I'm a lasagna boy!

In which jimg and dawn get hitched

jim and dawn got married. Hotcha.
... and I should not let the event pass without noting that the delicious foods provided the opportunity to drink bacon (actually, serrano ham. Yum!). More photos here.

In which we zero-nize

The Times describes a personalised public-transit system, operating (with much hand-waving) autonomously-guided buses via magnetic indicators in the roadway. The buses, summoned by mobile telephone, sound much like a jitney service dressed up like a taxicab, but the just-in-time aspect of providing transit to people when they need it is very appealing.

Toyota have some similar research on the low overhead of autonomous buses, but stopped short of the personalised aspect. They have some splendid buzzwords:

Toyota is striving to achieve this objective by addressing the two challenges of "Zero-nize" and "Maxi-mize" simultaneously.

"Zero-nize" refers to the eradication of the negative effects of "traffic accidents", "traffic congestion", and "environmental impact", while "Maxi-mize" refers to the "enrichment of the heart" to the fullest extent through the fun, excitement and comfort that people seek in automobiles.

MUNI is pretty close to this goal already, as long as you are travelling at 7.45 between 3rd and Geary and downtown. They pretty much have that route nailed.

[ via wmmna ]

In which it has guitars and pills and windowsills

You know he's got your back when Jim Kunstler dings Harry Shearer and gas consumption:

Harry Shearer with his attitude of moral superiority reminds me of my neighbor here in Saratoga Springs, the lady with the "War Is NOT the Answer" bumper sticker on her Ford Expedition. For people who want to keep on enjoying an easy motoring utopia, war is the answer.

This, of course, is the predicament of the Democrats, my own party. They have no interest in modifying the nation's suicidal suburban sprawl lifestyle either, only in the easy pretenses of political correctness. Instead of twanging on WMDs and the depravity of the war in Iraq, I'd like to hear someone like Harry Shearer (or John Kerry, or Nancy Pelosi, or Harry Reid) stand up and pitch for restoring the US passenger rail system. I'd like to hear some of these assholes propose some meaningful changes that Americans can make in behavior so we won't be so desperate to engage in military contests over the oil we need to drive for sushi in Los Angeles.

In which Cody gets the rock-star treatment he deserves

Yesterday (and the day before, to be precise) we rode home in style, in a curiously uncomfortable rock-star bus. The undulating pleather sofas, the massive leopard-print cushions, and the silent big-screen tvs all added to an awkward feeling. Did I mention the stocked bar?

The rock-star comforts definitely suited cody:

In which it depends what you want to do

npr broadcast a story about an opportunity to get away from it all (where "it" entails the daily newspaper and the pub, and, quite probably, all other semblance of ... civilisation):

"The National Trust of Scotland is seeking tenants for two properties on Fair Isle, the most remote inhabited island of Scotland. Anne Sinclair, a resident and historian of Fair Isle (pop: 65), says someone with knitting or construction skills would have no trouble making a living there. The knitting cooperative, for example, has more orders than it can fill."

There's nowhere to run in Fair Isle. Google maps turned up nowt, but ultimately found another map o' the isle. All this could be yours for £300 sterling per annum. And the boat to the mainland runs once a fortnight! (Take that, MUNI!)

After getting over the cultural differences (not locking one's door a'nights! aught for a pub!), I imagine settling down o' a morning to paint, to watch birds at the Skree o' Skroo.

In which we all slag on MUNI

Just when I think I am unduly hard on MUNI, sfist backs me up. They do rightfully point out that for once NextBus is doing something cool, with their widget that integrates their gps tracking with Google Maps. On the other hand, what good is staring at a map when really you want to be flying across town to go somewhere, see someone, do something? Nuts.
I sent my letter to Mr Sunshine vowing not to ride MUNI so long as they hike fares and cut service. One or the other, but not both. I can get around this 7x7 city on my two feet and two wheels.

And, irritatingly, The President of the United States has called for people to take public transportation. Does he know that it is hardly a viable alternative? And if I say that from the perspective of a citizen of a relatively small metropolis, with reasonably accesible transit lines, how are suburbanites -- who perforce have the greatest distance to travel -- going to manage to take public transit? Yet another piece of the neglected infrastructure of America.

marmoreal

marmoreal, straight from the Latin marmoreus, an adjective from marmor, marble: "Resembling marble, as in smoothness, whiteness, or hardness". From the always-wonderful English pen of Sarah Caudwell.

In which we are stranded in Waterloo with nothing to do but eat and drink

Giles Coren's writing in The Times is beginning to crack me up. His writing reminds me of the frustration of Nobu, cast and re-cast at the gastro pub-of-the-moment, The Anchor And Hope (or has its moment already past?). His writing is effusive, and his tendency to ramble often undermines the fact that he is writing about food, but then again so much of a restaurant is not whether the bacon-and-warm-snail salad is "like teenage sex" so much as the fancy and famous people one bumps up against at the workmanlike butcher-block tables in front of the open kitchen. And he makes a case against opening a restaurant in the middle of nowhere. This must be why Thomas Keller buggered off to New York City for Per Se. $210 my arse.