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Search rbgilbert.com

This is my blogchalk:
United States, Massachusetts, Boston, Brighton, English, Ron, Male, Photography, Nudity.

Critical Mass
Last night I rode with a Critical Mass ride for the first time ever. But it was an accident. I was cycling through Kenmore Square on my way to visit a friend when not far ahead of me I spied a cyclist carrying a full-size American flag. I thought it was just some cracker over-anticipating Independence Day, but past him I saw more cyclists spreading out clear across Comm Ave and riding slowly. I realized it was Critical Mass when I remembered that it was the last Friday of the month. They were clearly pissing off drivers, but they did seem to be behaving legally -- apart from the law requiring you not to obstruct traffic. They all stopped at the first red light they came to, which is where I really caught up to them. But then when the light turned green they rode incredibly slowly. They were obstructing me as much as any motor vehicle. One guy was towing a love seat! About half the riders looked relatively inexperienced, potentially ditzy and risky. Just to get ahead a bit (and get off the tail end of the group) I began passing on the right! Normally, that's a really dangerous operation, but we were going really slow and I dinged my bell the whole time. When we finally got to Gloucester I hooked a right while the main group continued forward on Comm Ave, most of them running the red light and blocking traffic.

You know I want motorists to treat me with the respect and equal legal rights that are my due, and you may know that sometimes I insist on that respect and those rights, even if it pisses off drivers; but this Critical Mass thing is just plain stupid. Any political message is totally buried in this crowd of fools riding like idiots. I'll go out on the web and try to find you some official Critical Mass stuff.

• www.critical-mass.org
• WorldWide Critical Mass Hub
• The Unofficial Boston Critical Mass Home Page
• Photos
from other Boston Critical Mass rides including pictures of the rolling couch.

As one rides the Green Line to North Station one can look out to the right as it ascends from the tunnel to observe progress on a portion of the Big Dig. (Not to be confused with the hole you see when you look to the left and observe the work on construction of the new underground North Station, which is not technically part of the Big Dig, so I guess it's just a moderately admirable dig.) Along here the tunnels of the Big Dig rise to approach the Leonard P. Zakim Bunker Hill Bridge [bridge photo] [explanation of name of bridge] [placement of the last piece of deck on the Zakim bridge] Today, for the first time that I was aware, the Big Dig tunnel was completely roofed over there. Now it is all corrugated metal and reinforcing rods and looks like this photo of another site on the Big Dig. It's the first day in a years I haven't been able to see down into the dark. There were a couple of dozen hard-hatted men lined up at one end waiting. Maybe there will be concrete poured there today.

• Photo of what's now roofed over
• Another good bridge picture

To the times I translate something, that one that he wrote with Babelfish. I do this anonymize. Later that is Babelized I, to regulate some errors. If you stop not to give the form that the reading program would execute, the one that had done. It has a place, make efficiently very. It is lost in translation, where it is his message translates of the French, the German, of the Italian, of the Portuguese and the Spanish. If it is finished, its message is similar the one in charge of taxi.

Successful test flight of a supersonic, Boeing military aircraft that can take off and land vertically. Could possibly lead to the biggest Pentagon contract ever. Bigger, MUCH bigger, even, than the Big Dig. $200 billion.

Go to this article on slide rules and you'll find a link where you can actually slide a slide rule on your monitor! Presumably uses java.

The Des Moines Gay Men's Chorus has its premier performance tomorrow night!

"Beer is for the whole family." And they're going to start supplying it to Belgian schoolchildren because it's healthier than the sodas and sweet drinks they've been consuming. Yes, yes, yes! The world is becoming a better place.

People sleeping in air-conditioned bedrooms, eating food cooked in microwave ovens, washing dishes in dishwashers, using electric can openers, unable to walk two blocks, can't be bothered to fix the flats on the bicycle, and now stick shift sales in the U.S. declined to only 8% of vehicles in 2000, down from 12.3 percent in 1996. The North Koreans won't need missiles. They'll just walk right over our bloated, osteoporotic, worthless bodies.

Austin, Texas blackout! Requires flash.

National Motorcycle Museum and Hall of Fame opens in (where else?) Anamosa, Iowa! Just a few doors down from the Grant Wood Art Museum. For obvious reasons, Sturgis, South Dakota, was an unsatisfactory home for it. Their website. Other motorcycle museums:

• The Motorcycle Museum Online
• Rocky Mountain Motorcycle Museum
• Allen Vintage Motorcycle Museum ["outside of Boston"]
• The National Motorcycle Museum [of Australia]
• The Sammy Miller Museum [Britain]
• Trev Deeley Motorcycle Collection [Canada]
• Indian Motorcycle Museum [Springfield, Mass.]
• Canadian Vintage Motorcycle Group
• The Motorcycle Museum [Solvang]
• The American Classic Motorcycle Museum [North Carolina]
• London Motorcycle Museum
• Norfolk Motorcycle Museum [UK]
• Motorcycle Hall Of Fame Museum [Ohio]
• The Combe Martin Motorcycle Museum [UK]

$100 gets you a CD containing the Bible in 18 English translations and 28 foreign language translations (or, according to another page on the same site, 14 English and 30 foreign, but who's gonna be picky when we know there's just one Word of God...unless we count that pesky Koran). As a friend frequently points out to me "Even the devil can quote scripture." And, in my experience, can often quote it better! It also claims to have "Access to Greek and Hebrew texts." I'd like to know if that means it includes them. It's being sold by someone in Alpharetta, Georgia, so you know it's real! Miss this deal and your next offer may be a pillar of salt.

"Kansas City was a strange and wonderful place," Ernest Hemingway once wrote but never published. It was a place where "the food is good," where the people spoke "the purest American" and where, frankly, some years later he found it dull.

Manhattan Bridge opens to pedestrians and cyclists after 40 years of oppression and denial! But why do they think a width of 10 feet is insufficient for 2 cyclists to pass each other? We can do it here in Boston.

The Unrepresented Nations and Peoples Organisation, an organization of those "nations" and peoples who cannot qualify for membership in the United Nations. For example: the Chechen Republic, Crimea, East Timor, Taiwan, Tibet and even Hawaii and the Lakota Nation!

Remember that link to the service that mails you marijuana? They've got a glitch.

Got neighbors or housemates that piss you off? An excellent revenge story starts here and it ends here.

Motorcycle Addendum:

• Crossover skills from bicycling? Not many. However, I did seem to be able to balance better than expected at very slow speeds. They told us we wouldn't be able to ride without wobble at less than 10 mph until we were very experienced, but many times my speedometer was pegged at the bottom (5 mph) and was doing just fine rolling along and even turning. On the final weaving test one instructor said it looked as though I had come to a dead stop without touching the ground and then started up again. An illusion. I never did a track stand on the motorcycle, but I was close.
• There was one guy in class with ADHD (my diagnosis). Thank goodness when I went to school we just tolerated it rather than forcing drugs on students like that, so I had skills to fall back on.
• After the exam was all over several of us were talking about the motorcycle license. To my surprise, the Registry really does mail us a whole new driver's license with a motorcycle endorsement. I will then have two driver's licenses, one with and one without motorcycle endorsement. That led to a discussion about the market for selling our un-endorsed licenses. All I need to do, they say, is find someone under 21 who looks reasonably like me. We all agreed that should be easy! Then the conversation went into how much easier it used to be to create fake IDs, but now with the photos imprinted into the card, the holograms, and everything it's a real challenge. My mention that my first driver's license didn't even include a photo was greeted with stunned looks of awe and amazement. I took that to mean that I don't really look as old as Dwight (or Mamie) Eisenhower.
• The snow boots were Rockports, of course, not Rockfords.
• Here is the website for Ironstone Ventures, the company that does the course I took. There's a photo of a class on that page and in the background you can see my lucky motorcycle number 52!

The helmet thing I don't care about, but this is terrible riding posture and no hand on the throttle/brake would get you a big slapdown from the instructors at Ironstone. P.S. it's NY Pride!

Article here about genuinely straight men who genuinely enjoy hanging out with gay men and who like to be identified as queer. Hmm. Mmmmmmmaybe. I've met guys like this before. It took only the slightest nudge to bring them fully out. But perhaps that is all in our dark, sexually repressed past. Maybe henceforth straight men will become genuinely liberated and open. But with straight men, gay men, and lesbians all liberated, what of straight women? They and many onanists are still waiting for that touch of fairy dust.
Speaking of Onan, on my last visit to Costco I saw they were selling "Onan" brand electric generators. Ah! Cute little joke, you nasty, nasty boys! Do it yourself electricity.

Hidden genius unearthed?

Pro-gun (I mean VERY pro-gun) resort community being built in Nevada. If the anti-gun people are right, the teachers will rule the school by simply blowing away difficult students. Let's wait and see!

"The building contains only 150 parking spaces - and they're for bicycles, not cars." All right! Now we're talking! It's the new California EPA building in Sacramento.

Motorcycle class: Pass

• It's a bit shocking to think that someone with my ineptness now has, in essence, a motorcycle license. The only thing is for our Registry to push a bit of paper and mail the license out to me. I am more frightened of motorcyclists now than ever!
• My first impression on mounting the motorcycle was that it was terribly heavy...and topheavy at that. But later that hot black tank of gasoline began to feel right at home between my legs.
• My second impression was that the throttle was incredibly sensitive. With the clutch engaged all the way, the tiniest twist of the throttle sent me surging. I never could find out what would happen if I turned it more than about 10 degrees.
• I trained on a Honda Nighthawk made in October 1993. It had a 150 cc engine. A couple of other guys in the class told me they had recently bought Ninjas with 600 cc engines. Right now that sounds to me like enough power to reach lightspeed in about 100 feet. They also told me the throttle and clutch on their Ninjas work much more smoothly and gradually than the Hondas we were on.
• Got to like the smell of gasoline and exhaust, but never liked the sound of the engines nor the crappy vibration I got when I accelerated. It wasn't a powerful throb. It was more a sensation that some big chunks of plastic needed to be tightened down.
• On the first day I was totally uncoordinated, frequently shifting before I had grabbed the clutch ("we don' need no stinkin' clutch!"), frequently revving the engine when stopping, almost never being able to make a smooth acceleration. But a night's sleep with my brain in a bath of choline showed me that I can still learn some things. Today second gear came to me whenever I wanted and the throttle was sometimes smooth.
• Part of the improvement was because instead of yesterday's very attractive lineman boots, today I wore Rockford snow boots, which are about a size smaller and much lighter. I also wore full finger bicycle gloves instead of leather gloves. This allowed me to wrap that throttle a bit better.
• The class of about 35 people (in the classroom) broke up into three groups of about a dozen each when we went for on the cycle training. Each group of 12 had two instructors. My three (one of my Saturday instructors didn't work Sunday) were totally nice. We really appreciated that because on the adjoining range the instructors were yammering, yapping bitches. You miss a turn on their course and it was like "You missed that turn!" in a drill instructor voice. Ours might say nothing or give a constructive hint.
• The classroom portion (mornings) was not too bad. There were lots of videotape bits. Not too different from that drivers ed films I saw in high school.
• Class demography: Out of 35 students 7 were women, 1 man appeared to be of east Asian descent, 1 woman of south Asian descent, and 2 men of African descent. There were 2 students whose accents were so noticeable I thought they might be recent immigrants. There was a gay couple (men). There were only a couple of guys about my age or older. I would have said ages ranged down to the low 20s, but today we found out that one woman in our 12-group was only 16, not even 16½, so she's old enough to get her learner's permit (required for the course) but can't get her license yet. The class instructors came to the consensus that they would trust the Registry not to issue her motorcycle license until she reached the legal age.
• There were quite a few attractive guys in the class. The testosterone levels were fairly high. One guy, Tony, was about 6'2", spiked hair with highlights, several tattoos, lots of piercings, very smooth skin (he took off his shirt to work on his tan while we waited out by the training range). He is what friend D.K. would call "wax." He and I worked together in the only exercise where students had to pair off. Skinhead was a popular hairstyle in class. Only one guy had anything approaching long hair. He was able to tie it back in a pony tail.
• The class is in the same building as a coffee shop that sells motorcycle accessories, so during breaks we could go there for caffeine and to admire the experienced riders and spot them doing things our instructors told us never to do (two fingers on the brake lever!!).
• I got 100% on the written exam and I passed the driving test with enough points that I could have safely collided with a few more traffic cones and still made it.
• Yesterday the range work was really hot and sweaty. Not only was I tense, but the sun was out full just beating on us. I had worn a flannel shirt. We had to wear long sleeves, and I didn't know if a t-shirt would be safe enough. Today I wore a white t-shirt, but we had a lot more clouds...and buckets of rain. The range work goes on regardless of the weather. One instructor warned us that if we got hit by lightning then we wouldn't pass.
• In our 12-group we had one student who dropped her bike twice yesterday. We also had one student (the 16 year old) who had a bitch of a time getting her motorcycle to go. Once we sat for five minutes while she stalled it over and over and over.
• One of the drawbacks to the class is that you spend a lot of time just sitting on an idling motorcycle while one person does his thing...or you are all out there doing it together and you have to worry about accelerating right up someone's butt. I'd prefer a small class and a practice area about 4 times as large.
• The practice ranges were on Hanscom Air Force Base property itself, causing me to wonder if some international incident fired off, would our class be interrupted?
• I certainly don't plan to buy a motorcycle, and fantasies of renting one for a trip should not be fulfilled until after I've had a lot more practice, so I guess I should be in the market for a boyfriend with a motorcycle. Where's the best shopping for that kind of thing?

He came to America in 1973 with $8 and two shirts in a suitcase. It's the great American story told again, but this time with high school male bonding and stock investment clubs.

A new Anti-Defamation League page on hate crimes. It's supposed to help law enforcement.

"It's not like the car won't stop or is unsafe in any respect," he said [b]ut on the new cars, the doors "forget whether they're open or closed" and remain open. The Washington Metro can be a thrill a minute!

D.C. Panel Reinstates Two Gay Adult Scouts. Hey, maybe statehood for the District of Columbia would be a good thing! 'Course if DC got statehood, we'd be obliged to move the federal capital to somewhere appropriate. Alabama or Mississippi probably have some swampland they'd be willing to part with.

rbgilbert.com - It's mine!

Check here for friend's web site under construction. Nice stuff!

Do You Have Stairs In Your House?

Followup article on the stinky titan arum plant

A survey of opinions on US state and Canadian provincial flags. New Mexico's wins, of course. And Georgia's comes in dead last (also, of course).

Here's a line from an article in the Globe: "The blackout is set to start at 7 p.m. in each time zone around the world, ending at 10 p.m.; New England's time zone, nearly a day behind the international date line, will be among the last regions to participate."

Now, somebody correct me if I'm wrong, sometimes I can be such a ditz; but...if we are nearly a day behind the International Date Line, why aren't we somewhere in the eastern Pacific Ocean?

I encountered an unusual language barrier problem while in Provincetown last weekend. I had stopped in at my favorite P-town coffee shop, where they also do fresh juices. I asked the young blonde female [this is not a dumb blonde joke] employee for a carrot-celery-beet juice. "Ah, carrot juice," she said a bit too quickly, turning away to grab some juicing equipment. She had a slight northern European accent, like maybe German or Dutch or Danish, or sump'n. Not much, though.

She turned back to me to ask "Carrot and...?"

"Celery and beet" I repeated.

"Ah, okay. Carrot and celery?" She struggled over the pronunciation of "celery."

"Carrot, celery, beet" I said slowly.

"Ah, carrot, celery and what was the other one?"

"Beet."

"Pineapple?"

I am not making this up, that is what she asked. My eyes became saucers I am sure.

"Beet! B - E - E - T." I enunciated like I never enunciated before. She looked at me blankly. I'm pretty sure "beet" has Old English roots [ha, ha] so it should have a cognate in German, Dutch and even Walloon, but I have no idea what it might be. (Indeed, now I look it up and I see it came into Old English from the Latin "beta." We've no record of what the Anglo-Saxons called it before the Romans invaded.)

At this point the owner of the shop, who seems to have immigrated from east Asia intervened. She had an accent too, but it was one of the standard ones -- Korean, or Chinese -- so our communication was excellent. "Beet!" she snapped, whipping a big red one out of the vegetable case. She tried to make it up to me by agreeing that carrot-celery-beet was the best and that she herself had one for dinner every night as she closed up the shop.

The season has just started. I'm sure if I came back Labor Day the young lady could whip out a jicama-avocado juice with spirulina added in and never blink about it.

Prison slang

Man Shoots Dog: Another way to stop a pit bull attack. But whatever you do, don't waste your time trying to get away on a bike.

The Program Specialist position serves as the U. S. Department of Agriculture’s (USDA) Departmental Gay and Lesbian Employment Program Manager. Not only is this "the first time an administration had sought to hire someone to handle gay and lesbian issues in the federal workplace," but it's a great opportunity for you to discover how federal vacancy announcements are written.

"Pornographic material is any material that condones, either directly or implied, the human body as an item of sexual desire." That comes from the Net Authority Acceptable Internet Usage Guidelines. The Net Authority is a group of Christians "who have taken it upon themselves to govern the Internet."

"How beautiful are thy feet with shoes, O prince's daughter! the joints of thy thighs are like jewels, the work of the hands of a cunning workman. Thy navel is like a round goblet, which wanteth not liquor: thy belly is like an heap of wheat set about with lilies. Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins." That, of course, comes from the Bible, King James version, Song Of Solomon.

Check out their guidelines. All pornographic material is banned. Also banned is child pornography, bestiality, homosexual pornography and interracial pornography. Only homosexual pornography is a sin, though. On another page they further explain that "Pornography is any lude material, or material of an adult nature." If you check out their forum you'll find the general opinion that the whole site is a joke.

I submitted one of my own trash addresses to their database, accusing myself of "blasphemy." The canned response was that they would investigate this heinous accusation, and then add that address to their database (no allowance for a different outcome from the investigation). Within seconds my trash address received this message:

It has recently been brought to our attention that you are, or have been, in violation of the Net Authority Acceptable Internet Usage Guidelines. It has been reported that you view offensive materials over the Internet. Net Authority has investigated these claims and verified that they are true. As a result, your personal information has been added to one or more Net Authority Internet offender databases. Your information will be stored in the databases until enough evidence has been gathered against you to warrant further actions. To help avoid such a situation, it is strongly recommended that you cease your immoral actions on the Internet at once. You have been added to the following databases:

- General Blasphemy Offenders

If you would like more information about Net Authority or the Net Authority Acceptable Internet Usage Guidelines, you may read the details at http://www.netauthority.org/. It is imperative that you fully understand the guidelines if you wish to avoid further prosecution.

While the individual who reported your actions to us will remain anonymous, he or she wished to pass these words on to you:
"Blasphemer!"

May God be with you as you struggle to overcome these evil impulses. You will be in our prayers at night.

God speed,
Net Authority Investigations Department
investigations@netauthority.org
http://www.netauthority.org/

I have wondered since I first started using them how Zing could stay in business. I've never bought a thing from them. Half the banner ads I see on their site are for their own service, and they allow me (perhaps unintentionally) to link directly to the photos so that you can see them here with no Zing advertising at all. And now the answer has come. They can't stay in business. They're shutting down on July 2. This probably means I'll bite a bullet and do the grown-up thing and pay for some space somewhere.

The recent article about the new gay mayor of Berlin referred to the new gay mayor in Paris. Somehow I missed that bit of news when it happened back in March 2001. Here's another link.

Pretty typical public school treatment of homophobic slurs.

And here's a story where the teacher himself was the source of homophobic remarks.

Les Miserables

Satisfying story about a man who successfully deposited a "non-negotiable" check back in '95.

MAN BITES DOG: How to defend against pit bull attacks.

Off we go! (95 kb)

Amish porn!

I've just received my first Photon-Microlight 3. This is new. The first version was simply on or off as you pushed and held a button. Version 2 allowed you to switch it on and leave it on. Now version 3 goes wild! There are three levels of brightness, 3 speeds of strobe, plus a one minute temporary on option. I got it in yellow.

Here's a remarkable headline from yesterday's NY Times: Auto Dealers Are Accused of Cheating 286 Buyers.

Really! Anyone so stupid as to actually pay money to buy a 286 from a used car dealer deserves to be cheated! The things are boat anchors.

Play staged in toilet.

Denver airport photo. (108 kb)

"I am gay, and that's a good thing"

Mt. Wilson transmission towers. Makes me recall the first time I flew into L.A. at night (headed to Burbank airport, I think) and passed Mt. Wilson.

A prairie dog colony that has to be removed from a development site in Arapahoe County will be vacuumed and shipped to Arizona, where the animals will be fed to black-footed ferrets in a captive breeding program.

I've just finished watching "The Passion of Ayn Rand" on DVD. Way entertaining! Here's a link to Amazon for the DVD; and here's one to Laissez Faire books for the original book version with a review by Roy Childs. It's been awhile since I read the book, but I don't think it explicitly said that Ayn liked to get it doggy style! The movie, however, fills us in. Again, anyone within visiting distance is welcome to borrow this. You won't find it in your local video store.

Found photos available at Spillway.com Click on any of them to see a larger version.

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More Crayola data: the least popular of the 120 colors is "Spring Green."  White comes in at 103rd place, while black is a respectable 34. Gray is #112. Just plain blue is #1 with 11,322 votes, pulling way ahead of #2 "Cerulean"  with only 7956.
When they distinguish male from female Crayola fans we see red in the #3 spot for males, while it is #17 for females. Females put "Hot Magenta" in the number 10 spot. Males put it in 28th place. Kids put red at #9 and "Hot Magenta" at #5. Adults put them at 13th and 12th, respectively. "Spring Green" sits at the bottom of every list, except females. Females put it at 119th out of 120. They dump "Tan"  in the 120 spot.
Here is the list of 120 colors, in alphabetical order: Almond, Apricot, Antique Brass, Aquamarine, Asparagus, Atomic Tangerine, Banana Mania, Beaver, Bittersweet, Black, Blizzard Blue, Blue, Blue Bell, Blue Green, Blue Violet, Brick Red, Brink Pink, Brown, Burnt Orange, Burnt Sienna, Cadet Blue, Canary, Caribbean Green, Carnation Pink, Cerise, Cerulean, Chestnut, Copper, Cornflower, Cotton Candy, Cranberry, Dandelion, Denim, Desert Sand, Eggplant, Electric Lime, Fern, Forest Green, Fuchsia, Fuzzy Wuzzy Brown, Gold, Goldenrod, Granny Smith Apple, Gray, Green, Green Yellow, Hot Magenta, Indigo, Jungle Green, Lavender, Laser Lemon, Macaroni And Cheese, Magenta, Mahogany, Magic Mint, Manatee, Maroon, Mauvelous, Melon, Midnight Blue, Mountain Meadow, Mulberry, Navy Blue, Neon Carrot, Olive Green, Orange, Orchid, Outer Space, Outrageous Orange, Pacific Blue, Peach, Periwinkle, Pig Pink, Pine Green, Pink Flamingo, Plum, Purple Heart, Purple Mountain Majesty , Purple Pizzazz, Radical Red, Raw Sienna, Razzle Dazzle Rose,Razzmatazz, Red, Red Orange, Red Violet, Robin Egg Blue, Royal Purple, Salmon, Scarlet, Screamin Green, Sea Green, Sepia, Shadow, Shamrock, Shocking Pink, Silver, Sky Blue, Spring Green, Sunglow, Sunset Orange, Tan, Teal Blue, Tickle Me Pink, Timberwolf, Tropical Rain Forest, Tumbleweed, Turquoise Blue, Unmellow Yellow, Violet (Purple), Violet Red, Vivid Tangerine, Vivid Violet, White, Wild Strawberry, Wild Watermelon, Wisteria, Yellow, Yellow Green, Yellow Orange

Who Let The Dogs Out. WARNING: this is offensive and degrading. Don't view it at work. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Requires Flash and a sound card.

A panorama along the South Boston waterfront.

Click for full size (201 kb)

Next time you're in the Coachella Valley I highly recommend the Veggie & Tea House at 72281 Highway 111, near the intersection with Fred Waring, in Palm Desert (760-674-9579). Totally veggie (some dairy), including soy and nuts, very nice staff, comfortable place, and CHEAP! Meals are $5 or $6 and include generous amounts of vegetables, some of which they grow on their own organic farm. Rice comes in little balsa wood boxes. You pick your meal from a display of about 20 examples. They also have unsweetened iced green tea (where can you find that in Boston?) and fresh vegetable juices. It's one of the best things I've ever found in the Palm Springs area. Here's a review of the place.

My Provincetown-Boston maps have been updated and loaded up on the web, if you want 'em. If you're coming on the ride this Saturday you get a paper copy. These scans on the web are for your totally unofficial use throughout the year.

Dutch ship to perform abortions in international waters. Not long ago it was announced that a Dutch ship would be available for euthanasia in international waters. We know what has to come next: a Dutch ship for the consumption of marijuana and hashish sitting 12 miles out from NYC. Anyone care to guess when?

Hilarious...or witty. Depends on whether you think these are real (and hilarious) or fictional (and witty).

Fascinating story of longterm sexual harassment in AME congregations in Kansas City.

This'll make you laugh!

Fallout on the jail cam.

Oh gawd, is this obscene or just incredibly stupid?

The top 10 Crayola crayon colors are some kind of blue or green except for Cerise , which comes in at 9th place. Periwinkle (my old favorite) comes in at number 7. But according to this page Cerise is not among the top 10 in either the U.S. or Canada, so I guess they just are not going to give us the exciting results from the rest of the world that vaulted Cerise to its level of popularity. In DC, though, "Hot Magenta" rises to #7! And just plain "Red" is #8 in both Rhode Island and Kansas. It climbs to 7th place in Iowa! Missouri likes Cerise and "Wisteria." 10th place in Illinois goes to "Purple Pizzazz" which looks damn close to Hot Magenta on my monitor.

Name changes: "Flesh" was changed to "Peach"  in 1962, they claim. I never noticed that. "Prussian Blue" was changed to "Midnight Blue"  in 1958 (before I could read). Was that some sort of latent anti-German thing? "Indian Red" was changed to "Chestnut"  in 1999. I don't remember Indian Red, but I'm amazed they held onto it so long. I haven't looked at Crayolas recently or I'd have already known that there is a color called "Macaroni and cheese."  Yuk, but it is the 9th most popular color in Hawaii! In 1999 they added "Pig Pink"  and "Pink Flamingo."  Somebody at Crayola is a member of the team.

The Mirage hotel at night.

Click for full size (249 kb).

And more:

• "Ride The Bull" sign on the Strip.
• Sculptures at Hoover dam commemorating those who died during construction.
• Power on the Nevada side. (417 kb)
• Weber style photo on display at Hoover dam. (101 kb)

Some more of those high-res satellite photos.
Sears Tower - we are facing south-southwest.
Chicago Public Library viewed from the north.
Downtown San Francisco
Massachusetts State House - the Boston common is to the right.
Close up on the Las Vegas Strip. Lower left is Bally, lower right is Flamingo, upper right is Caeser's, upper left is Belagio (not 100% sure of that)? This is the best resolution of any of the shots. Individual vehicles. Those structures at Bally's are not so big. If I had the source data and a top o' the line monitor I bet I could see people on the bridges.
Hoover dam. We'll be referring to this again.

Today was the Gay Pride parade in Boston and I paraded with the Outriders, for their first appearance in the parade. Watching it is more fun than being in it, but somebody's got to do the hard stuff.

My 15 minutes of fame? I hardly think so, but it's a start. The author interviewed me by e-mail, which gave me the opportunity to babble on about my biking history. It also allowed me to craft a few "sound-bites," which the reporter obligingly picked up. I got the closing quote! The sentence about the last hill in Truro and Emerald City has me speaking in an incomplete sentence. What I really told her was "I gave up a long time ago trying to describe to non-cyclists what it feels like when I come over the crest of that last hill in Truro and there is Provincetown with the westering sun spangling the ocean all around. It is SO Emerald City! Cyclists understand immediately. I just need to sketch in a bit about distance, terrain and weather.."

from Bay Windows
Pedal-power as a way to change lives

Boston's Outriders bicycling club is about so much more than cycling

By R.J. Grubb

Bay Windows correspondent

Equal parts pride and personal best, OutRiders -- a die-hard group of gung-ho gay and lesbian cyclists -- look forward to kicking this weekend's festivities into a different gear next Saturday.

That is, with only their trusted bicycles, skin-tight neoprene, and two water bottles each, this group of roughly 300 cyclists will gather in front of the Boston Center for the Arts and depart Boston a wee bit after dawn on June 16. En masse, they'll click into their cleats and, without a bit of fanfare, quietly point towards a challenging 128-mile trek that'll carry them to the sandy shores of Provincetown before nightfall.

But before you ask the usual questions -- like, 'Are they nuts?' and better yet, 'Haven't they heard of the Hi-Speed ferry?' -- understand that you're talking to an OutRider. And for the past sixteen years, OutRiders -- Boston's premier gay and lesbian cycling group -- has grown from a handful of cyclists to a respected sporting troupe that's attracted more than a thousand local and international riders just itchin' to pedal to P-town.

Nowadays, OutRiders is known as New England's bar-none ride for gay and lesbian cycling enthusiasts. But the course to acceptance has not always been easy.

According to organizer Bob Bland, who started the ride with seven other cyclists because he "just wanted to see if [he] could do it," folks weren't eager to embrace this small band of gay cyclists in 1985.

Bland -- known as Rider #1 -- used to pedal with the Charles River Wheelmen. There, it wasn't difficult to detect scorn from bruised-ego straight riders who were burned on the road by a blazing "queer" cyclist.

"The fact that we were riding with them and we were faster than they were kind of upset their pride," said Bland.

But that feeling encouraged him to organize a gay group of cyclists, plan a daunting ride, and deliberately schedule it during Pride month. Since then the P-town ride, as it is also known, has taken place a week after the Boston Pride Parade every year. Plus, for the first time this year, a small group of OutRiders plan to march in the Parade.

"Doing it in a gay context was important to me," explained Bland. "It really became a statement around Boston that this gay club was doing this huge ride with huge numbers of people."

According to Bland, people quickly started to alter their preconceived notions about gays.

"The bicycling community around Boston kind of looked around and said, 'Huh, we have to rethink gay people,'" said Bland. "Then people just started to accept it."

During the ride's fifth consecutive year, straight riders even began to ask if they could come along. Bland remembers cautioning one cyclist before the ride.

"We said, 'Everyone is going to think you're gay. If you're uptight about people assuming you're gay and perhaps making a pass at you, then you really shouldn't do this,'" said Bland. "And he said, 'Oh, that's cool.'"

With increased acceptance and registrations that always double the previous year, the ride attracted more than 100 participants by 1990. Today, due to logistics, the ride is capped at 300. Now, apart from many pairs of partners and friends, you'll also see father/daughter, mother/daughter, and father/son teams pedaling side-by-side.

Yet, with the increasing number of participants, OutRiders became too complicated for Bland to manage alone. To assist, riders quickly mobilized and devised a core committee. To this day, though the ride has seen various committees, a core group of seven cyclists always pick up the baton when the time comes and carry on the OutRiders tradition.

Relocated in Vermont, Bland doesn't always make the annual ride. Still, he brims with pride knowing that he created a special catalyst for many people.

"One of the things that I'm really proud of for starting the ride is how so many people have come to see themselves in a different light as a result of the ride," said Bland. A case in point is Dan Williams.

Changing his spokes

Back when he was "straight," Williams was introduced to the ride by his gay friend, Paul Marceau in 1997. Williams --- who is now the ride's Registrations Coordinator -- remembers that he was slightly apprehensive about joining the group.

"It was a big thing for me because when I first did the ride I was still not quite out," said Williams. "For me, it was a big deal to be involved with 300 gay and lesbian riders and go down to a gay and lesbian Mecca. It was just really comforting to see so many nice, everyday salt-of-the-earth people doing the ride. It wasn't nearly as threatening and intimidating as I thought it would be."

With OutRiders, Williams practically redefined his life.

"It was a very nice jump and I think OutRiders was a big part in my coming-out process," said Williams. "To go from where you're just sort of testing the waters to 'Here I am, I'm on the committee and I'm sending out letters.' Well, it's just been a real positive influence on my life. And it's happened relatively quickly."

Plus, he scored two boyfriends. Thanks to the ride, Williams will be pedaling with his current boyfriend of three years, Rick Recchio, this June.

Yet, reflecting on his good fortune, Williams is reminded of his friend's tragedy. This year, on the day after Christmas, Paul Marceau was one of seven people killed by Michael McDermott at Edgewater Technology in Wakefield.

"It's a strange circumstance to meet someone and have them introduce you to something and have it become such a big part of your life and then he goes on to die like that," said Williams. "Without him, I wouldn't have been introduced to this ride. I feel like when Paul was taken so tragically that it was one of the many purposes in his life to somehow connect us together."

While Williams and others will mourn and miss Marceau's presence for this year's ride, the plan remains unaltered: hone the essence of rides' past and supply cyclists with the rare opportunity to attain their personal best while mixing in a lot of fun.

The freedom to roam

While the ride is a challenging, oft-hilly haul with some long straight stretches for the 50-50 mix of men and women, it's also a supportive, intimate, and laid-back ride.

"It's all about getting to P-town and having a good time," explains Ron Gilbert, who has participated in the P-town Ride since its second year.

Called the Lord of the Route, Gilbert maps the course to P-town with green arrows at every intersection. The arrows are so accurate that most riders seldom refer to their maps. As a result, riders follow Gilbert's arrows and enjoy five "pit-stops" that double as makeshift picnics. There, riders meet up with one another and grab a couple of slices of bread to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and devour a banana or two or three. If you get a headache along the way, volunteers offer Aleve. And though the event doesn't have "sag vehicles" like the AIDS Rides, volunteers travel the route to assist riders.

To be sure, cycling offers the freedom to roam. But, for Williams, the key element of OutRiders is how it delivers a sense of personal triumph.

"The biggest thing is the accomplishment," said Williams. "When I finish this ride and I'm sitting on the [town] green in front of the statue there's such a feeling of 'I just bicycled from Boston!' and all these people in their cars, they can't say that. That's an accomplishment [and] when it's all said and done, you're sitting there with the feeling that you just bicycled for 130 miles and it's a pretty wonderful feeling."

And then there are the views: from the awe-inspiring moment of seeing the Sagamore Bridge slowly lift into view to the rolling dunes in Truro to traveling with a glittering Atlantic Ocean on your right. But most moments pale in comparison to the penultimate moment. When after a grueling, day-long journey, your bleary eyes finally rest on P-town's Pilgrim Monument and you feel like Moses glimpsing the Promise Land. Or, better yet, maybe that's Dorothy glimpsing Oz?

"When I come over the crest of that last hill in Truro and there is Provincetown with the western sun spangling the ocean all around. It is so Emerald City!" said Gilbert. "Cyclists understand immediately."

But apart from riding an endless endorphin rush, most riders simply note that the ride provides a pure sensation. One that rocks them to their core and makes the daunting ride a much anticipated journey every June.

"When I get to Provincetown, I feel that things are exactly right," explained Gilbert. "This is where I want to be and this is how I want to get here."

(To find out more about OutRiders, visit http://members.aol.com/ptownride/.)

Is Ellis The Rim Man closing? The store has been emptied, but there are no signs saying what's going on. Anyone who knows should let me know.

Just had this weirdly intense dream. I've been taking choline, but I don't think that's supposed to do stuff like this.

I was staying at some high end resort chain hotel, the kind that is only one or two stories high, with a large interior courtyard with lots of greenery and small bubbling fountains. And it has some colored lights flush in the ground that shine up to illuminate a detail of landscaping or architecture; the sorts of lights they began using in the 60s, so you know the place appeals to blue-hairs, but they call it "Moderne" so that the gay stylists will print big magazine spreads of the place. There is definitely a golf course and lots of tennis courts associated with this place, and the real surprise is when you ask to rent a mountain bike they produce one for you that is actually a really good one.

It's definitely hot and southern California, but definitely not Coachella Valley, because the grass is REAL grass, not that stubby tough stuff they grow in Palm Springs. And there are lots of deciduous trees EVERYwhere, not just where there is an irrigation system.

But that's not the point.

During my perambulations during the day I had observed these small vehicles on the grounds a few times. The were tall, about the size of two telephone booths (if you recall those) and done in the sort of 70s severe modern style that they do airport vehicles in...or the DC Metro! Yes, that's it. Like a two-phone-booth size DC Metro car. I had paid them no special attention, but as dusk settled in one appeared outside near my room so I stepped up to take a look, not knowing what it really was. It spoke my name (my real name, not some dream name). It was a nice voice, human-style, but obviously electronic. Not fake, but not so smarmy as HAL, either. I touched the sliding door (smoked glass and brushed aluminum) and it snicked open. I stepped in (it was a good couple of steps up) and recalled that before this dream started I must have called this rental service. Here I was at this fabulous resort will nothing but my vacation clothes when some event came up that I just had to go to, but it required something dressy. So I told this rental place I needed something like a suit. Inside, along the wall opposite the door (this wall was heavily tinted glass too, floor to ceiling) was a rod long enough to hold more than a dozen dresses, but since I'm a guy there were just two suits for me to try on. BUT, they had decided to also include a tux to tempt me. And it worked. I figured I was probably already paying a $200 service fee just for this cool delivery method, the $10 premium for choosing a tux over a suit meant nothing. I grabbed the tux, oddly thinking that this meant I definitely had to shine my shoes before I went out. At the end of the little vehicle was a panel on the wall that I thought might hide a mirror. I opened the pocket door covering it and saw there another very dark tinted glass door, one that swung on hinges. I pushed it open and it led into a comfortable dressing room that was (of course) way too big to be inside this little machine. It was about 4 times as wide as the vehicle. As I stepped in, the lights came up. When I closed the door behind me, the vehicle began to move!

It rolled across the grounds of the hotel at a slow walking pace, guided by lasers and cameras and satellites, for all I could tell. I realized that besides delivering the clothes to me, it was going to transport me to my evening event...slowly. The scary part was thinking that at some point it had to go on a public street, even if only to cross at a crosswalk, and I was inside unable to see out or guide it, and this was L.A. or San Diego! Well, nothing to do for that! So I just began putting on the tux which fit wonderfully, of course. Here the dream began to break up a bit. I found myself outside in the hot sun with an employee of the company that operates these vehicles. She was showing me one of its weaknesses. If the vehicle is going to meet children they click down some guards that prevent the little doofuses from sticking their limbs in the area around the wheels. The drawback is that if the vehicle is turning while dealing with a slight slope in the ground the wheels can contac t these guards and totally lock up. Then they have to send out a live service person to deal with it (and a regular limo, I guess).

And I discovered that in one of the closets and cabinets in the dressing room there was a little, old, bent man. About 95 years old, but all bright and friendly. He is there to get the vehicle through any really tough bits, like crossing traffic. He is also the "electronic" voice, and after I step out of the vehicle he runs around and tidies up before I get back. He says he totally enjoys it because his little space is very comfortable and he gets to stay in this air conditioned vehicle all day long and the pay is pretty decent. I probably should have realized that he makes this little appearance near the end of every journey so that the customer will leave him a tip. After all, thinking it was totally roboticized I had no intention of leaving one until I met him. Course, he didn't offer to shine my shoes either.

End of dream.

Really good high-res satellite photos. See the degree of detail on Transamerica building and note that it's in color!

The model for Dali's Christ of St. John of the Cross, Russell Saunders, has died after a long career as a stunt double. Obit here.

Tom Cruise sues for $100 million. Was it because he was falsely accused of being a Nazi? Falsely accused of tearing the heads off of puppies? Falsely accused of belonging to the Saddam Hussein fan club? No, he is accused of the heinous crime of being gay (and cheating on his wife, I guess). Why, a hundred million is but a pittance when stacked up against such an insult. Go for a billion, Tom. Two billion even (one for each heterotesticle). Establish a precedent so that I can get rich if I'm ever accused of having a torrid affair with a woman. [Poor boy, Tom]

Amorphophallus titanum set to bloom in Madison, Wisconsin.

The woman told police she took the pain medication Trazodone and drank sweet tea shortly after 10 p.m. May 24 and woke up at 9 a.m. May 25 to find her bottom lip was missing. While police officers searched the house for the woman's lip, they checked the dog and found traces of blood around the animal's mouth.

I never thought much of Shawnee Mission East.

"The Gayest Commercial Of All Time". It's official now.

This past Monday I was out with David K. painting the arrows for the Outriders' Boston-Provincetown bike ride, which comes up on the 16th. If you're out there, look for 'em

Jet lag begone! I've been trying to de-adjust for almost a week, which is why almost no postings here. It's complicated by the fact that my internal clock always wants to live about 3 hours behind local time. On top of that add a regular day job. Yuk. Last night I slept for nearly 12 hours, so maybe I'm okay now.

See art work of friend Tom Lewis here. That website was set up by the instructor of a course he is currently (or very recently) taking. Please try to ignore the very annoying and ugly web design and just look at Tom's paintings and imagine how much better they look in reality, or if at least photographed better, and displayed on a neutral receding background. If you would like a better view of these and other works of he who has become known as "Lewis of Watertown" drop him a note here.

By the way, the self-portrait that makes him look like an emaciated Bill Gates is not physically accurate. The artist is invited to correct me.

"A mysterious outbreak of a sometimes fatal pneumonia among gay men has occurred in San Francisco and several other major cities, it was revealed yesterday."
That's from the San Francisco Chronicle, June 6, 1981...20 years ago. More here about the first impressions created by the emergence of AIDS.

It's been the longest 20 years of my life. Besides the memories of all of those friends who have died, it is with relief and thankfulness that I realize how many friends are still alive and well.

While many other Americans were enjoying picnics and backyard cookouts, I reveled in the original intent of Memorial Day by taking myself out into the windy desert to participate in the dedication of the very first ever memorial to American gay and lesbian veterans. (I invite readers to point me to gay and lesbian veterans memorials in other nations. I'm sure there must be one in the Netherlands.)

Monument pays tribute to gay veterans
By Kenny Klein
The Desert Sun
May 28th, 2001

CATHEDRAL CITY -- When Dennis Palt served in Vietnam, he never thought there would be a memorial honoring America's gay servicemen and women.

But that all changed Sunday when the first veterans monument for gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender servicemembers killed in combat was unveiled at Desert Memorial Park in Cathedral City.

"It's a turn of the century event," said Palm Springs resident Palt, a former Air Force staff sergeant. "I had hoped for this, but you could have never thought this would become a reality in the 1970s, 1980s or '90s. It's fabulous."

As more than 100 people –– many of whom dressed in uniform –– looked on, former Marine Sgt. Tom Swann of Cathedral City began the ceremony with the first of a series of powerful speeches. A color guard followed, carrying flags representing the branches of the armed forces as well as the rainbow banner symbolizing gay pride.

"Now we can have closure to the wars of the last century," Swann said.

The memorial recently was approved by the Palm Springs Cemetery District after local activists began campaigning in January for the monument.

But the activists ran into trouble because of several legal requirements. They refused to surrender, however, and formed AMVETS Post 66 -- officially recognized by the federal Department of Veteran Affairs -- in March.

Desert Hot Springs resident Mel Tips of Palm Springs Gay Veterans said 23 years of service in the Army and Navy gave him the motivation to gather support for the monument.

"During the wars, they did not care what you were," said Tips, who said there are 60 members in Post 66. "But then I found out they were kicking people out, and I said that it could have been me. I decided to do something about these witch hunts. Being recognized today gives me the chills."

For many at the memorial event -- like the mother of slain navy serviceman Allen Schindler, 23, who was beaten to death for being gay in 1992 in Japan -- the day held special meaning.

"I'm smiling for me and my son," said Dorothy Holman of Illinois. "I know my son is very proud, and he is in heaven saying, 'Don't let this happen to any other mothers' sons.' "

Click for full size

I've finally finished watching all of The Singing Detective, including the satisfying ending, ignorance of which has plagued my mind for over a decade. Anyone who lives within visiting distance who'd like to borrow the tape, just speak up. I recommend it! Comparisons to The Sopranos would be grossly incorrect.

Christ! He plays like a god! (So why doesn't he play against somebody his own size like, uh, Satan, or a gang of Mormon polygamists?)

Jesus does baseball

Jesus does soccer

Jesus does hockey

Jesus does football

Jesus does track

Jesus does basketball

Drink to that?

From Reuters
Over Three Million Chinese Drink Their Own Urine June 01, 2001 08:51 AM ET

BEIJING (Reuters) - More than three million Chinese drink their own urine in the belief it is good for their health, the official Xinhua news agency reported on Friday.

Participants at a recent seminar on the practice in the northeastern city of Shenyang were told that urine contains many active ingredients which strengthen the immune system, Xinhua said.

"Urine contains no bacterium and is more sanitary than blood," Yang Liansheng, a professor from the Liaoning Institute of Traditional Chinese Medicine, was quoted as saying.

Engineer Zhu Jinfu told the seminar he had been drinking his own urine since he was 13 and had lived a healthy life for the last 58 years, Xinhua said.

Many of his forefathers had also lived to a ripe old age thanks to urine therapy, he said.

The National Spelling Bee

In Afghanistan it's the TV repairman who is the symbol of freedom.

An amazing article (in the L.A. Times) that really sums up southern California and the American Way!

From the L.A. Times

Robert W. Hutson; Dentist Designed Oral-B Toothbrush

Robert W. Hutson, 81, the dentist who invented the Oral-B toothbrush, died of pneumonia May 20 at his home in San Jose.

In the late 1940s, Hutson began experimenting with toothbrush designs in his spare time, trying to make one that was gentle on gums but strong enough to effectively clean teeth. He discovered that using tiny nylon filaments with rounded ends would achieve that result.

Hutson made his first Oral-B brushes in the workshop of his San Jose home. The name he gave each brush reflected the number of bristles it had.

His toothbrush initially had only modest success, but within a decade his firm was selling 5 million a year. By the mid-1990s, Oral-B toothbrush sales were estimated at $500 million a year. The brand is now owned by Gillette Co.

Hutson, an only child, grew up in the Watsonville, Calif., area and studied dentistry at UC San Francisco. He became a periodontist in the San Jose area.

Final Las Vegas detail
As I strolled down the Strip I spied coming towards me a young man wearing a t-shirt from Central Missouri State University. I repressed my urge to attempt to use this extremely minimal connection to bond with him.

From the Boston Globe: the man who piloted the plane that dropped the bomb on Nagasaki still lives in Milton, Mass.

Museum of Neon Art

More Las Vegas detail

David at the L.V. baggage claim area. The glitz begins here and never ends.

Flying into Las Vegas we could see much of Lake Mead was a brilliant green. Never having seen Lake Mead before (never having flown into L.V. in daylight before) I thought this was just normal. The next day we drove out to Hoover Dam and saw that up close the water above the dam was, indeed, a very opaque, very brilliant green. But there were recreational boats on it, looking normal, and when we took the tour of the dam our friendly and informative guide Pat said nothing at all about the water quality. So we thought it was all just normal. The next morning, however, the Las Vegas newspaper had a lengthy article all about Lake Mead's unusual pea soup quality that season. It was an algae bloom, and I guess there is an algae bloom every year, but it is much smaller and goes away much sooner. This one is huge and long lasting. They say it is safe. "They" are the government(s) involved. It is said there will be a huge, fat population of fish shortly as a result. The water authorities, however, are working overtime to filter out the algae from the city's drinking water.

Hoover dam was, uh, impressive. And big. I worked my very-wide angle lens harder than it had ever been worked, but it could never quite wrap itself around the entire dam. The good pics are on slide film, of course, and they've just been sent off to Kodak, so there will be a bit of a wait before I can share them with you here.

A surprising thing about Hoover dam is that those two signature towers that rise up out of the dam itself are where the public restrooms are located for the tourists walking on top. The ladies' room is in Nevada, while Arizona has the men's room. I had thought those two prominent structures would have been there for something more important than just insuring really good flushing pressure.

Security at the dam is like entering any federal building these days. Metal detectors and x-ray machines. The guards are federal employees and their guarding skills are as expected. I hand-carried my little Olympus XA2 through the metal detector just because it happened to be in my hand. The guard there got all flustered, telling me it should have gone through the x-ray machine along with my other cameras and film in my backpack. He opened the lens cover to inspect it saying again and again that it should have gone through x-ray, that next time I should send it through x-ray. I was just rolling my eyes. Either send it back through x-ray or give it to me, don't be-jabber me to death.

After the grilling by security we bought $10 tickets for the regular tour, which is supposed to be about half an hour long. There is also a "hard-hat" tour that takes more time and money. It includes a hard-hat (what else?) that you get to keep! Next time I would do that tour, but the website for the dam claims that tour requires reservations 24 hours in advance. I think that is not necessarily true.

After selling us tickets the ticket agent waved us "over there." There was no obvious entrance or place to line up. There was a large crowd of people milling about. As we approached we discovered we were being watched by a short, dull-looking park service ranger who was there to take our ticket, but who was not going to do anything to draw our attention. The lines for the two tours are next to each other. The regular tour lines up on the right, its elevator is on the left. The hard-hat tour lines up on the left. Its elevator is on the right. The leaders of the respective tours shout out instructions, but in the bad acoustics of the concrete chamber most of the information is lost. It's worse that leaders of the two different tours shout at the same time and start their tours at the same time. Then, once we had descended into the bowels (the very bowels) of the dam they wonder how people get mixed up and go on the wrong tour.

On the short tour you are immediately walked into the Nevada generator room. This is the famous view you've seen a thousand times. Seven (or is it eight?) generators lined up. One was off line when we visited. The roar is, of course, tremendous, but Pat (our guide) came with a powerful PA system.

From the generator room we went outside to stand alongside the outflow with the bald face of the dam towering above us. Here Pat shot out the stupendous numerical facts about this dam: the cubic yards of concrete, the gallons in Lake Mead, etc. I took pics.

Then back inside where we went to a display room built atop one of the bypass ducts which was "big enough for two Greyhound buses, side by side" Pat told us. Here she astounded us with more numbers, each more gigantic than the previous. Concrete poured 24/7 for two years. The refrigeration system developed in order that the concrete could set in less than 150 years. That 70-some men died on site...she carefully distinguished those men from the ones who were merely mortally injured on the site, but still had enough blood in them to reach Las Vegas or Boulder to die in the hospital. There were 300 to 400 of those. Seems a subtle distinction. The most astonishing fact Pat revealed to us was that the Hoover dam was named for President Roosevelt! I was stunned by this weird Freudian slip. She corrected herself hastily.

The not gigantic figure was the price. Only $160 million in 1935. Pat estimated that today's price would be in the 4 to 5 billion dollar range; a figure that is still less than half the bill for the Big Dig, which hasn't topped out yet! An interesting detail was that the last generator wasn't installed at Hoover dam until 1962, when generation reach maximum.

With that, Pat showed us the UP elevator and bid us adieu.

I'd do it again.

We stayed in Las Vegas at the "Lucky You" guest house...maybe. It's name seemed a bit slippery. Sometimes it was just called the "Bed & Breakfast Guest House." How's that for genericity? This place, in a residential neighborhood north of the Strip has four rooms. The host is Ole. Not sure if that's pronounced "Ol" or "Oly," but it's not "Olay" as he is probably Dutch or German, not Mexican.

At the Lucky You we always felt like we were just on the cusp of something creepy, but nothing nasty ever happened. There were two other guests, middle-aged men who claimed to be from Phoenix, but both had Canadian accents. They said they were construction contractors and went out each day dressed in paint-spattered jeans and wide-brimmed straw hats. They said they were partners, but when we eavesdropped on their conversations it was apparent they didn't know each other well.

David and I shared a bath, which would normally be no problem at all, except the bathroom also functioned as a common hallway from the kitchen to the sauna. When you wanted privacy you had to shut three doors. Felt very weird.

Ole claimed to have once been Liberace's chef. He cooked full breakfasts for us. In most B&Bs where I have stayed, the host asks if we have any preference for breakfast, knowing that half the time the guest will ask for something as simple as cereal, saving the host time and money. Not Ole, he put his back into real eggs and four strips of bacon for each of us. We didn't touch the bacon. I ate the eggs but the tarragon (I think it was tarragon) tasted a bit like dirt.

Our one and only project for the evening of our arrival (Hoover dam was the next day) was to walk the Strip. I've never been to Las Vegas before, and I don't gamble. The first surprise for me was the free parking. Each casino maintains vast parking areas which are totally free to everyone all the time, although they do request that RVs not camp overnight. We parked at Circus-Circus, went in, and got lost only a couple of times trying to find the bar that serves Margaritas. Fortified, we went out into the hot evening to proceed south along the Strip. What an unparalleled mixture of sleaze and pure fantasy. Strolling along you can be entertained just by the gigantic casinos, each trying to outdo the others. But the casinos don't just sit there. They offer huge displays along the road. One hotel features some sort of pirate ship enactment every half hour or so. Another place has a very impressive water display that starts out with an explosion which is intended, I presume, to scare away the ducks (in the desert!) because after the explosion comes flames spreading across the surface of the water.

The casinos themselves are gigantic hotels sitting on top of vast warrens of shopping malls and gambling areas. They are all designed (by intention, I'm sure) to confuse once you are inside. There are no right angles. Lighting changes frequently. The gaming areas are all bright lights and noise. Exits are very hard to locate and once you do get out, you'll find yourself emerging on the Strip blocks from where you think you started.

The sidewalks along the Strip are jammed with people walking. They look mostly like your stereotype of who would go to L.V., but they bring their kids too. More than 95% of the Strip is built up of these gigantic entertainment complexes, but there are a very few old, rundown convenience stores, pancake restaurants, and wedding chapels nestled in amongst them. The Strip is all outside the incorporated area of Las Vegas. I suppose the county is responsible for all law enforcement and taxation. I've no idea if there is any zoning.

On the few strips of public sidewalk (most of it is on private property) strings of young men will line up to hand out fliers. They slap them in their hands to get your attention. I thought at first they were promoting Grand Canyon tours, or some such thing. Wrong-o. They are handing out what I think were basically prostitution ads; cheap newsprint booklets containing all the ads for whatever you might want. These fliers are also available from sidewalk vending machines. The front of them is openly displayed. They are not ambiguous. They are free, but a message is displayed across the front of the box saying you must be 21 or older to take one. There is no enforcement. There are also have little business cards promoting women which are laid along the edges of the many trash cans along the Strip...uh, that is, the cards are laid.

After totally exhausting ourselves walking from Circus-Circus down past the Belagio and back (I got a blister from my sandals) David went to bed, but there was no way I was going to let this great sea of neon go to sleep without wasting some film on it. I returned with my camera and tripod and did my best to get a few shots for you. You'll see them when I do.

The next night (after doing the Hoover dam) we went to an off-Strip watering hole called the Las Vegas Eagle. I had heard that there was a lot of attitude in Las Vegas, but I found none of it. The folks at the Eagle were REALLY friendly! The bar was wide open, fun and cheap. All you had to do was don a costume in keeping with the theme of the evening and draft beer and well drinks were free from 10:00 PM to 3:00 AM! No catch! No cover! They don't check ID. I spent not one single dime anywhere in, near or around the Eagle. And had a really fun time. Now the bar was heavily encrusted with slot machines, so I guess that's where the profit is, but I didn't play any. They don't care if you sit in front a slot machine and just put your free beer on it and sit there. Pretty cool!

Ron Defeats Las Vegas Game!

I hadn't gambled a cent in Las Vegas, but at the airport I thought I ought to give it a little chance, if only for Ben's sake. One dollar went in. 117 came out. I got on the next plane out of there. Don't worry Ben, the check's in the mail.