Saying Goodbye to a Workhorse and Entering the 21st Century

I’ve mentioned a few times that one of the monitors that I’ve been using to type up these posts was one that I bought way back in 1997.

It was a 21″ Dell Triniton which, at the time, was the top of the line. You couldn’t get a monitor bigger than that back then. I paid around $2500 for it.

It was almost a status symbol to have the giant thing overpowering my desk. Of course, at the time, I was living in my parents and I had it set up where I’d had a 13-inch television hooked up to a Nintendo years before.

Yep, it was a status symbol that I could hardly flaunt. Yep, it was a DUMB purchase.

Anyway, I remember when it arrived — the damn thing weighed around 80 pounds, way heavier than a comparable sized television.

It was one of those awkward sizes too where it was tough just to get out of the box. Too deep to get your arms all the way around or navigate through a doorway, you know?

And then when I hooked it up and turned it on, my excitement quickly turned to disappointment. What the hell were those two slightly darker horizontal lines running across my desktop?

I spent over 10% of my salary for this thing — it should be perfect!

An A/V minded friend pointed out that those lines were how you could tell that it was a Trinitron.

Gotta love it — somehow the folks at Sony convinced the buying public that a terrible flaw was really a feature. Pure genius on their part.

Any how, last night, after 12 years of loyal service, I disconnected it and took it off of my desk and replaced it with a $189 Samsung.

I’ve been using a two-monitor set-up for years now — one 17″ LCD and the big 21″ CRT — and, lately, I’ve found that I’d much prefer to have two identical monitors rather than a mismatched pair.

It’s funny, barely cold and still carrying a mighty static charge, that old monitor already looks like a junky old relic as it sits on the floor.

And to think, just yesterday, it was my beloved workhorse.

Posted on July 17th, 2009 at 8:14 pm by Brainy Smurf
Computers, Retro | 3 Comments »

Some Final Thoughts on MJ

Unlike my previous post, this one actually is about Michael Jackson.

Even though I wasn’t born in the US, if I had been, I’d be one of those bicentennial babies. What that basically means is that the Jackson 5 were a little before my time. But it also means that I was the perfect age for MJ’s solo career.

My parents were still listening to popular music when “Off the Wall” came out in 1979 so I got my share of “Don’t Stop ’til You Get Enough” and “Rock With You” riding in the back of the car.

I don’t remember either song being a favorite (neither could top Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust” or Christopher Cross’ “Ride Like the Wind”), but I certainly remember hearing them an awful lot.

By the time Thriller came out, sure, my parents had turned the dial to the oldies stations instead but I was six years old by then — I had access to my own radio dial.

Best of all, our next door neighbor was an audiophile. His “band” was the Who but he also had the Michael Jackson album before anyone that I knew. I’m not sure he’d be willing to admit it but he had it in his collection probably the same day that it came out.

We used to go over there, put on his enormous headphones and giggle endlessly wondering what on earth “Ma-Ma-Se, Ma-Ma-Sa, Ma-Ma-Goo-Sa” meant… Back then, you couldn’t just jump to a song as easily as you can now (partly because we weren’t allowed to actually touch his turntable) so we listened to “Wanna Be Startin’ Something” (the first track on the album) more than any other song on the record. In fact, I’m not sure we ever listened to the flip side…

My friend Chris and I even used the “Ma-Ma-Se” thing as a greeting? Weird.

We were living outside Chicago at the time and I remember walking to school with Chris and his older brother Kurt pretending that the sidewalk was lighting up in front of us like it did in the “Billie Jean” video.

I also remember very long sessions of attempting to moonwalk on the kitchen tile with our slipperiest socks on. I never quite mastered it.

I remember the hi-fi guy, Kurt and Chris’ dad, saying that it was a fake special effect but we kept trying anyway…

As 1st graders, we had no idea what the song, “Billie Jean”, was about but we certainly knew all the words. When “Beat It” came out, well, game over, everyone that I knew was asking for the Thriller record for their birthday.

I got it on tape that summer — along with a tape recorder.

Then we moved to Connecticut and my access to Hi-Fi music was dashed. But with the move to New England came something new — cable television and MTV.

Not only could I listen to MJ, now I could see him too! I’d seen the videos before, probably on Solid Gold or something, but never over and over and over again.

I remember when the Thriller video came out — I think it was even listed in TV Guide — my parents even watched. And they enjoyed it!

Imagining my son being 7 years old now instead of one month, I’m not sure I’d be able to “enjoy” the music or the videos he might be watching right now. Somehow, in the early 1980′s Michael Jackson was able to appeal to 7 year olds AND 37 year olds.

My next big MJ memory came a few months after the big Thriller music video.

I had the jacket from Thriller in 3rd grade — it was awesome.

Yeah, my parents were too cheap to buy me a glittery glove that I also wanted but they totally went all out and hooked me up with a red and black pleather jacket.

Did I mention yet that it was awesome?

I remember it almost having a Michael Jackson like effect at the bus stop.

No, the girls weren’t passing out or anything just being in my presence but they were asking to try it on and I thought that was pretty cool.

While I can’t prove it here with photographic evidence as I’m not sure a photo of me in the jacket even exists — thank god, too, evidence like that would have jeopardized my popularity in high school — trust me, I had it. And it *was* awesome.

I’m sure that if I dug through the attic enough, I’d find it. Or maybe my parents still have it? Mom?

Anyway, I’m not really sure where it ended up but I’d hate to think that we just threw it away…

The next time Michael Jackson came up was when I was just heading into junior high school.

It was the end of the summer and I had a birthday party to go to and I wanted to buy the “Bad” tape for my friend Ryan.

Problem was, the album was being released the day of the party *and* it went over the $10 birthday present limit my mom had set. (Yeah, back then, cassettes were $16.99 for a new release).

My mom ending up buying the tape last minute (going over the $10 limit) and as my friend was opening his other presents, I was a little worried about how he’d react to mine.

See, Michael Jackson wasn’t as cool as he’d been when we were in third grade but when he opened it, everyone at the party was excited. (I did a little fist pump in my head. Yes!)

I remember after the party, when his mom was driving us all home, she had the tape playing in the car (they were loaded so, unlike the rest of us, they had a tape player in the car – remember, this is 1987!) and we were all in the back clapping along to “The Way You Make Me Feel” which was the first song on the album that none of us had ever heard before.

If I remember correctly, that was pretty much the last real birthday party that wasn’t just a sleepover with a few friends that I ever attended. Later that week, we were, afterall, junior high schoolers and far too grown up for “Fudgie the Whale” cakes.

His next album was “Dangerous” with the big prime time network debut of the “Black or White” video and the morphing faces at the end.

I was in high school at this point and while it was okay to admit that you thought the end of his video was cool, it was best to keep being a fan on the hush-hush.

I bought his Dangerous album in Germany on tape because, yeah, I didn’t have a CD player yet and because I was certain that I would probably never again see any of those Germans there to witness me purchasing it.

Yeah, in 1992, there was a little bit of shame in admitting that you liked Michael Jackson *and* Pearl Jam.

I’d say that it was the first MJ album that I didn’t play the crap out of.

It’s not that it wasn’t worthy, but I think my tastes had begun to slide over to less mainstream stuff like They Might be Giants. And, um, Pearl Jam.

Crazy to call a guy like Michael Jackson mainstream, huh?

The last time I gave Michael any thought, prior to Thursday, was when HIStory came out in 1995. It was in the summer of 1995 and I was taking a few courses in University.

My friend Alison, almost as a joke I think, suggested that we line up to buy the album at midnight.

Thinking that sounded like more fun than watching Baywatch and Unsolved Mysteries reruns I said that I’d be up for it.

When we got to “House of Sounds” on Princess Street in Kingston, which still sold records at the time, there was already a line up?!

I couldn’t believe it!? At a time when few would admit to even liking Michael Jackson, he could still get people to line up in the middle of the night to buy one of his albums. Amazing.

Anyway, 6 minutes and 15 seconds past midnight, I owned HIStory… and Disc 1 (best compilation EVER!) is the CD player in the car right now…

(Though I must admit, I had to dig through a few boxes this morning to find it.)

Posted on June 27th, 2009 at 9:22 am by Brainy Smurf
Current Events, Life, Music, Retro, Television | 5 Comments »

Gilbert Stuart: Straight Outta Compton…

The most brilliant portrait painter in America after the Revolution was Gilbert Stuart (1755-1828).

Every American is familiar with his “Athenaeum” portrait of George Washington, which is reproduced on currency.

Gilbert Stuart was born in Rhode Island Colony December 3, 1755.

His father, a Scottish immigrant, was a snuff grinder until his business failed in 1761. Then he moved to Newport, living in a house his son later described as “a hovel on Bannister’s Wharf.” [A snuff grinder, huh? Maybe they could have elaborated on that a bit? I checked out volume 21 and there isn't a "Snuff Grinder" entry. I mean, I can figure it out, but did they really need to include that?]

When he was about 13, Gilbert Stuart became a pupil of a mediocre Scottish portrait painter, Cosmo Alexander. [Poor Cosmo. I'd hate to be called mediocre in an encyclopedia.]

At 19, he sailed alone for London. After two years there he wrote to the artist Benjamin West, begging for help because he could not support himself. West took him on as his pupil and assistant.

Five years later Stuart married Charlotte Coates, an English girl. Twelve children were born to them.

Stuart’s Later Life
In London, and later in Dublin, Stuart enjoyed a large and fashionable patronage, owing partly to his gaiety and wit. [Okay, so why'd he need Benjamin West's help?]

He charged high prices but lived luxuriously and went deep into debt. [I know the feeling...]

In 1793 he was back in the United States [land of the bailout], hoping to make a fortune by painting portraits of George Washington.

Between 1794 and 1796 Washington sat for three portraits: the bust-length “Vaughn” type, the full length “Lansdowne,” and the familiar bust-length “Athenaeum.” He also painted other famous Americans. [Okay, wait a minute... There must be something missing here... I mean, let's say I want to make a fortune making Barack Obama tie-dye t-shirts. Is Barry going let me come over, snap a few photos, and then profit off of his image? Of course not. Things must've been so much simpler in the 1700's...]

Stuart spent his later years in Boston. He was in debt when he died, July 9, 1828. [This seems so unfair. In this day in age, his estate would be recieving a cut everytime a $1 bill is printed.]

- – - – - – - – - – -

Straight Outta Compton:
This is an idea that I’ve been toying with sharing on PIAC for a few months.

Growing up, while the living room sported the 1970 edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, my bedroom contained the complimentary set of Compton’s Encyclopedia — essentially a dumbed-down version of the Encyclopaedia Britannica semi-geared towards children.

I used to read through each volume randomly and often cited them for book reports and research projects in grade school (long before the internet and the ever reliable Wikipedia.)

Recently, I’ve been flipping through their pages again only to laugh at the choice of words, the tone of the message, the blatant racism, and the “women should always be pregnant and in the kitchen” slant of many of the entries — most of which have nothing to do with women, pregnancy, or the kitchen.

Things were perceived *much* differently in 1970.

It’s some pretty comical stuff so when an entry peaks my interest, and it’s brief (or related to money), I’ll share it here (with my commentary in blue.)

Posted on June 19th, 2009 at 11:03 pm by Brainy Smurf
Compton | No Comments »

Discover Card: Another Reason I Don’t Carry One…

I’ve never carried a Discover Card.

To me, there has always been a social stigma attached to them that turns me off…

Maybe that’s just me?

See, I’ve only ever carried Visa and MasterCard.

I don’t feel privileged enough to carry an American Express card.

I dunno, those seem to be for people who think that they’re better than those around them…at least that’s what their 1980′s television commercials always conveyed to me…

They’ve softened the message some, of late, but they still have that obnoxious “Always a good decision” Sam Adam’s commercial feel to them… You know the one I’m talking about — the one that Sam Adam’s seems to have had successfully removed from YouTube. Damn them.

Though nearly 25 years old now, Discover is still the new kid on the block.

I remember when they came out. They had that catchy jingle (which oddly escapes me at this moment), a cool sun logo, and an application inside the back cover of every Sears catalog — which, at the time, was second only to the Service Merchandise catalog.

I wasn’t old enough then to actually have a credit card but I was old enough to know that I didn’t really want the one from Sears — the most embarrassing store to be seen with your mother in while shopping for back-to-school clothes..

Now before you start accusing me of contradicting myself as an elitist, there’s a HUGE difference between not wanting to be seen in Sears with your Mom as a 4th grader and acting like a pompous arse with a credit card that touts the idea that “membership has its privileges.”

Of course, AE commercials usually failed to make mention of the fees involved in becoming and remaining a “member”.

So along came the Discover Card. They never had fees. I don’t think they ever denied an application. And I’m pretty sure that they invented “reward” programs too. As a result, they attracted a less than desirable crowd.

Alright, fine, I say it…

Discover attracted the Sears crowd whereas American Express was attracting the Tiffany crowd.

Discover is like the anti-American Express.

MasterCard and Visa were, I dunno, the cards for everybody else. That’s where I felt that I fit in…

So anyway, back to the additional “reason” that I still chose not to carry a Discover Card.

The fellow immigrant at work frequently peppers me with trivia-like questions about the places I’ve been — many of which he’s been to as well.

He’s not actually testing me, though, I think he’s genuinely interested in what my answers are.

Today’s initial question was, “How many providences [sic] are there in Canada?”

To jeering from my co-workers at my hesitation to this simple question, I timidly said, “Ten?”

See, I can name ‘em all (Newfoundland, Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island, Quebec, Ontario, Manitoba, Saskatchewan, Alberta, British Columbia), counting along the way, but the answer doesn’t just roll off the tongue like “50 states.”

Thankfully, this time, my answer was correct.

Of course, one guy (yeah, the type that seems to have snopes.com bookmarked on his desktop to stifle any entertaining conversation that may start up) had to disagree with me claiming that “Google” says that there are actually 13.

Having now had time to count them in my head, I told him that Google is wrong — the three up north are territories, not provinces.

“Think Guam,” I told him…

He still disagreed… and, naturally, he’s also the type of guy that wouldn’t be able to name all 50 states either…

Anyway, after defending my knowledge of my home country, the inquisitive one said that Canada didn’t seem much different to him than the United States…

“They have American cars, McDonalds, Burger King, and stuff like that.”

I agreed and disagreed at the same time but didn’t say anything as I nodded.

Then he continued, “But they don’t accept Discover.”

Hmmmmm… I didn’t know that.

After a little research it appears that he is correct — it’s pretty much only accepted at the tourist traps that Americans frequent.

Good to know.

And another reason I’ll never apply for a Discover Card.

…as if the stigma of actually having one weren’t enough on its own!

Posted on May 5th, 2009 at 8:03 pm by Brainy Smurf
Credit Card, Retro | 7 Comments »

Brush with Fame

This past Sunday while doing some baby shopping I saw someone that I recognized instantly.

I’ve known that he lived nearby for years and years now but this was the first time that I actually saw him. That might not sound so unusual — there are millions of people “nearby” — but how many people are over seven and a half feet tall?

Yep, my wife and I walked right by Manute Bol.

Now I was never a basketball fan growing up but even I knew who he was — if only because of his height.

The minute we turned the corner and I saw his silhouette down the street I instantly knew it was him. My wife was just kinda, “Yeah, whatever…”

But that height was unmistakable.

Still quite a distance away, though there were no other people between us, my wife quietly asked me if I’d like to get my picture taken with him, you know, using her phone but I declined thinking he’d much prefer to be left alone — being a celebrity and all.

When I was a teenager I once passed by Wayne Gretzky on an escalator when the LA Kings were in town. I was going up, he was going down.

I made eye contact and without even saying anything, the look on his face said, “Please don’t make a scene, kid.”

I didn’t. But I also never forgot the experience.

In fact, I probably only remember it so well because I didn’t make a scene, or get his autograph, or even simply shake his hand. We just exchanged glances and went on our merry way.

So as we get closer, Manute is just standing there on the corner digging in his pockets apparently just enjoying the nice weather we’re finally having.

Then, as we got closer, he started to hobble towards us. Not towards us — as in approaching us directly, but he began heading in the direction we were coming from.

With my Gretzky experience in mind, I looked up and smiled a little closed mouth smile at him as we passed by like ordinary people.

As we turned another corner my wife said, “That’s really sad. He seemed like a lonely homeless man.”

Thinking about it, she was right.

I began to wonder if I *should* have asked to have my picture taken with him.

I’ll be honest — in this specific neighborhood, just being a black guy is enough to get some unusual stares. Being over seven feet tall would likely get you that much more though I’d imagine when you’re that tall, you’d receive some odd stares pretty much anywhere.

Most people on the street that day probably thought he was some sort of freak.

And that has me second guessing myself days later, you know, maybe he would have taken some pleasure in the fact that I knew who he was and that I’d really appreciate having my picture taken with him.

Not because he’s a wicked tall freak of nature but because he’s Manute Bol.

That dude used to be famous.

Posted on March 17th, 2009 at 8:38 pm by Brainy Smurf
Life, Retro, Sports | 2 Comments »

Photo of the Week: Honeywell T87 Thermostat

As I’ve mentioned before, my home is old. Definitely over 100 years old.

Probably even over 125 years old.

And while my furnace is only a few years old now, my thermostat is probably around 50 years old. That’s just an educated guess. In reality, I have no idea how old it is…

Oh, and you don’t have to email me to let me know that it looks like crap and that I should get a new one. I already know that.

But if you’d seen the room that surrounds it, well, the aesthetic appearance of the thermostat is the least of my problems…

And, hey, the old thing still works like a charm!

Anyway…

It looks like your standard round Honeywell thermostat, right? If you grew up in North America or western Europe, it should be pretty familiar. It may even drum up some warm fuzzy memories.

If you were born in the 1990′s, well, this is how we turned the heat on in the dark ages, you know, before everything went digital and became programmable.

My thermostat is a very early version of the T87 — a model that Honeywell released in 1953. If it were in better shape, it might even be worth something. Apparently one is even displayed in the Smithsonian.

But look closely… There’s a feature on there that isn’t on more modern versions…

See it?

I’ve lived in this house for over six years and I just noticed it earlier this week while researching my BFO post about turning the freakin’ heat down.

At the bottom, just above where it says “Honeywell”, they’ve highlighted a so-called “Comfort Range” between 72 and 78 degrees Fahrenheit.

Apparently, heating the home in the 1950′s didn’t cost so much…

It’s about as warm as it gets in here during the winter months and I’m still 4 degrees shy of the “comfort range”.

Posted on February 8th, 2009 at 12:31 pm by Brainy Smurf
Home Improvements, Photo, Retro | 3 Comments »

Is Your Insurance Policy even Worth the Paper it’s Printed On?

One of my biggest fears while my house was insured by the FAIR Plan was that they wouldn’t step up to the plate if I ever needed them.

Sure, the terrible policy they offered me (which I had to accept) barely covered anything to begin with but I just knew, deep down, that if I were to ever file a claim, they’d fight me every step of the way.

Thankfully, the need never materialized and now I’m with a much more reputable insurer.

But does that even matter?

Living in the outskirts of Hartford, Connecticut, the insurance capital of the world, the subject of insurance is in the news pretty often.

The media’s target this week is the insurer for Peanut Corp. of America (yeah, that company in Georgia responsible for the salmonella outbreak); The Hartford.

Though they’re one of the biggest insurers in the United States, a lot of people around the country are unfamiliar with The Hartford. That is, until you jog their memory a little.

Remember those awesome red plastic fire helmets that we all wore as pre-schoolers?

Yeah, those were all courtesy of The Hartford.

Seems their best marketing tool targets folks that are a little too young to use their services…

Anyway, given that there have been a number of deaths attributed to this tainted peanut supply, the lawsuits are sure to roll in.

This is where The Hartford comes in:

The peanut processor at the center of the nation’s deadly salmonella outbreak could be in an even stickier mess because its insurer — The Hartford — has rushed to court to limit what it might have to pay on lawsuits.

Hartford Casualty Insurance Co., part of The Hartford Financial Services Group, is asking a federal court to determine what its responsibility is on three years of policies it issued to Peanut Corp. of America.

The peanut processor makes peanut butter and peanut paste, which is used in baked goods and other foods.

The salmonella bacteria outbreak has sickened about 575 people nationwide, and at least eight have died. Connecticut’s Department of Public Health said nine cases of illness here may be associated with Peanut Corp. products.

The Hartford could be on the hook for up to $31 million in claims under the liability insurance policies at issue if it gets only unfavorable court rulings. It might cost the insurer millions more in legal costs, depending on how the policies were written.

Rather than wait to be sued by its customer, Peanut Corp., The Hartford asked U.S. District Court for western Virginia this week for a declaratory judgment on the policy dispute.

Peanut Corp. could face hundreds of millions of dollars in claims of various kinds, said Bill Marler, a Seattle trial lawyer specializing in food-borne illness lawsuits. Only three suits had been filed by Thursday afternoon on behalf of salmonella victims — two of them by Marler — but more are expected. The peanut company will also face massive claims from businesses for the cost of food recalls and lost profits, he said.

With the company facing all that and a federal criminal investigation, “it does seem a bit like The Hartford is kicking their insured under the bus at a time when they probably need a little support,” Marler said.

Now I can’t claim to know all of the details of their policy, and maybe the Hartford has a good reason for doing this, but the purpose of an insurance policy is to cover your arse if anything goes awry and, in this instance, the insurance company is pro-actively covering their own and trying to dodge their responsibility.

That’s wrong. On a number of levels, in my opinion…

In the unlikely event that something goes horribly wrong, the insurance company is supposed to have your back.

That’s the whole purpose — that’s exactly what insurance is for!?!

Seriously, if the insurance companies are still willing to sell the policies and the customers are still paying their premiums on time, should anything go wrong that’s covered in the policy, it’s the insurer’s responsibility.

What do these companies think people pay the premiums for?

If my house burns down tomorrow or if I’m in another car accident, will my insurance carriers pull this same type of move?

At this point, with news like this, I’m not exactly confident in saying that I’m “actually” covered for anything… even though I pay my premiums every time a bill comes in.

Seems now, maybe, I’m just sending them money for nothing…

Can’t anyone hold up their end of a contract these days?

Posted on February 6th, 2009 at 9:28 pm by Brainy Smurf
Current Events, Insurance, Rants, Retro | 3 Comments »

BFO: Guaranteed Way to Lower your Heating Bill

When I was in 10th grade, taking geometry, our teacher took a leave of absence to have hair plugs installed or something.

I’m not kidding.

He left on a Friday with some whispy stuff on top and returned a month later with a scabby, yet fuzzy, scalp. By grade 11, though he wasn’t my teacher anymore, he had a full head of hair.

So, apparently, those Hair Club for Men commercials of the early 1990′s were legit…

Anyway, while our regular teacher was out, the substitute was a fellow that none of us has ever seen before, you know, not one of the usual substitutes that we’d grown used to over the years.

He was young, had a big moustache, he wore a shirt and tie every day, and he had a full head of hair. He even carried a briefcase. Basically, he was a lot different than our regular teacher.

Under the impression that we’d be doing, well, nothing for an entire month in his class simply because he was a substitute, we didn’t give him a lot of respect.

I know I spent most of my time in that class daydreaming about every girl in our school that even slightly resembled Catherine Zeta-Jones.

Anyway, even through my steamy fog, it wasn’t long before it was blatantly apparent that he had NEVER taught in a classroom before. You could tell he was nervous and the troublemakers in the room were taking full advantage.

This lasted for nearly a week — and then he flipped out.

He turned into Tom Green. This, of course, was before Tom Green became famous.

He had a little bit of a Willy Wonka vibe too… The Gene Wilder version, NOT the androgynous Johnny Depp version.

Out of no where, when it was actually quiet in the room and without any provocation, he started doing that “bzzzzzzzz” noise (you know, the thing that happened in every high school classroom whenever there was a substitute teacher) as he loosened his tie and put it around his forehead like Rambo.

A few of the girls started giggling wondering what on earth he was doing.

The troublemakers were annoyed that he was stealing their “bzzzzzzz” joke.

I was confused.

Then he stood on the teachers desk and shouted, “Who wants to learn some geometry!“.

Um, okay? We were less than enthusiastic.

He then jumped off the desk, doing an aerial ski move, I think it’s called a backscratcher, before doing a somersault after the landing.

I remember thinking, “Wow, this dude is crazy… but that was awesome!”

From that moment on, he had our attention, no doubt about it, and he had our attention for the rest of his time subbing for our un-balding teacher.

Anyway, as he plowed through the curriculum, obviously refreshing his geometry memory along the way, he taught us something that I have never forgotten.

Without boring you to death or bringing back long forgotten math nightmares, high school geometry was the class where you had to do proofs.

You know, prove these two triangles are congruent using a side-angle-side argument or whatever.

I don’t remember exactly how it went down, but I do remember it being relatively simple but annoying at the same time.

This teacher, towards the end of his run, drew two triangles at the same time on the chalk board, one with his right hand and one with his left. Comedy in and of itself.

He then dramatically spun around pirouette-style asking if the two triangles were congruent.

(Yes, he was still wearing his tie around his forehead — but only during class. The guy was a nut, I’m telling you…)

The nerds, often so smart that they were stupid, were all busting out their protractors to get started, but he stopped them in their tracks — “No! This is a one line proof.”

Confused, we all wondered if he was serious.

The two triangles up on the board looked more like ovals than anything else, but they also looked pretty darn similar. Maybe he was ambidextrous?

Then, underneath the two tri-ovals, he wrote in big letters, breaking chalk along the way while calling out each letter as he wrote it, “B.F.O.”

What?

“Blinding Flash of the Obvious,” he explained.

I never forgot that.

When our real teacher returned, it was like a big inside joke that he wasn’t in on. As if his new scabby scalp wasn’t already enough for us to laugh about?

Anytime you couldn’t figure out how to correctly do a proof on a test, you’d write “B.F.O.” in big letters. It never worked, for obvious reasons, but everyone in the class resorted to it at least once…

Years later, in university, on a chemistry lab that went dismally wrong, I told my lab partner, Derek, about “B.F.O.” and we decided that in our final conclusion on the report, we’d refer to a “BFO” as our reasoning for coming to the conclusion we came to.

Seriously, it was like a 40-page lab report with calculations, diagrams, and things all over the place. The last page, for our conclusion, contained 3 letters.

B.F.O.

The professor’s (or TA’s — we all know the prof’s never actually looked at our lab work) remarks still give us a chuckle to this day — next to our conclusion, they drew a big question mark, then gave us a “B”. Ha!

So, after all of this build-up, how does any of this relate to your heating bill?

Well, I’ll tell you…

You can read all you want about putting plastic up on your windows, installing draft guards on your exteriors doors, blocking off seldom used rooms in your home, or adding a humidifier, but there’s only one surefire way to lower your heating bill without spending a dime.

Turn the thermostat down.

B.F.O.

Posted on January 31st, 2009 at 3:25 pm by Brainy Smurf
Cutting Costs, Life, Retro | 3 Comments »

Can’t Beat the Real Thing

Picked this up off the wire:

Neither “New” nor “Classic,” Coke is simply itself again.

Two decades after adding the “Classic” designation, the Coca-Cola Co. is removing the word from its prominent location on the flagship cola sold in the U.S.

The reason for the label “has all but disappeared,” said Scott Williamson, a company spokesman.

The “Classic” tag line was added in 1985 when the company introduced a formula that consumers called “New Coke.” New Coke never caught on, and it was dropped in 2004.

Well, it’s about time… Sheesh…

Posted on January 31st, 2009 at 12:08 am by Brainy Smurf
Current Events, Food, Retro | 1 Comment »

Kash Money? I Don’t Get It…

Have you seen the latest Geico commericals? You know, the ones with that stack of cash with eyes “watching” people?

They’ve been running pretty heavily for a few weeks now… maybe even a month.

Now, as much as I like to hear a Rockwell re-mix, I just don’t get these commercials.

Plain and simple… they suck!

Kinda like Rockwell did.

Really, if you’re old enough to remember the original song, you’ll also remember that the only reason it hit the charts was because of MJ‘s back-up vocal…

Now, Geico’s message has been the same for years. You can save money by switching to them. Their advertising campaigns for the past 5 years or so have been brilliant!

I mean, who would have thought that an auto insurance company could be so successful with a bunch of goofy commercials featuring digitally animated lizards and a trio of cavemen hocking their product/service?

It makes no sense, but even 5-year-olds know that “a 15 minute call could save you 15% or more on your car insurance” and that “it’s so easy, a caveman could do it”.

These commercials actually feature, well, “the money” you could be saving — they’re cutting right to the chase (for once) — but it just doesn’t work.

Weird.

Anyway, the whole ad campaign is worse than Microsoft’s Jerry Seinfeld spot…

What do you think?

Posted on January 7th, 2009 at 8:55 pm by Brainy Smurf
Music, Rants, Retro, Television | 2 Comments »

Sound Advice from Bazooka Joe

I’m not usually one to dole out advice on Pants in a Can.

I mean, I’m not certain that any advice that I’d give could be considered sound. I just talk about what I’m doing, what I’ve done, why I’m doing it, and why I’ve done it.

For the most part, it’s worked out pretty well for me.

If you want to mimic the way I successfully got myself out of debt, you know, follow my lead, by all means, go right ahead!

Of course, I write this post a mere three days after offering some real estate advice… Go figure?

Anyway, the Bazooka Joe comic pictured is one that I’ve carried in my wallet since, hmmmm, probably 1999. A kid I used to sit with at hockey games (and was always chewing gum) gave me a piece of gum one night and this was the comic enclosed:

The comic itself is pretty stupid, as expected, but the fortune at the bottom still makes me smile to this day.

Happy is one who eats not the yellow snow.

Now that’s sound advice.

Maybe it’s that hint of Yoda-ness that strikes me, I dunno, but I wish fortune cookies would have such funny messages.

Posted on January 5th, 2009 at 8:37 pm by Brainy Smurf
Blogging?, Retro | 2 Comments »

Smurfling Update: Little Person or Antagonist of He-Man?

I guess I’m due for this, right? Don’t worry, I’m not going to turn this personal finance blog into a mommy blog — or at least I hope not.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy those to a certain degree too, but I’m not sure that it’s something that I have enough of an opinion on to sit down and type something out each day…

That said, of late, it’s as if I’m having trouble keeping up with the personal finance stuff too…

Sigh.

Anyway, here’s the latest picture we received from the doctor last week. It was a different one this time, and no, I wasn’t referred to as a support partner.

This doctor was wise enough to put two-and-two together and correctly identified me as the father.

From there, I kept my eyes glued to the monitor as the little gremlin/Skeletor looking thing flailed all about.

Really — at one point I swear I saw Skeletor. I wasn’t even a fan of He-Man, but it was him, I swear, inside my wife!

I wish I had the video to prove it.

Speaking of that, I’m surprised they still give you the little photo printouts when it would probably be just as inexpensive, but with a lot more ‘wow’ factor, to just provide DVD’s of the ultrasound appointments.

For now, though, they just provide the little photos printed on that thin plastic stuff that warps itself silly just from the heat of being printed on. As a pro photographer, that kinda rubs me the wrong way.

Further, every photographer knows or has been taught how to crop a photo. It’s a very important aspect.

Often times, the only difference between a snapshot and an award winning photograph is the crop.

Now, these ultrasound technicians, who in a certain sense are just photographers with a really unique camera, take photos all day, five days a week — you know, you’d think that in training they’d be taught some photography basics.

Now I know, someone out there is going to say, “What is this idiot talking about? They’re not just taking pictures… They’re checking for things…”

I agree, they are checking for things, no question, but each time we’ve been there, they’ve spent quite a bit of time moving that thing around trying to get “cute” — their words, not mine — pictures of the baby followed by typing in a silly caption.

That’s artsy. Not scientific.

What I’m saying is that photography — portrait photography — is a part of their job function.

Would it be too much to ask that when they take this classic ultrasound shot, that they zoom out a bit and show that the kid has some legs?

Every single ultrasound that I’ve seen makes it look like every baby is destined to look like one of those Fisher Price Little People figures from the 1970′s.

There are never any legs because they crop them out.

Zoom is not your friend.

Make sure you have a clean background and never, never, never crop at the ankles!

If you’re going to crop a person, it’s at the bottom of the ribcage or not at all… That’s right. There’s nothing wrong with zooming *out* so as to capture the entire person.

Sorry, just had to get that off my chest. And yes, the Skeletor photo above is a classic example of a BAD crop. See — he’s chopped at the ankles. Tsk, tsk…

Anyway, it’s a boy.

Names already out of the running include: Clumsy, Handy, Lazy, Vanity, Hefty, Jokey, Baker, and Grouchy.

Gargamel was never even a consideration… As if?

Posted on December 23rd, 2008 at 7:57 pm by Brainy Smurf
Rants, Retro, Smurfling | 2 Comments »