Some things that I read in the newspaper.
First this. They're instituting stricter safety measures after the failed Christmas day bombing. Go figure. Now that the horse is out, they're closing the barn door. I used to enjoy flying. Not that I did it much, but flying was an adventure. Now it's an exercise in the herd mentality. Not only have the airlines instituted standing-room-only seating plans, but the security folks make you run through a squeeze chute before you get on the plane. If I can get there in eight hours by auto, flying is out of the picture.
Several fake $20.00 bills have surfaced on the North Shore. For those of you not in Louisiana, that's the north shore of Lake Ponchartrain. (You know, the side whut New Orleans ain't on.) Those little pens that are used to mark money are good, but for the very best counterfeit detection get someone who handles a lot of cash. A bank teller, a fast food cashier. There's nothing better than an experienced bank teller at spotting fake bills. Also, I heard several years ago that the US $20.00 bill is the most counterfeited bill. Why? There's so many of them. Inexperienced cashiers will look closely at a 100, but they see 20s all day long.
Red light cameras and parking tickets are a growing source of revenue in New Orleans. Red light cameras are in fact a revenue source. They have nothing to do with public safety. Nothing whatsoever. If you're going to New Orleans, be sure to park in a pay-lot. There are lots of them downtown and in the French Quarter. The last time I was in town, I parked in what looked like an un-marked block and came back to find a parking ticket. So, you either pay confiscatory parking rates, or you pay a parking ticket. Take your choice. You'd think that a town that wants the tourist dollar would offer lots of free parking. Not so much in New Orleans.
3 comments:
It's New Orleans. Nothing ever makes any sense there at all. I used to enjoy the town but I never ever want to go back ever again.
Of course, my thoughts were to abandon it and not rebuild.
The parking situ makes perfect sense if you consider the nature of the people running the place. They are not there to serve the city, its citizens and visitors; those poor cattle are there to service Mr. Chocolate City and his smaller variant of the Chicago machine. Its actually not too different in many larger cities (like chicago).
Squeeze chutes ain't all bad. As I said to the woman who tried to hug me when we exchanged The Peace at church: "I don't do hugs. There are machines for that."
The now-dead hard drive on my previous computer had dimensioned drawings for a human-scale squeeze box, as designed by Professor Temple Grandin for herself. I got as far as buying the air compressor.
Of course there's a difference between squeezing yerself to calm your mind, and other people squeezing you to make you do what they want. (Umm, wimminz and hugs, anyone?)
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