Friday, June 29, 2007

Gravity Reversal: Watch for Falling Prices

Walmart is a strange beast. It's like that guy at work who is annoying in a thousand different ways but is too useful not to keep around. I can't stand the messes on the shelves or the incompetence of the staff, and I keep going back. Part of it is that Walmart is open 24 hours, so I can make a grocery/DVD long after everyone else is closed. And it doesn't hurt that stuff there is so dadgummed cheap.

A few nights ago, a friend and I finished our bi-weekly Waffle House binge and decided to cap off our white trash evening and head over to Walmart to shop for stuff we didn't need. As we were cruising the electronics department, we were sucked in by the wall of flat panel TVs. Plasmas and LCDs of all sizes showing scuba divers and tropical fish in all their hi-def glory. It was all I could do to keep my buddy from buying one (or picking one up myself). A sexy little 19" model especially caught our eye, mostly because the $277 price tag meant that we both had enough in our checking accounts to pick one up. Granted, $277 is a bit much to drop on a TV that size, but the point is that it was within reach!

And then we leaned in closer to read the fine print and noticed something rather curious.


That's right. It was as if Walmart had hired a carnival barker to yell, "Hurr-ay, hurr-ay, step right up! Get yer LCD TV right here! Only $277! Used to be $267! Get 'em before the price goes up again!"

Farther down the shelf, there was another price tag boasting of a less-modest price increase.


Now, I know that Walmart stopped using their old slogan, "Watch for falling prices," but I didn't think they'd start going the other way!

Update: I sent these pics in to Consumerist.com, and they posted them here. Thanks guys!

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Kittens: Bastiens of the Lonely

I must have finally gotten fed up with living alone, because this weekend I got a cat to keep me company. The original plan was to catch one of the kittens living in my friend's dad's barn, but trying to find feral kittens that didn't want to be found on a hot, sweaty, Texas afternoon turned out to be an exercise in futility. Fortunately, the kittens at the adoption center are much easier to catch (and they probably smell better, too).

These pictures don't do him justice. He looks so calm and peaceful, a pure joy to be around. Don't be fooled. I can only manage to snap a shot of him when he's sleeping, which seems to be about a third of the time. The other two thirds, he's running, pouncing, and playing with a fury that has to be seen to be believed. Of course, in true kitten fashion, it's play for two hours and then recharge for one. Lather, rinse, repeat. All. Night. Long.

Sigh.

Don't get me wrong, I love the little guy. I mean, with a face like that, who wouldn't? When he frolics his way into the other room and realizes he can't see me anymore, he starts to meow as if to say, "Help! I'm lost!" and then comes running when I speak up to let him know where I am. And when he does sleep, he loves to be right at my side. Or on my chest, or shoulder, or head.

I'm not yet 100% decided on a name for him. In the confines of my own home, Dork, Doofus, and Goofball seem to work just fine, as he ignores them all equally. But I don't think I could keep a straight face when I tell the vet to put Dork on the chart, so I need to come up with something official. Right now I'm torn between Miles and Winchester.

Miles comes from Miles Davis. The jazz musician, not the self-wetting old lady from Billy Madison. As he was freaking out in the pet carrier on the car ride home, I put on some jazz and it seemed to mellow him out a bit. Granted, I was listening to Diana Krall, but a boy kitty named Diana? Puh-leeeease.

Winchester comes from the empty box of shotgun shells he decided to use as his bed after I unsuccessfully tried to get him to sleep on my lap last night. That, and the fact that as soon as I told the adoption lady which one I wanted, she said, "Oooh, he's a pistol!"

So if anybody wants to cast a vote or offer other suggestions (Bone Junior has already suggested combining the two to make Minchester), please do. And if you don't hear from me for a while, it's because having a 10-week-old kitten has sapped me of all my energy.

Update: Battle Cat and Cringer just got added to the list. At this rate, this kitty's never gonna get a name.

Thursday, May 17, 2007

My Virgin Ears

Overheard in the elevator:

"Oh good. Now we won't have to see her underthings."

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Fill 'Er Up, Please!

Over the past few days, I've received three copies of the following email from different individuals, proposing a one-day gas purchase boycott on May 15:

Don't pump gas on may 15th

In April 1997, there was a "gas out" conducted nationwide in protest of gas prices. Gasoline prices dropped 30 cents a gallon overnight.

On May 15th 2007, all internet users are to not go to a gas station in protest of high gas prices. Gas is now over $3.00 a gallon in most places.

There are 73,000,000+ American members currently on the internet network, and the average car takes about 30 to 50 dollars to fill up.

If all users did not go to the pump on the 15th, it would take $2,292,000,000.00 (that's almost 3 BILLION) out of the oil companys pockets for just one day, so please do not go to the gas station on May 15th and lets try to put a dent in the Middle Eastern oil industry for at least one day.

If you agree (which I cant see why you wouldn't) resend this to all your contact list. With it saying, ''Don't pump gas on May 15th"


The logic behind this so-called boycott is so full of holes, it's amazing that versions of this email have continued to circulate for as many years as they have. Then again, a huge portion of those 73 million Americans on the "internet network" are gullible enough to accept as fact just about anything that gets forwarded to their inboxes.

First off, the claim that gas prices dropped thirty cents overnight after the "gas out" in 1997 is pure bunk. It did not happen. I don't even need to check any history books to back up my claim because it could not have happened. Not unless the laws of economics took a one day trip to Bizarro Land, that is. Let me explain.

It is true that at current gas prices, a tank of gas could cost from thirty to fifty dollars or more. However, if you're like me, you usually only fill your tank once a week or so. The only way the oil industry would feel a $3 billion dollar hit from a one-day boycott would be if every one of the boycotters were currently in the habit of filling their cars with thirty to fifty dollars of gas every single day. In reality, those of you who choose not to fill up today will just end up filling up tomorrow, or the next day, or as soon as your tank gets empty. Just like you always do. The oil industry still gets paid.

That $3 billion figure is bogus as well. By some sort of fuzzy math, $2.3 billion got rounded up to an even $3 billion. At any rate, in order to reach it, all those 73 million internet-savvy Americans would have to participate in the boycott. But just because a gallon of gas costs $3 does not mean that $3 goes to the pockets of the oil companies. That $3 is split amongst the refineries, storage facilities, distribution chain, State, Federal and sales taxes, exploration for and production of new crude oil, and last (and definitely least), the gas retailers. So assuming that refining costs make up about 24% of the gasoline dollar and that people buy gas on average once every seven days instead of daily, the "hit" that the oil companies would take on a one-day gas boycott by 73 million Americans is actually more like $78 million. That may still seem like a big number, but don't forget that it must be further divided amongst all the oil companies, whether they be Middle Eastern, Venezuelan, or American. You chop $78 million into just a few pieces, and you're looking one company's daily advertising budget. Doesn't sound so impressive anymore, does it?

In order to put that $2.3 billion hurt on the oil companies, those 73 million Americans would have to fully dedicate themselves to the boycott not for one day, but for 35 weeks (or, if they really were buying a full tank of gas every day, 35 days). Still, I don't know anyone who can go without gas for a month, much less 35 weeks, do you?

The real people who would feel the hurt of a one-day gas boycott would be the other recipients of the pieces of that gasoline dollar. We sure don't want to hinder the exploration and production of new crude oil, because decrease in supply means higher prices. Putting financial strain on the storage and distribution companies will also force them to recoup their losses by...you guessed it...raising their prices. And while the efficiency of the tax system may be up for debate, the taxes we pay on gas are used for our benefit.

Sadly, those who would feel the strongest squeeze from a gas boycott would be the independent retailers. There are gas stations owned and operated by the oil companies themselves, but the majority of gas stations in America are privately owned. They buy gas at the going rate and resell it to the public, with little or no say in the price they hang on their marquees. Deliberately hurting your local businesses has noticeable effects on the local economy, which in turn comes back to bite you.

So if you're low on gas today, fill up. And if you're not, fill up when you are. Either way, don't believe the hype. You've been enlightened today, so rather than forwarding the boycott email, send your friends a link to this article instead.

Update: It was late when I wrote this post, and I did so before thinking to check Snopes.com, my favorite site for debunking the myths perpetuated by internet gossip. While my post is very similar to the article at Snopes, my writing is my own, and is the product of simple common sense coupled with facts found through a few minutes of research.

It is not my intent to take a holier-than-thou position. I may say that The Rules is always right, but anyone who knows me
personally also knows that I do not take a firm stance on something unless I've made sure that that stance is upon a solid foundation.

Thursday, May 03, 2007

I Wanna Rock!

While I'm working, I've got my whole music collection on shuffle, so it's like audio schizophrenia all day long. I love it. Today, the first song that came up was "Pour Some Sugar On Me" by Def Leppard, and I was instantly hit with memories of elementary-school summer days spent at the skating rink, trying to skate backwards to the beat of a one-armed drummer.

So great are those memories, that I hereby declare today as Hair Metal Thursday. So put some Poison in your playlist, grab your Guns N' Roses, put on your spandex and RATT out your hair, and just ROCK! You can see what I've been listening to in my Last.fm chart over there on the right. Let me know in the comments what you're listening to or what memories some old metal song brings back for you.

Wednesday, May 02, 2007

An Early Christmas Wish List

Just on the off-chance that one of you is thinking, "Hey, The Rules is a great guy, and I'd like to buy him something," may I suggest this.



Thank you.

Monday, April 09, 2007

Get a life, eh?

Every day it seems I come across something that makes me lose a little more faith in humanity. Sanjaya Malakar is one of them, but that's another post for another day. Today, it was the news of the Toronto Blue Jays commercial being banned by the Television Bureau of Canada because it depicts slugger Frank Thomas swatting one of his kids with a pillow in a pillow fight.

Yes. A pillow.

You can read all about it for yourself in The New York Times and form your own opinion, but it is The Rules' opinion that anyone who can't find the innocent humor in this ad has a black soul and eats puppies for lunch. I'm sure that Jim Patterson, president of the Television Bureau of Canuckdom, enjoys a Schnauzer on rye at least three times a week.

Which is exactly why I love YouTube. The TVB may not want you to see the ad, but I sure do. So feast your eyes on this wonderful piece of advertising genius (and leave the puppy feasting to the critics).



Update: If any of you want to let Jim Patterson know that his verdict regarding this ad is hogwash, you can email him at the address I found on this page of the TVB's website. And please, be civil. You don't want a black soul too.