ChuckDoherty.com

Let’s say, just hypothetically, that you are the parent of a six-year-old boy. Like any parent, you want what’s best for that child, you do what you can to protect him, keep him safe from harm, right? In fact, unless there was something very, very wrong with you, you would certainly never cause any harm to you own child. And, in the very unlikely event that you did, it stands to reason that the rest of society would roundly condemn your actions and try to get you to stop.  And it doesn’t matter if you think you should do this, because any rational person knows that this is contrary to all civilized behavior.

But for some reason, much of society looks the other way when this kind of abuse takes place in the name of religion. 

Too many people say ”I respect the beliefs of others” without taking into account what those beliefs may be and how they affect others.  Personally, I have no respect at all for this stuff. None.

Here we see a member of the Boston Bomb Squad dealing with the highly dangerous looking “device” that stopped traffic through much of that town today.  Even though the devide was harmless, and looked harmless, and had been in place for several weeks, and anyone who wasn’t seeing monsters under their bed would not have given it a second thought, the level of righetous indignation over this on the part of Boston officials is beyond measure. 

This from CNN:

In addition, the Pentagon said U.S. Northern Command was monitoring the situation from its headquarters in Colorado Springs, Colorado, but said none of its units were sent to assist.

In one statement, a police official stated that these devices “had circuitry that was was consistant with improvized explosive devices” ie; a battery.   It reminded me of the FBI’s statement after the arrest of Richard Jewel, the schlub of a Rent-a-Cop upon whom they tried to pin the Atlanta Olympic Park bombing.  They proudly announced discovering “bomb making tools” in his possession. Case closed as far as they were concerned.  Later, these bomb making tools were revealed to be a pair of pliers. 

The bottom line is that once again the police overreacted to the point of absurdity, and now they are hiding behind a mask of stern resolve to cover what should have been handled with a laugh and a bit of embarrasment.  But rather than admit even the slightest mistake, you can be pretty sure that the Boston Police will bring as many charges as they can against whatever unfortunate person was hired to put these innocuous signs in place.

Behold my new blog.  Thanks to the help of my friend Alex, I now have an honest-to-goodness blog that does all sorts of blogerific things.  I need to get my existing posts in place over the next few weeks, and will be adding new content at the same time.  Stay tuned, and feel free to leave your comments as well.

I have compiled this list of tips based on what I have learned by seeing what other folks do in and around airports. If you have a tip to share, send it to me and I may include it here.

• If carrying a duffle-style bag, or one that is much longer than it is wide, it’s best to tote it behind you and oriented side to side when walking down an aircraft aisle.  Then, with a carefully-tuned gait, you can have it swinging like a pendulum in the exact rhythm needed to hit each and every aisle-seat passenger in the head as you pass. It’s a great way to say good morning! to your fellow travelers.
   

• Offer your ID to everyone you encounter except for the one person at the airport who actually wants to check it.  By then, it should be put away in the farthest reaches of your wallet so that everyone in line behind you has a little time to rest as you fumble around for it.   
   

• Don’t risk wearing out the built-in wheels of your little roll-aboard suitcase. Instead, put your tiny case on one of those big carts that people rent when picking up big piles of luggage.  Not only can you push instead of pull your suitcase, you can also use that big monster like a snowplow to bull your way to the front of the boarding line. When your section is called, simply pluck your suitcase from the cart, and voila – it immediately ceases to be your problem.  The folks whose path it is now blocking will eventually move it out of the way after the first few of them trip over it. 
   

• Looking for the bus from the airport to the Amtrak station?  Don’t be distracted by those the large illuminated signs on both the front and side of the buses which indicate where they are going – reading those will only serve to confuse you.  Instead, board each bus in turn and ask the driver; “Is this the bus to the Amtrak station?”  Stand slack-jawed as the driver tells you; “No, this is the bus to the daily parking garage, as suggested by the huge illuminated ‘DAILY PARKING GARAGE’ sign you are standing under. You want the bus that has a huge illuminated sign saying ‘AMTRAK STATION.’”  Be sure to repeat this action with every bus that pulls up, no matter what the sign on it may say. You’ll hit pay dirt eventually.
   

• Traveling salesmen: Be sure to select a cell phone ring tone that we can all enjoy while in the boarding area.  Perhaps a little C&W music, set to a ghastly volume – everyone loves that. And be in no hurry to answer when it rings – let that tune play for a while. When you do finally answer, remember  that the call may be from long way off, so be sure to speak as loudly as you possibly can into the phone.  Otherwise, the rest of us will not know how important it is that Henderson in the accounting department (that old son of a bitch) review the steel pricing on the Cornell contract.
   

• Deaf as a post?  Then there’s no need to waste $2 on a set of headphones for the in-flight movie, is there. Instead, just have your mostly-deaf traveling companion listen to the movie through her headphones and shout each line of dialog to you as she hears it. Say “what?” three or four times each time so that she can repeat the line even louder until you are sure you have it right.
   

• Forced to sit separately from your husband on a crowded flight? Don’t despair – there is a simple way to make sure you do not lose track of each other.  When the plane lands and the passengers begin to file off, simply plant yourself in the aisle of the plane so that your mate can see you more easily when he gets up to your row. And to be extra sure that he doesn’t miss you, face sideways, lean over slightly, and thrust your Hottentot-grade ass out across the entire aisle.
   

• Facing weather-related delays? Here’s a secret – the airlines actually create the weather.  Often, the gate agent herself is the very person who asked for thunderstorms to arrive just as your flight was preparing to leave, so be sure to let her know just how really, really, REALLY pissed-off you are about any delay that this caused.  Honestly, she does care that you will be late for dinner with your mother, and may be willing to change the weather to accommodate you if you would just yell a little more loudly and get your face to turn a slightly more intense shade of red.
   

• Swarthy business men: Feel free to fall asleep and rest your weary, pomade-laden head on the shoulder of the fellow seated next to you, leaving his shirt looking as though it was struck by the Exxon Valdez.
   

• College students: Don’t waste another precious moment of your youth standing when you can sprawl out instead.  Boarding areas make the perfect place to stretch out and take up four times the floor space that a standing person would occupy, and by using your backpack as a pillow you can extend your territory further.  Holiday weekends are the ideal time to assemble en-masse and spread your ennui-ridden, blonde-dreadlocked selves through the terminal like a carpet of human kudzu.  The rest of us will be happy to step over you as we try to get where we are going.
   

• Vacationing Families: Taking the kids to Disney World?  Start the fun early by letting your children enjoy a few of the rides right there at the airport! Moving walkways offer great adventures for unsupervised children. There are no long lines, and they can even jump on or off this “ride” at any point simply by climbing over the handrail. Passengers using the walkway for its boring old proper purpose are delighted to have the little tykes bounce off them as they scamper along. What’s more, the youngsters will have an opportunity to get their crying skills toned up for the upcoming flight by falling on their little heads and screaming every few minutes while you keep your head buried safely in a magazine. Keep in mind that the Baggage Go-Round is a very popular attraction, so be sure to get there early!
   

• Astonishingly Old Ladies: Don’t risk having anyone mistake you for dead while you are only snoozing peacefully. Be sure to fill up on cabbage, eggs, and a good hearty three-bean soup before the flight so that you can periodically emit loud and odiferous “I’m still alive” alerts every few minutes and let everyone within six rows know you are just fine.  If these notifications stop for more than two minutes we will be sure to check your pulse, but otherwise we will assume you are ok.
   

• When escorting a group of elderly folks on a trip, the safest place to keep everyone’s boarding passes is at the very bottom of your tote bag, with everything imaginable piled on top of them. Don’t forget to act surprised when the gate agent asks to see them when you finally respond to his repeated pre-boarding announcements.
   

• Tykes: Airplanes can be germ-filled places, so coat your little hands with a protective layer of sticky, gelatinous ooze made from jam, goldfish-cracker dust and cream cheese. That way you will not catch anything bad as you rub your paws on other passengers while running up and down the aisle of the plane without supervision. After all, you can’t be expected to spend the entire trip just kicking the back of the seat in front of you. (Contributed by Alex)

This is the website of Chuck Doherty.

Back in the mid 1970′s, when personal computers were found only in the home of insufferable geeks, I of course had a personal computer. Several in fact. During this same time, the first of what would become many computer magazines began springing up.  Some of the early magazines were published by an interesting character named Wayne Green, from Peterborough, NH. Along with computer publications, Green’s firm also published “73″, a magazine for Ham Radio enthusiasts, and Green was well known (if not necessarily well-regarded) in that community as well. After a long decline in advertising revenue the company scaled down to the point that even his flagship “73″ ceased publication in 2003, with Green dropping off the mainstream media radar soon after. 

I did a bit of writing for his firm back then and had opportunity to meet him a few times during my visits to his facility. Yesterday, I read something that reminded me of Green, so I got on Google to see what he was up to these days. That search brought me to his current web site. Now that he is free from the shackles of semi-corporate responsibility (not that he ever was bound by them) he can prattle on full throttle about the many, many causes he is championing, and promote his self-published guides to everything from lunatic-fringe medicine to cold fusion, plus all manner of conspiracy theories, doomsday predictions, and solutions to various societal woes.  Oh, and he offers dance instruction videos too. 

On his site, you can also read selections from his “32 Letters to the Governor of New Hampshire,” each of which, I am sure, were carefully considered by the governor and his staff. Green does raise a few salient points, but even the best ideas have a tendency to get overlooked when they are buried among recommendations that the governor purchase and read Green’s “Secret Guide to Wealth,” as well as his cat-lady-crazy tips on health. In a nutshell: eat raw food, avoid Fluoride, Aspartame and amalgam fillings, drink lots of water and use colloidal silver. General Jack D. Ripper would agree heartily. 

Green was always an odd duck but still managed to be reasonably successful, often in spite of himself. Like a lot of creative folks, there was a kook at the core of Green that was bursting to be let loose. You would get a glimpse of that by reading his rambling editorials in “73″, most of which had nothing at all to do with ham radio and were often just diatribes aimed at the IRS, an organization with whom he had particular enmity. 

He had always been one to have 150 new ideas pop into his head every day, but 98% of them are along the lines of; “The Government should install insulated pipes under the streets to deliver hot and nutritious soup to everyone’s home,” or “Let’s use trained cats as spies by hiding microwave antennas in their tails.” Still, a few of his epiphanies were potential money-makers. All Green needed to do was keep someone with a level head near him at all times so they could write his ideas down, and sift through them to find the ones that had some merit. And for many years he did just that. But now he appears to be on a very different path, and thanks to the Internet he can still reach the masses without a support staff. That is of course, if any of the masses want to listen to him at all. I get the feeling that he is just preaching to the converted, as is the case with most semi-loony web sites.

As of 3:30PM, I once again have heat in my house.

There is no single word in the English language that properly encapsulates what we have been dealing with during the boiler replacement.  I have been told that the French word ordures, which commonly means rubbish, can be used in a way to imply something more along the lines of unspeakable filth. That usage describes what we encountered in my cellar today much more accurately than any word in English ever could.

While the boiler was out and the new one not yet in place, I got the manic notion to open the little trap door at the base of the chimney and clean it out. I was envisioning a tiny pile of fine white ash that I could sweep out as easily as dusting away a cigar ash.  Instead, opening this flap revealed a solid wall of tightly packed ash, soot, and brick crumbs that appeared to have been in place for many, many years.  One gentle poke at this long-stationary wad caused at least a two-cubic-yard mass of it, including at least one fully-intact and surprisingly well preserved bird carcass, to come pouring out like The Black Tsunami of Death. This eruption left the air in the basement all but opaque, and both the plumber and me in blackface. I can only assume that the inside of our lungs now look like what you would see at the autopsy of a three-pack a day Lucky Strike smoker, and I expect to be coughing up lumps of coal for some time.

As of the end of the day, the boiler remains inoperative and I must deal with another heatless night.  But at least I have my filth.

Bob the plumber just arrived to dismantle the old boiler in advance of the new one.  I can hear him muttering in he other room; “three pound hammer, bucket, chisel, Sawz-all…” as he figures out the tools he will need for this part of the operation.  When he gets to “rib spreader” I will be more concerned.

The underfloor heating system in my kitchen has chosen this, the coldest imaginable day, and while the main heating system is also broken, to go on the fritz.  I am currently trying to debug the problem by bypassing the thermostat, etc., but so far no dice. The space heater under the desk where I am sitting remains the only source of warmth in the house, a fact not lost on the cat curled up beside it. I think I may need to do some baking tonight as justification for cranking up the oven.

If you need a pie, give me a call.