You’re probably familiar with Mythbusters, a show on the Discovery Channel that tries to debunk urban legends and other myths using scientific experiments. Well, it seems that the show’s producers wanted to do a piece on RFID, the tiny, controversial microchips that are increasingly coming into use on credit cards, passports and other items. According to Mythbusters’ Adam Savage, the show was ready to expose “the weak security behind most RFID implementations but was shut down by lawyers from ‘American Express, Visa, Discover, and everybody else… [who] absolutely made it really clear to Discovery that they were not going to air this episode'”.
Check out his comments about it on YouTube:
Scary… but why can’t the credit card companies simply take the money they’re giving to their lawyers and give it to their engineers instead, so that they could actually, you know… fix the problem?
If you want a vision of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face – forever.
– George Orwell, Nineteen Eighty-Four
You might remember this post from a couple of weeks ago, where I railed against the Department of Homeland Security’s new policy that allows them to seize laptops, iPods, and other electronic devices from anyone entering the United States. You don’t have to be a “filthy foreigner”, a suspect in a crime, or even on the incredibly accurate “no-fly” list. You just have to piss off the wrong DHS agent on the wrong day.
Now there’s word that the federal government is tracking the border crossings of US citizens. Oh, they promise that they won’t do any mining of the data… and you believe that, right? Customs and Border Protection even says that they’ll keep the information in their database… for 15 years! And this is data which the DHS readily admits that it will share with other federal agencies, as well as state and local governments.
The saddest thing about all this (to me) is that this is the same federal government that has for years refused to defend the borders of the United States, a task which is one of the basic jobs of any national government. Almost every single right-wing commentator on TV and radio has demanded only that the government simply enforce existing immigration laws. Despite this, the government has turned a blind eye to the millions of Mexicans coming into this country, while it (now) steadily takes away the fundamental freedoms of Americans. So it seems that any terrorist could simply enter Mexico and cross the border scot-free at almost any point… but an American returning from any foreign country now gets their name in a database for 15 years. Yeah, because that make sense!
Again, let me ask: when is the Second American Revolution coming?
I was sifting through my RSS feeds the other day when I came across this story at Consumerist.com, which talks about how Alaska Airlines will no longer accept cash as a form of payment for in-flight services, such as drinks, headphones, etc.
As it happens with every single article about forms of payment, someone in the comments section of the article asked “Isn’t it illegal not to accept cash?”
The short answer: no.
A merchant can set any rules they want as far as accepting payment goes. He can accept cash only. He can accept credit cards only. He can accept cash and credit cards. He can accept cash and Mastercard only, or cash and Visa only. He could even accept “live chickens only” as his sole form of payment, if he were so inclined.
What he cannot do is refuse cash as a form of payment for a debt, then take you to court over non-payment of the debt. If, for example, a local convenience store offered to set up a “tab” for you, then refused to take a cash payment for that tab at the end of the month, he cannot take you to court over non-payment. That’s what “legal tender” means: payment that, by law, cannot be refused in settlement of a debt. And a “sale” is not a “debt”, so yes: the merchant can absolutely refuse your cash. Or he can refuse large bills. Or he can refuse pennies.
And while we’re on the topic of credit cards and money, here are a few issues you might encounter with credit cards that may or may not be “illegal”:
Merchants requiring minimums for credit card use: According to the agreement signed between a merchant and Visa or Mastercard, the merchant cannot have a “minimum charge” policy. You might have seen signs posted in bars and take-out restaurants saying “$10 minimum charge for credit cards”. This is a blatant violation of the merchant agreement; click here to learn how to report merchants who violate this rule to Visa, Mastercard and American Express.
Merchants charging more for credit cards: According to the merchant agreement, stores cannot charge more for using a Visa, Mastercard or American Express. You might have seen signs in stores that say “3% surcharge for using credit card”. This too is a blatant violation of the merchant agreement. What merchants can do is give a “cash discount” for purchases, but this discount may apply to cash payments only; checks, gift cards, etc. do not count as “cash” in this example.
A couple of years ago, I asked for a pair of STEEL brand boots for Christmas. This came as something of a shock to my family, as I’d worn Doc Martens shoes and boots nearly exclusively for almost 22 years.
The truth be told, the last two pairs of Docs I bought started falling apart in less than a year. In one case, the soles actually started splitting where they’d bend as I walked. In the second case, the reinforcements around the eyelets started falling off.
Contrast this to the second pair of Docs I ever owned: a pair of plain black 3-hole Oxfords. I bought those shoes at Abbadabbas in Little Five Points shortly after graduating high school and wore them almost every single day for nine years. I only ended up throwing them away because all of the leather inside of the shoe had worn off, and the sole was so thin that the “air sole” bits were starting to stick out. Sure, I paid around $130 for them back in 1989, but I probably wore them over 3,000 times. I wore them to work at my Dad’s warehouse every day. I wore them the entire time I was in college. I even wore them to several jobs after graduation. It was the best damn $130 I ever spent!
So anyway, I chalked up Doc Martens decline in quality to the fact that the company ceased manufacturing its shoes in England in 2001 and outsourced their manufacture to China and Thailand. Imagine my joy when I found out the other day that Doc Martens started making shoes in the UK again in late 2007!
The “British Doc Martens” shoes are sold under the “Vintage Originals” product line and are made from “scratch” at the Cobbs Lane Factory in Wollaston. This isn’t a case where all the parts are made in China and assembled in England… the entire shoe is made in the UK to Doc Martens’ original specifications.
I think I just might add a new pair of 3-hole Oxfords to my Christmas List!
Somewhere deep in my heart, I actually have sympathy for the folks at the Department of Homeland Security. I mean… imagine if the president of the United States came to you and said “Hey [you]… you’re now in charge of preventing terrorist attacks in the United States”. Jesus! Where would you even begin to do that job? And once you start looking for terrorist scenarios, you can find them almost anywhere. A terrorist could get a job at an airport and plant a bomb on a plane. He could rent a tanker truck and blow it up on the Golden Gate Bridge. He could fire an RPG at the New York Stock Exchange. He could blow up an electric substation here in Charlotte and bring Bank of America to its knees. He could even do something as simple as dump a bucket of LSD into a reservoir. Lord knows that chemistry students in college have been whipping up batches for years… a dedicated team of terrorists could easily cook up enough acid to plunge Los Angeles or Boston into chaos.
Up until now, I’ve been pretty quiet about us losing our liberties to the jackboots at DHS. After all, most of the hassles ordinary Americans have to deal with come at the airport, and if recent reports are any indication, people are becoming so fed up with air travel that something will have to change in the next couple of years, or else the airline industry will collapse. And I’m confident that that “something” will, in fact, happen.
But I have now officially “had it” with DHS and the whole “War on Terror”. What caused this change of heart? The recent news that agents from the U.S. Customs and Border Protection and U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement may now seize laptop computers and other electronic devices from travelers entering the United States. It’s important to understand that the people that own these devices need not be suspected of anything, much less actually charged with a crime. Not only that, they can hold the items for any amount of time that they wish, and they can share the private data on those laptops with other government agencies, and even non-government agencies contracted to do government work. And no, this doesn’t apply to just foreign nationals entering the United States… it applies to anyone entering the country – even American citizens! And although the government swears that any copies made of your personal data will be destroyed, the agencies are actually empowered to keep any notes they make whilst examining your laptop, pager, cellphone, iPod, or any other device.
Fuck that… and fuck you, Michael Chertoff. Do you honestly think that anything productive could ever come of this policy? Please, Mr. Jerkoff, show me one example of where this policy has stopped a terrorist attack. Just one.
In an op-ed piece in the USA Today last month, Herr Himmler Mr. Chertoff assured us that “”the most dangerous contraband is often contained in laptop computers or other electronic devices” and that DHS searches have uncovered “violent jihadist materials as well as images of child pornography”.
Kiddie porn? Really? Really? Look, I hate child pornographers as much as the next person. Hell, if I were Emperor of the United States, I’d order every person convicted of child pornography to be hanged by their balls until they fall off, then lock the bastards in a sewer until they die of gangrene from their infected wounds. But I’ll be damned if I’m gonna trample all over the Constitution of the United States just to lock up the occasional idealistic Muslim college kid with a “Fuck America” essay on his laptop or some damn pervert with kiddie porn.
I mean, does Mr Jerkoff really think that the next Mohamed Atta is going to try and enter the United States with his complete “Plans of Destruction” on his laptop? And why the hell would he? In case Mr Jerkoff hasn’t heard, there’s this newfangled thing out there called the Internet, and terabytes worth of data moves through it every day. And there are so many techniques for hiding data (not to mention billions of places to hide it) that it makes the very idea of the need for this policy laughable.
I see your money on the floor, I felt the pocket change.
Though all the feelings that came through that door
Just didn’t seem to be too real.
The yard is nothing but a fence, the sun just hurts my eyes.
Somewhere it must be time for penitence.
gardening at night is never where.
gardening at night.
gardening at night.
gardening at night.
The neighbors go to bed at ten.
Call the prayer line for a change.
The charge is changing every month.
They said it couldn’t be arranged.
The yard is nothing but a fence, the sun just hurts my eyes.
Somewhere it must be time for penitence.
gardening at night is never where.
See your money on the floor, I felt the pocket change,
Though all the feelings that broke through that door
Just didn’t seem to be too real.
gardening at night
gardening at night
gardening at night
Your sister said that she’s too young;
She should know she’s been there twice.
The call was 2 and 51.
They said it shouldn’t be arranged.
The yard is nothing but a fence, the sun just hurts my eyes.
Somewhere it must be time for penitence.
gardening at night is never where.
We ankled up the garbage sound, but you were busy in the rows.
We fell up, not to see the sun, gardening at night just didn’t grow.
gardening at night
gardening at night
gardening at night
First of all, can I just say how completely gobsmacked I am by how many people emailed or commented on MySpace to Lisa or myself, sending “get well” wishes for lil’ Ollie! Seriously! It almost makes me get a lump in my throat… people really do care about this poor lil’ stray kitty!
I took the following picture Friday evening:
Looking better!
As you can see, it’s healing nicely. Most importantly, Ollie is back to being his “spunky monkey” self. His poor mother is trying so badly to wean him, but he just keeps “chasing that titty”… all the time! And he’ll jump over Mom, run downstairs to cut her off… anything to nurse just a couple of times more. Here’s what Lisa saw when she came home today:
Ollie has a snack.
I was already out there taking pics for the “Love Garden 2008” article (coming soon – Ed.), and I just happened to catch Cindy looking at Lisa about to walk through the door!
So again… THANK YOU for all your concern about the lil’ guy. He’s healing quite nicely!
The missus and I were at the Bi-Lo recently, where I happened to spot two packs of barbecue-rub chicken leg quarters for 98ยข each. It was a bargain! Last night, I decided to throw one of them on the grill:
Barbecued Chicken!
I slathered the meat in Smack Yo’ Mama brand’s “Death Wish” barbecue sauce, which absolutely brought the heat!
And I only just yesterday learned how to grill leg quarters: you only light one of your grill’s burners, and set that burner to the generous side of “medium”. Brush a little oil on the grill and grill the chicken around 3 minutes per side over the direct heat. Have a spray bottle handy – chicken is fatty, and it could turn into a fiery, greasy mess! Anyway, after the bird has gotten the three minutes per side, brush the other (unlit) side of the grill with a little oil and move the bird there. Brush on some sauce, then drop the lid and let it cook for around 45 minutes, flipping and basting occasionally.
Ollie is a stray kitten that hangs out on our deck.
Last Wednesday morning, Ollie stumbled up the stairs of the deck. He could barely walk. His neck was really swollen. He was lethargic. He didn’t want to eat or drink. Lisa brought him inside, thinking that he was going to die. Poor Lisa couldn’t bear for him to die alone – and he was in reallybad shape. But Lisa held the little guy all day long, wrapped in a towel, stroking his head and baby-talking to him. Slowly but surely, he seemed to get better. Later that evening, Ollie got up and ate something, and showed other signs of life.
Over the next couple of days, Ollie seemed to get better and better. The swelling in his neck went down, but Lisa found what looked like a puncture wound, as if a fang or really sharp pencil had been stuck into poor Ollie’s neck. We started cleaning the wound with peroxide, and for the next couple of days it started to look better. But by Sunday, things started going downhill. The wound hadn’t even started to heal, and was slowly starting to look (and smell) muchworse. We debated over taking him to an emergency vet on Sunday, then decided to take him to the regular vet on Monday. Well, that fell through as one of the Jeeps was in the shop Monday morning. But in the meantime, Lisa and I had been cleaning Ollie’s wounds more frequently with the peroxide. In fact, it was during one of those cleanings that I noticed it.
I had just finished cleaning the wound when I noticed that part of the wound was moving. A small part of it even stuck itself out of the wound as some bizarre form of greeting. It was then that my heart sank: this kitty had some kind of botfly infestation.
Botflies dig into the skin of mammals and grow from egg to larvae… inside the body of a human or animal. They dig a perfectly round hole out of the body, and, when nearly full-grown, will even stick their heads out of the host’s body to get air and look around. It’s truly disgusting. I can’t stress that enough, people. It’s vile. If you want to lose your breakfast, click here to go to YouTube’s search results for “botfly” (I’m warning you – it’s foul). By the way, the proper term for the types of botflies that infect cows, horses, dogs and cats in the US is warble. So if you ever have to call a vet about one, you know what to ask about now…
Anyway, I read up on botflies and watched some of those hideous videos at YouTube. I thought I could do it. It didn’t seem difficult, really: squeeze it like the giant zit it is, and wait for the fly to stick his head out. Then grab as far down on the larva as you can with tweezers, and pull firmly, but gently. The important thing is to not let the larva break or come out incomplete; this can cause a nasty infection or allergic reaction.
So I stood outside the powder room where we were keeping the kitty. I took a long, deep breath – the kind of deep breath you take just before you walk into a body piercing shop or tattoo parlor – and I walked in and did it:
The hideous maggot!
It was easier than it looked in the videos – I just waited until he came out, then grabbed the thing right out. But God – was it disgusting! It was like something out of Alien right in my own bathroom! By the way, in the photo above, that plastic thing is the cap to an old-school 35mm film canister I filled with alcohol (to save the maggot, ‘cos you know I was gonna take pictures!)
So this is poor Ollie now:
Poor Ollie!
He’s getting better, though. It’s starting to heal, and I’m sure the little guy will be back to 100% in a few days. But man, I’ve just gotta tell you: that was one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever had to do!
Erby Walker, a longtime employee of The Varsity restaurant and an Atlanta icon, passed away on June 23rd, 2008. Walker died at Grady Memorial Hospital from cardiac arrest. He was 70.
Walker was a full-time employee of The Varsity from 1955 to 2003. He then claimed to be “bored” in his retirement, so he went back to work at the restaurant 2-3 days a week. Although Walker didn’t invent the restaurant’s “What’ll ya have?” slogan, he made it his trademark and permanently cemented it into Atlanta’s consciousness.
I almost feel like I “knew” Mr. Walker my entire life. I remember my Dad taking me to The Varsity on Saturdays as a little kid, either before a Georgia Tech game, or when I’d go “work” at my Dad’s store*. I remember Mr. Walker being there. In fact, I even remember being scared of him, because he was so loud and intimidating. And he was always there.
When I got my own car at 16, I’d often get bored after school and take a carload of friends to The Varsity. Or go there on field trips. Or, let’s be honest: skip outta school on a lark to go to the High Museum and to The Varsity for lunch. Or maybe go there on a second or third date: hey, as a cash-strapped teenage boy in 1986 Duluth, GA, a trip to The Varsity was a lot more exotic than going to the movies. Byย then I realized that Mr. Walker wasn’t “mean”, he was just trying to serve 50,000 meals a day… and that took the skill and guts of a drill sergeant. And Mr. Walker was still there.
Throughout my 20s, I’d still eat at The Varsity on a semi-regular basis. I was downtown quite often, and would sometimes duck in for a quick snack. And Mr. Walker was still there.
By my 30s, I’d really cut back on going to The Varsity. I was living on the north side of town, and rarely went in to the city just to buy records or go to thrift stores. Most of my friends were “too adult” to want to meet up at The Varsity before the few concerts we went to see in those days, so we’d go to Noodle or some place in Decatur instead. In fact, it seems like the only times I went downtown in my 30s were to eat (at fancy restaurants) or to go to nightclubs (after The Varsity had closed for the evening). But I’d still go to The V a few times a year… and when I went, Mr. Walker was usually there.
In 2003 I moved to Charlotte. In a fit of homesickness, I went and bought a Varsity t-shirt from their website, and would often wear it out. I’d usually get at least one or two “hey – The Varsity! That’s cool!” comments. And when I go back to town, I still wanna hit up The Varsity…but now Mr. Walker won’t be there.
Damn, that’s sad. First Horace from Moes and Joes, then Skinny Bobby Harper, and now Mr. Walker. Atlanta’s losing its icons. Read the AJC story here.
Rest in peace, Erby!
* – I say “work” because I was 5-10 years old at the time. My dad had a warehouse. I don’t know how much real “physical labor” I did back then, but it probably wasn’t much. If you think I’m a weakling now, you shoulda seen me at 5 years old!
