The Israeli Flying Car

Wired reports:

A group of Israeli technology and defense firms are working on what could become the world's first robotic aircraft for evacuating, and even treating, soldiers injured on the battlefield. Let's just hope the technology is a little slicker than the concept art (right).

Israel's Fisher Institute for Air and Space Strategic Studies is working with local techies and arms-makers to build "MedUAV," a combination of ducted-fan flying drone and robotic ambulance. According to Defense News' Barbara Opall-Rome, the Institute is hoping -- hoping -- to start test flights in 24 months. Eventually, the idea is to carry up to four passengers at speeds of 150 knots and heights of up to 10,000 feet.

(If the whole thing looks retro-futuro familiar, that's because Urban Aeronautics, makers of this concept drone, is one of the companies behind the robo-medevac.)

Six of the 119 soldiers killed in Israel's 33-day war with Hezbollah might have survived, if the Israeli Defense Forces "had been able to evacuate casualties within the so-called 'golden hour,' when their chances for recovery were relatively high. But because the IDF could not thoroughly cleanse urban areas of hidden terrorists and concealed rocket-launching squads, the Israel Air Force often could not dispatch medical evacuation helicopters upon demand," Defense News notes.

Cheapest and Most Expensive Gasoline

Courtesy of CNN Money. Comments forthcoming.

Most expensive places to buy gas

Rank	Country	Price/gal
1.	Eritrea	$9.58
2.	Norway	$8.73
3.	United Kingdom	$8.38
4.	Netherlands	$8.37
5.	Monaco	$8.31
6.	Iceland	$8.28
7.	Belgium	$8.22
8.	France	$8.07
9.	Germany	$7.86
10.	Portugal	$7.84
108.	United States	$3.45

Where gasoline is cheapest

1. Venezuela 12 cents
2. Iran 40 cents
3. Saudi Arabia 45 cents
4. Libya 50 cents
5. Swaziland 54 cents
6. Qatar 73 cents
7. Bahrain 81 cents
8. Egypt 89 cents
9. Kuwait 90 cents
10. Seychelles 98 cents
44. United States $3.45

Birthday Gifts

Excuse for me sounding childish, but I received virtually no birthday gifts this year. It surprised me. What surprised me even more was that the lack of gifts bothered me. I wouldn't have guessed that it would, but it did.

Got a gift card for Barnes & Noble from some family members. I appreciate that. I love books and will most definitely make use of the card. The funny thing is that I can't figure out what I want to buy. It is not something that happens to me. I can always find a book or two that interests me.

But for some reason I can't quite make up my mind as to what to get. I have a bunch that I am considering, just not sure what.

For a while I played around with the idea of buying a CD, but in the iTunes era I rarely find an entire CD that I want. It is much easier and far more economical to buy the few tracks that I truly like.

I need to find a chunk of time to go wander the aisles and see what catches my fancy. Perhaps the MLBF Chronicles.

Not Their Finest Moments

As I sit here watching the video below and others like it I am reminded that my children are growing up in a different world than I did. In some ways it is far less forgiving.

Tis But a Flesh Wound

The Rebbitzen's Husband tipped me off to this one:

"PROVO, Utah (AP) -- A newspaper photographer got a little too close to the action at the state high school track championships -- and was speared through the leg by a javelin.

Ryan McGeeney of the Standard-Examiner was spared serious injury Saturday, and even managed to snap a photo of his speared leg while others tended to him.

"If I didn't, it would probably be my editor's first question when I got back," McGeeney said.

The 33-year-old McGeeney, an ex-Marine who spent six months in Afghanistan, was taking pictures of the discus event and apparently wandered into off-limits area set aside for the javelin.

Striking just below the knee, the javelin tip went through the skin and emerged on the other side of his leg.

"It wasn't real painful. ... I was very lucky in that it didn't hit any blood vessels, nerves, ligaments or tendons," McGeeney said."

Best of line of the article goes to the coach who said:

"One of the first things that came to my mind was, 'Good thing we brought a second javelin,"' Miles' coach, Richard Vance, said Monday.

Can you feel the love.

Coming Soon- The Search For Her Smile

Join Indiana Jack on the epic adventure The Search For Her Smile coming to a grapevine near you.

Notes For June- Fragments of Fiction

As I bang out the pieces to the latest editions of Fragments of Fiction I have made a habit of sharing some of my notes with you. Not sure if anyone besides myself appreciates it, but I think that at some point in time it might be of interest.

June sat down and brushed her long dark hair and tried to relax. She lived a very busy life and had precious few moments to herself. Alone in front of the mirror she wondered how life had come to be like this. She prided herself on her practicality and had always considered herself to be someone who could bloom wherever she was planted.

It just hadn't ever occurred to her that one day she'd find herself in this particular situation. Decisive and goal oriented she had relied upon her old standard, research, research, research, make a list and then execute the plan.

This time she found that she couldn't rely upon her old standbys. Relationships don't always lend themselves to a plan and emotions make it hard to make decisions. She found that irritating and a bit endearing. Johnny had always had a way of upsetting her world.

It was part of what she loved about him and part of what drove her crazy. He was very good at figuring out what to do and what to say. Sometimes that had served him well and sometimes it made his life more difficult as she had come to be more disappointed when he did the wrong thing.

She just expected more of him. She loved that it felt like he could read her mind, or at least she had.

Lately she had felt disconnected and out of sorts. It was disconcerting and upsetting. She wanted to let him in and to feel close, but she just couldn't make herself do it. At times she found herself doing things to push him away. Again, she didn't mean to.

It made her frustrated and angry that he wouldn't just leave. She was confused to begin with and it confused her more that he didn't respond as she expected. But Johnny never did exactly what she thought.

She pushed and he pulled. She yelled and he spoke softly, most of the time. Sometimes he pushed back.

More and more often she found herself worried that she was a disappointment and that one day he would just disappear. He told her frequently not to worry and said that he would be there.

Johnny figured that June's malaise was just one of those things and that given time she'd work through it.

Does America Waste Food

The N.Y. Times reports:

As it turns out, Americans waste an astounding amount of food — an estimated 27 percent of the food available for consumption, according to a government study — and it happens at the supermarket, in restaurants and cafeterias and in your very own kitchen. It works out to about a pound of food every day for every American.

Grocery stores discard products because of spoilage or minor cosmetic blemishes. Restaurants throw away what they don’t use. And consumers toss out everything from bananas that have turned brown to last week’s Chinese leftovers. In 1997, in one of the few studies of food waste, the Department of Agriculture estimated that two years before, 96.4 billion pounds of the 356 billion pounds of edible food in the United States was never eaten. Fresh produce, milk, grain products and sweeteners made up two-thirds of the waste. An update is under way.

The study didn’t account for the explosion of ready-to-eat foods now available at supermarkets, from rotisserie chickens to sandwiches and soups. What do you think happens to that potato salad and meatloaf at the end of the day?

A more recent study by the Environmental Protection Agency estimated that Americans generate roughly 30 million tons of food waste each year, which is about 12 percent of the total waste stream. All but about 2 percent of that food waste ends up in landfills; by comparison, 62 percent of yard waste is composted.

I Love French Toast

It is one of my favorite treats. How about you?

A Relationship Challenged

This is part of the Johnny and June Fragment I have been working on. If you want to read what has come before try:

More about Johnny
June
Johnny and June- A Rough Draft

Johnny considered his options, it was late and he was tired, much too tired to make serious decisions. Part of the joy of maturing had taught him that making hard decisions when angry or over tired was a mistake. It was like playing with fire and he didn't like getting burned.

Sweat pored down across the brow and he grimaced as it dripped into his eyes. It was fitting how the sweat blurred his vision. He couldn't see clearly and he wasn't sure if he was thinking clearly. And the matter at hand wasn't something that he could just laugh off, though he wished it were otherwise.

The funny thing about relationships is that sometimes the most passionate love affair could be so complex. There are layers upon layers to be considered. When you are dealing with the person you love most in the world you can't help but find that your emotions play with you. Fear, anger, happiness, insecurity and more swirl through your mind. Navigating deeper waters with a broken compass is tricky.

Old Johnny had been down this road a time or two. And it was his past experience that empowered and paralyzed him. The beauty of allowing himself to love a woman so completely, to just accept her without reservation had helped to heal a part of him that he was unaware had been broken.

The past was finally behind him. The scars were just funny old stories to be told or just forgotten. They weren't going to hold him back any longer, at least that was what he had thought.

It had taken some doing to get to this point. It had taken some real effort to let go and give in to his feelings. And then life had done what he had feared it might, it had thrown him into a situation that frightened him in a different way than admitting that he was in love.

June had told him that she was having second thoughts. Oh lord, it couldn't be happening again, could it. Just when he let his guard down he was socked in the mouth and kicked in the belly. He remembered this feeling all too well. The metallic taste in his mouth and the strange tingling sensation in his fingers.

He took a deep breath and did another set of curls. That college kid who had been so broken hearted had latched onto Bogart's role as Rick in Casablanca. It wasn't entirely novel or unique, but he loved how Rick had taken ownership of his heartbreak and made it clear that it wouldn't define his life.

The reminiscing made him smile. That kid had been so naive and so innocent but had thought of himself as being so sophisticated. The mirror in front of Johnny made it clear that though it might feel like college was yesterday more than a couple of years had passed by. A little less hair and a few more lines on his face and so much life experience.

So what if the college kid could go for weeks upon end without sleep, he didn't know dick. That was the beauty about life experience, not to mention the endorphins released by a good workout.
It was true, June's head wasn't screwed on as tight as he'd like it to be, but it didn't have to be bad news.

He didn't have to be like Rick. He didn't have to play the noble hero who sends his great love off to help save the world. The world wasn't at war and June wasn't married to the guy who was going to help inspire Europe to fight the Nazis. In fact, Johnny was feeling so good he would have punched Victor Lazlo in the mouth and thrown his European ass out into the cold snow.

He might suffer from moments of uncertainty and angst, but old Johnny was clear on a few things. He loved June and he would do what he had to do to show her. He wasn't going to just roll over and give in because it was hard. He wasn't willing to let her just walk.

This was nothing more than the challenge that all great love stories face. If it came too easy they wouldn't really appreciate each other, now would they.

In that moment his plan became clear. He knew what he wanted and he was ready to make it happen. There wasn't a road map or guide to rely upon. But one of the many things that Johnny and June loved about their relationship was that it was so different from those of their past. He had always told her to hold onto his hand and he'd take care of her. This was no different.

All he had to do was convince her.

Cleaning The Garage

Sunday Night Play list- Here is an incomplete list of what is playing on my iTunes:

If You Could Read My Mind-Gordon Lightfoot
Shaking the Tree- Peter Gabriel
All I Want Is You- U2
With Or Without You- U2
Go Your Own Way- Fleetwood Mac
When We Dance- Sting
Crazy Train(Live) with Randy Rhoads- Ozzie Osbourne
Diamonds on the Soles- Paul Simon & Ladysmith Black Mambazo
Don't Stop Believin'-Journey

What a freaky, deaky day. I am not all that sure how to describe it so I'll just ramble on through it. If you live in L.A. you know that right now we are in the midst of a heatwave. It is after 10 and it has to be more than 80 outside.

When I wrote about being 25 I thought of a similar time to this one, weather wise. Back then the A/C in my apartment barely worked so I spent more than a couple of nights sleeping outdoors on a raft in our pool. There was something very peaceful about sleeping on the water. Every now and then I think about those days and wonder if I shouldn't live on a boat.

Anyway, found ourselves at a park to celebrate a nephew's birthday. It was an experience. There is a lot that I could share about it. I could mention that my nephew has a set of grandparents who need to get their collective asses kicked up, down and around the block. And then again for good measure.

The stories I could tell about these knuckleheads have taken upon legendary status for their place in incompetence, stupidity and unbelievable chutzpah. In fact it has taken great effort not to share them with you. If you think that your in laws are bad write me and I'll show you some who have worked over time to screw up their children and the relationships of all they come into contact with.

Ok, that is not entirely fair, but they don't know a thing about fair so why do I extend the courtesy. On the off chance that one day my nephew reads this let me say this; Uncle Jack tried very hard to help but due to my inability to use magic or the Jedi Mind Trick I couldn't do more. Sorry pal.

Back to things that interest me. The kids did me proud. They ran around in spite of the heat. Just like their old man used to do. However the old metal equipment has been removed so they cannot say that the slide felt like a frying pan. That is kind of nice. It gives me something like those crazy snow stories my father would tell. You know, the ones where he claims he walked through snow storms to reach school. Only it was 3 miles, uphill both directions and he carried my uncle and was never late.

Headed from the party to the always exciting Israel festival. It is different from the Walk we used to do. Anyone remember that, back in the day when we marched all over LA and ended up at Rancho Park.

Anyhoo, the festival was pretty nice. There was a ton of booths, some great food and precisely 1,287,986 Israelis. I got a good chuckle watching this American guy yell at a group of people about standing in line.

Of course this being the festival the freaking missionaries showed up and I gave them the usual treatment.

Missionary: Would you like a flyer?
Jack: I don't speak English?

Missionary: Atah Medeber Ivrit? (Do you speak Hebrew?)
Jack: Nope.

Missionary: You understood both languages?
Jack: Nah, that was an optical pollution. You know, that fire in cleveland is burning here.

Missionary: I know someone from cleveland.
Jack: Was his name Grover?

Missionary: Do you mind if I walk with you?
Jack: Doesn't seem like it matters, now does it.

Missionary: I wonder if you'd let me speak with you about something.
Jack: My wife once asked me that very same question.

Missionary: And what happened?
Jack: She ended up in Texas and I ended up here.

Missionary: You're the first person who has taken time to speak with me today.
Jack: Well, you're walking with me. Frankly if you were any closer it'd be considered sexual harassment.

Missionary: That is kind of funny. May I borrow it?
Jack: Only if you return it.

Missionary: You see, I can help you become a complete Jew.
Jack: I am not aware that I am missing anything. Got all of my teeth and two sets of encyclopedias.

Missionary: You are a smart guy, so you probably realize that they didn't teach you everything in school.
Jack: Actually I am not that nice. I pride myself on being exceptionally offensive to people who peddle bullshit to me. It is juvenile, but it helps keep me young.

Missionary: I am used to it. People act strongly when they hear the truth.
Jack: Ok, let's stop for a moment and talk.

Missionary: I am so glad, thank you for your time.
Jack: Let's see if you still feel that way in five minutes. Matter of fact, this is probably a mistake. Maybe I should go.

Missionary: It is ok.
Jack: The only reason it is ok is because I am keeping you from trying to engage in religious terror against someone else. It is truly sad that you have been captured by a cult and have been brainwashed.

Missionary: I can assure you that I am not brainwashed.
Jack: Good news for you, I am certified as a deprogrammer and let me tell you that every time we pull someone from a cult they always tell us that we're the ones with the problem.

Missionary: If you felt secure you wouldn't be so hostile.
Jack: No, if you felt secure you'd come right out and say who you were, what you were doing and you'd hand out pamphlets that were honest. But you don't because you can't. The reality is that deep down you know that you're a charlatan peddling lies. Put down the pamphlets and let go. You don't have to live on the Dark Side.

Missionary: I am not sure that this is getting us anywhere.
Jack: Probably not, but we'll never know because I just lost ten minutes of my life that I can never get back.

And with that I regained control of my senses and resumed walking. When I left several hours later I saw him engaged in a conversation with four excited Chabadniks. Ok, I can't really say that he was doing much talking, but he was trying. It was kind of fun to watch. I kept waiting for two of the guys to hold him down while the the other two forced him to wrap tefillin.

Which raises another comment. I like the Chabad guys, but you have to chill out on the tefillin. Just relax a moment. You guys found me ten at least ten times and each time all you asked was if I had wrapped tefillin today. I was half tempted to tell you that I did wrap tefillin, only it was during my breakfast in which I consumed a bacon cheeseburger, milkshake and a shrimp cocktail. Would have said it, but it was so ridiculous that I couldn't figure out how to do it with a straight face.

Eventually I found myself back home where I engaged in more masochism. I deigned to clean the garage. I didn't have time to do as much as I wanted, but I did manage to get a bit done. The biggest problem wasn't even my incredible fatigue, it was my incredible nostalgia and sick need for sentimentality.

As I tore through boxes I stumbled onto all sorts of stuff. The first had a bunch of baby toys. Don't ask me why I still have them, ok I can answer that. I can't quite part with them. I look at them and I see this little boy, this tiny little thing with my hands and feet. This little guy who used to live with me. This baby who became a toddler and is now a full fledged boy.

Some of his old toys just take me back. And don't get me started on the Thomas The Tank Engine stuff. He has long since stopped playing with them, but I am never giving those away. Thomas, Gordon and Percy will be with me until my grandchildren have need of them. In fact I just may see that my will says that it is only good as long as he is in possession of those trains and track. Sir Topham Hatt rocks!

Inside another box was more evidence of the babies that used to live here as well as grandparents who are no longer with us. Can't quite give those things up either.

So after a few hours of muss and fuss I managed to pull myself out of the garage and get back to the important task of blogging. Don't know if any of this is important to anyone, but perhaps in 2109 someone will look back and be amused by what their great, great, great, great, great grandpa Jack did one May.

A Few Videos

AM Radio Again



Summer

Cool Food Sculptures

Click here for the full set at Gawker.

Haveil Havailm #166: The MommyBlogger Edition

Morning folks. You can find the latest edition of HH at the following address:

Haveil Havailm #166: The MommyBlogger Edition

Go take a gander.

How Do Fighter Pilots Go To The Bathroom

Here at the Shack we are proud purveyors of news about all sorts of things, including bodily functions. We have a certain appreciation for the call of nature and have wondered about how pilots take care of this.

There is something somewhat comical about the image of the tough fighter pilot waltzing off his plane with a big stain in their flight suit. Anyway, CNN has the details about a potential solution to this problem.

Is it just me or does the Advanced Mission Extender Device sound like a sex toy.

"WASHINGTON (CNN) -- Where do fighter pilots traveling faster than the speed of sound go when they really need to "go"?

Until recently, the answer has been: into a bag.

But it's not a great solution. "Piddle packs" -- heavy-duty bags containing absorbent sponges -- have been blamed for at least two crashes over the years, and they're not always tidy.

A few years ago, after enduring years of complaints from pilots, the Air Force let it be known that it was looking for an answer.

A small medical equipment development company in Milton, Vermont answered the call.

"The DoD put out a list of projects they needed solutions for," said Mark Harvie, president of Omni Medical Solutions. "Bladder relief for pilots was one of the items on the list and we were looking for a new project," he said.

After four years of testing by the Vermont Air National Guard and the Air Force and about $5 million in government and private funds, AMXD is spelling relief for pilots aloft.

Under the old system, pilots routinely avoid liquids before taking off to prevent the unmentionable. But dehydration can make them more susceptible to the G-forces typically seen in fighter aircraft, Harvie said.

When nature's call becomes too pressing to ignore, a pilot has to fly and unbuckle the harness at the same time -- while using both hands to maneuver around in a seat to which he or she is virtually molded.

The aerobatic maneuver is even harder for female pilots.

On long or cold-weather flights, the amount of gear and clothing made the maneuver nearly impossible, and pilots would sometimes have no choice but to relieve themselves in their flight suits.

In the AMXD, a cup for a man and a pad for a woman is strategically placed before the pilot dons a flight suit.

An instructional DVD tells pilots: "When the time comes to urinate, unzip the flight suit, remove the hose.... The control unit will pump the urine from the cup to the collection bag, where it will be chemically gelled."

Remind me not to touch the gel. ;) BTW, if you are interested in reading more of the bathroom news you just can't live without you can click here or here.

It Is Going To Hurt When I Hit Bottom

The four year blogiversary is fast approaching. In a short time I am going to sit down and try and write a post that is appropriate for that day. I'll try to be eloquent and insightful. I'll do my best to be profound and to demonstrate that I have learned something.

Can't say if I'll succeed. Can't say if it will accomplish what I want or hope it will. We'll see.

Had a long talk with my dad today, kind of a state of the union for me. He sat and listened and gave me the same advice I have heard all of my entire life. "You can't do anything other than try your best and sometimes that won't be enough."

I hate to fall. I hate to fail. Took some risks and it looks like they may not materialize. Can't say for certain if they're going to fail, but it doesn't really look like they are going to succeed either.

It feels a bit like standing on a bed of nails. I can feel the sharp edge poking against my feet. It doesn't hurt, but it is clear that if I stumble I am going to find myself in a world of hurt. It will be more than a gentle prick.

I am more than excited. I am terribly frightened that this time I really blew it and at the same time I am intrigued. Is it ego, is it bravado that drives me. If I can pull this off it will be something special and if not, well it is going to really hurt when I fall. I can't keep the balancing act going much longer.

If you asked me to draw/paint a picture of what is happening in my head I'd tell you to picture a battlefield. I am surrounded by enemies. Covered in blood and gore all I can do is use my sword and my ability to try and survive. It doesn't look good. It doesn't look like anyone is going to come ride to my rescue.

Force of will is what is going to make the difference. If I want to survive it will be through sheer determination, too stubborn to lie down and die.

It sounds goofy, but it is an accurate representation. The challenge is to do my best not to be overwhelmed by it all. And right now that is an enormous task.

The Story of Two Souls (Replayed)

I wrote this post quite some time ago. It must have been picked up by someone because all of a sudden the traffic has spiked around it. Anyway, since it seems to be so popular I thought that I'd run it again.

This story has a beginning and a middle but there is yet to be an ending to it and in some ways that is most fitting because it is a story of love and not just any kind of love but one that is all consuming.

The love we speak of is the kind in which you are addicted to the other person, they are your air and your blood. They share your heart and own a piece of your soul. It is the best kind of love and the rarest to find outside of the love of a parent for their child.

Daniel and I had been friends for quite a few years when he first mentioned Anne to me. They were both married to other people and happily so, but somehow they had met online through a bulletin board they both posted upon.

At first it hadn't been anything more than a minor flirtation that slowly matured and developed into a deep friendship and then into a raging inferno of love and lust. It was not planned and it caught the two of them by surprise as it was clear that the feelings that they had were quite deep and very strong.

In some ways it was a very different and unique kind of love. Daniel and Anne were not strangers to love as they had both had past loves and of course they were both married to people that they thought were besheret. Neither one of them had gone to the chuppah with any thought or sense that one day they would view the work week the way that they had viewed their weekends for it was only at work that they had real freedom to write and speak with each other.

Their love was different because of how they had met. They were an online match, almost a cliche in the information age but it was an accurate description. So it was when they began communicating with each other they were able to avoid the pitfalls and challenges that sexual tension in men and women brings. There was no concern about whether he should try and kiss her or if she should let him. No worries about finding the perfect dress, shirt, jeans, heels, cologne or perfume. It was very freeing.

Anne and Daniel bypassed all that and concentrated on communicating with each other because words were all they had. And something interesting and amazing happened, there was complete honesty. It was the kind of honesty that you sometimes feel when you share your life story with the stranger who sits next to you on a long flight.

I remember well the day that Daniel told me about how happy he was and how scared. Somehow he had stumbled into or onto a relationship that he knew was different. Every time he spoke with Anne his heart sang and he knew that she was someone special.

Anne felt the same way. Daniel said that he felt foolish at how fast she figured it out and how at ease he felt when she told him she loved him. There was no awkward moment and no uncomfortable silence. He smiled and repeated it back to her. He loved her too and he apologized that he had to say it over the phone and that he wasn't able to show her in person his true feelings.

That moment changed their lives in a dramatic way because it called their current married status into question. It changed their relationship, molded it and forged it into something that had to be characterized as a torrid love affair. It was a burning love based upon friendship, respect, and believe it or not incredible desire.

When Daniel told Anne that he was going to find a way to come and see her he could feel her heart pounding and he knew that when they finally kissed he was going to have to hold her firmly because her knees would buckle. That kiss would be another defining moment.

Shortly thereafter they found a way to meet. It was only for a few hours but when they hugged each other it felt like they had always been together. Lovemaking was something that could not be described as anything but the merging of two souls in common cause and desire. They moved together as one and their goodbye was bittersweet. For though they knew that they would see each other again it felt as if a hole was being ripped out of their being. There was a huge gaping wound that bled and ached.

If there is such a thing as love at first sight they were the couple that would have experienced it. Later that week Anne received a card from Daniel that said:

"One kiss. One touch. One man and one woman and nothing will ever be the same. You know it and I know it and we live it."

She cried tears of joy. At her desk she looked out of the window and wept because she could imagine losing this man but wasn't sure how she could manage to get him. She had never wanted to be the other woman. It wasn't even a passing thought.

Until she met Daniel she had thought of herself as being very happy with her marriage and her first husband. Her first husband, that is how she thought of the man she lived with. He was the father of her children and someone she cared about but not someone she wanted sharing her bed any longer.

She was a good wife and a good mother. She doted on her children and she tried to keep the first husband happy in all ways, but every time she slept with him her heart cried out as if she was being violated.

For his part Daniel was in a similar situation. He felt trapped and experienced bouts of extreme sadness at the time he had lost and would not be able to spend with Anne. She was so good to him and did so much to make him happy but he never could completely forget about his own home life.

It was also good and he was also a good husband and a good father. But Daniel knew that it was only a matter of time before it was obvious to everyone that his heart had a new flame and it made him feel guilty.

He hadn't gone searching. He hadn't done anything to short circuit the marriage but somehow he had found someone new and he couldn't imagine living without her. Sometimes he would try and be practical and think logically about it. He'd think of walking away and telling her that he was sorry, that it was too late.

But every time he thought about it a dull pain in his head appeared and a sharp ache in his side. And he knew that one day they would leave their current spouses and go to each other. One day they would have to face the pain of ending one love affair and beginning a new one and though the thought of it pained him he was more upset by the guilt he felt at the excitement of starting a new life.

So there you have much of the story of of Daniel and Anne. It is tale with a beginning and a middle but the end is not yet written. Some loves can only be delayed but they can never be prevented.

I wrote a second part to this. You can find it here.

Saudis Tell Bush to Suck It

There are more professional headlines that I could use than "Saudis Tell Bush to Suck It" but they'd be lacking the edge that this one requires.

You see our fearless leader asked our so called ally to help us by pumping more oil. Let's take a look at the story, shall we.

RIYADH, Saudi Arabia (CNN) -- Saudi Arabia Friday rebuffed President Bush's request to immediately pump more oil to lower record prices, saying it does not see enough demand to increase production.

The Saudis said they would increase production if customers demanded it, Steven Hadley, Bush's national security adviser, said.

Ali al-Naimi, the Saudi oil minister, on Friday said the country had increased its production by 300,000 barrels a day on May 10 in response to customer requests.

Al-Naimi said the increased production would bring Saudi Arabia's daily production to 9.45 million barrels per day by June, according to the AP.

Bush is spending much of the day in closed-door meetings with King Abdullah, the Saudi ruler.

Friday's visit was Bush's second trip to the kingdom this year, coming as oil prices reached a new record high Friday of more than $127 a barrel. When he traveled to Riyadh in January, his request for the Saudis to pump more oil was also rejected."

I haven't any love for the Saudis for a whole host of reasons. I'll share a number of links with you that help illustrate why:

Saudi Scholar Spouts Holocaust Denial and Calls for Genocide on Hamas TV (Video)

The good old Saudis who punish victims of rape

Another Reason Why Saudi Arabia is A Problem

I Don't Trust The Saudis- Their Textbooks

In short they violate human rights, they fund terrorists and they promote intolerance for religious beliefs that are not based upon Islam. It galls me to no end that we help fund a racist, misogynist society that is working to undermine our own.

The People You Love Most

In the quiet of the night my son asked me to try and explain why boys fall in love with girls. He admitted that there are some girls that he likes playing with, but that is only because they play more like boys do.

I told him that love wasn't something that you could study or understand. It is not something to be analyzed. It is meant to be felt, to be experienced, to be lived. I wasn't surprised to see a look of confusion on his face. It is a bit more sophisticated than talking about superheroes.

And then he surprised me by asking if love could die. So I told him that a parent's love never dies and that he shouldn't be worried. He told me that wasn't it, he wanted to know if loved died because Jason's mom and dad had split up and so had Michael's.

I asked him what he thought and he said that he thought it could. I told him that I thought that he was right. And then he went back to asking me questions about boys and girls and how you know that you are in love with someone.

We talked about it for a bit and he whispered that love makes you act stupid. I whispered back, "you're right." And then we laughed.

I told him that you always need to let the people you love most know that you love them. I told him that when he was older we'd talk more about why boys and girls fall in love. He said ok, and then told me that he didn't think that girls could understand it because their brains are mushy.

I laughed pretty hard and told him that he'd find out that girls brains operate a little bit differently than ours do. Of course he asked me to give him an example. So I told him that one day a girl would ask him what he meant when he said something. I told him that she would spend time trying to understand the hows and whys of what we do.

He looked at me and said "really?" and I said "yes." And when he asked me to tell him more I elaborated a bit. I tried to explain to him that sometimes love did make you do silly things. And that sometimes when you really, really, really love someone you get nervous when you don't talk to them. And that sometimes when you are nervous it makes you angry because you are afraid.

And wouldn't you know it, that smart boy of mine totally got it. I was pretty impressed.

The conversation meandered a bit and then he told me again that he never wants to get married. I told him not to worry about it and he said ok. Then he told me that he might want to be a father so that I could be a grandpa.

I teased him and said that if he wanted to become a father he might have to kiss a girl. He said yuck and wanted to know if there was a way to just stick the baby stuff inside her without having to talk to her.

Since I heard his mother standing at the door I said that it was always better to do it that way and that talking to girls was a big waste of time. Ok, I almost got through that little speech without laughing, but I couldn't. He looked up at me and said "I know that you were only teasing."

There was a short pause and just as I thought he was going to ask another question I realized that he was asleep. Oy, I can only imagine what other conversations we have ahead of ourselves.

The Aftermath of my Birthday- A New Deal

"Action speaks louder than words
And I'm a man of great experience
I know you got another man
But I can love you better than him
Take my hand, don't be afraid
I'm gonna prove every word I say
I'm advertisin' love for free
So, you can place your ad with me"
Hard To Handle- Otis Redding

My name is Jack. I am 39 years-old but I think of myself as being much younger. I look at people who are around my age and sometimes I find myself thinking that they look old. Sometimes I think that they look middle aged. And now in the wake of my birthday I wonder if they say the same about me.

I can't say that I care all that much. I haven't any critics who are tougher on me, than me. When it comes to beating myself up it is fair to say that I have a golden glove. Most of the time I am good about it, but every now and then I struggle.

I struggle because at 39 I feel like I should have more to show for myself than I do. I feel like that I have fallen short of the mark. I look at this blog and see so many posts that I like. I think that in some areas I have really done a pretty good job and then I come across some stuff that makes me ill. What the hell was I thinking.

As I sit here writing I find myself censoring my words like I never have. The pure posts where I poured out my soul become fewer and fewer. Those moments where I was most honest are harder to share. In my frustration I find that I take refuge by not saying what I once would.

Deep connections have been broken. Some have been forged anew and are stronger than they ever were and some are forever broken. Some who read these words will falsely assume that I am referring to them and others will not even be aware. I won't tell them. I won't open the door.

As I muddle through this strange period of time I am quite conscious of the things that are happening around me. Change is in the air. The coming year is going to be filled with it. I fear and welcome change. The fear is simple. I can't help but wonder if the change is going to make things harder. Will it hurt, what will the consequences of those actions be.

At the same time I celebrate it. I remind myself that change is an opportunity. So I try to take a deep breath and just roll with things, but it is not always easy.

And now for a confession, I didn't expect to receive any gifts for my birthday and wasn't real pleased with those I did. I know, it is petty. It is juvenile, but this year it rubbed me the wrong way.

And now on to another post.

Graffiti- Good To See That He Has An Edumacation

Blog Fodder- How Do You Come Up With Material

A friend from the real world recently accosted me about my blog and asked if I ever run out of material to blog about. I laughed and said that it never happens, I can always find something to write about. Finding material is never hard.

The hard part is taking the raw material and making something meaningful out of it. If you post as often I am wont to do you will find that it takes a significant amount of work to produce a decent post. In the early days I had less concern about quality and just slapped stuff up there. It is a habit that I find less endearing so I have made a point of trying to more carefully manage things.

One of the advantages to having a blog like this one is that there is no topic that I cannot cover. I can literally write about anything and I do. As the seventeen long time readers know there are certain themes that continually crop up and I certainly go through cycles in which I focus more on specific areas.

Lately I have been spending more time pumping out pieces of Fragments of Fiction. I'll keep doing that until I am bored with it and I'll focus on something else.

Inspiration for the blog comes from all sorts of places. I look at what happens in my life and spend some time chronicling it. I take all sorts of news stories and comment on them. Standard resources include Fark, The NY Times, CNN and various other sources of news and information.

Some of my favorite posts come from experiences I have with people. The most popular posts tend to be those that touch upon some common human experience.

I am also inclined to look at the wacky, kind of out there post. Here in my corner of cyberspace it is not unusual for me to clean out the dusty shelves inside my noggin. Sometimes I find some real treasures and sometimes I discover that I am full of more crap than I realized.

Speaking of things that float through my mind, I have been playing around with creating a post about a mohel. Ever wonder what they are thinking about. From time to time I have. Do they ever find themselves distracted or bored by what they are doing. Does this make them want to take a shortcut.

Do any of them promote themselves with a goofy slogan like "Have scalpel will travel," or "Just a a little off the top."

I wonder.

Later on I'll come back and share more of what I wonder about.

I Am Going Get A Pair of Wings

BEX, Switzerland - A Swiss pilot strapped on a jet-powered wing and leaped from a plane Wednesday for the first public demonstration of the homemade device, turning figure eights and soaring high above the Alps.

Yves Rossy's performance in front of the world press capped five years of training and many more years of dreaming.

"This flight was absolutely excellent," the former fighter pilot and extreme sports enthusiast said after touching down on an airfield near the eastern shore of Lake Geneva.

Rossy, 48, had stepped out of the Swiss-built Pilatus Porter aircraft at 7,500 feet and unfolded the rigid eight-foot wings strapped to his back before jumping.

Passing from free fall to a gentle glide, Rossy then triggered four jet turbines and accelerated to 186 miles per hour, about 65 miles per hour faster than the typical falling skydiver. A plane that flew at some distance beside him measured his speed.

Rossy's website is here.

Seal Tries Sex with Penguin

Found this story on Live Science and couldn't help but wonder if the seal was half blind.

"A seal has been caught on camera trying to have sex with a penguin.

This seems to be the first known example of a sexual escapade between a mammal and another kind of vertebrate such as a bird, reptile or fish, "although some mammals are known to have attempted sexual relief with inanimate — including dead things — objects," said researcher Nico de Bruyn, a mammal ecologist at the University of Pretoria in South Africa.

One summer morning, scientists observing elephant seals on a beach on Marion Island near the Antarctic spotted a young male Antarctic fur seal subduing a king penguin.

"At first we thought it was hunting the penguin, but then it became clear that his intentions were rather more amorous," de Bruyn recalled today via email.

The roughly 240-pound seal subdued the 30-pound adult penguin by lying on it. The hapless bird of unknown sex struggled, rapidly flapping its flippers and attempting to stand and flee, without luck.

The seal then alternated between resting on the penguin and thrusting its pelvis at the bird in vain attempts to insert its penis for 45 minutes. Natural, unsuccessful sexual escapades by this variety of seal with members of its own species may last as long as this penguin assault did, "but yes, it is quite a long time and thus unusual," de Bruyn told LiveScience."

I Can't Stop The Bleeding

The story sort of continues. I am pulling pieces from here. One day I'll find a way to weave it all together, but for now...

I still believe in love, even though you don't love me anymore. I still believe in the dream. I still believe that I can reach your heart. I know that I can touch you, hold you, fill up the empty places. All I need is the chance.

The day you left I sat apart and alone and I have lived my life like that ever since. It is my choice. It is my decision. I sit in the dark and stare off into nothingness wondering if the door will open and I'll find you there.

It is a dream that I have often. Alone in the dark I stare and wonder what I did to deserve such pain. I beat myself up wondering why. It is easier to blame myself and to keep you on your pedestal.

After a time the empty place in my heart feels normal as does the numb spot where my soul once lay. Do you remember the shirt you left at my place? I didn't wash it because it smelled like you. For a while I would bury my face in it, smell you and forget that you weren't really here.

For a while it helped me pretend that I wasn't just a shell of a person and that once I used to know how to smile. Sometimes I look at the pictures of who we were and I am taken back to that moment. The sad part is that whatever moment I think of is one in which we are smiling and laughing.

I know that we had moments in which we didn't get along. I know that we fought, but somehow those moments are clouded and hard to remember. It is just foolishness to be like this. I tell myself that you weren't that special and that you had lots of faults. I make lists of everything you did that pissed me off. I try to convince myself that you were ordinary, plain and unworthy of the praise I shower upon you.

I fail.

The water in the shower is icy cold. My skin pruned and wrinkled and my teeth are chattering. When I first got in the heat scalded my back, but I forced myself to endure it. Eventually I found myself curled up in a ball on the floor, unable to move. I can't tell you how long I have been there.

Sleep is not an escape. My mind provides no refuge. It works overtime. Again and again I have dreams that leave me unsettled. You are in trouble. You need me. You cry out for me. I fight to reach you, but I am always too late. Whenever I find you there is nothing that I can do to save you. I can't stop the bleeding.

The sun shines but I just can't feel the heat. It doesn't matter what the forecast says, my sky is cloudy and gray. I feel like I am covered in ash. A leper who is barely tolerated.

Rocket hits Ashkelon Shopping Mall

Ynet reports:

"Several Palestinian terror groups claim sole responsibility for launching of medium-range Grad rocket against crowded shopping mall in 'message' to Israel as foreign dignitaries gather in Jerusalem, including US President Bush. Paramedics race to free wounded shoppers trapped under rubble while IDF investigates why alert sirens failed to sound."

This calls for a serious response that is more than just a verbal condemnation. Look at what Hamas says:

Senior Hamas member Mahmoud al-Zahar spoke Wednesday at a Gaza Strip event marking the 60th anniversary of the Nakba – the anniversary of the 1948 events which led to the induction of the State of Israel – and promised his listeners that "the right of return is closer than ever."

The events of the Gaza pullout </