Yesterday I was in the mall having a watch battery installed. I was in a store that sells a lot of watches, but I don't want to mention which store because it's a nice place and I don't want to get them in trouble. Anyway as I was knifing my way through this store whose name and other products I don't want to mention, I noticed a sign on the counter. It said that the store was not responsible for any damage that occurred to a watch that was left with them.
I noticed the sign just after I left my watch with them.
Fifteen minutes later I returned and found my watch, intact, a new battery causing the mechanism to whirr along nicely. But if I had returned to find the watch in a dust bin, having been swept there by the person who had just dropped an anvil on it, that person would not have been responsible? Then who is?
Saturday, July 7, 2007
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Scooting
Let's not go nuts over Bush's commuting of Scooter Libby's prison sentence. The president did the right thing as always, and he did it because he is, after all, a student of history—a man with a keen grasp of how the past affects the present, with an acute awareness that if we don't study history, we're doomed...blah, blah, blah.
And Bush knows (because he is so very incisive) how poorly previous Scooters have fared in prison. If it were only one, we could overlook it; but the history of felons named Scooter—convicted felons, that is—languishing and having a just-not-fun time behind bars is too obvious to ignore.
In the thirties there was Al "Scooter" Capone, criminal extraordinaire. One would have thought that if anyone was cut out for the prison life, it was a tough hombre like him—bootlegger, murderer, crime boss. And yet in prison he spent most of his time ducking attempts on his life, including a very famous incident in which someone tried spiking his coffee with lye. Even in a federal penitentiary—in the thirties!—there were demented baristas scrounging for tips—they're not just at Starbucks. Scooter Capone—tough on the outside; kind of a misfit behind those walls.
In the nineties we had Jeffrey "Scooter" Dahmer, a different case entirely. We've all heard of unwanted guests eating people out of house and home. Dahmer simplified the task to simply eating people. And yet in prison, among murderers and rapists and child molesters, Dahmer had trouble "connecting." Even the hardest core convicts—the ones who saw little wrong with chopping up people and saving their remains in Ziploc bags—even they balked at the idea of actually eating those remains. One day one of his disconnected peers, taking the moral high road, inflicted some lethal head trauma on Scooter , thus denying him the good fortune of Scooter Capone: a parole and a lingering death from syphilis.
Actually Scooter Libby isn't not even the first Scooter of the century. That honor belongs to Paris "Scooter" Hilton. Love her or hate her (or simply download her sex tapes) everyone has to admit that jail and Scooter Hilton do not mix, and for a judge to incarcerate a claustrophobe like her was unconscionable. Only through her tremendous strength of character—her ability to envision herself somewhere else—was she able to survive with her sanity intact. Of course, unlike Ms. Hilton I wouldn't have envisioned myself in a coal mine, but it seemed to worked for her.
The point is this: the nickname Scooter doesn't work well in prison; and instead of continuing to make the same error over and over, let's follow the lead of our president and start dismissing cases against all Scooters.
Two caveats: The nickname cannot be grandfathered. That ploy did not work for Scooter Kevorkian and, along the same lines, I wouldn't expect to see Michael "Scooter" Peterson out looking for a new wife any time soon.
And finally, don't worry: there aren't any Scooters at Gitmo. I checked.
And Bush knows (because he is so very incisive) how poorly previous Scooters have fared in prison. If it were only one, we could overlook it; but the history of felons named Scooter—convicted felons, that is—languishing and having a just-not-fun time behind bars is too obvious to ignore.
In the thirties there was Al "Scooter" Capone, criminal extraordinaire. One would have thought that if anyone was cut out for the prison life, it was a tough hombre like him—bootlegger, murderer, crime boss. And yet in prison he spent most of his time ducking attempts on his life, including a very famous incident in which someone tried spiking his coffee with lye. Even in a federal penitentiary—in the thirties!—there were demented baristas scrounging for tips—they're not just at Starbucks. Scooter Capone—tough on the outside; kind of a misfit behind those walls.
In the nineties we had Jeffrey "Scooter" Dahmer, a different case entirely. We've all heard of unwanted guests eating people out of house and home. Dahmer simplified the task to simply eating people. And yet in prison, among murderers and rapists and child molesters, Dahmer had trouble "connecting." Even the hardest core convicts—the ones who saw little wrong with chopping up people and saving their remains in Ziploc bags—even they balked at the idea of actually eating those remains. One day one of his disconnected peers, taking the moral high road, inflicted some lethal head trauma on Scooter , thus denying him the good fortune of Scooter Capone: a parole and a lingering death from syphilis.
Actually Scooter Libby isn't not even the first Scooter of the century. That honor belongs to Paris "Scooter" Hilton. Love her or hate her (or simply download her sex tapes) everyone has to admit that jail and Scooter Hilton do not mix, and for a judge to incarcerate a claustrophobe like her was unconscionable. Only through her tremendous strength of character—her ability to envision herself somewhere else—was she able to survive with her sanity intact. Of course, unlike Ms. Hilton I wouldn't have envisioned myself in a coal mine, but it seemed to worked for her.
The point is this: the nickname Scooter doesn't work well in prison; and instead of continuing to make the same error over and over, let's follow the lead of our president and start dismissing cases against all Scooters.
Two caveats: The nickname cannot be grandfathered. That ploy did not work for Scooter Kevorkian and, along the same lines, I wouldn't expect to see Michael "Scooter" Peterson out looking for a new wife any time soon.
And finally, don't worry: there aren't any Scooters at Gitmo. I checked.
Sunday, July 1, 2007
I feel better this morning because there are some really stupid dolphins in the world.
All the ones you see leaping and twisting and gavotting at Sea World? Those are the exceptions—the valedictorians of their schools, or pods. The real world of dolphins comprises a lot more average types. I didn't know that. You know when one of them plows through the water with a human more or less riding its snout? The average dolphin can't do that. I didn't know that either. And that little bit of business when they wave bye-bye with their tails? Same thing.
Some of those more typical dolphins at Sea World actually wash out of the program. (Insert stupid smiley-faced emoticon after "wash out"—I refuse.) I guess I wouldn't have known that either except for the transcript from Chippy vs. Sea World that I found online. Chippy, you may remember, passed the written section but failed stunts? Every once in a while pieces of the court transcript make it to the Internet, and I found this one a few days ago— a verbatim reading of the final interview between Chippy and the Personnel Officer at Sea World.
Personnel Officer: I just wanted to thank you for your application and for coming to the tryouts.
Chippy: [series of clicks and squeals.]
P.O. I'm glad you made new friends. That's what we're all about here at Sea World: making new friends.
Chippy: [one click and a few squeals.]
P.O. I know you'd love to work here and make more friends. I just don't think we're going to be able to use you at this juncture.
Chippy: [one click, one squeal, one click]
P.O. Yes I understand jobs are scarce, but we're pretty filled up right now and we want our working dolphins to live in non-crowded conditions. That's what we're all about here at Sea World: having dolphins live in non-crowded conditions.
Chippy: [series of clicks and squeals.]
P.O. And making new friend, right.
Chippy: [series of clicks and one squeal.]
P.O. I understand. I like to eat fish too, but sometimes it's fun to go out in the ocean and snag a mouthful instead of having them thrown to you from a pail. Anyway, we'll keep your name on file...
Chippy: [one loud clicks and two squeals.]
P.O. Actually your tryout was fine. Believe me, no one thinks you intentionally severed that woman's finger.
Chippy: [a very subdued click and a loud whimper.]
P.O. Well see, that's the problem. If her finger looked like a fish, maybe next time it'll be a leg, or a handler. It certainly is a black mark on your visual acuity.
Chippy: [one click and two winks]
P.O. Maybe you don't claim to have it, but Wikipedia says you do. Anyway, they've reattached the finger and she's going to make a full recovery.
Chippy: [series of squeals.]
P.O. I'm sure it was very hurtful when she screamed at you, especially with your superior sense of hearing. You do have that, don't you?
Chippy: [morose click]
P.O. You have to remember that her ring finger was bobbing in the water. Imagine the heartbreak were she ever to get engaged...
Chippy: [series of squeals.]
P.O. No, I don't think she's interested in an apology.
Chippy: [two squeals.]
P.O. You want the apology...she cost you the job. Actually she's not the reason. Let me ask you this—when you were growing up, did the other dolphins seem, oh I don't know, smarter?
Chippy: [two clicks, no squeals.]
P.O. No the bathing suit is a total loss. You ate it, remember? Now forget about her for a minute. When you were younger, did you need everything explained twice, three times?
Chippy: [two clicks, no squeals.]
P.O. No, we're not going to make you pay for the bathing suit. If we had known pink enrages you we certainly would have opted for a different color. Getting back to you for a minute...
Chippy: [a squeak and a squeal]
P.O. Sure, if you'd rather not discuss it. I will say this—your transcripts were not impressive but we took the chance anyway. It just didn't work out.
Chippy: [a squeak, and a squeal, a click, and a pop]
P.O. Of course I remembered: here's the recommendation I promised. And remember, if there's anything you ever need, let us know. That's what we're all about here at Sea World.
Chippy: [dubious clicks.]
P.O. Yes, and making friends.
All the ones you see leaping and twisting and gavotting at Sea World? Those are the exceptions—the valedictorians of their schools, or pods. The real world of dolphins comprises a lot more average types. I didn't know that. You know when one of them plows through the water with a human more or less riding its snout? The average dolphin can't do that. I didn't know that either. And that little bit of business when they wave bye-bye with their tails? Same thing.
Some of those more typical dolphins at Sea World actually wash out of the program. (Insert stupid smiley-faced emoticon after "wash out"—I refuse.) I guess I wouldn't have known that either except for the transcript from Chippy vs. Sea World that I found online. Chippy, you may remember, passed the written section but failed stunts? Every once in a while pieces of the court transcript make it to the Internet, and I found this one a few days ago— a verbatim reading of the final interview between Chippy and the Personnel Officer at Sea World.
Personnel Officer: I just wanted to thank you for your application and for coming to the tryouts.
Chippy: [series of clicks and squeals.]
P.O. I'm glad you made new friends. That's what we're all about here at Sea World: making new friends.
Chippy: [one click and a few squeals.]
P.O. I know you'd love to work here and make more friends. I just don't think we're going to be able to use you at this juncture.
Chippy: [one click, one squeal, one click]
P.O. Yes I understand jobs are scarce, but we're pretty filled up right now and we want our working dolphins to live in non-crowded conditions. That's what we're all about here at Sea World: having dolphins live in non-crowded conditions.
Chippy: [series of clicks and squeals.]
P.O. And making new friend, right.
Chippy: [series of clicks and one squeal.]
P.O. I understand. I like to eat fish too, but sometimes it's fun to go out in the ocean and snag a mouthful instead of having them thrown to you from a pail. Anyway, we'll keep your name on file...
Chippy: [one loud clicks and two squeals.]
P.O. Actually your tryout was fine. Believe me, no one thinks you intentionally severed that woman's finger.
Chippy: [a very subdued click and a loud whimper.]
P.O. Well see, that's the problem. If her finger looked like a fish, maybe next time it'll be a leg, or a handler. It certainly is a black mark on your visual acuity.
Chippy: [one click and two winks]
P.O. Maybe you don't claim to have it, but Wikipedia says you do. Anyway, they've reattached the finger and she's going to make a full recovery.
Chippy: [series of squeals.]
P.O. I'm sure it was very hurtful when she screamed at you, especially with your superior sense of hearing. You do have that, don't you?
Chippy: [morose click]
P.O. You have to remember that her ring finger was bobbing in the water. Imagine the heartbreak were she ever to get engaged...
Chippy: [series of squeals.]
P.O. No, I don't think she's interested in an apology.
Chippy: [two squeals.]
P.O. You want the apology...she cost you the job. Actually she's not the reason. Let me ask you this—when you were growing up, did the other dolphins seem, oh I don't know, smarter?
Chippy: [two clicks, no squeals.]
P.O. No the bathing suit is a total loss. You ate it, remember? Now forget about her for a minute. When you were younger, did you need everything explained twice, three times?
Chippy: [two clicks, no squeals.]
P.O. No, we're not going to make you pay for the bathing suit. If we had known pink enrages you we certainly would have opted for a different color. Getting back to you for a minute...
Chippy: [a squeak and a squeal]
P.O. Sure, if you'd rather not discuss it. I will say this—your transcripts were not impressive but we took the chance anyway. It just didn't work out.
Chippy: [a squeak, and a squeal, a click, and a pop]
P.O. Of course I remembered: here's the recommendation I promised. And remember, if there's anything you ever need, let us know. That's what we're all about here at Sea World.
Chippy: [dubious clicks.]
P.O. Yes, and making friends.
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