In Defense of a Dirty Lab

Friday, as a part of my job description, I was sent to a class on CPR. It was fine, I've been through the class before, and it's good to know. The class included the Heimlich Maneuver and the use of the Automated External Defibrillator. Since many of us work in areas of contaminated water and other liquids, we also had a discussion of ways to keep oneself from absorbing contaminants--followed by a solicitation for hazmat training.

Well, it's all information that I might find useful in my line of work--just last year, we were digging an access pit and dug into an area that had been saturated with petroleum at some time in the past. The soil from the entire area had to be separated, tested, placed into containers and shipped to a facility to be "cleaned." It ended up being over 500 tons of soil.

But, I digress.

As bull sessions do, this one wandered into the area of the cleanliness or filthiness of the objects and people with whom we come into contact. There were the usual anecdotes about filthy restaurants and people who don't wash their hands after using the facilities. It even got down to keeping one's paper towel in his hand for use in opening the bathroom door.

Ever the contrarian, I reminded everyone that in the not so distant past, individuals routinely shared drinking cups (the common metal cup kept near the hand pump), passed coke bottles from one friend to another (no backwash, please!), used porta-potties with no washing facilities in the area (not to mention outdoor toilets built over holes in the ground), helped bleeding accident victims without latex gloves--I even remember when dentists and doctors didn't wear latex gloves and protective glasses when working on people they didn't even know(!).

Somehow we survived.

Now, obviously surgeons have to use extreme measures for cleanliness in the operating theater, to avoid causing infections in the patient, but now they do it to protect themselves, as well. And obviously, I don't want to see medical people contracting illnesses--they should use whatever technology is available to them both for themselves and for their patients--but twentieth and nineteenth century doctors survived by means of good hygiene and whatever other things they did to avoid contamination.

The point is not to disparage current hygiene methods, but to remember that one does occasionally have to (shudder) touch people and things with one's bare skin. We shake hands. We use public drinking fountains. We open doors and press buttons in elevators. We kiss aunts 'pon the cheek and even (ugh!) on the lips. We kiss our dates, our girl/boy friends and our husbands/wives.

Points were made that we don't really know how clean was the restaurant in which we just dined. Were the dishes really washed and sanitized? Were the chefs and other food handlers healthy and washed? Was the food as high in quality as we'd expect? Was that "A" placard in the window earned, or was it bought?

Our immune systems are wonderful, and indispensable. It's strengthened by exposure to minor amounts of toxins and pathogens. Whenever we get sick, our bodies fight the illness. After we get well, our blood has antibodies against that disease, and we don't get it again.

My argument went this way: If one were capable of living a sanitary life, he might be able to avoid diseases for however long he might live. What kind of life would it be? One couldn't handle, touch or be near any object that hadn't previously been sanitized. One could only breathe scrubbed air. One couldn't touch, be near or breathe air exhaled by another individual.

I find it far more desirable to be among people--filthy beasts as they might be--by shaking hands, chatting face to face, riding in planes, trains and automobiles, sharing elevators and occasionally even using public drinking fountains, swimming pools and bathrooms. It's the stuff of which a great life is made.

I'll have to trust that my immune system will handle it.

Every year I get a head cold and every five years or so I get a flu. Those nasty bastards I call friends and acquaintances must have really taxed my immune system!

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

Darwin Was Wrong

Early last week, I got into a little fender-bender on the way home from work. Not much damage, but a little. You should see the other car. That silly plastic bumper broke clean off into several pieces. So, I'm taking the car to the body shop tomorrow to have the deep scratch fixed up and repainted.

I went to the shop Friday to set myself up with an appointment, and scope out the joint. Not having had a traffic dust-up since the mid-1960's, I don't know any body men. My insurance company recommended a shop in North Hollywood, so that's where I went.

Turns out I like the owner. He talks straight and is in his late fifties, so he's been around the block a couple of times. He has an East European accent, and fairly reeks of old world craftsmanship.

This leads me to ask myself why I find these things so comforting.

I've spent a lot of time fooling around with cars and motorcycles, including some years working in and managing gas stations. Years ago, I knew a young line mechanic who claimed he didn't care if he got the job done correctly, as long as he could get it done fast. If he could beat the Flat Rate Book's time, he'd get paid as a percentage of the flat rate, rather than his hourly salary.

Follow me on this, for those of you who aren't familiar. The mechanic's Flat Rate book shows how many hours it should take to do a particular repair. Let's say a brake job, four wheels, no complications, should take 2 hours, according to the book. Let's say my mechanic friend blows through the job in one hour. Instead of getting $30 for two hours' work, he gets the same $30 for an hour's work. He can go on and do another brake job in the next hour and get another $30. Not all auto shops work this way, but some do.

My friend, in order to work this quickly, had to blow through the job, eschewing several checks and cautions in his work. Anything to get the car out of his bay fast, and without any immediately noticeable problems. If something goes wrong day after tomorrow, bring it back; he'll fix it for free.

Often, the work goes well, with no problems. Occasionally, a customer has a problem and returns the car. My friend would then fix it more carefully, at no additional charge. Rarely, the customer has an accident caused by an incomplete repair, but responsibility doesn't come back to the mechanic. Often, to avoid the hassle of losing his car for another day, the customer just drives it as it is, problem and all. The Mechanic wins in almost every case.

Knowing this, I try to do as much of my mechanical work as I can, myself. Otherwise, I look for the old bear, the mechanic who's been at it for thirty, forty years and who takes pride in his ability and knowledge. He'd rather do the job right, than fast. When I find someone like that, he gets all my patronage.

The older guys seem to have grown up in a time when the work ethic was better--not all of them, to be sure, but many. The youngsters now in their twenties and thirties grew up in an atmosphere of quick self satisfaction and spur-of-the-moment pragmatism.

This body shop guy reads like a man who takes pride in a good job. I also met his son, who is a shop manager, and he actually seems the same way. Enthusiastic. Proud of his work.

I hope those work attitudes don't die out.

One's life is best summed up in the quality of his work.

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

HAPPY MEN-OF-THE-MIND DAY!

"Several centuries ago, providing the basic necessities for one's survival was a matter of daily drudgery for most people. But Americans today enjoy conveniences undreamed of by medieval kings. Every day brings some new useful household gadget, or a new software system to increase our productivity, or a breakthrough in biotechnology. So, it is worth asking: Why do Americans have no unique holiday to celebrate the creators, inventors, and entrepreneurs who have made all of this wealth possible--the men of the mind?"

- Fredric Hamber of the Ayn Rand Institute

We have the upcoming Labor Day holiday that salutes men-of-muscle, why not a day to commend those who create the places in which these men and women work? How about the brainiacs who create the things that're fabricated in the factories? What about the capitalists who invest in the creator's vision?

While I have minor issues with the Ayn Rand Institute, I wholeheadedly agree with most of their positions regarding the scientists and inventors who create the technology that keeps us schlubs from having to look under rocks for our supper.

Tip o' the battered grey fedora to Chuck Muth

Playing with fire will cook your steaks.

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

Every Auto Dealership Should Have One Good Mechanic

I've worked in gas stations a few times in my youth, back in the days when many gas stations had service bays and did some light mechanical work. I managed one of these gas stations for a couple of years. In addition to pumping gas, we also did light mechanical work, such as oil changes, belts and hoses, selling and repairing tires and replacing bulbs, wipers, etc.

Over the years, I've had occasion to buy two or three new cars (mostly, I buy older cars, because they're simpler, and I can do a lot of the necessary work myself, which I like to do), and thus have had a few opportunities to use the dealer's shop for warranty work.

I now own a 1957 Chevy. A couple of weeks ago, a leak developed in the lower radiator hose. I also had an ailing starter, which I'd been putting off fixing because of a lack of time to do so. The leaking hose had to be fixed right away, and I still didn't have time to do it.

I took the car over to Rydell Chevrolet, in Van Nuys. They loved the car; several of the service advisers told me tales of similar cars they or their parents owned many years ago. The next day, I got a call from the service adviser. A "technician" replaced the starter, but the "technician" who was to replace the radiator hose couldn't do it because the car has a non-stock engine and a custom-made radiator.

I told the adviser that all the "technician" has to do is take the old hose off and compare it by eyeball to the new hoses they have in stock. One of them will fit. Well, it seems that "service technicians" don't work that way. They requisition parts by means of their computer. The computer only shows the stock hose for the car.

Back at home, and backed against the wall, I took the old hose off myself. It took maybe twenty minutes (there are access issues). I took the hose to my neighborhood Kragen and explained the situation. The clerk immediately took me to the aisle in which dozens of radiator hoses were hanging from pegs. In less than five minutes of looking, I found a hose that would work.

Back home, I had to cut the hose to length and, because of the access difficulties, it took me about half an hour to install the hose and refill the radiator with coolant. Ready to go, and for a mere thirteen dollars. I'm sure that a good mechanic, with a far better set of tools than I, could've done the whole thing, including the starter, in less than an hour.

So, I guess I really did have time to do the work.

The current assembly line-style auto service technician schools might turn out good technicians, but it takes an ability to think on one's feet to make a good mechanic. Every auto shop should have one good mechanic.

Darwin got it backwards.

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

Of Roads and Highways

Construction is my life. I work in the quality assurance/quality control area. My current job is to test and evaluate soils and materials used in soil grading operations, foundation engineering and road and parking lot construction. At various times in the past, I've done field inspection and testing of these soils, as well as asphalt pavements and concrete structures in highway construction and flood control projects.

I've worked for CalTrans, the Orange County (Calif) Road Department, The US Army Corps of Engineers, and five different private construction quality control firms. I also worked for a couple of private land surveyors in my youth--when we used manual levels, transits and chains.

My background includes parts of Interstate 5 in the mountains north of Los Angeles, Interstate 405 in the Irvine Ranch area, a major subdivision survey in Riverside County that resulted in the bedroom community of Moreno Valley, a survey of the Orange County Line from the ocean at Seal Beach, through the mountains and finishing at the ocean just south of San Clemente. My work aided in the construction of numerous housing subdivisions, business parks and condo/apartment projects in San Diego, Orange and Los Angeles Counties. I did quality assurance and field inspection on two large flood control projects, one in Riverside County and the other in San Bernardino. I did the same thing on the Santa Ana River rebuild in Orange County and the Seven Oaks Dam, in the San Bernardino Mountains.

This might seem like a sort of resume, except that I'm a lot closer to retirement than I am to seeking another job. Unless someone makes me an offer I can't refuse, I'll probably retire from my current position.

I've contemplated retirement a lot lately, and have very mixed thoughts. On the one hand, I can do some other things for which I haven't really had enough time while working full time. On the other, how can I quit work that I very much enjoy doing?

I suppose there's a connection: I also love to drive. I can spend hours cruising the streets of the Valley, Los Angeles, and Orange County. I also like driving the freeways, though I do get impatient if traffic is too slow, too long. It takes me forty minutes to get to or from work normally, but it has taken me as much as three hours on a couple of occasions. I hate it when that happens.

Last fall, Debbie and I went to Las Vegas for the Liberty Magazine Editor's Conference. Eschewing the airlines (I won't allow low-level federal parasites inspecting my nether areas), and AmTrak (most of whose trip is actually on a bloody bus, even though there's a perfectly good rail track right to Las Vegas from Los Angeles. Aside: one can only marvel at the short-sightedness of AmTrak, not to have rail service between LA and Las Vegas.

I drove. I thoroughly enjoyed it. We left LA at midnight. There is absolutely nothing like driving through the Southern California desert in the wee hours on a cool autumn night. Almost no one on the highway but eighteen-wheelers. The drive was almost as much fun for me, as the time we spent in Las Vegas!

I also enjoy driving 'pon roads that I helped build. I did quality control testing on many of the arterial boulevards criss-crossing the hills of southern Orange County. There was very little there, back in the early 1970's when we built these roads. Orange groves. Thirty-odd years later, they are still in very good shape.

Why am I blathering on about my own checkered past? Well, because I want to, and it's my blog. I hope it'll prove interesting to some few of you. I'll soon return to being my nasty, hypercritical, cynical self.

Patience.

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

1957

1957 was quite a year. Eisenhower was President, Nixon was VP. The Milwaukee Braves won the World Series, the Montreal Canadiens won the Stanley Cup. The average American's income was $4494, a stamp was three cents and a loaf of bread was nineteen cents.

Fifty years ago, I was in the second semester of my seventh grade of school. I had a newspaper route and a car (a 1950 Chevy, which I couldn't yet drive on the street, but which I enjoyed wrenchin' on and driving it up and down the driveway). I was in love with a very lovely girl who was a lot smarter than I.

In Grand Forks at that time, anyone--boy or girl, man or woman--could walk down any street, any time of day or night, without fear of being accosted by either thug or police. I occasionally went for late-night walks to think and enjoy the peace.

It was a wonderful year, and a wonderful time.

Thinking about 1957 caused me to develop what I call "The Ten Times Rule." Everything costs about ten times today what it cost in 1957. I made up that rule about ten years ago, when I realized that a nickel candy bar then cost fifty cents and a loaded 1957 Chevy Bel Air hardtop that cost about $2500 whereas a 1997 Chevy Impala was priced at over $20,000 and a Camaro Z28 could cost over $30,000. A bottle of Coke cost a nickel; a can of Coke in 1997 cost around fifty cents.

Gasoline sold for 20 to 30 cents a gallon, depending 'pon in what state 'twas purchased, and in recent times tends to hover just below $3.00. A Colt 1911A1 pistol cost around $100 in 1957, in 1997 it could be had for around $500 or so; somewhat an exception to the "Rule."

One has to be pretty careful about applying the "Rule" as products have changed a lot over the intervening decades. In addition, this isn't 1997 any more. I'd have to call it "The Twelve Times Rule now. In fact, perhaps I will. It'll require slightly more difficult mental calculation, but I'll try to measure up to the task.

There are a lot of factors causing these increases. There've been major changes in manufacturing methods and materials and business practices. There has been great technological advancement. These differences, one might argue (convincingly) would tend to keep prices low.

Well, one might ask, then why are prices twelve times higher than they were in 1957? Well, dear friends, here comes the not-too-surprising answer: There are three primary reasons why prices have increased punishingly in the past fifty years. They are 1) government, 2) government and 3) government.

1) Draconian and confiscatory increases in taxes 'pon individuals and business--which, of course, end up being paid by individuals. My dad told me, years ago, that his total taxes, federal, state and local, totalled around ten percent of his income. My current tax load is over fifty percent of my income--not including a lot of hidden taxes that are not known to me.

2) Mindless and unneeded regulations 'pon individuals and business. Government regulation is so much a spaghetti bowl of tangled and undecipherable, not to mention often contradictory hodge-podge of safety, accounting and "moral" rules that the only way any of us can function is to ignore most of them and hope we're not noticed. Even after that, these regulations cost each of us an incalculable amount of time and money.

3) Government manipulation of the money supply. Prior to the formation of the evil and manipulative Federal Reserve, American money was gold and silver. While, even then, government wrongfully pegged the "value" of these commodities in dollars, our money was very stable and could be predicted from year to year. Since that time the Fed, acting 'pon government orders, adjusts the money supply to suit government purposes. In bad times, the value of our money decreases three percent or so annually. In worse times, money value has decreased at rates up to ten or twelve percent per year, and more. In the worst times, money is simply revalued by a factor. Devaluing is always a surprise and instantly robs the money holdings of individuals and corporations instantly and severely.

Intelligent estimates are that, in the absence of the above, each hour of the productive work of each individual would be worth six to eight times what it is, under the handicap of the hobbles forced 'pon us by government.

Why do we put up with them, the parasites that so severely and deliberately place limits 'pon our ability to function? 'Twas a frog-in-the-kettle sort of story. Had government tossed a frog into a kettle of hot water, it would've jumped out quickly to escape the pain. Government has tossed us into a kettle of cool water, and is very gradually turning up the heat, and we're complacently enjoying the warming water--not yet noticing that it's becoming uncomfortably hot on the way to boiling us to death.

How long are we going to put up with it?

They've killed Freedom! Those bastards!

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

May Was a Busy Month

And June is starting out the same way.

Geotechnical engineering follows the construction industry. Not only do we follow construction, but we preceed it. We sample the soils in future construction zones, as to determine its suitability to support the work that's contemplated.

As a geotechnical lab manager, I perform testing on the samples, according to schedules laid out by our project engineer. The testing often includes soil classification tests, strength tests, tests for expansive potential and for compressive potential.

Engineers use the results of this testing to determine cut and fill quantities, maximum steepness of graded slopes, minimum distances of structures from edges of graded slopes, width and depth of structural footings, structural cross sections of roadbeds, and more.

Once the engineers' and architects' plans are drawn and approved, construction begins. Field technicians observe the contractors' work and perform field testing to assure that the cut/fill and grading operations meet specs. To support their testing, more samples are brought into my lab for further testing to assure that the work is as the preliminary testing projected, and that the soils and materials used meet specs.

There's a lot of construction going on in Southern California right now, as we aren't expecting much inclement weather for the next few months. It's also true that we don't get very much bad weather, ever. A few days' rain delay from time to time in the winter months, and that's about it.

The firm is a little short-handed right now and we're all under pressure to get the work out.

Now that I've told you a lot more than you want to know about my business, by way of apology for an expected sparseness in my mental meanderings.

I shall endeavor to perservere.

Remember, VOTE FOR NO INCUMBENT!

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California