Population Quiz

I was pondering the work that made the allied victory in WWII possible. It was done with 130 million people in the States and about 2.5 billion in the world. (1940 numbers.)

I like to think that since it was done once (a total paradigm shift) then it's possible again to change our approach to energy and resources. But then I remembered that we don't live in 1940 anymore.
Instead of 130 million people in the States all getting on the "Kill the Nazi Wagon" we have 300+ million who have to become hemp wearing hippies. A two fold increase.
Instead of 2.5 billion we have (gulp) 7 billion plus on the planet, including people like Paris Hilton who count as about 4000 Haitians in resource terms.

Between 1804 and 1927 was the time it took to go from 1 to 2 billion.
That's 123 years.
In 83 years we went from 2 billion to 7 billion.
We'll reach 8 billion in 2025, 5 years past the point of peak oil production and the agreed upon point of no return. It isn't 2012 like the movie says. 2020 is the projected point when resources will be completely taxed. We're already collectively using 5 times more than the earth can sustain. In 2020 fresh water will be more valuable than oil, and oil will be very valuable. World harvest yields will be threatened by climate instability. Fishing will be taught in history classes like how we demonstrate Indians heating acorns and grinding the flour for tortillas.

And the change that has to take place is among 8 billion people. 8,000,000,000. I predict an entire generation of people who will be janitors of the planet and you know when you go into a public bathroom and someone has shit on the seat? You know how you feel when you see the shit smeared on the seat and sometimes the wall? Ok, multiply that feeling by 8 billion and you will get an idea of how that generation is going to think about us. Facebook and youtube will be looked at like we look at spraypaint on a school wall...the ape-like scrawlings of inconsiderate infants who deserved a worse fate than we will eventually get.

I wish I had a punch line for this.

Locked in

You might call it dedication and you might call it being flaky for 11 hours and then trying to catch up the last hour and hustle through my job and still shrink wrap the pallets when everyone is punching out...and getting locked inside the warehouse with all the hockey equipment.
I got locked in a Target garden shed on Thanksgiving two years ago. They closed two hours early and I was totally hidden away with snot running out of my nose in an open air garden shed way behind the garden department where the bicycles for the Christmas orphan giveaway were getting staged. The rain poured on me as I tightened wheel nuts. They closed the store without chekcing on me and I finally packed up and was totally trapped in Target. That sucked.

Fortunately, my current boss saw my car in the parking lot and ran back to let me out the door. That and the blood blisters in my feet and sharp pain when I breathe will probably signal the end of my current job. Get in touch with me if you want the name of the temp agency who will hire you for this most excellent position.
I may have another gig lined up in Newburyport which means I can live at the Park N Ride parking lot and ride my moped to work. Anything to save a buck.

P.S. Medical question: when your prostate aches is it already too late to do anything about it?

Cinnabon and Weight Watchers

This is the trend that I've seen in the past: I get a job, the job is a 12 hour shift back to back to back and is so far from my house that I consider sleeping in my car at the site to get more sleep. But I have to eat and change my clothes so I go home and have a maximum of 8 hours of sleep if I go to bed instantly. The dishes are all dirty, the place is a mess, an unfinished chess game sits around. And instead of doing anything related to house work I sit at the piano and play "Faithfully" by Journey for two hours. Then I brush my teeth and fall asleep in my clothes on the sofa. When I get up there is exactly enough time to speed to work. But since the job only allows 30 minutes to eat and the nearest eatery is 15 minutes away I have to bring something to eat. What do I bring? Fucking Cinnabon roll ups from Ocean Job lots. Disgusting cheap calories and a $2.50 Weight Watcher microwave Salisbury Steak meal.
See, something has to be sacrificed if I want to eat a salad and since what I really want to do is play the piano I refuse to sacrifice money or time. I'd rather eat my single serve meal and play "Walking in Memphis" by Marc Cohen than prepare a plate of pasta to eat at lunch.
The job causes so much blood clotting in my legs that by the time lunch comes around I don't even care about eating. I must ice my ankles.

My back is killing me but I fucked up so much today at work that they will soon fire me. I love it, you deal with 5,000 boxes and when you have 5001 address labels they look at you like, "Don't you know how to count?"
I guess I don't because I need Weight Watchers to add my calories.
Time for sleep.

Bygone Portsmouth Tour

Led my first walking tour of "Oggy's Bygone Portsmouth" tonight. The big hit was the Laverdier's Drugs store story where myself and Bradley got caught shoplifting gum. It is now Jumping Jay's fish restaurant. And the Alf figurine encased in epoxy at the old mystery spot location brought gasps of amazement.
The fact my brother's first job was at Strawberry Court, a restaurant that no longer exists, did not excite anyone even when I said we were all proud of him and came down to see him in his apron. More interesting was my job at Richardson's Market where I smuggled beer out the cellar door to pay my debt to the paving company for dumping two wheel barrows full of hot tar on a customer's lawn.
I improvised a little when it came to the Richardson's house which was moved after purchased for $1. Anyone know more about that story? Where did the house come from?
The Alf story got me remembering that my own mother was responsible for having flag holes put in the sidewalk for colorful flags on Market Square Day back in 1976. And those holes are still around town and I believe Alf now resides in the hole that was originally for a flag. I could be wrong but that's what bygone history implies; it's the story you would never read in books.

My dogs are barking after a brutal day at the hockey distributor. Fortunately, I daydream 90% of the time which means a company in Michigan that ordered several dozen ice skates will receive a box of old taco bell receipts.

Ragtime

Rags were a poor man's music and I'm a poor man, but my world just got a little richer. I sold my last piano in August of '08 so it has almost been 2 years without one. I did have access to one in Mexico for two months and that was nice. But I got a paycheck that gives me a few days of breathing room and I lucked out with a guy who priced this Clavinova CVP 20 to sell below my price range and I made my move. My goal is to learn the entire Late For The Sky album by Jackson Browne or at least the pretty ballads. And this piano will make that happen. Thanks to the Chicken Man for helping me carry it up the stairs without breaking this old man 's back. Any song requests?