LucidWindow

Why is Houston worth it? (A few answers follow . . .)

1. 5 million people can’t be wrong and its still sprawling and growing. The Port of Houston is the U.S.’s largest. Houston is the Energy Capital of the World. Houston is the Medical Center of the World. With the proposed new medical complex that will be emerging in the Pearland area Houston will be the world’s major medical center in the future also. In twenty years Houston will the the U.S.’s largest city. Houston is everything that Dallas wishes it was. The TV series Dallas was based on a book named the North Houston Forty. Intercontinental and Internatioanl companies vying to be known world wide know that Houston is the Texas City that everyone in the rest of the world knows as Texas. Dallas is just a wanna be big city that will never attain its wanna be image. San Antonio also will never attain the greatness of Houston. You want to know why. Because in order to be a great internatinal city the city has to have a major international port just like the PORT OF HOUSTON, not just an airport. It is known internationally that 69 percent of all commerce headed to the United States goes through the Port of Houston. Dallas can proclaim that it is the business center of the southwest, but everyone in the rest of the real world knows that Houston is the city of the greatest, medicine, commerce and energy. When the name Houston is evoked the image is not only international or intercontinental, Houston is known interplanetarily, just ask the Astronauts. (more…)
    

Excerpted from Instructions for American Servicemen in Iraq During World War II

You have been ordered to Iraq (i-RAHK) as part of a worldwide offensive to beat Hitler. Herr Hitler knows he’s licked if the peoples united against him stand their ground. So he and his propaganda machine are trying to spread disunity and discontent among their opponents wherever they can. The best way you can prevent Hitler’s agents from doing their dirty work is by getting along with the Iraqis and making them your friends. If you understand the people and the country, you as a human being will get the most out of an experience few Americans have been lucky enough to have. Years from now you’ll be telling your children and maybe your grandchildren stories beginning, “Now when I was in Baghdad - ” (more…)

 

The Gini Index is an ratio of income inequality computed by dividing a perfect income distribution probability curve and by the Lorenz curve of the income distribution of a population. In other words the Gini Index is computed by comparing the income distribution of a country or population with a perfect distribution (where everyone’s income is exactly the same. See wikipedia for a highly detailed explanation). The upshot of this is that a Gini coefficient of one represents perfect income distribution (every household income is the same) and a Gini Index of zero represents completely imperfect income distribution (one household collects all the income; everyone else gets zero). Real populations fall somewhere in between.

So how is this meaningful?

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With a sinking feeling in my stomach and sudden pangs of nervousness I left Houston for the last time. My car was filled to the brim. Even the front passenger seat was full of stuff. I was leaving for North Carolina. My home state of sorts . . . but all I could think about was slow drivers in the left lane. Slow talkers at the fast food counter. Slow checkout people at the grocery store. Slow service. Jobs Worths. And Huntin’ Fishin’ Fightin’ & Confederet’ Flags. Psychologists say that one tends to love the familiarity of the town that one grew up in. There is no lost love for mine. (more…)

I like playing a game of 8-Ball at the local pub . . . but I don’t like how seriously some people take the game. I’m the guy that’s at the bar to be with friends and have a good time. I’m that guy laughing and joking at the table next to you. I’m that guy that likes the game for the camaraderie, not the competition.

Here’s what happened last time I tried to play the game. I think that I’m going to retire my cue.

Ok, that’s not really me. I’m not bald . . . yet. And kudos to the show Almost Live, IMHO one of the funniest comedy shows in history.

There is a beautiful deserted island in the middle of nowhere where the following people are stranded:

2 Italian men and 1 Italian woman
2 French men and 1 French woman
2 German men and 1 German woman
2 Greek men and 1 Greek woman
2 English men and 1 English woman
2 Bulgarian men and 1 Bulgarian woman
2 Swedish men and 1 Swedish woman
2 Irish men and 1 Irish woman

One month later on this beautiful deserted island in the middle of nowhere:

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When I roast coffee, I normally do it on the patio because the chaff (the skin of the coffee bean) tends to fly off the coffee as it’s roasting. Imagine the red skins of peanuts being blown with a hairdryer and you have a reasonable idea of the type of mess this could lead to inside the apartment. And roasting coffee produces copious amounts of smoke . . . So on Thursday I was out on the patio with an extension cord run from inside the apartment to the patio. The extension cord precludes the patio door from being closed. I normally leave the door open with the radio turned up loud so that music can percolate from the stereo inside my apartment to the outdoor patio space over the whiny hum of the air-pop popcorn maker that serves as my de-facto coffee roaster.

All this is works fine. I’ve done this several times. But this time, I was accosted by vagabonds and stowaways. When I finished roasting the coffee, there were a couple of houseflies buzzing around the apartment. I dispatched them post-haste. But a couple hours later there were a couple more flies buzzing around the apartment. This second sortie was also dispatched in a matter of minutes . . . but then a couple hours after that a third bombardier and wingman started buzzing ’round my head. This was getting ridiculous. That was Thursday. I keep my windows closed . . . but so far I have dispatched 13 sorties of two flies each.

I’m not sure what is happening . . . whether there is an insect commander dispatching flies in sets of two for reconnaissance in my apartment, or if there’s only one set of two flies . . . undead flies stricken with zombie-hood and cursed to rise from the dead moaning “BRAAAAINS ! ! !” as they buzz around my head.

It’s raining today . . . one of those days in which the gloominess of rain makes me feel lazy. I had high hopes of riding my bike today, but the morning rain vanquished that idea. It might even flood in part of the city today.

The Romans waged war to gather slaves and wealth. Spain built an empire from it’s lust for gold and territory. Hitler shaped a battered Germany into an economic superpower. But war never changes. In the twenty-first century war was still waged over the resources that could be acquired . . . only this time the spoils of war were also it’s weapons; petroleum and uranium . . .
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The first time I went to France, I was in a small town at the corner of the country where Luxembourg, Belgium and France come together. The town I was working in was Longlaville; I was staying in Luxembourg, and I drove through Belgium to get to work each morning. This was the era of Schengen. The border checkpoints were closed and half disassembled. Workers were dismantling the checkpoints and replacing them with rotundas planted with flowers or littered with abstract sculptures. It was a peaceful, lush and green corner of three countries. But the second week that I was there, the peace was about to be broken by the French. Someone was going on strike. (more…)