Smoker’s Math

While I’m on the subject. One of my co-workers is trying to quit smoking. She proudly reported that she’s down from a pack-a-day, to just five cigarettes. She seems to really want to stop and I hope she makes it. But the math kept nagging at me.

Let’s say she starts smoking when she gets up at 7:00 a.m and has her last one before retiring at, say, 11:00 p.m. So she consumes 20 smokes over a 16 hour day. On average, that works out to a cigarette every 48 minutes. And if it takes 5 minutes to smoke one, every 40 minutes she’s reaching for the Virginia Slims. That can’t be right, how would she ever get anything done? So I went back and asked.

“Well, I usually had about three cigarettes before I came to work. Maybe three or four during lunch. And the rest after work. Oh, and we usually take a couple of breaks during the day but only long enough to smoke one.” Okay, let’s re-run the numbers:

07:00 – 08:00 — 3
08:00 – 12:00 — 1
12:00 – 01:00 — 4
01:00 – 05:00 — 1
05:00 – 11:00 — 11

That only leaves 6 hours to smoke 11 cigarettes. One every half-hour until bedtime. My mom smoked two packs a day, every day. If she was awake, she had a Winston in her hand or in the nearby ash try. It was hard but satisfying work and she loved it.

Remembering The Bomb

The Sundance Channel will air a documentary film tonight (7pm) titled Original Child Bomb that features portions of footage shot by U.S. military crews and Japanese newsreel teams, in the weeks following the atomic attacks on Japan almost 60 years ago. The public did not see any of the newsreel footage for 25 years, and the U.S. military film remained hidden for nearly four decades. I’ve got the Tivo set to record.

Anyone who grew up in Kennett, Missouri, in the 50’s has memories of B-52 bombers roaring overhead on their landing approach to the Strategic Air Command (SAC) base at Blytheville, Arkansas (about 30 miles away?). They were undoubtedly hundreds of feet up but it felt like you could throw a rock and hit them. Even as children, we knew they carried The Bomb. As we got a little older, we came to understand that a Russian ICBM was almost certainly targeted for our little corner of the world. But we certainly had no understanding of what it would mean to get “nuked.”

The atomic bombing of Japan probably avoided an invasion that would have cost countless lives. I seem to recall my dad (in the Navy, in the Pacific Theater) telling me he might have been part of that. So, I’m glad we ended it when we did, the way we did. Shit, I might never have been born if pop had bought the farm invading Japan.

But that was then and this is now. And George Bush has his finger on The Button. Is there anyone I trust less? Maybe.

Family

I spent a few days with my brother and his family last week. They’re home for a six month furlough and it’s been more than two years since I saw them. We assembled a basketball goal and caught up on (too many) missed birthdays. Basketball (my eyes tell the story) has become a traditional part of each visit and I fear the next time we play, Blane (47) and I (57) will no longer prevail over Ryan (15) and Spencer (13). More to come on the visit.

“Dead Celebrity” party

“My name is Joy and we are having a “dead” celebrity Halloween party and I stumbled upon your invitation (of) the death certificate. It is fantastic! Do you know where I can find a copy of a blank death certificate to make our invitations with? I thought you might be of some help since you have done this before. Your help would be much appreciated. Hope to hear back from you soon!”

I love that she is having a “dead celebrity” party and using fake death certificates for the invitations. I love that she somehow found her way to The Basement Diaries. And I love that her name is Joy.

I believe in yesterday.

A year ago I asked: If you experienced the worst day of your life…something truly horrible…and there was a drug that made you forget the previous 24 hours, would you take it?

I was reminded of this today when I had to send my Thinkpad back in time to a “restore point” where life was good. To a time (last night) before it got so screwed up it wouldn’t even boot up. Man, what a great feature and pretty damned close to a time machine.

Some of us would wear that Button out, hoping for a better day today. Might work if we only got to use it, say, three times in a lifetime. Yeah, today sucked… but do I really want to use up one of my “go back to yesterday” options?

It only works because –with my laptop– I can change the future. I know what I did to screw the pooch so I won’t do that again. Could we be trusted with that knowledge in life?

Gnomedex 2005

Gnomedex officially gets underway tomorrow but there was a gathering of the geeks tonight at the opening reception. I chatted with half a dozen co-attendees and the common thread running through every conversation was a passion for blogging. I was reminded of Close Encounters of the Third Kind. All of these unconnected people (Steve Lacey, Steve Duncan, Jason Laskodi), irresistably drawn to this common location. They didn’t know what or why, they just knew they had to get there. Similar vibe.

Steve Mays West

Just spent a fascinating two hours drinking beer with Steve Mays (we agreed that–when in Seattle– I would be the “other” Steve Mays). He’s a 42 year old attorney. Married. Child free. (Like me). He had a very successful radio career that started in Oklahoma City and wound up in San Francisco. (Sort of like me, except for the success part). He went to law school. Like me. But instead of dropping out after three months, he graduated and has a small but successful practice here in Seattle. And next week he joins a software company as in-house council.

Sitting in the bar waiting for him felt uncomfortably like a blind date. But after we sucked down a few of the delicious Seattle micro-brews, it was like…two guys with the same name. I was a little amazed at how much we had in common besides our name. My plan is to track down *all* of the Steve Mays’ and see what they’re like.

stevemays.com

Like a pair of old, soft, faded Levi’s, smays.com is comfortable and familiar. It has been my online home for a long time and I can’t imagine changing it. The only domain that would even tempt me is stevemays.com. Which belongs to Steven F. Mays, an attorney in Washington State. Steven F. offers few clues about himself or his practice. Well, I guess his phone and fax numbers are good “clues” but I’m thinking along more personal lines. For example, what are we to make of his single “Reader’s Recommendation?” The Trials of Lenny Bruce: The Fall and Rise of an American Icon.

I emailed Steven F. asking him if he would sell me his domain. I’m hoping Steven F.’s law practice is thriving and he doesn’t need my money. So my plea was ripped from the script of “Days of Our Lives.” Steven F. is a busy, successful lawyer with no time for web site. If he sells it to me, I’ve promised to care for it and give it loving, daily attention.

I know, it’s a long shot. My only hope is that he reads enough of my posts to get to know me and likes what I’ve done here at smays.com.

PS for Steven F. — It appears you live in a suburb of Seattle. How about we get together for a drink while I’m in town for Gnomedex?

No way out

Got a call today from a guy I knew from my affiliate relations days. He left the radio business for a couple years but is once again managing a station in southern Missouri. When I mentioned this to Data Daddy David, he said it reminded him those movies where where somebody escapes, is recaptured, and paraded before the other prisoners as the screws take him back to his cell.

“Like in Cool Hand Luke,” I observed.

“I was actually thinking of Steve McQueen in The Great Escape,” DDD replied. “I can see the guy sitting on the floor of his office, bouncing that baseball off the wall, hour after hour.”

I’ve been trying to come up with other movies where someone escapes, is captured, and brought back. Submissions may sent to stevemays@hotmail.com.