below. They carefully feel their way to the edge of what appears to be a deep and narrow pit. Their friend is dusting leaves off himself and standing in a pile of sticks and rough-hewn boards. Above ground, the pair attempt to formulate a plan to extract their friend. Several plans are put forth, and after some discussion, it is decided they will go down and make sure he is alright before helping him to the surface. A few vines hang down into the pit and they lower themselves down.
Just as they reach the bottom, there is a loud, low growl from somewhere above. They look up to see the largest tiger in the entire world, peering down at them licking his lips. The trio immediately grab for their cameras, for this big fella was most certainly a prize.
But before they can get off a single shot, the tiger leaps down into the pit and circles them threateningly. Suddenly, and moving with (natch) cat-like speed, he pounces on all three and sends body parts flying all about. The beast then proceeds to indulge in a government worker smorgasbord.
His appetite sated, he easily scales the trap's dirt and root walls in a single leap to seek a patch of sunlight and a nap. What little remains of the three government workers lays strewn about the pit, and in time decays. Dust to dust...
Now, unlike the warm jungle canopy, the pit is cool and damp. And it happens to be reptile mating season. Pretty soon, snakes of every color, pattern and size begin slithering down, finding potential mates and forming enormous mating balls. Before long the tiger trap has become a pit full of snakes, writhing about the remains of dead government employees.
And that dear reader, is the model for modern day bureaucracy.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Observations On My First HALO Jump
Hi gang! Okay. I'm not actually writing this. I'm narrating it. I'm speaking into my helmet-mounted mike and recording everything digitally on the little mp3 recorder in my jumpsuit pocket. I'll get it transcribed when I land.
I'm here in the jump bay of a Piper something-or-other. The cabin is pressurized and heated, but back here it's cold as hell and the air is real thin. I can barely get my breath. But that's gonna change in about two minutes.
Okay! Before I take that BIG first step, I suppose I'd better explain what I'm doing. I'm about to make my first "HALO" free-fall. HALO...That's short for High-Altitude-Low-Opening. I'm jumping out of this airplane at 19,000 feet and not opening my parachute until about a thousand feet from the ground. I'm gonna fall about three and half miles.
I'll be in free-fall all the way there at what they call "terminal velocity. That's about as fast as a body can fall through air, and it's around 180 miles an hour. But sometimes I'll go faster, as I take a dive position and nose down like a bullet. Other times, I'll slow up and kind of fly. When I spread my legs and arms, nylon wings and a tail are sewn into the jumpsuit. I'll look kinda like a big bat. Jeez. What a rush! And I haven't even jumped yet.
I hope you can all hear this, because the wind from the open door is buffeting the living crap out of us. Even though there's a lot of wind up here, there's not much oxygen. I've been breathing from a can of it for the last half hour to flush the nitrogen out of my system. Otherwise, I could get Hypoxia. I think it's like the the opposite of the bends that divers get. God, who'd want to go scuba diving? That's so damn dangerous.
Everyone said I was nuts to do this. Even Elsa, my girlfriend. She said if I don't come back, she's gonna be pissed. Well, yeah! Me too! Anyway I didn't save enough from my summer job at the car wash to get everything I needed. But I'll still be okay. I had to choose between the recorder and an "AAD". I couldn't afford both. Besides. I'm not gonna need an automatic (chute)activation device. I'll know when to pull the ripcord. The altimeter thingy sounds an alert that says when to do it. And maybe I am crazy, but I'm not stupid!
The target is about six miles south of here. I am so stoked! Hear that? Probably not. That's the jump signal. Gotta go. I always wanted to yell this. Geronimooo!
Man! I can hardly talk! I hope you can understand me. The wind's pulling my cheeks back like around my earlobes! The ground looks like it's miles away! I guess it is! I don't feel like I'm falling though. I feel like I'm one of those beach balls at the department store, hovering over a fan display. I think I'm a little off course. There's not supposed to be a mountain down there. I think I'll spread my wings and fly south for the winter. Here I go!! Wow! It's tough extending my arms. The wind fills the wings and pulls like a sonofabitch! Turning south. I think that's south. The sun's right above me so I don't know for sure. Mental note. Don't jump at noon anymore.
I know. I'll check the GPS. Man! It's in my shirt pocket! I've got to go back in dive-like-a-rocket mode to reach it. If I only bend one arm, I'll start to tumble. Almost there! Got it! Can barely read it! What!?! It says I'm on the corner of...what a piece of...Okay. I see. I'm about 6 miles off course and a federal wilderness is right below me. I've gotta head that way. I think that's south. It's not the south I was heading before. This is the other south. The not-north one. Whoops! There goes the GPS. I think it's heading a bit northeast. Wonder which of us'll get to the ground first. Hope I lose that race.
Wow! The ground is sure rushing up at me. I'll bet I'm half-way down already. What's the altimeter say? 5400 feet? Man. This ride's gonna be over a whole lot sooner than later. I'd better get back into glide mode and make for the target area.
This terrain is awesome! The mountain gave way to beautiful foothill scrub and...where'd that mountain come from? There are no mountains on this line! I think I must be heading back the way I came. It's the wind. It's gotta be! I didn't take the wind into account! Gotta correct. What's that sound? Sure is annoying. It's like a little beeping from somewhere inside my head.
No. It sounds more like the jump buzzer on the plane. Wonder what it is. Oh my god! It's the ripcord alarm! Gotta open the chute! I'm too low already! Gotta grab the ripcord! Where is it? What the hell is it doing up there? I must've knocked it loose when I got the GPS! Gotta grab it! Almost. Alllmooosst! Got it! Ungh! Whooo! That was close! okay. The canopy's filling with air. It's almost full. The ground's rushing up pretty fast, but I think I'm gonna just get by, by the skin of my... Oh no! The lines are tangling. Gotta spin the other way. Can't control the
chu
u
u
u
u
u
u
u
u
u
u
u
u
Okay. Bet I scared you there. No. I got down safely. But I am way off course. I could be in trouble. I've only got a couple of energy bars and no water.
The terrain is rough here and I have no idea how far I am from the target area. And...Oh crap. The batteries in this mp3 recorder are almo
I'm here in the jump bay of a Piper something-or-other. The cabin is pressurized and heated, but back here it's cold as hell and the air is real thin. I can barely get my breath. But that's gonna change in about two minutes.
Okay! Before I take that BIG first step, I suppose I'd better explain what I'm doing. I'm about to make my first "HALO" free-fall. HALO...That's short for High-Altitude-Low-Opening. I'm jumping out of this airplane at 19,000 feet and not opening my parachute until about a thousand feet from the ground. I'm gonna fall about three and half miles.
I'll be in free-fall all the way there at what they call "terminal velocity. That's about as fast as a body can fall through air, and it's around 180 miles an hour. But sometimes I'll go faster, as I take a dive position and nose down like a bullet. Other times, I'll slow up and kind of fly. When I spread my legs and arms, nylon wings and a tail are sewn into the jumpsuit. I'll look kinda like a big bat. Jeez. What a rush! And I haven't even jumped yet.
I hope you can all hear this, because the wind from the open door is buffeting the living crap out of us. Even though there's a lot of wind up here, there's not much oxygen. I've been breathing from a can of it for the last half hour to flush the nitrogen out of my system. Otherwise, I could get Hypoxia. I think it's like the the opposite of the bends that divers get. God, who'd want to go scuba diving? That's so damn dangerous.
Everyone said I was nuts to do this. Even Elsa, my girlfriend. She said if I don't come back, she's gonna be pissed. Well, yeah! Me too! Anyway I didn't save enough from my summer job at the car wash to get everything I needed. But I'll still be okay. I had to choose between the recorder and an "AAD". I couldn't afford both. Besides. I'm not gonna need an automatic (chute)activation device. I'll know when to pull the ripcord. The altimeter thingy sounds an alert that says when to do it. And maybe I am crazy, but I'm not stupid!
The target is about six miles south of here. I am so stoked! Hear that? Probably not. That's the jump signal. Gotta go. I always wanted to yell this. Geronimooo!
Man! I can hardly talk! I hope you can understand me. The wind's pulling my cheeks back like around my earlobes! The ground looks like it's miles away! I guess it is! I don't feel like I'm falling though. I feel like I'm one of those beach balls at the department store, hovering over a fan display. I think I'm a little off course. There's not supposed to be a mountain down there. I think I'll spread my wings and fly south for the winter. Here I go!! Wow! It's tough extending my arms. The wind fills the wings and pulls like a sonofabitch! Turning south. I think that's south. The sun's right above me so I don't know for sure. Mental note. Don't jump at noon anymore.
I know. I'll check the GPS. Man! It's in my shirt pocket! I've got to go back in dive-like-a-rocket mode to reach it. If I only bend one arm, I'll start to tumble. Almost there! Got it! Can barely read it! What!?! It says I'm on the corner of...what a piece of...Okay. I see. I'm about 6 miles off course and a federal wilderness is right below me. I've gotta head that way. I think that's south. It's not the south I was heading before. This is the other south. The not-north one. Whoops! There goes the GPS. I think it's heading a bit northeast. Wonder which of us'll get to the ground first. Hope I lose that race.
Wow! The ground is sure rushing up at me. I'll bet I'm half-way down already. What's the altimeter say? 5400 feet? Man. This ride's gonna be over a whole lot sooner than later. I'd better get back into glide mode and make for the target area.
This terrain is awesome! The mountain gave way to beautiful foothill scrub and...where'd that mountain come from? There are no mountains on this line! I think I must be heading back the way I came. It's the wind. It's gotta be! I didn't take the wind into account! Gotta correct. What's that sound? Sure is annoying. It's like a little beeping from somewhere inside my head.
No. It sounds more like the jump buzzer on the plane. Wonder what it is. Oh my god! It's the ripcord alarm! Gotta open the chute! I'm too low already! Gotta grab the ripcord! Where is it? What the hell is it doing up there? I must've knocked it loose when I got the GPS! Gotta grab it! Almost. Alllmooosst! Got it! Ungh! Whooo! That was close! okay. The canopy's filling with air. It's almost full. The ground's rushing up pretty fast, but I think I'm gonna just get by, by the skin of my... Oh no! The lines are tangling. Gotta spin the other way. Can't control the
chu
u
u
u
u
u
u
u
u
u
u
u
u
Okay. Bet I scared you there. No. I got down safely. But I am way off course. I could be in trouble. I've only got a couple of energy bars and no water.
The terrain is rough here and I have no idea how far I am from the target area. And...Oh crap. The batteries in this mp3 recorder are almo
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
MY PESACH CURSE
Over the years, I have come to the conclusion that God must have a sense of humor. How else could we explain Poodles or Alvin and the Chipmunks or species extinction and most other kinds of irony? Being a...well, a God, he (or possibly she) need not answer to us for what amuses him or her. But clearly irony is his or her major playing field.
The most recent evidence for this occurred last Monday, on the eve of Passover, the Jewish holiday commemorating the Hebrew slaves being freed in Egypt, crossing the parted Red Sea and trekking for 40 years across about 12 miles of desert to the land of Canaan. (I won't even go into the irony of THAT one.)
The irony of which I speak, was in play beginning Saturday. My non-Jewish wife... (Actually, to be completely accurate, she is 1/4 Jewish on her mother's side.) ...and I were helping our son, raised in both the Jewish and Catholic worlds to move into his new apartment. My wife's cell phone rang. It was her sister. She, our niece and my wife's mother were coming down for a few days visit. And no, this was not the curse. I actually like my in-laws, once one gets past their idiosyncrasies.
My lovely wife...and she is a lovely wife indeed, immediately decided that she would make a traditional Passover dinner for all to celebrate, on Monday, Pesach eve. She had long ago learned from my mother how to make all the traditional foods and was quite good at it. Her brisket rivalled my mom's and her seltzer-leavened matzo balls were so light it was difficult to keep them in the soup. They almost seemed to want to float above the table like bubbles.
It was also an opportunity for me to dig out the "Passover at the Weinstein's" Haggadah for the service portion of the meal. Having a mixed-religion family, I long ago abridged a translated-but-traditional Haggadah to make it a more relevant one. (The translation of that sentence is, this Haggadah was one that my children might sit through and maybe learn a bit about, from whence they came.)
The traditional Passover story is full of amazing tales about the will of God and the Exodus from Egypt...the ten plagues that God visited on Egypt to convince Pharaoh to let his chosen people go...the burning bush, through which God spoke to Moses...the Ten Commandments, which made Charlton Heston a star...and of course the forty years of roaming aimlessly about in the desert for that Golden Calf thing.
And there are moralistic lessons to be learned from the stories. One of which is: "Don't tick off God." After all he did for the people, Moses was never allowed entry to the land of Canaan. Why? Because instead of speaking to a rock, he struck it. He got his people their water, but God nailed him on a technicality. Why was it a technicality? Well, the way I see it, a shepherd with a wooden staff can't do much damage to a rock. God could've learned something from The Mikado about the punishment fitting the crime. Okay, I'm getting a bit side-tracked.
The thing I'm trying to say, is that on this particular Pesach, I'm just hoping that God's sense of humor was with him.
First off. I couldn't find the Haggadahs. I knew I put them somewhere, but years ago before my dad passed on, was the last time we held a real seder. (albeit a Weinstein, Reader's Digest condensed edition seder) Six years of stuff piled atop some spiral-bound booklets is nearly impossible to dig through...especially when one's body hurts from moving. And I had body aches in parts I didn't know I had. I had pains in countries I'd never visited. I had agonies I wouldn't wish on Pharoah!
The next day I went to work, while my wife, with the help of my in-laws, made the dinner and set the Passover table. The traditional Passover seder table has a plate for Matzoh, also, the "Seder" plate, with all manner of symbolic foods placed on it to enhance the story-telling for the kids. There would also be a few bottles of Kosher wine and various assorted plates for gefilte fish, horseradish, salt water and hard-boiled egg, condiments and the like. There are usually candlesticks as well.
I finished my day at work, and headed home to my family. As I entered the front hall of my home, I was met with the mouth-watering aroma of the traditional Pesach feast emanating from the kitchen. I looked forward to the sight of the beautiful blue and white Seder plate as I entered the dining room. What I got, was bunnies!
There was no Seder plate. There was no Manischewitz wine. There were no bowls for gefilte fish and the salt-water/hard-boiled eggs. There was no matzoh plate. There were no candlesticks.
There WAS a tulip centerpiece and cute little paper Easter Bunny napkins. There were colored wine goblets from years of trips to the Madonna Inn. Frosted pastel glass Easter bunny salt and pepper shakers were scattered about the table. And the floral table cloth on which it all sat was distinctly un-Hebrew!
Now I like a festive table as much as the next guy, but when God looks at his "good" and "bad" ledgers come the High Holidays, where do you think I'm going to fall? How COULD I celebrate Passover with Easter bunnies. Oh the sacrilege! The worst part of all, was that I enjoyed myself! I will be cursed for all time for my behaviour.
That is of course, unless God has a good sense of humor.
The most recent evidence for this occurred last Monday, on the eve of Passover, the Jewish holiday commemorating the Hebrew slaves being freed in Egypt, crossing the parted Red Sea and trekking for 40 years across about 12 miles of desert to the land of Canaan. (I won't even go into the irony of THAT one.)
The irony of which I speak, was in play beginning Saturday. My non-Jewish wife... (Actually, to be completely accurate, she is 1/4 Jewish on her mother's side.) ...and I were helping our son, raised in both the Jewish and Catholic worlds to move into his new apartment. My wife's cell phone rang. It was her sister. She, our niece and my wife's mother were coming down for a few days visit. And no, this was not the curse. I actually like my in-laws, once one gets past their idiosyncrasies.
My lovely wife...and she is a lovely wife indeed, immediately decided that she would make a traditional Passover dinner for all to celebrate, on Monday, Pesach eve. She had long ago learned from my mother how to make all the traditional foods and was quite good at it. Her brisket rivalled my mom's and her seltzer-leavened matzo balls were so light it was difficult to keep them in the soup. They almost seemed to want to float above the table like bubbles.
It was also an opportunity for me to dig out the "Passover at the Weinstein's" Haggadah for the service portion of the meal. Having a mixed-religion family, I long ago abridged a translated-but-traditional Haggadah to make it a more relevant one. (The translation of that sentence is, this Haggadah was one that my children might sit through and maybe learn a bit about, from whence they came.)
The traditional Passover story is full of amazing tales about the will of God and the Exodus from Egypt...the ten plagues that God visited on Egypt to convince Pharaoh to let his chosen people go...the burning bush, through which God spoke to Moses...the Ten Commandments, which made Charlton Heston a star...and of course the forty years of roaming aimlessly about in the desert for that Golden Calf thing.
And there are moralistic lessons to be learned from the stories. One of which is: "Don't tick off God." After all he did for the people, Moses was never allowed entry to the land of Canaan. Why? Because instead of speaking to a rock, he struck it. He got his people their water, but God nailed him on a technicality. Why was it a technicality? Well, the way I see it, a shepherd with a wooden staff can't do much damage to a rock. God could've learned something from The Mikado about the punishment fitting the crime. Okay, I'm getting a bit side-tracked.
The thing I'm trying to say, is that on this particular Pesach, I'm just hoping that God's sense of humor was with him.
First off. I couldn't find the Haggadahs. I knew I put them somewhere, but years ago before my dad passed on, was the last time we held a real seder. (albeit a Weinstein, Reader's Digest condensed edition seder) Six years of stuff piled atop some spiral-bound booklets is nearly impossible to dig through...especially when one's body hurts from moving. And I had body aches in parts I didn't know I had. I had pains in countries I'd never visited. I had agonies I wouldn't wish on Pharoah!
The next day I went to work, while my wife, with the help of my in-laws, made the dinner and set the Passover table. The traditional Passover seder table has a plate for Matzoh, also, the "Seder" plate, with all manner of symbolic foods placed on it to enhance the story-telling for the kids. There would also be a few bottles of Kosher wine and various assorted plates for gefilte fish, horseradish, salt water and hard-boiled egg, condiments and the like. There are usually candlesticks as well.
I finished my day at work, and headed home to my family. As I entered the front hall of my home, I was met with the mouth-watering aroma of the traditional Pesach feast emanating from the kitchen. I looked forward to the sight of the beautiful blue and white Seder plate as I entered the dining room. What I got, was bunnies!
There was no Seder plate. There was no Manischewitz wine. There were no bowls for gefilte fish and the salt-water/hard-boiled eggs. There was no matzoh plate. There were no candlesticks.
There WAS a tulip centerpiece and cute little paper Easter Bunny napkins. There were colored wine goblets from years of trips to the Madonna Inn. Frosted pastel glass Easter bunny salt and pepper shakers were scattered about the table. And the floral table cloth on which it all sat was distinctly un-Hebrew!
Now I like a festive table as much as the next guy, but when God looks at his "good" and "bad" ledgers come the High Holidays, where do you think I'm going to fall? How COULD I celebrate Passover with Easter bunnies. Oh the sacrilege! The worst part of all, was that I enjoyed myself! I will be cursed for all time for my behaviour.
That is of course, unless God has a good sense of humor.
Monday, April 2, 2007
A Tribute...On The Occasion Of My Brother's 60th Birthday
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