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November 2007 Archives

November 2, 2007

Panzo.org safe from Hollywood writer's strike

Eastern West Edge, Seattle - (Panzo Network) While millions of American television viewers face the grim proposition of having to fill an average four hours a night normally devoted to television viewing with other pursuits, the two readers of The Exclusive Blog at Panzo.org face no such hardships.

Reached by Panzophone in his swanky Belltown highrise, TEBaP.o founder, Panzo, gave us this exclusive interview.

PN: Panzo, millions of Americans are on the verge of madness. They face the prospect of having to perhaps talk to each other or worse if Hollywood writers go on strike. Will Panzo.org be affected?

P: No.

PN: Thank you.

P: 'k.

Remember that all content on Panzo.org may be purchased on cassette tape by sending bags of American dollars to the address on your screen.

A-Rod gets interesting offer

A-Rod a Mud Hen? Triple-A Toledo makes a playful offer

The deal stipulates that Rodriguez will have to compete for a spot with Toledo third basemen Mike Hessman, the league's most valuable player last season.

To which A-Rod replied, "You think I got canceled?! Do you know who I am?! There's a big difference between being number one and getting canceled!"

Jerry Seinfeld had no comment.

November 3, 2007

Some reasons why Nancy should hang

CPSC chief traveled on toy makers' dime

Acting Consumer Product Safety Commission Chairwoman Nancy Nord and her predecessor, Hal Stratton, took nearly 30 trips since 2002 that were partially or fully paid for by trade associations, manufacturers or corporate lawyers, at a cost of nearly $60,000, according to The Washington Post.


Why Nancy Should Hang
(to the tune of "My Favorite Things")

Recalled toy Sponge Bobs and sweet Polly Pockets
Toothpaste and crayons and fireworks rockets
Bicycle forks that will break with a bang
These are some reasons why Nancy should hang

Barbie and Sarge cars and colorful jump rope
Leukemia drugs and OTC pain dope
Bright wooden art sets and Halloween fangs
These are some reasons why Nancy should hang

When the lead flows
When the wire shorts
When the tire tread cleaves
We simply remember just who is in charge
And mock her until she leaves

(Repeat)

(parody lyrics copyright © Panzo.org 2007)

Hah?

Runner dies during marathon trials in NY

'The distance running community is very close.'

*boggle*

Orwell's "Ministry of Truth" functioning well in Washington

That the administration would selectively edit something so easily checked indicates a fundemental perverting of reality by Bush's flying monkeys.

Apparently no one in the administration learned a lesson from the Iraq failure about excising inconvenient truths from reports.

"White House Edits ABC News Then Takes it Back

ABC News' Jonathan Karl Reports

News flash -- The White House has selectively edited a report on Iraq, taking out negative information and distorting the report's meaning.

This isn't about intelligence or weapons of mass destruction. It's my report on Thursday's evening on World News with Charles Gibson.

The report noted "violence in Iraq is down and down considerably" in virtually every category, but my report also noted that "there has been almost no political progress on the national level" and that "U.S. officials know military gains won't mean much if the Iraqi government doesn't get its act together."

The White House sent out an edited version of my report in an official White House publication called "White House Iraq Update."

November 8, 2007

Behind again

It has been four days since my last post. I've had a bit of the week from Hell. Monday dawned cruddy and effed-up because of the weekend Oyster Orgy at one of the restaurants on one of my properties.

Nearly half of the property was strewn with cut zip ties (that held wiring in place on the pavilions that were set up for the Orgy) and other ends-and-odds. There was, of course, several thousand pounds of Associated Offal oozing out of the dumpsters and millions of metric tones of Attendant Crap from the extra foot traffic.

Literally, I didn't finish completely cleaning up the messes until this morning!

This week also featured heavy rounds of Interruptus Wemustus. That's when people call you for something while you're in the middle of doing something else. I swear, some kind of new record was set for simultaneous requests this week.

And now I'm on call as well.

And last night, two hours into being on call, I got a call and had to go down to one of my properties and UNLOCK a door for a SECURITY GUARD who had LOCKED HIS KEYS in the DAMN OFFICE!

I'd hide but, damn, I still have to carry the pager...

November 10, 2007

A pluck of the heart strings

Every year, as the season changes here in Seattle from Wet to Wetter, I go through a Cold Storage Period. As the cold settles in like fog on Elliott Bay, I return to the Panzo Treat Locker and pull out my Sinatra and Big Band CDs.

Every year when I do this, I marvel again at how unbelievably good those old damn songs were/are. This year, though, I've really been taken aback by how little attention I've really paid to the words to, especially, Sinatra's stuff. As I've been looking up lyrics to refresh my memory I've found again, of course, that Francis Albert stamped nearly all of his renditions with his own vocabulary. But what's surprised me the most is how wonderful some of the lyrics make me feel.

I am a hopeless romantic.I'm a chronic cuddler, a kisser, a hand-holder. Miss Significantly Other is not. Oh well. Her loss. But being an HR means that I'm susceptible to sappy lines in swoony tunes.

Take Sinatra's 1939 recording "All Or Nothing At All". It's a song about someone avoiding an unsure thing in love. Afraid that he'll fall anyway he warns the woman he's so foolishly close to to not bring her lips so close to his cheek. Then he says, "The kiss in your eyes, the touch of your hand make me weak."

The kiss in your eyes. I go all gooshy when I hear that line. How totally romantic! I want to be made weak from a look like that!

Romance. It's like water in the desert. It's like snow on a ski boot. It's like mud at a tractor pull.

Ahhh, romance. If I only had some....

November 15, 2007

Booga-booga-booga-la-la-la

Man, what a crazy-ass week.

Since we left our hero at the end of the last episode of Panzoland, he's been on call and busy as Hell after a stock market plunge.

Got a service call at 4:30AM Saturday. Some homeless inebriate had whacked the front door window at one of our properties near Qwest Field and "starred" the glass. After being assured by the security dude who reported it and had me woke (woken? awakened? waked? damn.) that the glass was intact, I waited for the smeary gray dawn and enough light to accurately pepper spray a bum by.

Well what transpired was a more-than-four-hour call that saw me put 39 miles in the kitty (and the kitty, she is sore haha) as I drove from hardware behemoth to hardware behemoth in search of UV window film or glazier's tape to hold the window glass in place until Monday.

Exasperated, I came home, picked up the remnants of the roll of UV film that I had here and covered the damn window.

Got the same call at 4:30AM on Monday morning. I guess the guard service doesn't encourage much communication between security dudes. Damnit.

On Monday we had a classical windstorm (no, not an oboe player with gas - A Northwest rain-and-wind event). An elevator broke down at one of my properties. A reported leak at another turned into a nightmare.

While seeking out the leak, I had to crawl around an attic space above a restaurant (the leak was pouring water into the ladies restroom). At first I thought for sure that water was running out of their air handler. They all have drain lines that sometimes plug up with algae-slime. Something just wasn't right about how the water was coming out of the suspect air handler though. So I had to crawl across the attic and under the unit to take the chicken to the other side and I found...

Holy shit! There was a pinhole in the fire sprinkler line! Dayum! It wasn't the A/C unit at all (which would have made it the tenant's problem and not mine).

The good thing was that I learned how to shut down the wet system that serves that area in case anything like that happens again. The bad thing was I got really dirty and wet. But I did log a half-hour of overtime pay while helping the fire suppression dudes fix the hole. Plus, I got to know them a bit better and rapport with your vendors is always a good thing.

Let's see. Tuesday was almost normal. Yesterday was nutz. We have a new tenant moving into one of our buildings. It's actually a 3/4 city block of co-joined buildings that's served by a common alley/driveway and a common parking garage off of that alley.

So the new people had four pallets of office furniture delivered while the Bossman and I were there yesterday. The delivery came at lunch time. One of the tenants in the complex is one of the more famous and prestigious restaurants in Seattle.

So people are going to lunch and using the elevator. Tons of other people are showing up for important business lunches and using the alley/garage. Then this 30-foot delivery truck wants into the alley and a hundred chairs will have to go up on the elevator.

Bossman and me wound up breaking down the pallets ourselves and humping the chairs up but man, it took forever and pissed off a whoooole bunch of people.

Now today I have to draw a floor plan of the newly remodeled new tenant's digs so I can map the doors. Nearly all of the doors in the place will have a lock on them so I have to take the cylinders to the locksmith's and have them create a new "office master" keying and add a new, different keying on each lock. Woot.

I got a service call at 1AM this morning and I'm not even on call any longer! It took me so long to wake up and get oriented that by the time I did, the answering service had hung up. When I called them, the number rang forever. I'm assuming they called Bossman who is permanent backup. Hey - that one wasn't my fault. Bossman sent out the new on call email but I bet he forgot to tell the service.

Oh well. Time to make the donuts...

Burning the bridge people

Nothing to add to this except that I wish I'd written it.

Jon Swift: Bridge Too Far

Some people have the wrong idea about what the Bill of Rights really means. In America you have freedom of expression as long as a private organization doesn't own your expression. Peaceful protests are fine as long as they don't embarrass organizations that depend on corporate sponsorship and take place on American soil behind police barricades where they can be videotaped for future use in any trials that might arise.

Empty your cubby hole, pal. You're going home.

Thank goodness he didn't draw himself kissing a little girl!

First-grader suspended for Simpsons-inspired violent drawing

"I told the principal that I agreed that he shouldn't have done the drawing, but suspending him seems like a policy with no intelligence behind it," he said. "They didn't seem to care that he's only in the first grade."

"I'm not sure how this is going to affect how my kid is perceived," Weathers said. "They may view him as a violent kid or a terrorist, or whatever."

November 16, 2007

Interesting if you're interested

I've long been interested in design (don't get me started on push panels on doors you must pull to open) and how things are said as well as the mechanics of saying them through design. In that vein, this was a great read for me. Maybe you'll like it as well. Don't worry, it's short.

Jeffrey Zeldman Presents : What is Art Direction (No. 9)

A young woman, facing the viewer, holds what appears to be a prosthetic arm—her own prosthetic arm, one infers. The young woman is casually dressed in a sweater and jeans. Her expression borders on neutral. Where her right arm should be, the sweater has been pinned back. The poster also contains words advertising a new HBO documentary, executive-produced by James Gandolfini, concerning the difficulties faced by a new generation of American war veterans returning home from Iraq.

Consciously or unconsciously, an American viewer will almost certainly make an uncomfortable connection between the disfigurement and sacrifice portrayed in this ad, and the upbeat quality of the Gap’s long-running, highly successful clothing slash lifestyle campaign.

That connection is content.

November 17, 2007

Have yourself a merry pagan tie-in

So I get this email from a friend. It's something called an "Action Alert" from the American Family Association. I imagine that this is the equivalent of an Amber Alert for the religious crowd.

It's as if, somewhere a defenseless Christian allusion is being kidnapped by a dirty old Satanist and the faithful must be roused to be on watch.

The alert is all about how the home improvement chain Lowe's has advertised fake, flammable and probably fully leaded Chinese-made artificial pine trees by calling them "family trees" rather than "Christmas" trees.

Lots of hand-wringing copy ensues but the bottom line is a call to action for all sensible Christians. What should the God-fearing among us do?

  • 1) send Lowe's a NastyGram via email
  • 2) Purchase cheesy buttons and magnets from AFA that let you boast of your superior attitude toward God
  • 3) Send AFA a donation so that they can continue to send out Action Alerts that ask for money

I'm confused. Are Christians aware that Jesus isn't alleged to have been delivered under an evergreen by a fat elf in a flying sleigh?

Are Christians upset that the secular business world will no longer tie ancient pagan winter rituals to their holy days? That's what Yule trees are, you know. As is the gifting, the merry in merry (i.e., making merry isn't done in church) Christmas, the gorging on food and drink and the other rituals people around the world observe in Winter.

Seriously, if "Jesus is the reason for the season" as Christians love to proclaim, why would they give a rip at the loss of the pagan cross-branding?

Like all of the other political marketers, AFA is peddling fear as their product and soliciting donations as payment.

November 18, 2007

Tales of the Frankenvator

We have a new office tenant at one of the properties I cover. They spent the day yesterday moving in. I spent the day yesterday waiting for the elevator to break down.

See, the elevator doesn't have what's known as Independent Service. With that, you use a key to stop the car on any floor you like. It has some weird Inspection Service that operates with a key. Problem is, using the Inspection Service key too often confuses the old, tired elevator and it decides to stop moving.

wilder_sm.jpg
To get it to start again, some poor schlub has to hoof it up six flights of stairs, climb into the elevator penthouse on the roof and cut and restore power to the elevator. If you do that last bit while striking a pose like Gene Wilder in Young Frankenstein, it's a little bit - but only just a little bit - more fun.

We thought that I could hang out at another nearby property and do some actual work while waiting for the elevator to crash but after having to twice jump in the car, drive the six blocks to the property, beat it up six floors and throw the Dr. Frankenstein switch, I decided I wasn't going to do that.

Now, using the Inspection Service on that elevator simply makes the door stay open on the floor you're on. It's a lot like, say, holding the god damned door open. After convincing the new tenant that not using the key would be better, faster, cleaner and ensure the future for the children of the world, Frankenvator refused to break down all the day long.

Which was good for them but translated into 13 1/2 hours of doing mostly nothing for me. Sure, it was all juicy and delicious overtime but, damn, it was boooooring.

Today will be very different. Bossman gave me tickets to see the Bears/Seahawks game today. Beer and dogs? Here I come!

November 19, 2007

Post game wrap-up

So we went to the Seahawks-Bears game yesterday. I actually enjoyed myself in spite of having to part with $25 for two cheeseburgers, and order of garlic fries and two bottles of water.

The seats were right at the 50-yard line, about halfway up the lower portion of the 300 level. The physical seats themselves are just that: seats. They're the plastic chair type with the folding heiny holder.

The seats were easy to find and the staff was friendly and helpful. It only took a look in the wrong direction for a staff member to spring to my side to help me find the seats.

The only real problem we had all day was a couple of Bears fans who took the trash talking too far. A good fan is supposed to talk it up when he's in the other team's stadium. Everyone knows it's good-natured ribbing and team pride and everyone puts up with it because it's all part of the game.

One of the guys was really loud and obnoxious though. The other guy wound up spilling beer on the people in front of him and I personally saw him spit on the back of one guy who sat in front of us when that guy sidled past them while heading for a bathroom break. That's low shit in any fan's book. Well, any fan except for that dork.

But it was a lot of fun. It's nice to see hideaway, cold-fish Seattleites stomping and cheering and enjoying each other's proximity.

And we won.

That was cool.

November 20, 2007

No hole digging without a diploma

Who claimed dibs on the old stuff? Hell, if archaeologists cherish this stuff so much, how come they're not already digging it up? Isn't that, like, their job?

State warns Ore. man who digs for glass

The Oregon State Preservation Office sent a letter alerting Mlasko that it is illegal for anyone to intentionally unearth artifacts more than 75 years old without a permit from the state — even on private property.

Unearthing such items also must be witnessed by an archaeologist.

November 22, 2007

Turkey Schmurkey

Panzo has once again come crawling to me, The Plastic Action Poodle, begging me to fill in for him (at holiday rate) while he's traveling over the river and through the woods to Grandmother's Haus of Liquor Und Schnitzel.

I don't know what the draw is for liquor and schnitzel (together, that is) but it's no less frigging weird than this whole turkey thing.

Anyway, in addition to being a much-sought-after celebrity playdog, I'm also a world-famous celebrity scholar. While researching this human oddity known as Thanksgiving, I have found some interesting kibbles of lost knowledge. I'll bill your species later.

For instance, did you know that Founding Father, brewer, patriot and womanizer Benjamin Franklin originally wanted the turkey to be America's national exploited animal symbol?

It's true! Conflicts with the Pilgrim's Pride Media Writer's Union (headquartered then in West Cherry Hill, New Jersey) which had already installed the turkey as the National Peace With Injuns Meal Food in short stories, plays, and one traveling circus, forced Franklin to choose another bird.

For what it's worth, fellow patriot John Jay (known also as Girlee Jay) wanted the swallow.

Another thing: everyone knows that the amino acid Tryptophan in turkey is credited with inducing after-meal sleepiness at Thanksgiving. What is little-known however is that turkey flesh also contains large amounts of the amino acid Naggine. This essential amino acid works in the human brain as a signal mediator. It actually blocks reception of the body's signals to stay awake. The effect is much stronger in males than in females, possibly due to an undocumented interaction with testosterone. In other words (get ready for it), the more naggine a man gets, the less he pays attention.

The traditional Green Bean Casserole often found on the American Thanksgiving table (usually next to that brown and red stuff that Aunt Imogene brings every year) didn't start out as a recipe for an edible casserole at all.

The casserole, Thanksgiving's equivalent to the Christmas fruitcake, can be traced to the test kitchen at the Durkee company in 1948.

It seems that during the summer of 1948, someone in the chemical laboratory at Durkee was stealing other chemist's lunches. Chief Food Chemist Ed Polemus decided to try to catch the Durkee Lunch Thief by creating a dish that would look good but cause retching and convulsions.

Funeral services for Chemist Intern Ansel Toddy were held on October 14, 1948.

Durkee later fired Ed Polemus (who went on to invent the Chicken McNugget) and reworked the original casserole recipe, releasing it to the public as a compliment to its canned french fried onions.

GBC trivia: untouched green bean casseroles have been found in the rubble of demolished tenements in nearly every major city.

The last kibble of lost Thanksgiving knowledge that I'm going to write about today (mostly because I'm tired of being smarter than you and keyboarding without thumbs) concerns the mythical Horn of Plenty or, Cornucopia.

Copia was an ancient Greek city (kind of like Poughkeepsie, NY) also known as Thurii.

Several decades of evil rule in the city resulted in a popular revolution led by Percival the Shorter. After the successful overthrow of the corrupt government, Percival was installed as ruler over Copia and for twenty years he ruled with fairness and compassion.

So popular was Percival that people far and wide simply referred to him by the city's name: Copia. In effect, he became Copia.

Along about the twenty-fifth year of rule, conditions in the city state suddenly turned sour. Injustice was rampant and the ruler's decrees became petty and arbitrary. The reason for the sudden change in Copia's rule was attributed to a foot problem that made him grouchy.

One day, while hobbling through the palace courtyard, Copia was confronted by a rampaging flock of goats. Not able to get out of the way of their teeming onslaught in time as they barreled through the courtyard, Copia was trampled.

His foot, the one with the problem, was badly broken. The entire flock of goats was ordered killed and their horns were hung in the palace's great hall.

Miraculously though, as Copia's badly broken foot healed, he discovered that the cause of his earlier discomfort, a large corn, had been sheared off by the goat's sharp toenails.

Free of pain for the first time in years, Copia declared several days of feasting and general merrymaking. So lavish and bountiful were the tables of Copia that the legend of them soon spread around the world.

And that's why bounty in America at Thanksgiving is symbolized by the goat horn called the Corn of Copia.

Happy Turkey Day to all of my human friends. And next year, eat cat.

So much for diversity

Next week, when they learn about India, I hope the little fucker brings home one prayer from each of the 10,000 deities.

Class project's use of prayer irks parent

"I thought that it was against the law for public schools to preach a specific religion," said Glenn Creech. "This is just outrageous."

November 23, 2007

I have BFAS

No, not Big Fat Ass Syndrome but Black Friday Avoidance Syndrome.

To tell the truth, I have a general Large Retail Establishment Avoidance problem. I hate the mall.

It isn't really the crowds that bother me (I just went to an NFL game on Sunday). It's seeing what should be a diverse and creative humanity marching in the lockstep of conformity - and determinedly slogging through a completely controlled and colluded space, in order to accentuate that conformity through the purchase of more conformist symbols.

That and there's only so god damned much of that stench from Cinnnabon a man can take.

On Black Friday, everything is multiplied 'n' times. I get sick to my stomach seeing people dragging huge bags of "gifts" through the mall like pirates heading back to their SUV galleons only to return for more "booty". Damn, Soccer Mom the Pirate, it ain't plunder if you have to pay for it.

I guess it is still greed. Maybe that's what gets to me the most. The utter selfishness that bubbles through what should be a simple and sincere gift of love.

Some people have a plan for assaulting the retail ramparts on Black Friday. I go in the other direction and make plans that avoid the usual dens of iniquity.

I'm not shopping for Christmas, mind you. I'm talking about needing some tool or supply that I'd normally popinto a department store for.

If I need something, I'll try the supermarkets first. No one shops for Christmas on Black Friday at the supermarket. I'll also try the drugstores. Drugstores typically don't get a piece of Jesus' Birthday Bash until they slash prices on their seasonal Chinese plastic products along about the week before The Most Blessed Day.

Quirky largesse

Nice. But just think of all the hungry children he could have employed while making it.

Eighth wonder of the world? The stunning temples secretly carved out below ground by 'paranormal' eccentric

Nestling in the foothills of the Alps in northern Italy, 30 miles from the ancient city of Turin, lies the valley of Valchiusella. Peppered with medieval villages, the hillside scenery is certainly picturesque.

But it is deep underground, buried into the ancient rock, that the region's greatest wonders are concealed.

November 27, 2007

Reality rears its fugly head

The only problem with having a Thursday-Friday holiday is Monday.

Especially if you're in the building maintenance biz. Essentially, I had four days of crap to wade through on the Monday return.

I don't recall if I explained it before but I'm the only (Assistant) Engineer who does the lion's share of the outdoor sweep up. As far as I can tell, we contract the everyday outdoor cleaning to A Seattle company that shall remain nameless so that I can complain bitterly about them with impunity.

Which isn't to say that the other engineers never set a broom to pavement. Our two waterfront accounts, though (my babies), are cleaned exclusively by moi. My experience as a janitor/day porter and my wild-eyed zeal (heh) are the major reasons I was hired and given the Piers. I'm often told how nice the properties look and also how consistently nice they've looked.

So after two days off, even in the slower winter season, the place looked like hell. I worked for three hours with the blower and pan and broom to get up four days of leaves and trash. Then, just as I was trying to down the first cuppa joe of the day, Bossman pulled up and we were off to meet with the new tenant and esplain de few tings.

Then I had to skedaddle (not a pretty sight, believe me) down to the locksmith's to have 20 keys made for the tenant and also six keys made for the security company at the Piers because one of the guards lost his access key.

I was also supposed to order a new core for a door at another properly but the locksmith didn't have it in the records and I couldn't find it so I decided that a damn fine pout was in order. I'll take care of that today though.

(A "core" is the business part of an Interchangeable Core system. To explain, if you want to rekey an IC lock, you don't remove the whole cylinder or door handle. Rather, you use a "control" key to remove just the keyway. You put the control key in just like you were unlocking the door and then you turn it. The key doesn't operate the mechanism though, instead it releases a lever inside the core, enabling you to simply pull the core out. You take the core down to the locksmith and they set the pins and springs and imbue the core with Locksmithian juju and when you get it back, it sometimes works right.)

I didn't get back to the waterfront until 1:30. While trying to finish the work I'd started before coffee, I got a call about a blown lamp (yeah, gets more sex than me heh) whose changing I deftly put off until today.

So with about forty minutes left in the day, I still hadn't finished the morning clean up. I still have five "tags" to clean or cover.

I really hate graffiti. Bad graffiti is even worse. I had some new ones at another property but they looked like real street "sign". The ones at the waterfront were stupid wannabe scrawls. One of the mental giants actually spray painted "woot" on a bench. Woot. Gotta be a white kid. Sheesh.

So today, in the rain, I'll try to either paint over or clean off the twenty seconds of kiddietainment perpetrated by a couple of morons. After I change that lamp. And save the world.

Then maybe I'll get to my coffee.

Tuba Man rulz!

Tuba Man: A real Seattle team player

The indifferent ones dump loose change, even trash, in his metal bucket and go on without pause or glance.

The kind ones peel off a crisp bill or stand back in admiring silence and watch him play. Sometimes both.

About November 2007

This page contains all entries posted to The Exclusive Blog at Panzo.org in November 2007. They are listed from oldest to newest.

October 2007 is the previous archive.

December 2007 is the next archive.

Many more can be found on the main index page or by looking through the archives.