$0.00

We’ve had a few hiccups along the way since our solar power system went active on the house on April 23, but we’re finally seeing some dividends.

Rocky Mountain Power sent us a bill this month for $0 – and indicated we have a credit of $130 on our account.

In other words, it’s going to take us another billing cycle or two to see what we’re really saving by going solar, but all indications point to us doing well.

We were billed for an estimated use of electricity in June, to the tune of about $86, because the meter reader had to physically read the meter and couldn’t because of “dogs.” We have two dogs, both under 12 pounds, who are almost always inside. The neighbors have two dogs, but they’re fenced. We’re not sure whence the dog complaint comes, unless they happened to arrive at one of the times our dogs were out.

But nevermind.

In reading our bill, I see some interesting things:

The average daily cost of electric service dropped from $3.74 to $0.18

We used 148 on kwh, but generated 305; we used 188 off kwh, but generated 116.

The basic charge per month is $5.29 – that’s the minimum we’d have to pay.

And this is with air conditioning going. Going at 71 degrees, but going nonetheless.

It’ll be interesting to see what happens when winter arrives, and we have less sunlight during the day. Hoping we still see a significant difference.

We are paying $90 a month to the solar power company, but that’s only until we have the loan for the installation and panels paid off. We’re actually managing about twice that a month, and hope to keep that up.

So hats off to Blue Raven solar, and to Rocky Mountain Power, for finally making this work.

So far, they tell us we've prevented 3,698 pounds of carbon dioxide from spewing into the atmosphere. We've planted the equivalent of 93.15 trees, and other green stuff to make us feel happy.

And I agree it does feel kinda good stiggin' it to the Man.



All is not rosy on the energy front at our house—the gas water heater konked out sometime over the weekend. We’ve had it less than six years. Not pleased at all.

Making Prime Work, Part XI

Part One and the Only Part Today: Beatles Breakthrough

I haven’t been shy with my disdain of The Beatles. Sure, they have a few hummable tunes if you forget the lyrics that are dirty in England English but huh huh listen to the rubes in the States sing them (I’m looking at you, Penny Lane, the song we listened to incessantly doing fine motor skill exercises in the second grade at Lincoln Elementary).

The only song of theirs I could halfway tolerate was “Yesterday.”

Then came “Yellow Submarine.”

The movie, not necessarily the song. Although the song has its amusing moments.

I may kinda like some of The Beatles songs now, thanks to this weird cartoon.

For those of you who haven’t seen it: Maybe watch a few old-timey musicals first – White Christmas comes to mind. Note how the songs are strung together with a plot so light (former soldiers band together to raise money for a commanding officer’s faltering ski resort) that you hardly know the plot is there. Then you’ll understand Yellow Submarine.

Also, don’t mistake the art for Peter Max. This is pre-Peter Max, probably among what inspired the Maxster, but not the other way around.

Also note how much cartoon John Lennon looks like C3PO.

Of note: Geoffrey Hughes, who went on to play Onslow in “Keeping Up Appearances,” provides the voice for Paul McCartney.

And watch out for the real Beatles at the end, who show up to warn about Blue Meanies outside the theater ready to be a complete and utter drag on everything, so go out singing our signature tune!

Whee.

Anyhoo, a weird, weird little film. But at least I’ve seen it now.

“There’s No Telescreen!”

Late last week, an aspiring author asked a question in an authors’ group on Facebook, something along these lines: How will the government track us in the future?

Answers were varied, from ubiquitous smart phones and video cameras in public places, to insidious wiretaps wherever one might go.

My answer was this: We’ll self-report, checking in at every opportunity via technology we already have. The rebels will be the ones who opt out of checking in.

Then I read this today at aeon.co:

[Orwell] couldn’t have known how eager we’d be to shrink down our telescreens and carry them with us everywhere we go, or how readily we’d sign over the data we produce to companies that fuel our need to connect.

Spoopy.

Henry Cowles, author of this piece and assistant professor of history at the University of Michigan, goes on to say perhaps Orwell knew more than he let on.

He also mentions this, a quote I’d never heard before: “Who said ‘The customer is always right’? The seller—never anyone but the seller.” I’m trying to find the “wise man” who said this, but little luck so far.

Nevertheless . . .

If we enter a surveillance state – if we’re not there already – it’s going to be because we were willing to walk through that door on our own.

Making Prime Work, Part X

Part One: Overdramatizing A Tale of Telling Lies

There is no reason to embellish the story of Richard Hanssen.

Oh, I guess if you’re writing a movie about the most damaging spy in US history, there are plenty of reasons. There’s more drama in feigned intimacy. In your boss taking you to a park at night and taking potshots at you with a weenie pistol while asking if he can trust you.

There’s enough ordinary drama in the story of Robert Hanssen without the embellishment.

Nevertheless, “Breach,” starring Chris Cooper as Hanssen, is a fine movie. Not necessarily accurate to the story, but a fine movie. As long as it’s marketed as fictionalized – the best they can admit is “based on a true story,” I’m fine with it. Though you have to wonder if they would have sacrificed much to stick to the whole truth. Because the whole truth is a lot more complicated than what’s show in the film.

Cooper is at his best in this film: Creepy, arrogant, self-assured. It doesn’t feel like he’s acting; it’s as if he is a spy for the Soviet Union trying his hardest to keep things together and believing, in his arrogance, that nobody in the FBI could know he’s a spy, since at one time the Bureau put him in charge of finding the spy.

Also stellar in this film: Laura Linney, as the agent in charge trying to find the baddie. Understated, hard-ass, firm.



Part Two: Live-Action Scooby Doo

I know we already have a live-action Scooby Doo movie. Two of them, in fact. But Scooby Doo is what comes to mind when I watched the first season of Psych.

And I mean that in a good way. Yes, it was pretty easy to pick out the villains in the stories. I mean, you only meet a few new characters in each episode, and they’re not going to trick you (at least not yet) by having the baddie be somebody they haven’t already shown you.

They kinda wink at that. They know they’re not telling complex stories. What we’re supposed to be enjoying is the chemistry between Shawn and Gus, and there’s plenty there to enjoy as you wait for them to finger the bad guy you already know.

Louis L'Amour Was Right

Writers are often scrambling to find resources to use to get things right.

Anyone writing about World War II ought to find a gem in Bill Mauldin’s 1945 book “Up Front,” which I’m reading at the moment. I have no plans to write a World War II story, but y’all know the war is kind of a hobby of mine. Reading about it, anyway.

Mauldin is best known, of course, for his cartoons, and admits up front in “Up Front” that’s he’s not a writer. Anyone from the Greatest Generation is familiar with his cartoon GIs, Willie and Joe. Willie was featured on the cover of Time Magazine on June 18, 1945 – and both appeared in a Peanuts comic strip in 1998 (incidentally the last time Maudlin drew Willie and Joe for publication before he died in 2003).

Here’s a great example of what I mean when I say writers ought to find Maudlin useful:

You can usually tell what kind of fighting went on in a town, and how much was necessary to take it, by the wreckage that remains. If the buildings are fairly intact, with only broken windows, doors, and pocked walls, it was a quick, hand-to-hand street fight with small arms and grenades and perhaps a mortar or two.

If most of the walls are still standing, but the roofs have gaping holes, and many rooms are shattered, then the entry was preceded by an artillery barrage. If some of the holes are in the slopes of the roofs facing the retreating enemy, then he gave the town a plastering after he left.

But if there isn’t much town left at all, then planes have been around. Bombs sort of lift things up in the air and drop them in a heap. Even the enormous sheet-metal doors with which shop-owners shutter their establishments buckle and balloon out into grotesque swollen shapes.

In three short paragraphs, Mauldin drops a treasure into the laps of any World War II writer. Many a good scene and many a good character could be inspired by this concise bit of information (kinda like Louis L’Amour implies in his book “Education of A Wandering Man”).

Want more? Here’s the germ of a story right here:

I heard of a soldier who spent his entire time overseas in repple-depples, and went home on rotation without ever having been assigned. His home-town paper called him a “veteran of the Italian campaign.”

(It helps to know a repple-depple is a “replacement depot,” where newly-arrived soldiers and soldiers leaving hospital awaited reassignment to a combat unit.

Mauldin also includes this common-sense caution, aimed (now) directly at writers:

Often soldiers who are going home say they are going to tell the people how fortunate we were to stop the enemy before he was able to come home and tear up our country. They are also going to tell the people that it is a pretty rough life over here.

I’ve tried to do that in my drawings and I know that many thousands of guys who have gone back have tried to do it, too. But no matter how much we try we can never give the folks at home any idea of what was really is. I guess you have to go through it to understand its horror. You can’t understand it by reading magazines or newspapers or by looking at pictures of by going to newsreels. You have to smell it and feel it all around you until you can’t imagine what it used to be like when you walked on a sidewalk or tossed clubs up into hose chestnut trees or fished for perch or when you did anything at all without a pack, a rifle, and a bunch of grenades.

Even with good source material, sometimes the best way to write about something is to be there.

Of course, that’s not always possible. Next best thing? Find someone who’s been there. Like Bill Mauldin.

Persistence. Maybe Stupid Persistence, but Persistence Nonetheless.

Last October, we had a surprise snowstorm that brought about five or so inches of heavy snow. Most of the trees in the neighborhood still had their leaves on, including our apricot tree in the back yard. The snow caused one of the three main branches of the tree to snap, nearly dividing the tree in half. I was pretty sure the tree was doomed. Fast forward to this summer. It's now heavy -- very heavy -- with apricots, even after I thinned them. Hoping the tree, which is REALLY EXCITED TO BE HERE, will survive the summer.

Any ideas what I can do to help this poor thing?

Again, What It's Like Being Me

Spent nearly five hours weeding the garden this morning*. Dogs protected me from the following:

1. Conner Turpin mowing the lawn next door.
2. Other dogs barking in the distance.
3. Evil presence left by the big dogs next door who occasionally stick their noses through knotholes in the fence.
4. The weeds I was weeding.
5. The weeds I had already weeded.
6. Bees in the raspberries.
7. Raspberries.
8. Random oxygen molecules.
9. Raindrops.
10. The absence of raindrops.
11. The sudden explosion of a soft dirt clod on the fence near where they were barking at the aforementioned evil presence.
12. Random car door slams.
13. Imaginary random car door slams.

And so on. I felt *so* protected.

*Yes, five hours weeding. Never said I was a good gardener.

Also shot myself in the hinders with a stream of cold water as I was trying to fix a garden sprinkler line.

But this is what you do when the string of 15 days with temperatures above 90 degrees is suddenly broken by light rain and temperatures in only the mid 70s.

And I was off on the temperatures . . .  No wonder it felt so pleasant.

Making Prime Work, Part IX

Part One: An Unpopular Opinion.

Yes, there is this:



If you've seen this 28-second scene, you've seen the best, and pretty much only the best, in Mel Brooks' "Blazing Saddles."

And I love Mel Brooks' films. And I'd heard of this moron scene, and the farting around the campfire scene. So I thought I was ready.

But the rest of the film. Good grief.

Underulilized talents: Harvey Korman. Madeline Kahn. Gene Wilder. GENE WILDER! How do you underutilize Gene Wilder? All three of these actors have real manic qualities that come out in other Brooks films. Not in this one. The Waco Kid may as well have been played by anybody. And all Madeline Kahn got to do was sing that sad, sad song.

Part Two: Mixed Results from Mike Judge.

First of all, I watch TV nowadays in weird ways. What usually happens is that I spend most of my time watching clips from shows (notably The Office and Parks and Recreation. Then I get to watching the episodes and I get bored until the "best of" comes up.

Kinda so with "The Goode Family" from Mike Judge. This week marked the first time I watched all of season one's episodes. And while I liked the universal lessons on listening to others' desires, not judging others because they don't exactly fit the carefully-curated stereotypes we have of their particular little pigeon-hole, and the coach mispronouncing Ubuntu's name as "Umbumchew, or something," the show, well I know now why it was cancelled after one season.

And maybe they should have given it more time. More time to find their feet with the characters and the message. But as they were skewering progressives, time was not on their side.



This is probably my favorite episode, because of its skewering of classism. Both the left and the right suffer from classism, but the progressive left likes to think they don't. So to see them squirm is delicious.

Nuclear Doesn’t Need More Black Eyes

At the bottom of it, it doesn’t matter that the amount of radioactive material lost in this particular instance is small.

Nor that it’s not enough to fashion a bomb.

Nor that it could be coated with candy and eaten by unicorns, who would then poop more exciting rainbows.

The fact that it was treated carelessly and then stolen and remains unaccounted for is a black eye on nuclear anything, period.

To sum up from the story:

Two security experts from the Department of Energy’s Idaho National Laboratory drove to San Antonio, Texas, in March 2017 with a sensitive mission: to retrieve dangerous nuclear materials from a nonprofit research lab there.

Their task was to ensure that the radioactive materials did not fall into the wrong hands on the way back to Idaho, where the government maintains a stockpile of nuclear explosive materials for the military and others.

To ensure they got the right items, the specialists from Idaho brought radiation detectors and small samples of dangerous materials to calibrate them: specifically, a plastic-covered disk of plutonium, a material that can be used to fuel nuclear weapons, and another of cesium, a highly radioactive isotope that could potentially be used in a so-called “dirty” radioactive bomb.

But when they stopped at a Marriott hotel just off Highway 410, in a high-crime neighborhood filled with temp agencies and ranch homes, they left those sensors on the back seat of their rented Ford Expedition. When they awoke the next morning, the window had been smashed and the special valises holding these sensors and nuclear materials had vanished.

Idiot instances like this will be another nail in the coffin of bringing any waste from Washington state or California to Idaho for treatment – even if doing so makes sense financially, as treatment facilities and crews that know how to work them already exist in Idaho. If the Department of Energy can’t keep track of a few samples of the bad stuff, who is to say the can handle transporting thousands of gallons of the stuff.

Particularly when the mishandling of such material by lab contractors appears to go unpunished.

And I know there are wagonloads of differences between the loss of this material and the safety precautions and checks and double checks and triple checks that would have to take place for any waste to come to Idaho for treatment. What matters is the perception, on a one-to-one ratio, for regulators and alarmists and Joe Six-Pack and Betty Housecoat to scuttle any deal that has the word “nuclear” in it.

Without a drop of waste coming – and still without knowing where the missing radioactive material has ended up – jobs are at stake and could likely be lost. Not those of the folks who lost the stuff, but those who could keep working safety and economically to treat waste from outside the state.

So what’s gotta happen?

Accountability. The Department of Energy, per this article, is pretty good at keeping non-Department folks in line with fines for losing or mishandling this bad stuff. Seems like the same rules ought to apply, and publicly.

Horse Sense. Nobody but nobody – even the noob writing this – should leave ANYTHING resembling a suitcase in a locked car overnight in a hotel parking lot. This is elementary security, folks.

NOTE: I’m saying this as a private citizen, and am not in any way speaking for the company I work for. I do work in the nuclear industry, but on the waste cleanup side.

Helaman and Weird Al

Dear Liam,

There came a time when Jesus asked his disciples to sail with him across the Sea of Galilee, as told in the fourth chapter of Mark:

And when they had sent away the multitude, they took him even as he was in the ship. And there were also with him other little ships.

And there arose a great storm of wind, and the waves beat into the ship, so that it was now full.

And he was in the hinder part of the ship, asleep on a pillow: and they awake him, and say unto him, Master, carest thou not that we perish?

And he arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm.

And he said unto them, Why are ye so fearful? how is it that ye have no faith?

And they feared exceedingly, and said one to another, What manner of man is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?

Rightly, his disciples marveled. Who is this man, they asked – and what is his power, that even the wind and sea obey him?

That power is the priesthood. The Melchizedek Priesthood, which you are soon to receive.

What, then, do we need to exercise the power of the priesthood in our lives? We cannot hope, of course, to equal the power of Jesus, as he is our Savior. We can, however, be worthy of the power of the priesthood, study how it is used, practice using it, and demonstrate faith in our Father in Heaven that as we keep his commandments, we can use his power in our lives and in the lives of others for tremendous good.

I have seen you faithfully exercise the power of the Aaronic Priesthood many times. A few weeks ago, it was my honor to sit at the sacrament table with you and bless the sacrament at your side. As I listened to you say the prayer, and as I recited it myself, I tried to imagine the both of us sitting at the Last Supper with Jesus and his disciples.

I also saw you in a moment of frustration not too long ago exercise your priesthood power when you were asked to teach a lesson in Priests Quorum, and also to serve at the Gables. I know you were frustrated at having to do so much in one day, but I was proud of you as I watched you take on that responsibility. As we exercise our faith and study what the priesthood can do, we will see many blessings come, blessings that far surpass the time we invest in fulfilling our duties.

“We know that the power of the holy priesthood does not work independently of faith, the Holy Ghost, and spiritual gifts,” said Elder Neil L. Andersen of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. “The scriptures caution ‘Deny not the gifts of God, for they are many. And there are different ways that these gifts are administered; but it is the same God who worketh [them] all.”

As a missionary, I saw this man – my first mission president – urge his missionaries to do what he urges members of the church as a whole to do now. We need to have faith first, and Alma tells us how to do that by comparing faith to the growing of a seed:

But behold, as the seed swelleth, and sprouteth, and beginneth to grow, then you must needs say that the seed is good; for behold it swelleth, and sprouteth, and beginneth to grow. And now, behold, will not this strengthen your faith? Yea, it will strengthen your faith: for ye will say, I know that this is a good seed; for behold it sprouteth and beginneth to grow.

And now, behold, are ye sure that this is a good seed? I say unto you, Yea; for every seed bringeth forth fruit unto its own likeness.

President Andersen – and Jesus Christ – encourage us to find ways to plant those seeds of faith: By teaching lessons at church, by administering in priesthood ordinances, by listening to our leaders, but most fervently by studying the gospel and by praying to know whether it is true.

As we gain testimonies, we feel that seed growing inside us.

Elder Andersen also mentions the Holy Ghost – that wonderful personage, as real as the Father and as Jesus – who helps us feel and know when things are right. I hope you have felt the presence of the Holy Ghost; for me it is a feeling of lightheartedness and joy. I have heard the Holy Ghost whisper to me.

Once, when I was feeling down about myself and some sins I had committed, I heard His voice. I was at work, cutting bricks for Uncle Albert, and humming in my head a Weird Al song. At one point in the song, Weird Al sings the lyric, “You’re not perfect, but I love you anyhow.” When I got to that point in the song, I felt my burden lifted, and felt that lightheartedness and joy as I knew, despite my faults, that the Holy Ghost was speaking to me, letting me know that though I was not perfect, Heavenly Father loved me anyway.

And yes, sometimes the Holy Ghost will speak to you through a Weird Al lyric.

Strive to be worthy to have the Holy Ghost as a constant companion.

Elder Andersen also speaks of spiritual gifts. They are many, and I see some of them manifest in you. The gift you have with music is a valuable spiritual gift, as Heavenly Father uses music to help convey the Holy Ghost to our hearts. As we develop our talents and use them to help others, we come closer to God.

Here is something my Dad – your Opa – wrote to me about the priesthood:

“The priesthood is the greatest power on earth. It has the power to heal the sick and take away sorrow. It makes life bearable. It makes everything grow. It makes the sun shine and the rain fall. It is the power of our Father in Heaven given to man to use. Never use it for selfish reasons. It is a great responsibility. The blessings are great.”

I saw my father use the priesthood as he led our family. He had his struggles with faith like many of us do, but he had a deeply-rooted love of his Father and Heaven and of Jesus Christ, a love that he always managed to communicate to his children. He used his gifts – the ability to get along with all sorts of different people, the ability to see the humor in life – to see him through many difficult times.

And I know he felt the influence of the Holy Ghost.

I am not always the best example of a priesthood holder. I know I can do better. And I know as you grow in faith, in testimony, in spiritual gifts, and in listening to the Holy Ghost, you will become a greater holder of the priesthood than you are already.

I love you.

Love, Dad

Dear Maverik

Dear Maverik,

At this point I just want to say this: Let my Maverik Trail Points expire.

I have 106.2 of them. In what amounts they're doled out is mysterious, given I have two tenths of a point in my little Maverik piggy bank.

Another great mystery: How to redeem them.

This is a good facsimile of the emails I get from y'all on a regular basis:

Every time I get one of these emails, I'm snookered.

Snookered into going to maverik.com to check out the cool things I can buy or win when I spend my Trail Points.

I'm an old-fashioned guy, who grew up on Boys Life and comic books with the "Sell Crap for Crappy Prizes" adverts in them, so that's kinda what I envision when I go to your website. I'm always disappointed. Because what I always see are the deals on Monster drinks or your iffy sandwiches. So by going to Maverik.com I get to see the same stuff I see advertised in your store.

I typically don't want those deals.

And when I use my Maverik card to buy gas, I like that. Sometimes y'all offer me a free fountain drink. I like that too.

But if you want me to go to Maverik.com to check out these awesome bargains, can you maybe have a little category on your website that says, a la Sell Crap to Win Crappy Prizes, that shows exactly what I can spend these valuable points on?

And if you want to flog your app, maybe you ought to make one for Android. Cause I ain't seein' one.

So let my Trail Points expire. I only use the card to get discounted gasoline anyway.

And your spokesbeing, I still think he's a reptilian.

No Disintegrations -- A Further Follow-Up

So over the past few weeks, I've been able to make some progress that I actually feel good about. Here goes:

MAIN FLOOR TILE. Need to tile bathroom and foyer closet, and grout laundry room. Fix soft spots in the kitchen.

UPDATE: The bathroom is tiled and grouted, and the grouting is done in the laundry room. I had to fix one tile in the bathroom that came up soft when a screw backed out of the floor. Tomorrow the goal is to finish cleaning the floor, paint the walls, and re-install the toilet, thus finishing the bathroom. I'm not sure I'll be able to get all of that done, but I'll sure give it a shot.

ROOF. Finish ridge cap on the upper portion of the roof and replace shingles on the porch and kitchen window pop-out. Also haul off the discarded shingles. Yesterday’s gullywasher also reminded me I need to clean those gutters out. Maybe if it’s not raining this evening . . .

UPDATE: The only bit of roof left to do is gutter cleaning on the lower portion of the house and the kitchen pop-out. I'm going to try to recruit kids when they get home from camp tomorrow to at least help me get the extra shingles and ladder off the roof. Any cleaning of the gutters tomorrow will be a bonus, but I don't have high hopes that'll get done.

It's a relief to have the shingles done -- well, almost. But we're to the point now if I couldn't get the pop-out done, it wouldn't be the end of the world. Getting the shingles done this summer is a significant achievement.

So too is finishing the laundry room and bathroom. Finishing that up will be top priority tomorrow. Getting the grouting done today is a significant step.

Making Prime Work VIII

Part One: Saints and Soldiers

Call me silly, but I love a good war movie. And Saints and Soldiers is a good war movie. Because it’s not a war movie – the big one with the generals and the tanks and battles. It’s five guys – sometimes six – and, toward the end, a lot fewer. They don’t get the big picture. They’re just trying to stay alive. And mostly, they don’t. Because this is a war movie.

What we witness is a little tragedy which is part of a larger tragedy which was part of what’s now been called The Good War.

It does not glory in war. It makes war look intimate, personal, and ugly.

And, yes, it is one of those films made by members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. But it doesn’t drip Mormon.

It does drip with themes of love, and camaraderie, and a little bit of redemption.

Most underrated thing about this movie? The musical score. There are times the score mixes choral arrangements with an eerie chirping, like out-of-tune crickets, which adds to the overall atmosphere of dread. And there’s plenty of dread here. It’s not an overall feel-good movie in that Private Ryan is saved. There are bigger themes here, which always make a good movie great.


The film feels a little off only in one spot -- Kirby Heyborne's British accent. He's not Dick van Dyke level, but it hurts a bit.

Part Two: West and Ward, No!

I don’t know what I expected out of “Batman: Return of the Caped Crusaders.” Maybe Adam West and Burt Ward didn’t know either.

Well, I do know I expected better.

First of all, the baddies tied up a band in a broom closet and took their place on a TV show. And tied up some idiot teenagers in confetti. That’s all they did and Commissioner Gordon ACTIVATES THE BAT-SIGNAL and the Caped Crusaders go into full Bat-Mode to go after the baddies, after introducing each one of them to the viewing audience.

I guess it’s a nod to folks who liked the ‘60s Batman TV show, but that’s about it.

And an atomic energy laboratory opens a new wing dedicated to  . . . lunar eclipses? Maybe they explain the significance. . .

No, they really don't. They went on from plot device to plot device, starting things and not really ending them. Until the movie itself ended.

The Dilbert Principle

If you want to read a funny, eye-rolling book about business and the silliness people get up to when they’re supposed to be working, read Stanley Bing’s “What Would Machiavelli do.” Or else read the reader-submitted emails in Scott Adams’ “The Dilbert Principle.”

But Bing’s book is funnier longer.

I’m sure some associate of Adams’ either re-read or remembered Laurence J. Peter’s “The Peter Principle” and suggested Adams write a similar book, based on his Dilbert comic strips. Such an endeavor could have been great. But it feels like Adams slapped this book together rather quickly and decided snark was a substitute for the sly wit and thought Peter put into his book.

That’s not so say this book isn’t funny. I’m almost always amused by Dilbert (and a little disconcerted that the character I find the most common ground with is Wally). But this book feels phoned in.

And the Dilbert Principle itself is basically a retread of one of Peter’s ideas.

Adams argues that companies move their least competent employees to middle management in order to limit that amount of damage they can do to the company.

Peter describes that as a “percussive sublimation,” a pseudo-promotion moving an individual from one unproductive position to another.

Oh well.

Still Marginally Competent, Still Happy

I re-read The Peter Principle about once a year, just to check in to see if I’ve hit my level of incompetence.

Ironically, it was almost exactly a year ago that I wrote about my last reading here.

Here’s what I wrote in 2009.

Recent research has validated the veracity of The Peter Principle, if this Forbes article is to be believed.

And when it comes to work, I’m still mostly happy.

Have NOT reached my level of incompetence working with Fluor.

HAVE reached my level of incompetence working with BYU-Idaho.

HAVE reached my level of incompetence writing novels (I’m struggling to edit, though I think by trial and error I may be getting better at it). Though this could be a display of Substitution as discussed by Laurence J. Peter, wherein an incompetent person finds something he or she is marginally good at and pursues that above everything else. Maybe this shows I’m more interested in becoming an author than moving up that ladder at BYU-Idaho.

The Peter Principle, illustrated. Here, Tom shows he reached his level of incompetence, accepted demotion, became happy (watch the entire cartoon starting here):



And yes, overall, I’m happy about where I’m at. That’s got to mean something.

I’m noticing the Peter Principle slipping into other areas of my life. For example, this weekend Michelle got fed up with me putting off fixing the ceiling fan in our bedroom and asked for screwdrivers so she could fix it herself.

Male ego and pride meant once tools were fetched, I was fixing the fan, albeit in a foul temper. And nevermind that the last time I tried to “fix” a ceiling fan, I ended up breaking it further than it had been broken, to the point we had to buy a new fan. Level of incompetence reached.

This time, however, I took note of what I did beforehand so when the fan suddenly decided it didn’t want to turn anymore, I was able to retrace my incompetent steps and get the fan spinning once more – and this time, WITHOUT the significant wobble and noise that made it impossible for us to use the fan on its highest settings. No matter it took three times of disassembly and reassembly to get the fan working again. Maybe on that particular fan ailment, my level of incompetence has yet to be reached.

Another point: Level of incompetence not yet reached on putting shingles on a house. This house is taller than what we had in Sugar City and had the added complication of solar panels, but as the solar panels were taken care of by competent people, I had no troubles. I look at others in the neighborhood with roof hip joints and steeper roofs altogether and recognize if that had been my roof, I’d have reached that level of incompetence.

A corollary: Thursday, I spent nearly three hours trying to loosen two nuts holding the main floor toilet to the floor so I could tile the bathroom. Finally gave up, bought a Dremel, and cut the bolts. Levels of incompetence may be vaulted via acquisition of technology, though it’s highly likely that $100 Dremel will now sit idle and useless for years until another toilet bolt needs cutting. Escaping a level of incompetence can be expensive.

Eagle Project -- FINISHED

Isaac's Eagle project? Finished. Now, we have to get through that paperwork. That may kill us off, but at least we don't have to get stain on our hands.

No Disintegrations, A Follow-Up

So I've been a little bit busy lately -- but not busy enough that some work hasn't been done at the house.

Here's an update from my list as reported on June 18.

MAIN FLOOR TILE. Need to tile bathroom and foyer closet, and grout laundry room. Fix soft spots in the kitchen.

UPDATE: Bathroom is tiled. Need to do the baseboards and then grout the entire assembly. Had hoped to get further along with this project, but I spent half the day trying to cut the bolts holding the toilet to the floor until I have up and bought a Dremel. The Dremel had the bolts cut in less than two minutes. Should have started the day buying the Dremel.

ROOF. Finish ridge cap on the upper portion of the roof and replace shingles on the porch and kitchen window pop-out. Also haul off the discarded shingles. Yesterday’s gullywasher also reminded me I need to clean those gutters out. Maybe if it’s not raining this evening . . .

UPDATE: The ridge cap is finished. We've hauled off one load of shingles, including the shingles that were on the porch. I've got about a half-hour's worth of work to do on the porch roof, and it'll be done. Need to do the kitchen pop-out, then clean the gutters on the lower portion of the house.

The other items on the list, well, haven't gotten to them yet. But chew the list down a bit at a time. And get the visible stuff done. Should be able to finish the shingles tomorrow (maybe get the gutters cleaned out). Then the tile in the bathroom and laundry room get grouted.

Then Saturday, EAGLE PROJECT!

Light Bulb for the Attic!

I've worked on the cleanup side of the Idaho National Laboratory for twelve years now. About eleven of those years was as a subcontractor, which meant when this time of year rolled around and all the company folks were getting their safety bonuses and such, I was getting nothing.

I shouldn't say nothing. My immediate supervisor always gave me a little cash and a gift card to make up for the fact that all subcontractors ever got was the boilerplate "We encourage our subcontractors to give bonuses for excellent work blah blah blah bling bling bling blah."

This year was different.

I won't announce the amount of the bonus, except to say it was larger than I'd anticipated -- a pleasant surprise.

when I announced the news to Michelle, this is the response I got:

Which, of course, is a line from the show "Courage the Cowardly Dog," the whole of which goes like this:

I get a million dollars! And you know what that means! That’s right! New lawn chairs! . . .Fly swatter! Spark plugs! Shovel handle! Razor blade! Light bulb for the attic!

This is our go-to quote whenever something good happens in the money department.

Making Prime Work Part VII

I’m dropping the note, because this is becoming more of a regular feature on this blog than I had anticipated. Probably because I’m wasting more time watching old movies.

Part One: A Caper Movie with Just the Caper In It

Oh, I say there’s just the caper, but there are little side stories in “Escape from Alcatraz.”
But I do mean little.

Doc’s story – which isn’t so little at the end. The tale of Litmus. And the inevitable, at least from a prison movie perspective, story of the homosexual bully who does not succeed. And there’s English. Only guilty man in . . . wait, that’s another prison movie.



But truly, this 1979 film starring Clint Eastwood is a caper movie of just the caper.

There are things you wonder if they’d work.

Would that welding technique – filing down a dime to get bits of metal to melt and weld two other bits of metal together – would that work?

And what happened to Litmus’ pet mouse, which Eastwood’s character Morris puts in his pocked right before the escape. Does he remove said mouse from the pocket when he jumps into San Francisco Bay, or does the mouse drown in his pants? That’s a hole in the movie I’d like to see filled.
Some of these actors may have been more familiar to audiences at the time, but the only big star (at least to me) is Eastwood. Though the film does feature this familiar face.

Lord Morley!

I like getting character actors for caper films rather than more well-known actors. Because with well-known actors, you fall into certain traps and expectations (see Morgan Freeman, The Shawshank Redemption). With character actors, you never know what you’re going to get. And Roberts Blossom’s portrayal of Doc – wow. With him in this film, it’s all in the eyes. You can see when the warden takes away his painting material, right in his eyes, that painting really is all Doc has.
No surprises this is also Blossom:

(C’mon, the crazy famer, “Stop and Be Friendly” whistler in “Close Encounters of the Third Kind.”
Nor any surprises here:)

Part Two: Another Caper Movie with Just the Caper In It

I'll admit it was hard watching Hercule Poirot interpreted by someone other than David Suchet. And I will admit there were times Albert Finney's Belgian accent in the 1974 iteration of the film was incomprehensible enough I had to rewatch parts, or just satisfy myself that I had almost understood what was said.

I will also admit that, with this being my first introduction to the entire Orient Express story, I'm happy it happened with this movie.

A big cast of big stars. Anthony Perkins was a standout, with his nervous twitches that probably got him a lot of parts. And it was fun watching Lauren Bacall in her babbling best.

I've never read any of Agatha Christie's books, nor had I seen any film adaptations. This film is a stunner.



And can I just say I'm so glad we've advanced as much as we have in movie trailer technology.

Making Prime Work, Part VI

NOTE: This is the start of a very intermittent series on this blog, wherein I review anything I may have watched, read, or otherwise gained from our Amazon Prime membership. This is partly to continue justifying the cost of Amazon Prime as it takes yet another leap, and to remind me what a wonderful cornucopia of media there is out there that I have yet to witness, or re-witness as the case may be.

Greetings, my friend. We are all interested in the future, for that is where you and I are going to spend the rest of our lives. And remember my friend, future events such as these will affect you in the future. You are interested in the unknown, the mysterious, the unexplainable. That is why you are here. And now, for the first time, we are bringing to you the full story of what happened on that fateful day. We are bringing you all the evidence, based only on the secret testimony ...

Some of you will recognize this. I wouldn't have a week ago. But thanks to the wonder that is Amazon Prime, I have now seen Ed Wood Jr.'s "Plan 9 from Outer Space," in all its muddled glory.

I probably do not need to see it again. It's a mess of a movie, with some gems of dialogue like what appears above, which hits you right in the face at the beginning of the film.

Then there's this:

But one thing's sure. Inspector Clay is dead, murdered, and somebody's responsible.

I appreciate the earnestness of the enterprise. Someone really wanted to tell a serious story. And the core of that story was there -- wanting humanity to stop development of bombs past the power of the hydrogen bomb, using a kind of explosive scenario that would fit right in a far more respectable science fiction movie.

But then there are the sets that consist of nothing more than curtains and radio equipment set up on wooden tables. Even on the space ships.

And the wobbly space ships bobbing around in the sky.

And the airline pilot who looked like he wanted to cry every time he was on camera.

And poor Bela Lugosi, who didn't have a single word of dialogue and spent most of the movie wandering around in his vampire cape, concealing his face as if he didn't want to appear in the film.

And someone called "Vampira," wandering around the cemetery with her claws out, doing we're not sure what.

And, inevitably, Tor Johnson.

the RiffTrax version of the film is inspired:



It is glorious. I want to see more of Wood's oeuvre.

What it's Like Being Me

Oh, I had a lively weekend.

Situation One: Up on the roof, stapling underlayment down on the last bit of roof to shingle. In one little corner, a wasp is coming in and out of a gap in the siding. He begins buzzing about my head. Using the only weapon available -- my staple hammer -- I begin flailing at the wasp, mano y vespa. I swat him out of the air. He dodges. I swat with the stapler more indiscriminately. Finally, I staple him dead to the roof. And notice I've got several shingles, a blanket, and a big wad of underlay stapled to the roof as well.



Situation Two: Son insisted on taking Scout Camp jacket, still wet from the laundry, to church. Hands it off to Dad because it's too wet to wear. Dad leaves it in the Relief Society room long enough for the next ward to start. At home, son notices missing jacket. Even though son is still in Sunday clothes and Dad is in a t-shirt, shorts, and slippers, son is TOO EMBARRASSED to go into the room to retrieve jacket.

I barge in, feeling like Fezzik clearing the Thieves' Forest. All eyes on me as my slippers flip-flap on my feet. "I left my son's Scout Camp jacket here," I say. "He'll kill me if he can't take it to camp today." I grab the jacket, naturally in the far corner of the room, and as the lesson has stopped and everyone is staring at me, I mumble "Pay no attention to how I'm dressed."