Me and Mom, in a park somewhere in Europe, Paris is my guess but who cares at that age – there’s ice cream! She got the card on time but I didn’t find this in the archives until this morning.

T’was no crash, but a clever criminal act. I was suspicious from the beginning, as I’ve been trained to be, but what I was seeing looked like a legitimate attempt by Windows to diagnose and repair a hard drive malfunction. But it was not Windows nor my Webroot product doing the detective work – where was the bought-and-paid-for protection?

My machine, or whatever had possessed it, was demanding a scan, now! Um, no. It proceeded to scan anyway. Once the list of maladies was presented, the same entity highly commended that I opt to repair the detected issues and wouldn’t I like to upgrade to the full version of protection software I’d never heard of before? Thanks, no, I’ll have none of your devious plot. Now off to sleep you go, the geeks will take care of you.

Having determined that something was woefully wrong with the machine and after declining its request for my credit card, I carried it to the big box Geeks secure in the knowledge that it was still covered under a 2 year plan. What’s that you say? The plan doesn’t cover software or virus attacks? You want my credit card? What about Webroot – don’t they have a dog in this hunt?

I’m getting a bundled discount on the very same product that failed to protect my machine (it really is the best out there) and I’m supposed to feel better now.

Geek: “You’d be surprised how many people fall for that one and pay the fee to the virus. It fixes the problem for a while but it always comes back for more.”

Me: “So I either pay the hacker or I pay you – how do I tell the difference?”

Crickets…

What a great way to begin the day! Luckily I’m still within my 2 year Best Buy coverage on this Gateway laptop which, until now has been relatively cooperative. We’ll see if it’s fatal or not. Might be time to go Apple, although I’m not impressed with the whole cloud thing.

First single track ride of the year. Now where would I have put the tire tools? They’re not in the pack where they should be. Now there’s a nagging voice in my head, “Always preflight your gear!”

Oh well, nice afternoon for a hike in the wrong shoes dragging dead weight.

The kids’ summer jobs are safe for this year or, God forbid, the end of Obama’s reign. I for one would not mind revisiting this issue with a new President next year. Glad to see the President is worried about the farm vote.

The DC is claiming responsibility for the quick reversal but it must have been the massive machine known as The Wood Shed that struck fear in the hearts of the administration.

I feel obliged to share this even though it will undoubtedly bring me grief at home because until I read Mr. McQuain’s piece on oil speculators I truly thought they were to blame at least partially for high gas prices. After all, it’s easy to point a finger at paper traders that never get their hands dirty and lay the blame on them. Easy doesn’t mean right. I’ve always thought of futures trading as nothing more than Vegas in a suit. I may have to change that mindset. McQuain’s assertion that futures trading tends to reign in spikes with a dose of reason makes sense. Go read about onions and President Ford.

More help from Big Government:

A proposal from the Obama administration to prevent children from doing farm  chores has drawn plenty of criticism from rural-district members of Congress.  But now it’s attracting barbs from farm kids themselves.

Under the rules, children under 18 could no longer work “in the storing,  marketing and transporting of farm product raw materials.”

Which, in suburban terms, means the kids can’t do anything on the farm actually related to farming. What’s left? If we take the “family” out of family farm, we’re done. I grew up driving tractors, baling hay, harvesting crops, repairing equipment, and mowing grass (lots of grass) on our farm that we worked on the weekends we escaped from suburbia and I’m far better for it. Yes there were dangers involved and it was up to my parents, not the Federal, to decide when I was ready to tackle the big jobs.

Work ethic, responsibility, accountability – farm kids learn this stuff at an early age and we are to believe that this is a bad thing they must be protected from?

15 years of planning and searching, 12 trips to Burma, and determination in the face of financial ruin finally paid off for David Cundall. He managed to locate 20 Spitfires that were buried during the Allied withdrawal of Burma in WWII.

“They were just buried there in transport crates,” Mr Cundall said. “They were waxed, wrapped in greased paper and their joints tarred. They will be in near perfect condition.”

I’m not sure what logistical issues kept the planes from simply being flown out rather than buried but if Mr. Cundall’s assertion of near perfect condition turns out to be correct, he certainly hit paydirt.

More from the pending Big Government. Seems George Orwell was a tad early but clearly onto something. A Senate bill titled “Moving Ahead for Progress in the 21st Century Act” aka MAP-21, has already passed and is expected to pass in the House as well. This bill will require car manufacturers to install a black box, or event data recorder, in every vehicle manufactured in 2015 and beyond. We already have multiple ECM’s that record fault codes, trigger the idiot light, and even let you (and your dealer) know when maintenance is required. Yesterday my phone told me that the left rear tire on my truck was getting low. Kinda cool but a bit scary. Made me wonder if my number was flashing red on a screen somewhere as I accelerated past 80 mph to clear a dump truck spitting gravel on the interstate before he made it to the next bridge joint and endangered my life with a gallon of projectiles. Was I breaking the law? Clearly. Were there extenuating circumstances that in my judgement made the move necessary? Yes. Do I need the government’s permission to act in a responsible manner where my own safety is concerned? No thank you.

Although the text of legislation states that such data would remain the property of the owner of the vehicle, the government would have the power to access it in a number of circumstances, including by court order, if the owner consents to make it available, and pursuant to an investigation or inspection conducted by the Secretary of Transportation.

I don’t need or want a nanny-state.

(H/T to Kit for the find!)

At some point some brilliant marketer decided “Hey, guys stare at it anyway, might as well give them a reason.” And the ass ad was born. Absolutely stupid tacky brilliance. Why limit free marketing to a silly little icon on the chest that you can’t see from ten feet away when you can plaster your name across her backside and get her to pay (more) for it?

Can’t you hear the boardroom chatter proclaiming “rediculous, it will never sell”? Wrong. Sorry Mr. Chairman but never underestimate the stupidity of sheeple. The herd mentality will lead them over any cliff.

Several years ago, when the ass ad was still fairly new, we were down in the Bahamas on a recon/resupply mission to Nippers. The place packs out for the Sunday pig roast and there’s a theory I was tossing around regarding missed flights out of Treasure on Sundays but it got lost somewhere in the rum testing. Yes, testing is demanding work. The sun was hot, I was thirsty, and that big lunch had me on the verge of a full-blown food coma when a vision appeared. She was full of youth and attitude with the credentials to back it. The rum cleared as she passed by me and I caught the reverse angle which was perfectly matched to the forward. I couldn’t believe any woman, even one with her attributes and confidence, would dare to wear a skimpy bikini with the word “Juicy” splashed from hip to hip. Now keep in mind this was several years ago and I pay no attention to fashion. Could care less. I did not see a brand, I saw a statement.

“Yes, yes it is,” I mumbled incoherently.

My wife turned and spotted the source of my distraction and snorted her little drink umbrella into lower orbit. She was laughing so hard she couldn’t speak.

“It’s…a….brand….idiot!”

“Whaaaa… you mean like LL Bean?” Can you imagine that ass ad?

This all came swirling out of the mental fog the other day at Walmart – unfortunately it was recalled by the inverse of Abacos Juicy. You’ve seen the awful pictures – we all have. I know some of those are photoshopped, they have to be otherwise aliens are a foregone conclusion and we’re all doomed. I witnessed one firsthand. Imagine six yards of poly-cotton with PINK proudly displayed.

Why? I don’t get it.