Posts from — April 2007

Much as I’m enjoying watching Alberto Gonzales go down in flames, the rabid scenes in the Senate last week were quite tiresome. Seriously; Nancy Pelosi with foam dribbling from her jowls is incredibly unappetizing. All these donation-collecting suit monkeys crawling around Washington are the same: they only show some stones once it becomes clear that the only idiot in town bigger than Gonzales is Bush. I’m sick of hearing them all talk, from both sides of the aisle. And I have a proposal to fix this:

If I can find a quote from a mob movie that fits the situation, the quote shall serve as hearing, trial, verdict, end of story. No op-ed pieces, no press conferences, and for damn sure, no Hillary. And so, here we go:

In the matter of All Concerned and Even Remotely Intelligent Citizens of the United States of America versus Soon-to-be-former U.S. Attorney General Alberto Gonzales, I, mob movie buff Rob Guglielmetti, refer this entire dealio to a single quotation from the film “Casino”. I will make the opening statements, in the form of a scene synopsis, and then hand it over to Robert DiNiro, playing the role of Casino Manager Sam “Ace” Rothstein, who shall preside over this case.

The scene in question is the one where Don Ward — a real dope who was handed a job as slots manager because he had friends in town — was on-duty while three four-reel slot machines paid off huge jackpots in a matter of minutes. Mr. Rothstein is understandably pissed, feeling this had to be the result of a scam, a scam that Don Ward simply had to be in on. The People argue that this scam mirrors the firings that Mr. Gonzales is having such a hard time recalling precisely what he’s been told to say about the matter. Ace wishes to fire poor, dumb Slots Manager, and Don, understandably, resists, claiming ignorance. But all he can come up with in his defense is a simple “This is not how you treat people”. And with that introduction, I turn this matter over to Sam Rothstein. Ace?

Listen, if you didn’t know…, you’re too fuckin’ dumb to keep this job. If you did know, that means you were in on it. Either way, you’re out. Get out!

I believe this matter is adjourned. Al, pack up your shit and get the hell out of town.

About a week or so ago, I received a flyer in the mail announcing the coming of the Liberty Belle — a restored, airworthy, Boeing B-17 bomber dating from World War II. She was going to be at nearby Rocky Mountain Metro Airport (formerly known as Jefferson County Airport), right down the road. Rides would be available.

There are a handful of these flying specimens touring the country at any given time and they serve to remind people of the sacrifices made by the so-called Greatest Generation and to preserve the legend of these magnificent aircraft. The usual deal is you make a reservation to fly in the thing, pay your money (in this case, $450 for a 30-minute flight), and enjoy a very unique aviation experience. The money goes toward offsetting the enormous operating costs associated with flying a four engine heavy bomber manufactured over sixty years ago — when the word “hybrid” was never applied to an automobile — while you get to launch into the wild blue yonder in a piece of friggin’ history. Not a bad deal, considering. The typical passenger profile ranges from curious thrillseeker, to aging veteran, to child of some crewmember who never made it back from those very dangerous skies over Europe in the early 1940’s, when the B-17 — A.K.A. the “Flying Fortress” — was plying her trade. I’ve seen video interviews of passengers filmed during and after these flights, and their testimonies are always enlightening, but the ones from the kids of these crewmembers will always, always make you a little misty.

Now, $450 for a half-hour ride is a little rich for my blood, especially for a flight wherein I don’t get to actually fly the damned thing. So I immediately opted out, but I stuffed the date in the back of my head. After all, I had already mentally mapped out the ideal flight plan for a 30-minute sightseeing flight from Jeffco, and it would have taken the flight northwest, directly toward Boulder, then along the Front Range toward Longmont, and then, with a nice sweeping turn back to the southeast, back toward the point of origin.

And that’s exactly what the Liberty Belle did, all day today.

This morning, around 9:30 AM, I was sitting in my living room sipping coffee and reading email when I heard a sound that I never hear around here. It was the rhythmic, synchronized, throaty thrum of four Wright Cyclone air-cooled, piston-powered aircraft engines. I immediately recalled the flyer I had received, realized today was the day, and ran to the window. And there she was:

The Liberty Belle, now showing in Boulder, Colorado! I grabbed my camera and ran from my deck to the front porch like a maniac every time the plane came by on another run. Seeing the object of one of my many infatuations flying past the mountains that have become my latest love was nothing short of breathtaking. I took a few shots, that will appear to most as pictures of mountains with a speck in the sky. But I know what that speck is, and now so do you.

Here’s the photo album: B-17 Over Boulder

I went for a bike ride shortly after the third run, but the ‘Belle continued to fly, and I annoyed my riding companions every time she flew by, imploring them all to look up and watch this magnificent assemblage lumber past. If you’re in the area and are so inclined, the ‘Belle flies again tomorrow. I’m hoping for better sky conditions and the chance for a few more pictures, myself.

Most likely by now you have heard about the idea of “carbon neutrality”, which is a happy state wherein you can say that your day-to-day existence is not resulting in any adverse affects on the environment, because your carbon emissions have been “offset” through good old fashioned moolah. You emit, so you buy these offsets, and some company supposedly plants a tree and viola, it’s as if your Hummer runs on water. Sound like crap? It is. And some very funny peopple have put up a very funny satire of the whole sham. Cheat Neutral is looking to help you feel less guilty about cheating on your partner by selling “cheat offsets”:

Cheatneutral is about offsetting infidelity. We’re the only people doing it, and Cheatneutral is a joke. Carbon offsetting is about paying for the right to carry on emitting carbon. The Carbon offset industry sold £60 million of offsets last year, and is rapidly growing. Carbon offsetting is also a joke.

“But Rob, don’t you work in sustainable design? Aren’t you all for reducing the impact on climate change?” Well, yeah, I guess I am these days. That’s why I think setting up corporations that take your money and trade on the future of this dubious practice of washing away a climate sin with some greenbacks does nothing to change the habits or tendencies of the people causing the problem.

After having a laugh at Cheat Neutral, swing over to Carbon Trade Watch for more straight info on this little bit of nonsense called carbon offsets.

Came across this gem on YouTube, some video of a guy walking around in Section 39 at Yankee Stadium with a Red Sox jersey on, and the loving Yankee fans telling him exactly what he is for doing so. Gotta love those Yankee fans…

Sox Fan in the Wrong House

From “The Escape Artist”:

The road makes a hard bend to the right and then straightens to point directly downhill to the valley floor. If the surface is dry and you are running on good tyres, if the way is clear and you can use the width of the road, if you have all your courage and your wits about you, you can make it round that curve without touching the brakes. You hit forty-five, fifty, right at the apex. You cannot see the exit and it is crucial to pick the right line. If you start running out of road, the camber will be against you, shrugging you off the blacktop. Once committed to a line, it is too late to use the brakes. To crash at this speed is unthinkable.
And then, in a split second, you are round and free… You have taken flight.

Matt Seaton’s book The Escape Artist is one of the few books I’ve read more than once, and I read parts of it again today, as low clouds and snow visited us again here in Boulder. Matt’s descriptions of the cycling subculture and the joy of cycling in general are wonderful, and his integration of his Real Life with his cycling story is simply fantastic. Matt’s book was inspiring when I first read it, as a commuter train-bound rat race runner. Now that I am back into the cycling world, Matt’s book and his words hold a newfound meaning, and connect to a deep love of bicycles that I have — and have had since I was five years old. Living in Boulder and brushing up against some of the legends of US cycling, having a neighbor who is actually using his USCF mechanic’s license — the same one I got in 1991 — living next to the Rocky Mountains, riding my bikes against and in the amazingly beautiful backdrop of these humbling formations; once again, I’ll say it: I can’t believe I live here.