Lesson for the day

If there’s only one thing you take away from this blog today, it’s this:

When giving a presentation to the military about new technological advances, make sure you first show how you’re protecting the lives of military personnel on the ground, in the air and/or on/under the water — technology is replaceable stuff, expendable, but people are not.

Kickstarter Update #2

Good afternoon, buoys and gulls!

Today is an important day here at Project Xceed Xpectations.  We’ve decided, while finishing the details on our business plan, to introduce you to the project itself.

First of all, let’s give it a name, shall we?  Here ya go!:

All Sols Day

All Sols Day is an Internet-based serial story, in the format of sitcom-meets-reality TV, about life on Mars, mixing cartoon-style graphics with live footage of the first landing, exploration and settlement of Mars.

The Kickstarter campaign will offer you different levels of participation:

  1. an email/text message “thank you”
  2. a simple postcard
  3. a variety of bumper/notebook stickers
  4. a cutout construction paper book with main characters
  5. autographs by the key players on a poster
  6. a DVD of the first season
  7. your very own kit including electronic components for building a duplicate of the spaceship, landing craft, exploration vehicle(s) and habitation modules

Those are all some of the preliminary “thanks” levels we have proposed to our Creative Arts department for completion within a reasonable waiting time by you, our patient contributors and supporters.

We’ve asked the producers and crew if any of them would be willing to travel to your home, office or event for a public speaking engagement as part of a high-donation “thanks” participation level.  We’re working on the legal details at this time.

We’re also in negotiations with a replica construction company to make a vehicle that could “launch” your child and land your child on a simulated Martian surface where your child could explore and set up a habitation module during a two-week period, but the cost — hundreds of thousands of dollars — would be hard to justify without knowing there’s full interest by at least a few parents willing to fund a Mars Exploration Camp for kids.

Well, there you have it!  Are you excited yet?

Our friends in the space business have asked us to make this project a success, putting into the minds of the people that Mars settlement is a given fact because we know there will be setbacks along the way and want them fully onboard with the good, the bad and the ugly future.

You or your child may one day be part of the real Mars exploration team.  Today is the day to find out how you can make that dream a reality!

A new character enters the picture

Eoj was hired by the Mars Tourist Bureau to train travelers who would spend a few weeks in a space capsule, their bodies confined to not much more than a water closet there-and-back on their Moon-to-Mars holiday.

Eoj, half-Greek, half-Egyptian, had survived wars and skirmishes his whole childhood and jumped at the chance to serve aboard the ISS Dionysius, the flagship vessel that traveled from the Moon to Mars, packed full of tourists and their supplies needed to feed and care for them during their whole time traveling through space, in acclimation facilities orbiting Mars and on the Red Planet itself.

During the offseason, when Earth and Mars alignment made the trip prohibitively expensive, Eoj took martial arts and dance lessons which he in turn was able to share with tourists during their spaceflight, using a small corridor between their living quarters to exercise tourists in small groups of two or three.

Before his Mars Tourist Bureau job, Eoj had met Guin at an Earth dance studio when Guin was first brought in for physical therapy.  They had become dance partners because they shared the love of dance over many of their other hobbies and interests.

As Guin was finishing her PhD in rocket propulsion, she accepted the assignment to become an integral part of the ISSA Net, allowing her body to be monitored in realtime, accelerating her physical conditioning, with a bonus network interface that gave her the ability to simply think her thoughts to members of the ISSA Net without talking or using archaic input devices like phones or computers.

Eoj had opted not to accept full ISSA Net interfacing, believing that a “real” man kept himself in reserve.

Eoj and Guin excelled in their dance training and soon become part-time instructors at the studio, each taking on a small number of students, sometimes passing one student to the other when their regular work schedules conflicted with the students’ availability for lessons.

From this perspective, Eoj was able to observe more about Guin.

Eoj saw that he was not the only one who wanted to dance with her.

He had taken on Lee and Lee’s wife, Karen, as dance students early in Eoj’s dance instructor days so the three of them were guinea pigs for the dance studio owner, Disdry, a veteran of the World Peasant War, a set of military skirmishes that spread around Earth, wiping out whole sections of the peasant population desperate for food and a meaning for their miserable existence, including jobs or positive views of them in the mainstream press.

Thus, Disdry, although a smooth dancer, was a stern taskmaster with his instructors, a little rough around the edges.

Vulnerable during their first few months on the job, Eoj trying to get back on his feet after a tough job loss and Guin during the mental recovery associated with her physical therapy, Eoj and Guin gave Disdry more leeway to control them than had they been stronger socioeconomically.

Eoj worked with Lee and Karen under Disdry’s watchful eye.  Sometimes, after a particular tough time getting Lee or Karen to learn what should have been a simple dance move, Eoj would sigh and plop down in Disdry’s office.  Disdry would frequently offer constructive criticism but sometimes he would lash out, using cold, cruel humour to knock Eoj’s ego to the ground, which didn’t help Eoj at all for the next lesson with Lee and Karen, conditioned to expect verbal abuse from Disdry if Eoj was unable to show progress with a couple who sometimes just didn’t get it, regardless of Eoj’s instructing ability.

One day, Eoj was out of town and asked Guin to teach Lee and Karen.

Although Lee and Guin already knew each other, they walked into the dance lesson as newbies.

Guin had her own problems with Disdry’s treatment of her but had not yet received beratement in relation to training Lee and Karen so she was able to look at them without fear or trepidation.

Guin spent most of the lesson showing Lee the leader part of the waltz and foxtrot moves he had learned the week before, the two of them moving more easily as one than Lee had been dancing with his wife.  Karen spent most of the lesson watching and feeling ignored, not wanting another lesson with Guin because she felt that all Guin had done was teach Lee had to dance with her rather than with his wife.

The next week, Eoj noticed a change in Karen, sensing that she was more interested in him as an instructor and devoted his time to teaching them, getting more progress in that lesson than in the previous two months, even showing them a few fun moves that were not part of their official curriculum.  Although they had fun, Eoj was scolded by Disdry for going outside of the syllabus, dampening any enthusiasm Eoj had for seeing Lee and Karen the next week.

Because of this up-and-down treatment at the studio, Eoj built up expectations for the weekly social dance on Fridays when the students had the opportunity to try out their newly-learned moves in an actual social setting, the instructors available for advice and social dancing.  Eoj anticipated dancing with Guin and she with him, so they could practice moves they wanted to perfect for other venues.

As much as Eoj liked dancing with Guin, and noticed she did, too, he also observed that he was not the only one.

There seemed to be a virtual line of guys waiting to dance with Guin, including single and married men willing to leave their women alone in order to get a dance with Guin.

Added to that, Disdry informed Eoj that one of the students, a single women in her early 40s named Eternia, desired to dance with Eoj but Eoj always seemed to dance with Guin just when Eternia got up the nerve to ask Eoj to dance with her, or just felt outright ignored by him altogether, complaining that Eoj and Guin spent the whole Friday night dancing with each other rather than with their students.

Eoj accepted his “punishment” and reduced his dancing time with Guin, asking students, both his and those taught by Guin or Disdry, for individual dances.

Guin followed Eoj’s example and danced with students, including her boyfriend, Kirby, who showed up occasionally but had a problem with large crowds so he tended to avoid coming unless he had to.  Guin found herself dancing more often with Jersey, a shy man who had started social dancing lessons in order to look and feel more comfortable when he ventured out to nightclubs.

Guin was an encouraging instructor and boosted Jersey’s confidence, taking him with her to a dance competition in New Orleans.  Even though they didn’t win, it gave Jersey the impetus he needed to try other things, such as volunteering at the local youth symphony and competing in mountain bike races, eventually leaving Guin without a competitive dance partner once again.

When, with guidance from her new friend, Bai, Guin got the assignment to go to Mars, Eoj began questioning why he was stuck at the dance studio “alone” with Disdry.  Guin wanted to help Bai so she convinced him to get a job working with Kirby transporting blood products to hospitals and clinics in the area.

Eoj enjoyed his transportation job as the “Blood Man,” every now and then running into a former student or someone who knew who he had to be because of his unique rugged look as a GrecoEgyptian, shorter than average but built like a football player — broad shoulders, large chest and muscular arms — able to lift and throw a woman like Guin, several inches taller than him, with ease and grace.

A member of the board of directors for the Mars Tourist Bureau, Minten Kyun, badly injured in a helicopter crash and in critical need of blood transfusions, later heard, during excruciating recovery, that the well-thought-out, timely-but-safe driving by Eoj of blood from one hospital to the one where Minten was being pieced together, saved Minten’s life.

As soon as he could, Minten sent the word to Eoj to see him.

Eoj had never heard of the Mars Tourist Bureau so he was surprised that a complete stranger would offer him a job in such a specialised field as space travel.

“Welcome, Eoj Cappernopolus.  I’m Minten Kyun.  Please have a seat.”

Eoj plopped down into a plush red leather chair beside Minten, whose eyes flicked back-and-forth every now and then, a sign that he was communicating over the ISSA Net using the visual neurons of his brain.

“Thanks for asking me here.  So, your voicemail said you want to hire me for the Mars Tourist Bureau?  You know I don’t have any astronaut training, I assume.”

“Yes, Eoj, I do.  But not every job at the MTB requires a specialised pilot’s license.”

“Uh-huh.”

“If you knew nothing else about the job, would you take it?”

“Umm…”

“I mean, how would you describe what you think about a job like this?”

“Well, that’s the thing.  I don’t know what the job is.”

“Good point.  What have you heard about the MTB?”

“Not much, frankly.  I’m sure I’ve heard of it in the news but I haven’t been focused on it, if you know what I mean, my financial situation not geared toward exotic space travel.”

“Of course.  So you’re not a fanboy of space exploration?  You don’t fantasize about a life on the Moon or Mars?”

“Not really.  Does that mean you aren’t interested in me, then?”

“Quite the contrary!  I want someone for this job who wants a challenge but doesn’t go into it with starry eyes wearing rose-coloured glasses, or who holds high hopes for a job and makes a mistake because he was so disappointed by reality he lost focus.”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s the other thing about you.  You follow orders from others without letting your questioning authority get in the way of the whole organisation achieving its goals.  Do you know how hard it is to get someone who thinks independently outside the box but knows there are larger issues at stake?  I believe you are the man for this job.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t you want to know when you’re going to start?”

“Haha.  Isn’t there paperwork I’m supposed to fill out, a personality profile and physical fitness test I’m supposed to take or something?”

“Yeah, yeah.  We’ll put you through the formal wringer but I’m assured you’ve already passed.”

“So, when do I start?”

“That’s what I wanted to hear!  You start right now.  Welcome aboard, Eoj!”

“Thank you, Mister?  Misses?”

“Ah, I appreciate you not assuming anything about me.  Just call me Minten.  If you don’t mind, I’m going to hand you over to my assistant, Naad, who will get you started on a career that only two other people have been offered and accepted.  Eoj, you are an exclusive club member now.  I hope you know that.”

“Thanks.  I’m sure if you say it’s as good as it sounds, it probably is, being who you are and all that, a megabillionaire they say.”

“Don’t let money fool you, Eoj.  Wealth does not make you wise.  I hope I’m richer in wisdom than the rest.  But let’s get you on the road to your own riches, shall we?  Once you’re part of the MTB, you get shares in the corporation just like me and everyone else.  Here’s Naad.  Best wishes, my friend.  I’ll see you soon, perhaps on a trip to the Moon or Mars, if not sooner!”

Months passed before Eoj saw Guin again, his training schedule filling his days, simulating the space trip several times in a row so that Eoj was fully capable of handling both calculated emergencies and unanticipated calamities as well as integrating his personality traits into the ISSA Net for processing and compatibility training for the other crew members as they were hired and put through the simulator training.

Entering the simulator phase of the MTB “boot camp,” Eoj had resisted being wholly integrated into the ISSA Net so his trainers had offered him a track of gradual sensory input connectivity enhancements, showing him how his body became more alive and alert with the aid of ISSA Net body monitoring, holding off on full mental connectivity until Eoj convinced himself it was for not just the betterment of society but also his personal gain.

If time does not exist, why do I write as if I pretend it does?

Jogging in my neighbourhood is an adventure encountering wild nocturnal animals.

Last night, an armadillo literally scurried under me, going perpendicular to my path as I was in mid-running stride, its claws clickety-clacking on the asphalt pavement — the scene triggers a funny phrase in my thoughts: macadam, I’m Mac, Adam, and I’m having a Big Mac attack.

Tonight it was a juvenile raccoon I scared up a tree.

I’ve almost run over a possum more than once.

Tonight, a young woman walking her dog in the darkness almost ran over me, the dog’s bark scaring me out of my shoes and sending me light on my feet at a fast jogging pace away from woman, leash and territorially protective canine companion.

“Territorially” is not the best adverb in that last sentence is it?  I’ve gotten sloppy in my writing lately, haven’t I, giving too much weight to the thoughts behind the written words than to the grammatical deconstructionismalarianisms.

Interjecting an exclamation!  Yes I am!  Declarative statement!  Maybe?

In any case, it’s nice to relax my thought patterns, if not my core (head, torso and arms) just yet.

In a few hours, it will be the day of the 27th wedding anniversary of me and my first wife.

Yes, that’s right, I’m not counting the girlfriends who’ve filled my dreams with fancy holidays on the Riviera (that’s the 1969 Buick Riviera rusting in the backyard — you knew that, though, didn’t you?).

Ahh…deja vu all over again, deja vu all over again…we’re sorry that we didn’t have time to include Matt Damon in this sketch.  However, we have time to plug a few holes in the plots of films, including any good Bollywood movie that puts the beautiful love interest and well-timed dancing scenes ahead of a logical storyline.

A shoutout to Bill Neiland, president of Haul Couture; Rainy, Dream, Ferdie and kitchen at Thai Garden (Rainy, my dear, we’ve got to take you on a spontaneous weekend getaway with whomever you want to make the trip the most fun!); John Carroll’s new self checkout configuration at Walmart; Mapco; the Iafrate construction crew and their state trooper support; Peyton Powell and his new job at Volvo equipment rental; the Toyota repair shop, which is having fun quickly fixing all the small items that keep breaking on our 2013 Avalon; anyone I’ve met lately, such as Amber at Rebath, whom I haven’t named.

Even though two Thai teas usually keep me awake, tonight I’m tired enough to sleep, my conscious conscience cleared of old thoughts and ready to tackle a new project at the light of day tomorrow.

Mars needs my attention!

Scrum with rum on the run in the rain

Tonight I will sleep.

How much can two (or more) people synchronise their states of energy?

Bai floated across the room, feeling ill, tired from her travels across the planet’s surface, to-and-from the Orbiter Entertainment Conference Centre circling Mars.

An ancient, well-preserved copy of the Oxford Multilingual Dictionary suspended in a stationary position above Lee’s desk.

“Are you okay?”

Bai shrugged.  “I didn’t sleep well last night, got maybe 2 marshours’ sleep, same the night before.”

“Do you want to practice our dance?”

Bai attempted a weak smile.  “That’s why I’m here.  Let’s do it.”

As they stepped through the first 40 marsecs of their routine repeatedly, they stopped occasionally for a break.

Bai stopped and looked Lee in the eyes.  “Look at this.”

In his thoughts, Lee watched a conversation between Bai and a man whose identity was left blank.

The man walked up to Bai in the conference centre bar.  “I know everything about you.”

“You do.”

“Yeah.  You got that tattoo within the last few weeks, didn’t you?”

“Nope.  Had it for over two years.”

“No you didn’t.  I said I know you.  You just got it.”

“Sorry, but you’re wrong.”

“I missed you.  Where have you been the last two weeks?”

“I was out of town.”

“What were you doing?”

“I was working.”

“What kind of work do you do?”

“I thought you knew everything about me.”

[The sound of crickets chirping had been inserted from Bai’s longterm memory.]

Bai stopped showing her memory to Lee.  “What do you think of that?”

“That guy…he…”

“He’s the chief of police, that’s who he is.  Thinks his orbiter privileges give him some sort of special abilities.”

“Did you give him that look of yours?”

Bai made a face that said ‘Are you talking to me?’

Lee smiled.  He responded to everyone differently, some making him laugh uncontrollably.  Bai gave him a warm feeling inside just by being herself, cracking her jokes that were so funny to Lee he was embarrassed to let himself let his boyish guffaw snort out loud.  “Did that turn him off?”

“I wish.  He even said he had a special friendship with my boyfriend, said that my boyfriend, being military, was going to leave me.  I told his he was wrong.  My boyfriend is French — French boyfriends have to go on to the next woman — it’s in their DNA.”

Bai sat down, exhausted.  She took a few sips of energy water and a few drops of baby food formula.  “This is the best stuff, no matter what they say.”

Lee nodded.

After their dance showcase practice, they worked on a few moves from a historic dance form called Lindy Hop.

Bai described the best she could how the dance moves should appear in engineering terms, which Lee quickly absorbed.

They cut their practice short because Bai was feeling too weak to go on.

Later that day, Guin met Lee for more dance practice.  They reviewed their previous dance lesson stored on the ISSA Net, seeing where they needed improvement and went from there.

Lee’s empathetic neuron net was extra sensitive to people who triggered his proximity sensor array, most notably Bai and Guin in the last few days.  His brain circuitry surged with pulsating neurochemical signals, flooding his thoughts with old, broken memories, incomplete images and uncategorised emotions, all at the same time.

After the lesson review, Lee allowed his thoughts to relax, leaving unanswered questions from earlier in the week to fade into the background.

However, as they warmed up, Guin sensed Lee’s tense shoulders and arms.  She told him to relax, let their arms connected to their hands form a smiley face.

Lee’s conscious thoughts understood the word “relax” but after a terrible car smashup on Earth when he was a teenager, Lee had forgotten how to translate the word into action for the nerves, muscles, ligaments and tendons of his left arm and shoulder.

He did not have the knowledge to ask Guin what “relax” meant.  He wanted to learn but his thoughts were still disconnected from the past few days of rewiring habitual pathways.

Guin kept working on the dance steps with Lee, slowly working with him to forget what he was doing, no longer thinking but dancing the steps, closing the gap between them and fading Lee’s personal space into nothingness.

Lee could have let the ISSA Net get rid of the annoying brain-muscle connection problems but he was “old skoowuhl” as Shadowgrass called him and liked the challenge of the personal struggle of his current self forming around and against the previous versions of himself left in deadends and byways of his central nervous system.

They knocked out the steps.

Next on Lee’s list was working through the unexplored feelings he had for Guin and Bai, decades old, just as Bai could recall an old man named Marcus she remembered training when the man was a teenager.

There was so much more to learn about them and their shared connections.

But what’s a lifetime for if one can’t return to Earth in one’s thoughts and go wakeboarding every now and then?

Guin and Lee checked in on Shadowgrass to see how his homework was coming along.  Shadowgrass was studying the history of the extinct social system called politics, trying to understand the need for hierarchical bureaucratic layers of society once called government.  “Dad, did we really used to waste so much energy on superfluous levels of managing our species’ resource needs?”

“Yes, son, we did.  That’s why Earth’s climate changed so drastically over a short period of time.  Mismanaged priorities.”

“I’m glad we’re not like that.”

Me, too, son.  Me, too.”

Guin turned to go.  “Sorry, guys, but I’ve got a rover’s load of work to do at the lab.  Lee, please practice the apache move we went over.  I want you to have it down to a science when I get back next sol.”

“Sure thing.  Don’t work too hard.”

“‘Work’?  You mean, don’t have too much fun!”

The three of them laughed at Lee’s slip.  ‘Work’ had almost completely left the common language of Mars, replaced by Martian society’s ability to shift colonisation needs according to the abilities and desires of the nonrobotic inhabitants such as humans.

As Lee rolled into bed alone, he found himself crying, a memory of his father passing through his thoughts.  He still loved his father after all these years, having forgiven his father for unknowingly mistreating his son in his attempt to raise his son the best way he knew how in the moment and based on his personality shaped by his own father’s mistreatment of him.

Living longer didn’t make old memories go away, just more memories to choose from, the earliest ones gaining or fading in strength as memories accumulated and cross-referenced themselves.

His mother didn’t raise a fool, just watched him often make a fool of himself as he grew up.

Welcome!

Welcome to Amateur Hour at the White House.  Our clowns on staff will be with you shortly…

My ancestors were hunting native Americans before Tennessee was a state.  We’re not afraid to defend our country against the excesses of a government out of control.

Until more heads roll, let’s see how many scandals we can cause after these first rounds have had their full impact.

Dad, you shall be avenged!

There once was a guy named Bill…

Usually, I find myself at company-sponsored leisure activities trying to figure out what I’m doing at company-sponsored leisure activities and why I’m thinking about why I’m trying to figure out what I’m doing at company-sponsored leisure activities, giving my thoughts an exercise in wondering, thinking and trying, but not always in that order.

Today, while just on the verge of creating an internal structure in the shape of mantra made of the above thoughts, up walked beside me a man named Bill.

I don’t know Bill well.  I know of him by reputation and through appearances at his company-sponsored leisure activities, he being a co-founder of the company that sponsored today’s leisure activities.

Bill is an honest man whom I trust implicitly and explicitly, without question.

As a member of the board of directors of his company, Bill is used to being in the public eye.

His health is as important to the company as it is to his family and him.

I looked at Bill’s face this morning, noticing that there seemed to be more blood flowing through his system — his face was redder than it was at the Christmas party but something else about his face concerned me.

His complexion was not as healthy-looking as it had been several weeks back at an American Heart Association walk sponsored in part by his company.

Turns out that Bill had subsequently suffered a viral infection and spent several days in the hospital to get his temperature back near normal after he had worked with a pile of mulch in his yard.

I could write several blog posts about the value of mulch.  In fact, my wife and I used to volunteer at the Huntsville Botanical Garden on Saturday mornings to collect monetary donations in exchange for loads of mulch dumped in the back of truck beds and small trailers, the mulch mainly composed of decomposed leaves and twigs scooped up alongside roadways after having been raked to the curb by homeowners in autumn.

Mulch and humus (not hummus (or humour (or vapors (or femurs)))) are valuable components of one’s garden.

One may wish to set up a mulch or compost pile that includes not only leaves and twigs but also kitchen scraps and other organic material.

Bill was not overly concerned about mulch’s benefits.

No, he had apparently picked up a virus that had hitched a ride in a pile of mulch and was wreaking (and reeking) havoc on his body.

Keep in mind that Bill had quadruple-bypass surgery not that long ago.  Within four days of the surgery, he could walk several miles so he’s not all that out of shape.

Bill looked me in the eye.

There was something more he wanted to share with me.

Bill pulled out his mobile phone and showed pictures of his new acquisition, a 1959 Corvette.

Instantly envious, despite initially thinking it was a Thunderbird, I leaned closer toward him.  What was so special about this car to Bill that he wanted to show the pictures to a complete stranger?

Bill said he had always wanted a Corvette.

Of course, our material dreams are often displaced by other priorities.

As Bill pointed out, the year after the last of his kids finished college, he put a swimming in his yard, along with deck.  He invited the kids over and asked them what they saw.  They saw a pool.  He corrected them — this was what their annual college tuition had been costing him and now he was spending it on something he and his now fully empty-nested wife wanted.

Of course, it was an investment the kids could enjoy, too.

Of course, of course.

But Bill still desired the Corvette.

Before he went in for the bypass surgery, Bill told his wife, “When I get out of this surgery, I’m going to buy myself a Corvette,” in part to give himself something positive to look forward to after such an ordeal, not really meaning it as much.

Well, his wife held him to his word, making sure he had recovered enough from the surgery to remind him of his promise to himself.

Bill found the Corvette online, located physically not far away in Murfreesboro, Tennessee.

The car is not perfect, has been repainted and needs TLC — the soft top seal should be replaced, for instance.

At a distance, however, it looks brand-new.

Bill has a way to go to achieve the level of post-surgery health that will ensure he lives many years longer.

Unfortunately, the viral infection and hospital stay delayed his planned physical rehabilitation.

Bill’s honesty with others reaches his inner self, where he knows that he has neglected his bodily needs in order to sacrifice himself for the greater good, for the bigger community outside his immediate family and inner circle of influence.

For Bill, now is his time, time to devote to his wife and himself, to spend some selfish moments reaping the rewards of years of success and hard work.

Our lives are shorter than we think they will be.

Bill, you deserve these moments of happiness, of less stress, of giving your trust to the employees who continue the legacy you started.

Your Corvette and your Austin Healey 3000 kit with 350CI Chevy engine are ready for your full attention and fun-filled driving adventures.

Enjoy the open road, see the sites, revisit old hangouts and come back with tall tales about your new friends.

We’ll be here, waiting with virtual pen and ink in hand.

To your health, whatever you choose to do about it!

More translation fun:

Minister of Health goes to the fire place in the suburbs

Вероника Скворцова решила лично осмотреть психиатрическую больницу, при пожаре в которой погибло 38 человек Veronika Skvortsova decided to personally inspect the psychiatric hospital, a fire that killed 38 people

When you want to love a sport but it wants you to hate it, be a good sport and say goodbye!

Growing up, I was taught to be a motorsports fan and NASCAR was the motorsports of choice in my family.

My father took me, as a child, to “minor league” NASCAR races at the local track on Friday.

My grandfather turned the TV to national NASCAR races on Sunday after church.

As an adult, I attended open-wheeled racing events with Dad but NASCAR was still a common topic between us.

However, somewhere along the way, the people who run the show at NASCAR have turned me into a NASCAR hater.  I really dislike watching the event on TV and have grown tired of the noise at a live race.

I used to enjoy rooting and rallying enthusiasm for my favorite drivers but then, somewhere along the way, the fans started yelling at each other and booing their least favorite drivers.

It was enough to turn me off from the whole show.

Then the NASCAR organizers decided to up the hate even more, pretending the races were some kind of real sport and technological regulatory nightmare in return.

So, I stopped watching.

I was glad that Richard Petty, Alan Kulwicki and Jeff Gordon were my favorite drivers.

Now, it doesn’t matter.

The headlines that pop up showing yet another female driver being a “maverick” on the racetrack or the attempt to create another non-stock-car variant of racecar turn me further from even thinking about paying attention to the driver standings or watching the races.

But they do get me to comment about my lost childhood and the joy of cheering for both local and national drivers.

C’est la vie, NASCAR.  Adios. You oversold the concept of bland racecars and pretty-boy/girl drivers — the empty seats show that those of us with limited incomes have more interesting things to do with our time and money than support your infighting and pretense with setting your rules and then proving your worth by punishing innovation within your ranks.

Richard Petty was right.  The stock car died a long time ago and would eventually take NASCAR down with it.

I laugh in your face and spit on your so-called sport. Ptooie!