If you know me, you know that I do make pets of some peeves.
I am ready to start throwing stale banana peels at politicians for using these phrases:
"... threw (fill in the blank) under the bus." It was interesting the first time. Now it's not. This phrase needs to be forcibly put on leave for a minimum of two years.
"24/7." Stop. Just stop. Do not use that again.
"My friends across the aisle..." I expect that one was old about two days after "the aisle" was built.
What have I missed? I know there are thousands of phrases that need to go away. Any suggestions?
-Spottedcat
Friday, May 20, 2011
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Does anybody know how hard it is to make an electric car?
Just wondering how hard it is. It seems to me what's keeping it down is... the price. (Duh, Spottedcat.)
Yeah, I know. But why is it so expensive to produce the batteries for an electric car, and yet we can afford to bring oil in, not only from the reaches of Alaska, but from all over the world, including the Middle East (where wars pop up far too regularly for my comfort) and Venezuela? How many lives has that cost?
How much is a life worth? Ask someone who has just had someone they love die in a conflict over oil.
So here's my thought. We live in the United States. If capitalism is our king, why does this country not support the electric car industry? This is the United States. Can this government give rewards to colleges and universities that develop better batteries? Can the government give a huge reward to the company/person/organization that makes a battery that is affordable to people of modest income?
Oil is big industry. I know this. I guess I'm frustrated because we are at the mercy of big oil companies, who, despite their ads, are not doing much of anything to move this country on to other sources of energy to power our vehicles. They have their stockholders to keep happy, and that is not only their first priority--it is their only priority. The environment, the men and women of our military who are risking their lives, and the tiny bank accounts of those of us struggling to make ends meet do not matter.
I'd love to drive an electric car of some kind. I'd love to be able to afford to convert my car to electric. I can't do it. I can't afford it. I am permanently tied to the oil industry to provide me with transportation. And I don't like that.
-Spottedcat
Yeah, I know. But why is it so expensive to produce the batteries for an electric car, and yet we can afford to bring oil in, not only from the reaches of Alaska, but from all over the world, including the Middle East (where wars pop up far too regularly for my comfort) and Venezuela? How many lives has that cost?
How much is a life worth? Ask someone who has just had someone they love die in a conflict over oil.
So here's my thought. We live in the United States. If capitalism is our king, why does this country not support the electric car industry? This is the United States. Can this government give rewards to colleges and universities that develop better batteries? Can the government give a huge reward to the company/person/organization that makes a battery that is affordable to people of modest income?
Oil is big industry. I know this. I guess I'm frustrated because we are at the mercy of big oil companies, who, despite their ads, are not doing much of anything to move this country on to other sources of energy to power our vehicles. They have their stockholders to keep happy, and that is not only their first priority--it is their only priority. The environment, the men and women of our military who are risking their lives, and the tiny bank accounts of those of us struggling to make ends meet do not matter.
I'd love to drive an electric car of some kind. I'd love to be able to afford to convert my car to electric. I can't do it. I can't afford it. I am permanently tied to the oil industry to provide me with transportation. And I don't like that.
-Spottedcat
Friday, May 6, 2011
I should research this...
Whatever happened to commodities? No, not the kind that are traded on the stock market--the kind that the government used to give out to people under a certain income. Staples like butter, oatmeal, rice, that horrid meat in a can that nobody wanted to eat, dried milk that tasted like any other kind of dried milk from the store, butter, dried beans and split peas... what ever happened to this?
Seems to me that for those who are struggling might appreciate this. Yes, I know many would turn up their noses because they want things they can microwave and eat, and dried beans have to be soaked and rinsed and cooked. But I'd be willing to do that. Dried milk goes great in stuff like biscuits; you can't even tell it's dried and re-hydrated.
Hmm. Guess I'd better go research. Seems to me we could use that. Well, some of us sure could, anyway.
-Spottedcat
Seems to me that for those who are struggling might appreciate this. Yes, I know many would turn up their noses because they want things they can microwave and eat, and dried beans have to be soaked and rinsed and cooked. But I'd be willing to do that. Dried milk goes great in stuff like biscuits; you can't even tell it's dried and re-hydrated.
Hmm. Guess I'd better go research. Seems to me we could use that. Well, some of us sure could, anyway.
-Spottedcat
Sunday, May 1, 2011
It only looks like fun when you're a kid.
So what "it" am I talking about that only looks good when you're a kid?
Adult life. Yes, this is a departure from my politically-aimed posts.
Income tax. Property tax. The responsibility of caring for sick family. Power bills. Rising gas prices. Flat tires. Hours cut at work. Food prices going up. Carpenter ants inside the walls somewhere. Gutters full of fir needles. Clogged toilets that have to be un-clogged.
How long of a list should I make? You get the general idea. Add the fact that the cocoon of fuzzy sureness that everything will turn out okay goes away, and adult life is grim.
Some people get a break from adult life until something actually hits them, like their husband gets cancer, or their wife suffers traumatic brain injury in a car accident. For them, life is still cool, fun, full of pool-side parties and laughter.
Other people turn into little adults when they are still children, or maybe teenagers. Adulthood hit me at the age of fifteen when my dad died. All illusions of "everything will turn out fine" were permanently shattered for me, and I watched in detached amazement as people my own age went on acting as if they were immortal.
As I get older, I gather more and more sad happenings in my past. I also have a fund of memories, some from a somewhat carefree childhood, many more from the period after my dad died. Many of these memories are harsh. But many of them are uplifting. I have had many people in my life who have listened to me when I needed to be heard. I had parents who loved me, no matter what. Family friends have touched my life and given me examples I try to emulate.
What does it come down to? A long list of depressing memories?
Every person is going to have things go wrong. Sooner or later, illness, anguish, death, injury will strike everybody. It's what you do with your loss that makes the difference. Are you mad at God because he took someone you love from you? Have you decided God doesn't exist because you are now sick?
Or you can accept that life stinks, things go wrong, we get sick, and eventually we all die, and that God doesn't inflict it on you, but tries to hold out help to you, sometimes straight from him, sometimes from other people he uses.
Adult life is not all it's cracked up to be. It's a good thing we don't know that as kids, or we couldn't have been kids. But as we get older and gather sorrow and pain like we used to gather gravel in our shoes and burrs in our socks, we can choose to turn it into wisdom instead of bitterness.
Philosophically yours,
Spottedcat
Adult life. Yes, this is a departure from my politically-aimed posts.
Income tax. Property tax. The responsibility of caring for sick family. Power bills. Rising gas prices. Flat tires. Hours cut at work. Food prices going up. Carpenter ants inside the walls somewhere. Gutters full of fir needles. Clogged toilets that have to be un-clogged.
How long of a list should I make? You get the general idea. Add the fact that the cocoon of fuzzy sureness that everything will turn out okay goes away, and adult life is grim.
Some people get a break from adult life until something actually hits them, like their husband gets cancer, or their wife suffers traumatic brain injury in a car accident. For them, life is still cool, fun, full of pool-side parties and laughter.
Other people turn into little adults when they are still children, or maybe teenagers. Adulthood hit me at the age of fifteen when my dad died. All illusions of "everything will turn out fine" were permanently shattered for me, and I watched in detached amazement as people my own age went on acting as if they were immortal.
As I get older, I gather more and more sad happenings in my past. I also have a fund of memories, some from a somewhat carefree childhood, many more from the period after my dad died. Many of these memories are harsh. But many of them are uplifting. I have had many people in my life who have listened to me when I needed to be heard. I had parents who loved me, no matter what. Family friends have touched my life and given me examples I try to emulate.
What does it come down to? A long list of depressing memories?
Every person is going to have things go wrong. Sooner or later, illness, anguish, death, injury will strike everybody. It's what you do with your loss that makes the difference. Are you mad at God because he took someone you love from you? Have you decided God doesn't exist because you are now sick?
Or you can accept that life stinks, things go wrong, we get sick, and eventually we all die, and that God doesn't inflict it on you, but tries to hold out help to you, sometimes straight from him, sometimes from other people he uses.
Adult life is not all it's cracked up to be. It's a good thing we don't know that as kids, or we couldn't have been kids. But as we get older and gather sorrow and pain like we used to gather gravel in our shoes and burrs in our socks, we can choose to turn it into wisdom instead of bitterness.
Philosophically yours,
Spottedcat
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