problem #1: ignorant people

GIS for bleeding heart?
I know, it’s been a few days. Well, get used to it. I don’t plan to write much all next week when I’m away on holiday. I’ll try and drop a few entries on ya, but I’m not making any promises. I guess I’ve just been kinda bummed lately with this whole CIU thing… a visit to the allergist this week confirmed that I won’t be able to go on our planned rafting trip next weekend, which meant I had to cancel those reservations. Even crappier, since I didn’t find out until pretty close to the event, they’d only refund me 75% of what we paid in – which effectively means that this “disease” screwed a bunch of people out of $40 each. So, not only was I feeling bad for not being able to make the trip, I felt worse for hitting people in their pocketbooks because of it.

So I did what I do when I’m down, I took a morning off work and used it to work in the yard. I was at the Home Depot by 6:30am and swingin’ a pick by 7am. It’s amazing how much you can get done before noon when you don’t wait until 10am to get started. Got all of zone two sprinklers done, and covered. Just having a flat, un-trenched backyard makes things look so much better – even if it is still all dirt. I formed up the patio, and seeing the outline visually really helps the imagination – you can almost see what it’ll look like when it’s done. Also got five yards of decomposed granite (the base for the pavers-based porch) and 3 yards of cedar mulch for the slope above the retaining wall. After putting just a little mulch on that slope, it makes a big difference? this thing is actually starting to look like a backyard. I’m going to change subjects now, mixing in some of the half-written things I had for the days I skipped this week.

Getting older and taking more of an interest in politics must go hand in hand. Am I supposed to have this much hesitation and distrust of all news sources and politicians? I honestly don’t think I am. Were early Americans so leery? I mean, I have a hard time taking anything as 100%. What do I mean? I mean that whenever a politician or pundit speaks, I automatically assume that at least some of what they say is “spin” or pure crap. Where did this doubt-factor get built in to my thought processes? It’s the same kind of doubt that I have with auto mechanics, thinking that at best they can utter half-truths only. When it comes to politics, I have this built in notion that I have to take whatever I hear with a grain of salt. Everyone, from learned people I know and like, to analysts on Capitol Hill, has their agenda… where can a brother go for the straight dope? Not the Post, not Fox, not CNN?

Right now I’m listening to the new Interpol album, and I gotta say it’s outstanding. I needed to be weaned off the Killers, and I think this may be just the album to do it. My mind is in other places though, calculating volumes of rock and sand and mulch for the backyard, drifting hive-less down a river during my upcoming week off, or thinking back on my weekend on the range (I can still smell the campfire smell on my sneakers, and it’s awesome).

So, to it then. The weekend was outstanding. And like all things that I enjoy immensely, I’ll probably never write a proper entry about it. Suffice it to say (sufficed to say?) that we had a blast, playing cowboy in the high-desert under the shadows of the Sierras. It was relaxing, cathartic, and perfectly timed. Now I’m back in the working-world and once again feeling the pull of Summer, baiting me with every cloudless sunny day, taunting me. I can make it through these next two days and onto my vacation, I know I can.

In other news, today is my fourth wedding anniversary. I’ve been married for four years, been in CA for four years? it’s simply flown by. Four years ago today I was in a small church in Cocoa, Florida, getting married to someone I’d already been with for nearly eight years. Four years ago tomorrow we were arriving at our bed and breakfast in Martha’s Vineyard. I’m old.

Last night I checked my e-mail at home and found a forwarded letter waiting for me. It was from Sharaun’s grandmother, a woman who I love dearly – but also a staunch conservative who often sends Bush-loving, Kerry-hating missives that are making the rounds (you’ve seen the one about Kerry’s houses and that stupid ketchup rumour, I’m sure). I’m not going to get into politics, why quibble over the lesser of two evils – but this letter was a little different. It was a forwarded letter that was supposedly originally written by a father to his sons, regarding the war and terrorism and whatnot. It was long, but it caught my interest and I read the whole thing. For the sake of background, here’s a webized version of what I’m talking about (which is good because it doesn’t have the one-million carats and typos that come from a grandmother-forwarded e-mail). As a disclaimer, I have no idea what that site is about – it was just the first Google return for “muslim terrorists love dad letter.”

Now to the letter, it’s well-written, but some of the lines that I love are: “Why were we attacked? Envy of our position, our success, and our freedoms.” Yeah? Seems a bit classist and elitist to me. I mean, perhaps envy played a role – but I think the real reason lies in these peoples’ belief that our country is so immoral that they are commanded by God to destroy us. Not only that, but they feel that we attacked first. Read Osama’s letter, he tells us why they attack us. Anyway, there is some decent text in the letter, the portion addressing speaking to all Muslims being bad and Hitler’s Germany, etc. But for the most part it takes on a bit of a “conspiracy theory” vibe, talking about France eventually “fading” to the Muslims. I’m not sure, but is this guy trying to justify genocide here? What does the war in Iraq have to do with Muslim terrorists? Are all Iraqis Muslim terrorists?

Problem number one: ignorant people. Problem number two: the belief in divine justification for certain deeds. Either of these problems by themselves can be deadly, but the combination of the two is most certainly. When you have a person or group or persons who believe that they are called by God to do something, and that a) if they don’t do it they will be held accountable by said God, and b) that because it’s done in God’s name and at his command, it is beyond reproach or examination, you’re against a wall. There’s no arguing with it, there’s no logic that you can apply, there’s nothing. Whatever, I’m not defending terrorists… at least that’s not what I intended to do here. Hate me because California is turning me liberal, I guess.

I have nothing more, but I’m sure my logic above is all flawed? so tell me about it. Dave out.

can’t get more american

So American...
That picture is of an American flag, a boy with a rifle, and a dog. Both the boy and the dog are waving miniature American flags also, and, my friends… you just can’t get much more American than that. America, where our children carry guns and even our dogs carry flags.

Friday and it’s a slow day at work, as a lot of people have taken the day off to get a jump on the three-day weekend. I thought about doing it myself, but there was some junk to take care of. I took the truck into the shop this morning, can’t wait to see what that bill is like. Stupid truck. At least it’s been good to me lately. Being as it’s getting on in miles, I’ve been treating it more like a “work truck” of late. Abusing it by hauling backyard-landscaping materials, poker tables, etc. What was I saying? Whatever.

I got my Epipen yesterday. Y’know, the thing on which my hopes of survival now rest? Yeah, that thing. It doesn’t have a visible needle or anything, it’s a lot like the thing they used to use on Star Trek Next Generation, where the doc just slammed a pen on your skin and it auto-injects. I just think about having to tell my kids that I can’t go swimming with them, because I’ve got the most obscure “disease” known to man. Hopefully I’ve got the variety that lasts 1-5 years, and this whole mess will go away before too long. OK I’m done talking about it, it’s boring.

No more writing, time to go on vacation. Three-day weekend, I’m comin’ for ya. Dave out.

if you could sit here in this room

You won't believe this...
Honestly guys, could my life get any sweeter? I mean, I just took stock a minute ago. Sometimes it’s good to take stock, y’know? I was walking down the street in San Francisco, a chill in the air. I’m headed to my hotel, coming from a fine meal at a trendy open-air Spanish restaurant where I dined with managers two levels above me. Managers who I took beer for beer, letting them digest my name, an awesome guy to hang out with. The guy that tells jokes, the guy that gets by on his personality. So we bustle down the streets, talking of important business. And that’s how I end up here, typing on my laptop in my executive level 43rd floor hotel room. Where I have free access to the “executive lounge” and my room has a 30ft wall of windows which offer up the most stunning view of the San Franciscan skyline I’ve ever seen. I sit in my huge room, watching Aqua Teen Hunger Force in my boxers, the lives of millions of San Franciscans playing out hundreds of feet below me. Honestly, I’m on top of the world right now – cold urticaria and all. Now if they only have bloody mary mix in the mini-bar. Seriously, if you could sit here in this room and look over the city lights with me, you’d jizz. It’s that freakin’ awesome.

Not only that, but things are going well. I’m once again making visual progress on the backyard, with the work on the porch to commence in a week or so. My presentations went great today, I have a penthouse suite and nothing to do, and I’m three beers into a good feeling. Aqua Teen Hunger Force is over and I managed to find a new episode of Reno 911. Maybe I’ll make some coffee, because, see, I can do that. Right now I can do whatever I want. If I want to go downstairs and go out, I can. If I want to stay right here and sleep until 2am then wake up and watch the city for hours, I can. Come to think of it, I am kinda tired. But just to refresh – I don’t have to go to sleep or anything, because I am king of this hotel room. Maybe I’ll take a bath, I don’t think I’ve done that in years. I mean, I bathe, just not in a “bath” is all.

Oh man, this coffee is terrible. It looks like tea it’s so weak, and it tastes like hot water with a dash of coffee flavor. Yuk, I really wanted some coffee too. Man, you guys know what I should do? I should totally order room service. Like, some dessert or something. You guys wanna see what they have? Yeah, let’s check it out (let’s is short for “let us,” which sounds wrong). Holy crap guys, I’m totally drunk with power. Want proof? I just ordered a platter of chicken wings with bleu cheese dressing and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey ice cream. Why did I do this? I’m not even hungry, I only did it because I can. That’s right, I’m not even hungry. I probably won’t even eat it all, and I might even throw it away if I get tired of looking at it. Because that’s the extravagant life I live. Heck, I may even wake up in the middle of the night and make these fools bring some damn shrimp cocktail up 43 floors to my door, I’m not paying for it. Biatch.

It’s not that I don’t have anything more to say, I could go on like this forever – but I don’t feel like writing anymore. And going with the theme of me doing whatever the heck I want, I’m done with this blog.

Dave out.

you’re just chicken

Hot dogs are beef?  I coulda sworn they were pork.I was thinking of all the jobs I can’t do anymore now that I have my new disease. Can’t be the coach of a Super Bowl winning football team, I couldn’t survive the traditional Gatorade and ice dousing. Can’t be a SCUBA diver or ice fisherman. Can’t be a ski instructor or pro wakeboarder. Can’t be a Shamu-rider at Sea World, or a chainsaw-wielding ice sculptor. Can’t be Santa Claus, can’t be a meat packer. Bummer. Good thing I’m a computer engineer who gets to sit in a climate-controlled cubicle all day. The worst I have to worry about is hemorrhoids or maybe some kind of “repetitive stress injury.” I knew I went to school for something other than a lifetime-long school loan repayment plan.

So I’m gonna keep talking about this thing because it’s what’s on my mind of late. I was reading online that cold-induced urticaria can come up at any time, and last either: a) forever, or b) one to five years. Gimme a #2 and that scantron… I’m clearly and neatly bubbling in ‘b’ on this one. For real though, one to five years? I wonder what deity I angered to be cursed with this? Not only is it an extremely crappy ailment, it comes off as very dubious to the uninitiated. Like when everyone is like, “Come on y’allz, let’s swing off this kickass ropeswing into the lake!” And everyone is like, “Heck yeah, that ropeswing looks so fun and awesome!” Then Dave goes, “You guys go ahead, I’ll just stay on the shore – I’m allergic to cold water.” “Yeah right,” says everyone, “You’re just too chicken to do the ropeswing so you made up a fake disease!” “No, for real guys, it’s called cold-induced urticaria,” I reply. “Sounds more like cold-induced chicken-caria to us, bawk bawk!” comes the chorus. Sigh… woe is me.

While telling everyone about it at work, the question that comes up most is “Is this very common?” Which, I’m pretty sure, is a polite way to ask if it’s real or if it’s just something in my head. Either way, that got me thinking… how can I make some money off my new sickness? Maybe I could start a webpage that would be like a cold-induced urticaria support group. Then I could charge money or something. You know, cold-induced urticarians unite! Power to the people and all that crap. Maybe now that a person of such high profile, such as myself, has this disease, it will raise awareness of the tens of others who are suffering this very minute.

On the music-tip, I’ve had my MP3 IV set on a full drip of the Killers’ LP “Hot Fuss” for about a week now. The more I listen to it, the more I like it. From front to back it’s got some great tunes, even if they are in that becoming-ever-more-popular Hot Hot Heat/Franz Ferdinand vein. I don’t care, I’ve come to realize that, with the sudden increase in popularity of good music, I’m gonna have to be OK with sometimes finding new choons from the MTV or even a Toyota commercial. It’s cool, I’m cool with that. So yes, it was me you spotted driving around town with several lengths of 20ft schedule 40 PVC hanging out either end of a green Ford Explorer, listening to the Killers’ track “On Top” at a heinously ear-ruining volume. I don’t even care, that song kicks major butt… I’ll listen to it non-stop if I want to… so shut up. You’ll still not catch me with the Justin Tenderlegs or Ursher or anything featuring Lil’ John coming from my Alpine.

Time to go practice for my presentations tomorrow, nothing like being last minute. Dave out.

my body has betrayed me

Now watch this drive.

Twenty-seven years old and my body has betrayed me. Honestly guys, taking in a prescription is usually not a big thing to me – I mean, who cares. But taking in a prescription for a “kit” that you should keep on you at all times in case you start dying… that’s a little different. So, great, I’m allergic to cold water – is this even real? Apparently it is but no doctor on earth has any idea how to treat it, other than recommend I “stay out of cold water.” Well duh, but I was looking for something a little more definitive. So, I pressed for a referral to an allergist and got this prescription for something called an ANA-kit. Yeah, it’s an epinephrine shot – which I’m supposed to take if I get to that not-breathing passing-out state again, because otherwise I might actually die.

Really? Twenty-seven years in and my hold on life is now this tenuous? I mean, I realize I’m being dramatic about it – but it really did almost make me want to cry to think about having to carry around a freakin’ shot everywhere I go. My only hope: the allergist will be able to better diagnose whatever this is – and the whole life-support kit will be deemed unnecessary. So, I’m not really worried about dying or anything (at least, no more than I’ve every been) – but this whole mess really does suck balls. Where did it come from? Will it ever go away? And why in the world do I have to be allergic to something that I like? I like cold water, I like swimming. Why not make me allergic to tanning booths or health food stores? How about brussel sprouts or weight-lifting? Maybe clothes-shopping or movies with singing? Stupid allergies.

Anyway, this thing has really de-motivated me (de-motivated?). I think a combination of burnout from work, coming-up-soon vacations, and the whole Saturday episode have made me just want to take some time off. So I used Monday as a “sick day” at work, staying home to go to the doctor and lab, and using the rest of the day to work on the backyard. I just ignored work as much as I could, even when people tried to call me on my cellphone. Work in the backyard is so much more immediately rewarding, seeing stuff happen after a day out there in the sun… I think I needed a day at home to myself. So, I took one.

I mentioned it before, but I was supposed to be in San Francisco yesterday and today, for a big conference where I’m presenting. But, since I’m not actually presenting until Wednesday – I postponed my planned Sunday departure in favor of leaving today. Honestly, I don’t feel like going at all. What I feel like is it being July 13th already and me being off for a week while Sharaun’s folks visit. Anyway, I plan on leaving sometime tomorrow (see guys, I write these the night before – so the today/tomorrow/yesterday thing can sometimes be tricky). Either way, the next entry will come from San Fran – so expect a meat-free, liberal-minded, environmentalist rant. Not really, those are just stereotypes.

With the near-death experience over the weekend, I didn’t get a chance to write about seeing Fahrenheit 9/11 this Friday. Ben and I Fandango’d the tickets earlier in the week, which was good because all showings were sold out. So, what’d I think? As a self-identified liberal-with-a-side-of-conservative, I found the movie really interesting. I’m not so far right that I’d refuse to see Moore’s movie at all for fear of funding the wacky leftist media, but I’m also not so far left that I’d waltz into the theatre ready and willing to accept all that he said as gospel. After it was all over, I liked it. There were some interesting things that I hadn’t known before, and there were some things for which I was thinking “come on Mike… gimme a break.” Overall though, the movie was good. If you’re of voting age, go check it out.

I have nothing more, I’m outta here.

a snickers and a diet coke

I feel so busted, what's wrong?

Saturday sucked.

I had big plans, working in the backyard – and I had the rare motivation to actually see it through. However, we had made tenuous plans the night before to head up into the mountains to go to this out-of-the-way creek which people say has “natural waterslides.” It actually sounded really cool, like you could slide down these waterfalls and into these deep pools below. So around noon the crew amassed: Melissa, Ben, Erik, Sharaun and myself. We had some sketchy directions which led us about an hour and a half up in the hills and instructed us to park by a large gate on the side of the road, at which point we would have to go ahead on foot for about two and a half miles down trails into the woods.

We arrived at the gate at about half past two in the afternoon, and started down the trail. The part of the directions that covered the trails to the falls were not the best, instructing us to walk for about a two miles and parallel a creek for about another quarter mile before looking for a “descending path.” We passed a kid coming up the trail, and he asked us if we’d ever been to the falls before – and gave us a little more information about how to get there. As we went further down the trail, we came to a point where it split and headed off to the right – but chose to stay on the straight path and keep going, as we hadn’t really walked what we thought was two miles yet. We eventually came to a creek, and a path that paralleled it – just like the directions had said. Figuring we were only a quarter mile from the falls at this point, we plodded ahead. It’s worth mentioning now that we had been hiking for hour, and had stupidly neglected to bring anything to drink.

After much more than a quarter mile down the trail, we saw a “descending path” and headed down. Not too far down, however, the path became overgrown and choked off. Figuring we’d made a wrong turn somewhere, we decided to head back and see if we missed anything. So, summarizing, we walked down every possible combination of trails that you could possibly take. Finally, as it was nearing five in the afternoon and we’d been walking for nearly three hours with no success, we decided the falls had eluded us and we’d better head back. Around 5:30pm we had hiked back to the original fork in the trail where we’d continued on the straight path. Ben decided to poke his head down the right-tending fork, and said he heard voices and people. By now, we were all so frustrated, tired, and thirsty – that we were bound and determined to find this waterfall.

After a brief discussion, we decided to strike out down the other fork. We walked down a couple steep paths, and again came upon a trail that paralleled a creek – just like the directions said. We immediately knew we were on the right path, as there were arrows formed with sticks on the trail, pointing us in the right direction. Walking for what must have been another mile, we found another “descending path,” and were sure we were on the right track this time. Heading down another steep dusty trail, we eventually ended up at the falls. The girls were trailing Erik, Ben and I – as they weren’t quite as motivated as we were at this point. As we came upon the falls, we happened to run right into a friend of mine from work. He was headed back for the day, with a buddy of his. I begged a bottle of water off of him, and shared about half of it between the three of us – saving the remainder for the girls when they finally made it.

Had we got to the falls by the direct path, and hadn’t been walking for 10+ miles, and brought some water and snacks, I think we would’ve had a great time swimming and sliding and relaxing in the sun. But as it was, we were all tired and thirsty and just glad to be there. We knew we didn’t have much time to hang around, as it would be getting dark before too long. All the guys slid down the three cascading falls, the coolest one having a ~5ft drop into a pool below. The water was pretty dang cold, and my dreaded cold-induced-urticaria was beginning to act up. I was red and itchy, but still glad that we had finally made it. After climbing back up to the top of the three falls/slides, I sat on the rock feeling fine, if a little itchy, and talked to the girls. They had decided that they weren’t going to go down, and we were all pretty much ready to go. It was kinda understood that we hadn’t really made the final push down there so we could spend hours sliding and having fun, it was more just to prove a point.

As we all more or less agreed it was time to go, Ben and I decided to go down the slides one last time. He went down all three again, but I started feeling pretty crappy after going over the first one and came back up. As I was hiking back to the top of that first slide, I started having a really hard time catching my breath. I’d experienced the same thing a couple times before, both times also being after getting out of cold water while wakeboarding on the river. By the time I reached where the rest of the crew was sitting, white was creeping in on the edges of my vision and I could feel the color draining from my face. About to pass out, I quickly laid down on the rock with my head propped on Ben’s backpack. Laying down helped the about-to-pass out feeling, so I just stayed that way until Ben made it back up from the bottom of the three falls.

Getting up to head back up the trail, I immediately felt woozy and short of breath, and once again had to lay down. By now, the others were realizing that something wasn’t right, and they were telling me that my face looked blue. I could tell that I was close to falling out, so I just stayed laying down about a five feet from where I’d been laying before. By now I started shivering, which had also happened the two previous times I’d experienced whatever this was. It’s not a shivering because I’m cold, although it’s the same shivers – but it’s more just an uncontrollable shivering for no good reason. We tried to move along up the steep trail, but I couldn’t get more than a few feet before I’d have to sit down for fear of passing out. Half an hour later, and with light fading fast, we’d managed to move only a few feet up the trail. I could hear Ben and Erik discussing what to do, about sending someone back to go get help, etc.

Finally, it was decided that Erik and Melissa should head back to the car, and Sharaun and Ben would stay with me. I told them I didn’t need a stretcher or a doctor or anything like that, and just asked them to bring me a freakin’ Diet Coke and something to munch. After the party split, I continued to try and make my way up the trail – slow and steady, having to stop and lay down several times before we reached more level ground. After what seemed like forever, and now walking in the dark, we could hear cars on the highway and we knew we were close. I was basically on autopilot, just picking up one foot after another, not talking or anything. I hadn’t needed to stop and rest since we hit the level trail, and Sharaun and Ben said I had my color back in my face. All I wanted was a big drink to quench my thirst and to go home and get some rest.

Sometime around 9pm, we finally rounded the last corner. We’d started seven hours earlier, and had been hiking for probably five and a half out of those seven hours. Making that last turn, we could see lights ahead on the trail Sure enough, we trudged up just in time to see an ambulance pulling through the large gate where we’d parked the car off the highway. Feeling pretty stupid, I walked into the fleet of rescue vehicles and just let them take me.

Paramedics, heart monitors, pulse monitors, blood pressure cuffs, and general awareness questions. What year is it? What is today? Who’s the president? (Ugh, that brainless idiot Dubya). Finally someone gives me some water, and I’m feeling much better. I explain the situation, and the whole cold-hives allergy thing. They see that I’m feeling much better, and am alert and conscious – and I’ve got them convinced to let me go. My blood pressure is a little low, so they tell me they’ll let me sit until it gets above 100 on the high side and then I can head home and get some rest. On a whim, the guy checks my blood sugar with a prick on the finger and finds it at 62 when it should be at 80-something. This, apparently, is a “transportable condition,” and now we’re off to the hospital. An hour drive on bumpy country backroads, an IV, oxygen, and finally we get there. They wheel me out on a stretcher and into the emergency room.

I get the same round of questions, but by now I’m in high spirits – having been intravenously re-hydrated and re-sugared. I just want to go home. A little more than two hours and a soap-opera’s cast worth of ER patients later, I’m discharged with no information about what happened. I try to tell them I think the shortness of breath and fainting has something to do with the cold water, since it’s happened exactly like this before but to a lesser degree. A quarter to one in the morning, and we’re headed home from the hospital up the mountain. Feeling embarrassed, tired, and sorry for making everyone hang out so late… I try to make the best of it by joking and making people laugh. Finding out that Melissa and Erik jogged the trail up to go get help, I feel even more stupid.

I have no idea what happened, and I swear I’m not one to overact if something’s really not that bad. I just couldn’t stand up without wanting to pass out. If I could have powered through it without mentioning it, I would have – that’s just some inborn hard-headedness that I have (which I think I get from my dad). I just couldn’t power through this, whatever it was. I did my best, and eventually made it up – taking it real slow and easy… but man. Those guys were thinking about sending in a helicopter and crap, oh jeez how embarrassing.

Yeah, Saturday sucked. Dave out.

GIS for liberal.
You know, I’ve never really read this before. I don’t know who from Osama’s side so eloquently translated this letter, but it’s worded like an intelligent (although somewhat religiously-rabid) rationalization for some of their motivations. It’s long, but it’s an excellent read. Unfortunately, I don’t really see any peaceful resolutions to issues that come down to a difference in religious beliefs. When two peoples each believe that something is due to them or theirs by the grace of their different Gods? I just don’t see a diplomatic fix. God is so big, and certainly doing something in the name of God is right – without fail. And when you run into the blank check that is “the will of God,” there’s no arguing. I mean, God is always right, God told me to do this, this is right – case closed. Scary.

On a semi-related note, Ben and I are going to see Fahrenheit 9/11 tonight. I’m somewhat leery of Moore’s manipulative techniques, but I’m dying to see the film. Apparently it’s only opening in something like 500 screens nationwide, but CA must be extra liberal or something because there are three Sacramento-area theaters alone that are showing it. I’m no raving liberal, more like I flirt with the tamer aspects of both liberal and conservative stances, but I’m always open to checking out someone’s spin on things. Sometimes the spin itself can be interesting even if the meat is junk, but we’ll see.

We were debating the other day about whether or not it’s a moral quandary for vegans to eat non-meat foods which have been shaped/formed to resemble meat-foods. The whole discussion was spurred by Ben’s ordering of “vegan prawns” at a seafood place, partly because he hates seafood and partly to see what the heck a vegan prawn was. Turns out they are carbon-copies of prawns, fashioned from tofu. He said they look just like prawns. That seemed strange to me. I mean, what’s the vegan’s objection to eating animals? I understand it’s the actual “killing” of a living thing for food that they don’t dig – but is it not a tad hypocritical to then eat something that’s been specifically made to look like something that was killed for food? We have tofu hotdogs, tofu turkeys, tofu lunchmeat, really, tofu meat. I guess it’s a social thing, eating prawn-shaped tofu must be better than just horking down a big plate of tofu cubes or something. I guess vegan prawns are to vegans as non-alcoholic beer is to the teetotaler – something that makes them look less nutty in a social situation but doesn’t run afoul of their beliefs. Ahh, the power of the “everyone else is doing it” rationale.

Sunday night it’s off to San Francisco for a week, so the next blog will come to you from the city of fruits and nuts. Dave out.