Something Fishy
Who is lying to you? Basically anyone flappin’ their gums. But who’s really lying? I think the probability goes off the charts when it’s someone in retail and/or someone trying to sell you something.
For example, one group conducted a study and found that one-third of seafood sold in the United States is “mislabeled.” I think that’s the nice way of saying, “fucking liars.”
The study found that 50% of tuna sold in Washington D.C. restaurants was something described as “cheaper” and that 87% of the time seafood described as “snapper” was actually something else.
Talk about having a whale of a good time!
In other news, the “biggest US honey supplier admits to laundering, mislabeling Chinese honey.” Yeah, Chinese honey is banned from U.S. markets. That doesn’t mean it’s not for sale down the street, though. Why use the real thing when you can acquire “cheap honey” from China? Because, profits.
Earlier this year Apple agreed to pay $450 million to settle claims it colluded with five major publishers to inflate book prices. As part of the deal, Apple, of course, admitted to no wrongdoing.
Also this year Whole Foods Market, as part of a settlement, was ordered to pay $800,000 for overcharging customers. For its part, Whole Foods claimed their prices were accurate “98% of the time.”
AT&T agreed to pay $105 million as part of a settlement for “adding fees that customers didn’t authorize” to phone bills.
When you stop to consider that these are most likely outlier cases, in terms of actual consequences, it is easy to imagine the vast majority of fraud goes completely unpunished. And you can take that to the bank.
Banks? Never mind. Don’t get me started.
Drop on the deck and flop like a fish! You can trust me, your humble guru. I’m not selling anything.
Sources:
#Travel: Cornering #Oregon – #photography
Oregonians know well the distinctive shape of their state. It’s found on key chains, souvenir shot glasses, business logos, decorative plates and innumerable wood-carved thingies. I feel bad for states like Colorado that have an outline about as exciting as a rectangle.
Colorado, Wyoming and Utah are the only states which have boundaries defined solely by lines of latitude and longitude. (Thanks for the arcane knowledge, Wikipedia!)
After hearing about all of the sunny and warmer days that have been happening on the Oregon coast, this weekend my wife and I decided to go see for ourselves. The plan was to leave cold and foggy Portland behind and go all the way around the NW corner of that unique Oregon shape.
Here are a few photographs from the trip. I’ve left them full-size to they can be clicked to enlarge.
The Portland Oregon skyline on the way out of town.
Holiday: Coffee Comparisons
Buying some joe as a last-minute holiday gift for uncle Java? This handy holiday pricing comparison guide may be of value.
Scenario 1:
- Jungle Booty, one pound bag: $12.00
- Oils Well That Grounds Well, one pound bag: $9.00
Recommendation: Oils Well is the better value.
Scenario 2:
- Orbital Scapes, 1 pound bag: $12.00
- Organic Animal Poops, 12 ounce bag: $12.00
- Rainforest Tops, 250 grams bag: $12.00
Note: 250 grams equates to approx. 8.81849 ounces. Oh, look! They found another way to say “smaller than 12 ounces.” How very clever.
Ah, this scenario is a bit more tricky. Which is the best value? We better calculate to a standardized unit of measurement like Price Per Pound (PPP). Some retailers are now using a new common unit of measurement (called “the bag”) that they hope you will swallow hook, line and sinker.
Table of Standardized Prices
Orbital Scapes: $12.00 per pound
Organic Animal Poops: $16.00 per pound
Rainforest Canopy: $21.77 per pound (translates loosely as “fuck you”)
Recommendation: Avoid all coffee sold using metric measurements. Evar!
You’re welcome!
Fukushima #reblog
Today’s regurgitation reblog is served up by the WordPress “random post” feature. Back on July 24, 2011, I posted an “Aerial Reconnaissance Challenge” that was a photograph of the Fukushima nuclear reactor. It was also a Sunday.
This morning, while looking for an updated photograph, I found this news scarcely four hours old:
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It Was Almost Like A Song
I’m not going to lie to you. This image has nothing to do with this post except it will one day be featured at a funeral home in place of my face for my Wake Me Up Before You Go Go. I will remain anonymous to the bitter end.
Nothing too heavy today…
And, regarding my beloved chemical suit, I leave that to … what? Are you kidding me? None of you get that. I’m taking it with me. Bury me in it!
—The Last Will and Testament of Tom B. Taker, Chapter 1, Section A, Article 1
As most of you know, I have been busy most of the last few decades planning my wake. A wise man in a Stephen King movie once said, “Get busy living or get busy dying” and I took to that advice to heart like a leading a guru to tequila and telling him not to drink.
Of course this planning primarily took the form of picking out songs that participants (guests? attendees? celebrants? wakers? invitees? z-list celebs?) would, at least once, get to enjoy my eclectic taste in music.
I thought it was a pretty good plan. Besides, nothing pleases me more than the thought of people coming together to remember my life and having to listen to some random songs while they are left to ponder, “What the hell is this crap supposed to convey to us about Tom?” Ha ha ha! Suffer!
Then, this week, in the name of research, I attended the memorial service for a gentleman I knew and I thought to myself, “See? This is what happens when you fail to plan and allow your loved ones to pick the music on your behalf.”
Actually, I didn’t really know the man that well. He was the father of one friend and the husband of another. After attending the service I have to say I regret not knowing him better. He was a great guy, the kind who would give away the shirt off his back, always with a warm smile at the ready, and the sort who could cheer people up even when the chips were down.
I also knew him from the liquor store where he seemed friendly enough as he handed me bottle after bottle for several years before he got sick. See? We just went full circle. From tequila to the liquor store and back again. That’s what this guru calls the circle of life.
This post will document the set list that was used to send this soul on its way back home.
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Survivor: Abyss Island – Day 30 Immunity Challenge
Cabazon. It’s what’s for dinner.
Abyss Island: S1E10 – Down To The Wire
Always a guessing game on Survivor it is, hmmm? And apparently talking like Yoda helps me deal with the stress. No, I’m not losing it. Not at all. But when my baby tells me, “I’ll blow your planet up,” I don’t take any chances. Usually she means it. With host, one does not mess.
It’s early in the morning on Day 31 (out of 39) as I write this recap post. Only eight more days to the big finale. There was supposed to be an immunity challenge on Day 29 but it never happened. Tree mail on Saturday never came. What did the Survivor gods have in store?
Friday – Gone Fishin’
Per the official rules, I have to cook my own food. Provided for me is an all-you-can-eat supply of red kidney beans and plain white rice. This has been the staple of my existence for an entire month. I’m also expected to eat three servings of fruit per day.
Since arriving on the island I’ve opened a coconut with an ordinary hammer (MacGyver-style), learned how to break down a pineapple and can expertly skin a kiwi. It’s amazing how blandness in your diet suddenly makes you receptive to learning that which you avoided all your life. “Sure, I’ll eat your pineapple, but only if I don’t have to do any of the slicing myself.” On the island you can’t live like that.
During the second reward challenge I won a fishing net. Normally I bend over and squat a bit and use the net to simulate the game of tennis. Whoosh! Uhhh!!! Whoosh! Uhhh!!!
Sometimes, though, if I put the net in the sink, I can fish up a real lunker.
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Survivor: Abyss Island – Buff Enough?
Tribal flag and mount. Artist I am not.
A recap of Day 5 action including tribe ZeitGuru’s first reward challenge.
Only one person in the tribe? At last a team I can get down with.
After five days of living on absolutely nothing but water, plain beans, rice, coconut, banana, pineapple and kiwi, I was really looking forward to my first reward challenge.
What would be the reward? Perhaps salt? Oh yeah, that would rock my world. Coffee or tea? Even without sugar that would turn my entire existence upside down.
It’s only been five days.
Whatever the reward, I knew getting it wouldn’t be easy. My wife as Survivor Host, the Probst with the Most, would surely be out to get me. She doesn’t mess around.
On that score, at least, I would not be disappointed.
Shouts from the Abyss 
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