The Forbes magazine 400 Richest Americans list is out and once again I didn't make the cut. Damn! The last guy on the list (and I had to wade 16 pages into the report to find him) was worth about 900 million dollars. This means I would have to rob at least a hundred Brinks trucks to put me in contention. That's starting to sound too much like work. I'm thinking about having a serious accident on Bill Gates front lawn while delivering a pizza. Never mind that he didn't order pizza. These mistakes happen, you know?
(Interesting aside: 4 out of the top 5 on the Forbes list are college drop-outs. That's where I went wrong!)
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Depends on the definition of hummer
This week a story that I posted on Peeling Wallpaper almost a year ago suddenly became popular. I had a clue that something was up because I received a few new comments on the piece. More than one comment on a ten month old story usually means that someone has unearthed it and left a link on a forum somewhere.
The story in question was called A Prius meets a Hummer at the gas pumps. On Wednesday of last week it received over 2,000 hits. It’s received probably a thousand more since then. That’s a lot of hits for my blog! What’s interesting is that most of those hits came from one source. A porn site. Well, in fairness, not so much a porn site as a porn forum. Yes, you will find the occasional porn imagery there, and there is a search engine to help you find more of it, but mostly the site is a forum for politics and social commentary (‘cause, you know, after the sex is done, you gotta talk).
It’s difficult to say if the link to my Prius-Hummer story originated at this porn forum. By the time I became aware of what was going on, I found links to the story on a dozen forums – most of them non-porn, mainstream sites. So where did all of this start? Who was the first to find it? What was the original Google search?
I thought for awhile that it might have started with a Google search for “hummer.” Not the vehicle Hummer, but the…well, you know, sexual reference. Or maybe you don’t. (If you don’t know, you can find a definition here.) Anyway, I don’t think “hummer” was the original Google search because my story is nowhere to be found when searching on that word alone. Now, type in “asshole Hummer driver” at Google and my story is the number one hit!
It’s just an interesting aside, all this. Another example of internet wildfire. Indeed, this one is nothing compared to Birdie’s Pledge of Allegiance story. That one literally shut down the Salon blog server for several days! Something the rest of can only strive for…
The story in question was called A Prius meets a Hummer at the gas pumps. On Wednesday of last week it received over 2,000 hits. It’s received probably a thousand more since then. That’s a lot of hits for my blog! What’s interesting is that most of those hits came from one source. A porn site. Well, in fairness, not so much a porn site as a porn forum. Yes, you will find the occasional porn imagery there, and there is a search engine to help you find more of it, but mostly the site is a forum for politics and social commentary (‘cause, you know, after the sex is done, you gotta talk).
It’s difficult to say if the link to my Prius-Hummer story originated at this porn forum. By the time I became aware of what was going on, I found links to the story on a dozen forums – most of them non-porn, mainstream sites. So where did all of this start? Who was the first to find it? What was the original Google search?
I thought for awhile that it might have started with a Google search for “hummer.” Not the vehicle Hummer, but the…well, you know, sexual reference. Or maybe you don’t. (If you don’t know, you can find a definition here.) Anyway, I don’t think “hummer” was the original Google search because my story is nowhere to be found when searching on that word alone. Now, type in “asshole Hummer driver” at Google and my story is the number one hit!
It’s just an interesting aside, all this. Another example of internet wildfire. Indeed, this one is nothing compared to Birdie’s Pledge of Allegiance story. That one literally shut down the Salon blog server for several days! Something the rest of can only strive for…
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Just a black bear: A Yellowstone story
Way up in the northeast corner of Yellowstone National Park, I stopped my car at a pull out overlooking a beautiful valley – expansive and deep with a thin blue creek running down the middle. This area of the park is considered prime grizzly bear habitat. It was my last day in Yellowstone and I was hoping to catch a glimpse of a bear before I left. I had seen a lot of animals during my five day visit to the park - bison, mule deer, elk, river otters, coyote - but no bear.
The pull out was a popular place with bear fanciers - both the serious kind sporting powerful spotter's scopes and cameras with massive zoom lenses, and the recreational variety standing on rock outcrops and staring out into the valley with their own two eyes. There was much discussion about what there was to see out there. Unfortunately, the answer, at least on this day, was not much. People had stories, though. The bears they had seen here yesterday or last week. There was also the story of the mother grizzly and her cub that had been feeding on a bison carcass for the past five days. (And we worry when our meat from Whole Foods is one day past the expiration date.)
"Where are they?" some folks wanted to know. "Up in the Lamar valley, way up the hill on a plateau." "Well, where is that?" Maps came out. More stories flowed. Clearly, people get into bear watching up here. As a scientist who frequently works in National parks and wilderness areas, I have taken training on how to defend myself against a bear attack. The gossip about the grizzly-bison kill sighting made me smile. There are three important rules when dealing with bears: don't get between a mother and her cub; don't interfere with a feeding bear; and don't surprise a bear by walking up on it unexpectedly. This particular bear sighting violated all three rules. I'm surprised the witness survived to tell his tale!
In the end, nobody at this pull off was going to attempt to see the mamma bear and her cub. But not necessarily for any of the reasons above. It was just too far away and too far off the road. Someone asked if there was another spot nearby where they could see a bear. A guy who had just arrived at the pull off and was looking out through a pair of binoculars spoke up: "Well, I saw a black bear just up the road feeding on some shrubs." "Really?" People's interest perked up. "How long ago was that?" "Just a few minutes." "How far off the road to you have to hike to see it?" "I dunno. About five feet. He's literally right there."
Several of us jumped into our cars and headed in the direction that the guy indicated. He shouted to us as we were leaving, "It's just a black bear."
Just a black bear? It is so easy to become inured in this park with its rich population of wildlife. I was just minutes inside the Yellowstone park boundary when I spotted my first bison, feeding off the road in a ditch. I pulled my car over and snapped about a dozen pictures. Over time, I saw herds of bison – hundreds at a time. They're as commonplace here as squirrels in my neighborhood at home. I was stopped on the road many times in "bison jams," a common occurrence in which the animals congregate on the blacktop and bring traffic to a grinding halt. After just three days, I found myself getting irritated by the delays. People would confound the traffic woes by getting out of their cars to take photographs. They're just bison, I would mumble under my breath. It’s not a far cry from “just a bison” to “just a black bear.”
And speaking of black bears, the one I was trying to see was still wandering along the road when I arrived. There was a traffic jam, of course. But talk about a great sight. Here’s a picture of the big guy:
The pull out was a popular place with bear fanciers - both the serious kind sporting powerful spotter's scopes and cameras with massive zoom lenses, and the recreational variety standing on rock outcrops and staring out into the valley with their own two eyes. There was much discussion about what there was to see out there. Unfortunately, the answer, at least on this day, was not much. People had stories, though. The bears they had seen here yesterday or last week. There was also the story of the mother grizzly and her cub that had been feeding on a bison carcass for the past five days. (And we worry when our meat from Whole Foods is one day past the expiration date.)
"Where are they?" some folks wanted to know. "Up in the Lamar valley, way up the hill on a plateau." "Well, where is that?" Maps came out. More stories flowed. Clearly, people get into bear watching up here. As a scientist who frequently works in National parks and wilderness areas, I have taken training on how to defend myself against a bear attack. The gossip about the grizzly-bison kill sighting made me smile. There are three important rules when dealing with bears: don't get between a mother and her cub; don't interfere with a feeding bear; and don't surprise a bear by walking up on it unexpectedly. This particular bear sighting violated all three rules. I'm surprised the witness survived to tell his tale!
In the end, nobody at this pull off was going to attempt to see the mamma bear and her cub. But not necessarily for any of the reasons above. It was just too far away and too far off the road. Someone asked if there was another spot nearby where they could see a bear. A guy who had just arrived at the pull off and was looking out through a pair of binoculars spoke up: "Well, I saw a black bear just up the road feeding on some shrubs." "Really?" People's interest perked up. "How long ago was that?" "Just a few minutes." "How far off the road to you have to hike to see it?" "I dunno. About five feet. He's literally right there."
Several of us jumped into our cars and headed in the direction that the guy indicated. He shouted to us as we were leaving, "It's just a black bear."
Just a black bear? It is so easy to become inured in this park with its rich population of wildlife. I was just minutes inside the Yellowstone park boundary when I spotted my first bison, feeding off the road in a ditch. I pulled my car over and snapped about a dozen pictures. Over time, I saw herds of bison – hundreds at a time. They're as commonplace here as squirrels in my neighborhood at home. I was stopped on the road many times in "bison jams," a common occurrence in which the animals congregate on the blacktop and bring traffic to a grinding halt. After just three days, I found myself getting irritated by the delays. People would confound the traffic woes by getting out of their cars to take photographs. They're just bison, I would mumble under my breath. It’s not a far cry from “just a bison” to “just a black bear.”
And speaking of black bears, the one I was trying to see was still wandering along the road when I arrived. There was a traffic jam, of course. But talk about a great sight. Here’s a picture of the big guy:
Even if I hadn’t taken my bear training, the National Park Service does an excellent job educating people about not getting too close to any of the wild animals in Yellowstone, but especially bears. There are reminders everywhere in the park. Still, when the opportunity arises, there will always be Darwin rejects who are willing to take the risk for a good photo. Note the couple who stepped out of their vehicle for a closer look. That’s about a two second sprint for the bear.
Surely, you know it’s only a matter of time. (Of course, you know where I am heading with this.)
"Ah, man, not another bison jam.”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Well, something’s in the road. An elk?”
“No.”
“A moose?”
“Nah.”
“Well, what is it?”
“Just another tourist being mauled by a bear.”
“Damn, we’re going to be late for the old faithful eruption.”
Friday, September 16, 2005
Time to get back to writing!
Well, I'm back. I was gone for three weeks and came back to six weeks worth of work. I don't understand the new math. The trips were all great. Probably the most exciting part was my five days in Yellowstone National Park. It was quite a memorable experience, except for that one evening that I can't quite remember. Lesson learned: you get drunk on an empty stomach a lot faster at 8,000 feet elevation than you do at sea-level. That's probably all I should say until the lawyers finish sorting out the details. From Yellowstone I went to Berkeley, California - the most liberal spot on earth. As soon as I stepped out of the shuttle bus in front of my hotel, I heard this poof noise. I looked down and my shoes had transformed into Birkenstocks, my polo shirt to a tie-dye Grateful Dead t-shirt. A colleague of mine told me that he had encountered a beggar on a street corner who had a laptop computer. Berkeley is a different kind of place.
More this weekend...
More this weekend...
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