Aren't Ding-Dongs great? You know, those foil-covered chocolate hockey pucks? Especially when they're nice and cold from the fridge; the crispy crackle of the shell and the sofy squishy center separated by the moist chocolate cake. I might be over-romanticizing it, but they are good.
Let's say that we have a benevolent but naïve king who decides that Ding-Dongs, at $2.19 or so a dozen, are too expensive and that everyone should have access to reasonably priced Ding-Dongs. So, he decrees that his government shall promote a "public option" to supplement the private Ding-Dong industry, claiming that this would create competition and keep the private companies "honest".
For a while, the people are happy because the public Ding-Dongs are almost as good as the regular ones but are much cheaper. You couldn't go very far before seeing someone enjoying the benefits of government Ding-Dongs.
Actually, there are some people who are not happy. The private company that makes Ding-Dongs finds it increasingly harder to compete with the public Ding-Dongs. As a result, the private company has to cut costs by laying off employees and reducing product quality, which drives more people to buy the public alternative, until the private company is forced out of business.
Why does this happen? Because the government doesn't have to worry about turning a profit. (In fact, when there's a net loss, the king justs redistributes some funds from the general coffers.) And all the while, the government is taxing the private Ding-Dong company and using the money to fund the public Ding-Dong company.
In the end, there was only the government Ding-Dongs and no competition to keep the government honest.
The moral of the story: Say 'no' to government Ding-Dongs.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Socialized Chicken
First of all, if you've been following this blog (and if you're the one, thank you), you've noticed that there's been a four-month hiatus, that I seem to have taken a sabbatical. (In other words, I haven't gotten around to writing anything.)
In my defense, I'd like to say that (a) I've been busy; and (b) yes, I have been thinking of stuff, but it's been predominately political in nature, and as I've alluded to before, I don't want this to be dominated by that. Good thing too, for if I had been writing all the things that I've been pondering, then someone might get the idea that I'm one of those right-wing domestic threats, and I don't need that.
Today, however, I participated in something that I found particularly blog-worthy, so let this be a grand re-opening.
Perhaps you've heard of Kentucky Fried Chicken's new grilled chicken offering, and furthermore maybe you've heard of the Oprah Winfrey Grilled Chicken Meal Giveaway. If you're otherwise too wrapped up in burgers to notice this phenomenon, here's the deal: for a limited time, you can go to KFC's "unthink" page and print a coupon for a free grilled chicken meal. (And I really mean for a limited time; by the time you read this, it'll probably be over. And again, if you're the one who reads this, thank you.) The coupon says that you don't get a choice of pieces, but they're not really going to give you a wing and a neck, are they?
An aside: I'm sure they would want us to interpret "unthinkfc" as "un-think fried chicken", but "un-thin KFC" seems to be oddly appropriate as well.
Today, I go to KFC to try it out, and the first thing I notice is the mass of other people doing the same. The parking lot is filled to capacity, and the drive-thru line is backing up onto the street. Yeah, this'll be fun.
Once inside, I jostle my way through the waiting throng (why can't they just sit down and wait?) and place my order. It's 11:54. I go sit down with my soda and my order number, 3364. I listen for whatever the current order number being filled is, and it's 3330-something.
At this point I'm thinking, they're giving away free food, what did you expect? But I'm OK with the situation: I've got time; I've got a positive attitude; I've got a limitless supply of diet Dr. Pepper. It'll be fine.
There is apparently only one "grill" producing chicken and three registers accepting coupons (two at the counter, one in the drive-thru), and supply is not keeping up with demand. There are bursts of order numbers being called out, punctuated with silence until the next batch is ready. One suspects that the drive-thru customers are getting priority, because if you're actually in the restaurant, you're more committed to the enterprise than someone that is already poised to drive elsewhere.
Or so you'd think. As time rolls on, I see people that have been waiting patiently (or maybe not-so-patiently) leave before their number is called. After all, it's getting closer to one o'clock. (I considered walking next-door to McDonalds and bringing lunch back to KFC to eat while I waited for lunch.) Ironically, not only are there a bunch of people without chicken, there is a growing amount of chicken without people to give it to.
I'm considering the possibility that for every person that is now drawn to KFC for the new grilled chicken, there may be a person that is so repulsed by the experience that they won't be back anytime soon.
And the throng of people by the counter waiting for their order to be called? Still there, and getting bigger. I imagine it was like playing the lottery and waiting for that last number to be called.
At 1:04, my number is finally called. (That's right, seventy minutes and four soda refills later.) I hollered BINGO and got some laughs, and maybe helped diffuse a riot; that's just the kind of civil servant I am. While I'm waiting with my ticket in hand, I catch that the guy behind the counter is offering to give people the normal chicken instead of the grilled chicken, which defeats the whole point of the promotion.
So if you're wondering about "Socialized Chicken", here's the point. I saw this as a parallel to the way that socialized medicine seems to play out: free medical care, reduced choices, high demand, low supply, long waits, giving up to get it elsewhere, substitution of services.
I have no ending here, except to say that I think I'll have pizza tomorrow.
In my defense, I'd like to say that (a) I've been busy; and (b) yes, I have been thinking of stuff, but it's been predominately political in nature, and as I've alluded to before, I don't want this to be dominated by that. Good thing too, for if I had been writing all the things that I've been pondering, then someone might get the idea that I'm one of those right-wing domestic threats, and I don't need that.
Today, however, I participated in something that I found particularly blog-worthy, so let this be a grand re-opening.
Perhaps you've heard of Kentucky Fried Chicken's new grilled chicken offering, and furthermore maybe you've heard of the Oprah Winfrey Grilled Chicken Meal Giveaway. If you're otherwise too wrapped up in burgers to notice this phenomenon, here's the deal: for a limited time, you can go to KFC's "unthink" page and print a coupon for a free grilled chicken meal. (And I really mean for a limited time; by the time you read this, it'll probably be over. And again, if you're the one who reads this, thank you.) The coupon says that you don't get a choice of pieces, but they're not really going to give you a wing and a neck, are they?
An aside: I'm sure they would want us to interpret "unthinkfc" as "un-think fried chicken", but "un-thin KFC" seems to be oddly appropriate as well.
Today, I go to KFC to try it out, and the first thing I notice is the mass of other people doing the same. The parking lot is filled to capacity, and the drive-thru line is backing up onto the street. Yeah, this'll be fun.
Once inside, I jostle my way through the waiting throng (why can't they just sit down and wait?) and place my order. It's 11:54. I go sit down with my soda and my order number, 3364. I listen for whatever the current order number being filled is, and it's 3330-something.
At this point I'm thinking, they're giving away free food, what did you expect? But I'm OK with the situation: I've got time; I've got a positive attitude; I've got a limitless supply of diet Dr. Pepper. It'll be fine.
There is apparently only one "grill" producing chicken and three registers accepting coupons (two at the counter, one in the drive-thru), and supply is not keeping up with demand. There are bursts of order numbers being called out, punctuated with silence until the next batch is ready. One suspects that the drive-thru customers are getting priority, because if you're actually in the restaurant, you're more committed to the enterprise than someone that is already poised to drive elsewhere.
Or so you'd think. As time rolls on, I see people that have been waiting patiently (or maybe not-so-patiently) leave before their number is called. After all, it's getting closer to one o'clock. (I considered walking next-door to McDonalds and bringing lunch back to KFC to eat while I waited for lunch.) Ironically, not only are there a bunch of people without chicken, there is a growing amount of chicken without people to give it to.
I'm considering the possibility that for every person that is now drawn to KFC for the new grilled chicken, there may be a person that is so repulsed by the experience that they won't be back anytime soon.
And the throng of people by the counter waiting for their order to be called? Still there, and getting bigger. I imagine it was like playing the lottery and waiting for that last number to be called.
At 1:04, my number is finally called. (That's right, seventy minutes and four soda refills later.) I hollered BINGO and got some laughs, and maybe helped diffuse a riot; that's just the kind of civil servant I am. While I'm waiting with my ticket in hand, I catch that the guy behind the counter is offering to give people the normal chicken instead of the grilled chicken, which defeats the whole point of the promotion.
So if you're wondering about "Socialized Chicken", here's the point. I saw this as a parallel to the way that socialized medicine seems to play out: free medical care, reduced choices, high demand, low supply, long waits, giving up to get it elsewhere, substitution of services.
I have no ending here, except to say that I think I'll have pizza tomorrow.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Heroes wanted
A couple of weeks ago I saw a news story about a guy who dresses up in a makeshift superhero costume and does good deeds under the pseudonym Razorhawk. Goofy? Yes, but my kind of goofy.
It turns out that he and his superhero buddies (Geist, Shadowflare, and others) go out in broad daylight in these costumes in order to be seen doing work for Toys For Tots and the like. Sounds weird, but he has a point about the visibility of it all: If you see a bizarrely-dressed guy delivering toys to an orphanage or volunteering at a homeless shelter, that image is going to be stuck in your head much more firmly than if it were a normally-dressed guy. (Or gal; I'm in favor or superheroines too.) There's a World Superhero Registry where these self-styled heroes make themselves known and organize into local guilds, too.
So I'm thinking, I can do this, but what would my superhero persona be? It would have to reflect some facet of my true persona...
Slide Rule Avenger!
Skillet Man!
The Math Master!
Captain Chopstick!
Super Hippie!
And then I thought, you know, I kind of do that now. I occasionally do some in-person stuff for Hot Dogs & Hope, a feed-the-homeless ministry I'm close to, but mostly I work with the teens in church, and when I do any of this, I am almost always clad in my signature sandals and tie-dye. I recently worked with the teens at Mission Arlington, and an uncle says he saw me (in full hippie mode) on the news; I'm willing to bet that someone thought "hey, look at him" and that was that.
I believe that for Razorhawk and his ilk it's not about narcissism, but about being an example; it's not being Superman, but being a super man.
Now, if you'll excuse me, Captain Chopstick is being summoned, and he's taking the Wasabi Warrior with him.
It turns out that he and his superhero buddies (Geist, Shadowflare, and others) go out in broad daylight in these costumes in order to be seen doing work for Toys For Tots and the like. Sounds weird, but he has a point about the visibility of it all: If you see a bizarrely-dressed guy delivering toys to an orphanage or volunteering at a homeless shelter, that image is going to be stuck in your head much more firmly than if it were a normally-dressed guy. (Or gal; I'm in favor or superheroines too.) There's a World Superhero Registry where these self-styled heroes make themselves known and organize into local guilds, too.
So I'm thinking, I can do this, but what would my superhero persona be? It would have to reflect some facet of my true persona...
Slide Rule Avenger!
Skillet Man!
The Math Master!
Captain Chopstick!
Super Hippie!
And then I thought, you know, I kind of do that now. I occasionally do some in-person stuff for Hot Dogs & Hope, a feed-the-homeless ministry I'm close to, but mostly I work with the teens in church, and when I do any of this, I am almost always clad in my signature sandals and tie-dye. I recently worked with the teens at Mission Arlington, and an uncle says he saw me (in full hippie mode) on the news; I'm willing to bet that someone thought "hey, look at him" and that was that.
I believe that for Razorhawk and his ilk it's not about narcissism, but about being an example; it's not being Superman, but being a super man.
Now, if you'll excuse me, Captain Chopstick is being summoned, and he's taking the Wasabi Warrior with him.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Friday, December 19, 2008
Thank you sir, may I have another?
I just read a news story about an Arkansas woman who gave birth to her 18th child. TLC airs a program about this family called "17 Kids and Counting", which they'll now have to rename.
Apparently, Jim Bob and Michelle Duggar really like the letter J (I bet it's Jim Bob's idea), because all their children's names begin with it:
Apparently, Jim Bob and Michelle Duggar really like the letter J (I bet it's Jim Bob's idea), because all their children's names begin with it:
- Jordyn-Grace
- Jennifer
- Johannah
- Jackson
- Justin
- James
- Jason
- Jedidiah
- Jeremiah
- Joy-Anna
- Josiah
- Joseph
- Jinger
- Jessa
- Jill
- John-David
- Jana
- Joshua
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
It's bad, but it could be verse
I'm eating tacos in a mental fog
While contemplating writing in my blog;
something short, direct, compact, and terse,
and then I thought, I'll write it out in verse!
But what to say? What subject shall I choose?
Which format, style, or structure will I use?
Pantameter I chose to utilize
(which English geeks would surely recognize);
Ten syllables in rhyming pairs of lines
Would do the trick! (He does this while he dines?)
The story still eluded me; my plan
To fill the vacant start-to-ending span?
Deciding first upon the ending text
And working on the part before that next!
A proper narrative it's not, I know,
But lunchtime's over and I have to go.
And if you've made it to this point, you see
There's no point to this piece of poetry!
While contemplating writing in my blog;
something short, direct, compact, and terse,
and then I thought, I'll write it out in verse!
But what to say? What subject shall I choose?
Which format, style, or structure will I use?
Pantameter I chose to utilize
(which English geeks would surely recognize);
Ten syllables in rhyming pairs of lines
Would do the trick! (He does this while he dines?)
The story still eluded me; my plan
To fill the vacant start-to-ending span?
Deciding first upon the ending text
And working on the part before that next!
A proper narrative it's not, I know,
But lunchtime's over and I have to go.
And if you've made it to this point, you see
There's no point to this piece of poetry!
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
On the hoof
Q: What's Mooyah?
A1: A web portal specializing in cattle farming.
A2: The new no-nonsense burger joint in town.
A3: The battle cry of the Bovine Liberation Front.
While you ponder, some cow humor:
Knock knock!
Who's there?
Interrupting cow!
Interrupti (MOO!)
Anyway, Mooyah is the newest burger joint in town (well, my town anyway, I don't know about your town), and it's pretty good!
First, a little history: About a year ago, someone decided to build a restaurant on one of the major intersections near my place of employ, and they decided that what the local economy needed was ... a wine bar, and from the looks of it, it was a hoity-toity snotty nose-in-the-air one at that. At the time I thought, good luck to you, you're gonna need it. I did eat there once, and as I recall, I had a plate of steamed mussels with a side of pretentiousness.
Apparently I wasn't the only one who wasn't gracing their doors, because they closed some months later, leaving a building on some prime real estate. It sat vacant for a couple of months, and then I saw signs of remodeling and the hope of another lunch option. Finally last week, the signage went up declaring to the world that this building would henceforth be a Chipotle!
And I thought to myself, well, crap.
My experience with Chipotle is that the food is OK, but the atmosphere is more of the hoity-toity snotty nose-in-the-air ambience that I can do without, especially when there's a better alternative: Freebirds! Better burritos, no pretention, and more body art than you can shake a Montblanc at!
So yesterday as I'm driving by YuppieBurritoLand, I see some other signage toward the back of the building, and I'm straining my eyes to read "Mooyah" and "burgers", and I'm thinking, I gotta check that out tomorrow. Today I had my first Mooyah.
The menu is interesting in that there's not much on it to get in the way of burger excellence. Burgers, fries, shakes, drinks. (Luckily, the soda fountain has Coke Zero, which I can handle if there's no diet Dr Pepper around.) No salad, no chicken. Cheese and bacon are extra, but the sauteéd mushrooms and grilled onions (as well as the normal fixings) are free.
I'll be back, and that's no bull.
A1: A web portal specializing in cattle farming.
A2: The new no-nonsense burger joint in town.
A3: The battle cry of the Bovine Liberation Front.
While you ponder, some cow humor:
Knock knock!
Who's there?
Interrupting cow!
Interrupti (MOO!)
Anyway, Mooyah is the newest burger joint in town (well, my town anyway, I don't know about your town), and it's pretty good!
First, a little history: About a year ago, someone decided to build a restaurant on one of the major intersections near my place of employ, and they decided that what the local economy needed was ... a wine bar, and from the looks of it, it was a hoity-toity snotty nose-in-the-air one at that. At the time I thought, good luck to you, you're gonna need it. I did eat there once, and as I recall, I had a plate of steamed mussels with a side of pretentiousness.
Apparently I wasn't the only one who wasn't gracing their doors, because they closed some months later, leaving a building on some prime real estate. It sat vacant for a couple of months, and then I saw signs of remodeling and the hope of another lunch option. Finally last week, the signage went up declaring to the world that this building would henceforth be a Chipotle!
And I thought to myself, well, crap.
My experience with Chipotle is that the food is OK, but the atmosphere is more of the hoity-toity snotty nose-in-the-air ambience that I can do without, especially when there's a better alternative: Freebirds! Better burritos, no pretention, and more body art than you can shake a Montblanc at!
So yesterday as I'm driving by YuppieBurritoLand, I see some other signage toward the back of the building, and I'm straining my eyes to read "Mooyah" and "burgers", and I'm thinking, I gotta check that out tomorrow. Today I had my first Mooyah.
The menu is interesting in that there's not much on it to get in the way of burger excellence. Burgers, fries, shakes, drinks. (Luckily, the soda fountain has Coke Zero, which I can handle if there's no diet Dr Pepper around.) No salad, no chicken. Cheese and bacon are extra, but the sauteéd mushrooms and grilled onions (as well as the normal fixings) are free.
I'll be back, and that's no bull.
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