Things Change

This article caught my eye yesterday. It's a good read if you want to look it up. I recall Gallagher, one of my favorite comedians from the early 1980s, doing a take-off from Chevy Chase's old news update bit on the first SNL. Almost 30-years ago his joke news item was to announce that the president of Mexico had decided to move his offices to Los Angeles so that he could be closer to his people.

A few years later I stopped over in Los Angeles, spending an extra couple of days to walk-through a visa application in order to visit Australia while on a project assignment. My hotel was just off Hollywood Blvd, around the corner from Grauman's Chinese Theatre. The area was still clean and safe enough, but I could not find a single place to eat where the wait staff could understand English! Not one, in 2-days! Every single waitress was Mexican and not a single one spoke even a smattering of English, or if they did, they wouldn't speak it for me.

More recently, I spent some time in Dallas. It has gotten to be much the same there. Things change, don't they?

Adios

Stones, Peas, and a Kiss

I was thinking about the Super Bowl half-time show and had heard the criticism it got from today’s crop of critics. To tell you the truth, I haven’t paid much attention to pop music at any time in my life and stopped listening to the radio music stations sometime in the 1970s.

Now and then a really good song would make its way through my personal fog and register in my mind as one to remember…but I’ve generally forgotten those, too. Until the Super Bowl performance I had never heard of the Black-eyed Peas, or of Will-i-am, although I had heard of Fergie…that’s randy Andy’s ex-princess isn’t it?

The Peas’ appearance struck me as rather bizarre and their music struck me as unremarkable. However, Fergie wasn’t hard to look at. Their bizarre appearance is really what got me thinking. Bizarre music acts aren’t anything new.

A generation ago there was Kiss, another bizarre looking group whose music I don’t recall.

In our youth about the most bizarre looking group I can recall would be the Stones, which doesn’t look too bizarre to me now. However, a lot of their songs are a part of me. How many guys of our generation don’t remember most of the lyrics of Under my Thumb and how many times did you wish your own situation with a girl would resolve itself in accordance with the lyrics? But they never did.

Under my thumb
The girl who once had me down
Under my thumb
The girl who once pushed me around
It's down to me
The difference in the clothes she wears
Down to me, the change has come,
She's under my thumb

Yeah, right

Yankee Station

As we’ve aged, retired, and started reflecting on some of the things we’ve experienced over the past, nearly 50-years since EH, the net has come along at a propitious time. As no other generation has ever had available to them, we have the tools to ask long, unanswered questions and have a reasonable expectation of finding answers. It amazes me nearly every day.

Someone mentioned the F4 Phantom recently and that started my mind going. This was the plane most young pilots wanted to fly, but few got the opportunity. It had a reputation for being powerful, somewhat unwieldy, and dirty with respect to throwing out a lot of black smoke. We used to joke that a Phantom didn’t land as much as it arrived as it came aboard a carrier. They hit hard and emitted a lot of smoke from burning rubber as their heavy frames arrived on deck.

As so many others are going through their old picture files, a lot of old Vietnam material is beginning to appear in online venues such as Flikr and other sites. If you have a specific memory of something you saw, but never photographed, there is now an opportunity to find some of those pictures you never took.

This story is illustrated with a couple of shots I frequently saw but never photographed. Unlike the WWII veterans, we have a marvelous communication tool available to us in the net. For those with an interest in the subject, all you need to know is how to ask the question. I recalled the boiling smoke from the Phantoms coming aboard (arriving) and the close calls they often had with a pitching deck as they made their final approach.

If you were Navy, this is the kind of stuff you saw on Yankee Station, if you were Army or Marines, you saw something different, and if you were Air Force, you saw something different still. I think Navy had the most exciting jobs but since they were done in locations remote to news media, there wasn’t much of a record created of their duties. Only pictures like these, taken by some of the sailors themselves can do a good job of telling their story.

The last picture is an aeronautical chart marked by a carrier pilot for his use in flying a mission into North Vietnam. This is the kind of thing that is essentially unique and rarely seen by others. However, as we clean out some of the old boxes and trunks, this is the kind of thing we are finding.

Garbage Collection

My father left a number of impressions with me. One of them being a strong recollection of his running dissatisfaction with garbage collection services of the 1950s and 1960s; the years I lived in his house. As a kid, I had a lot of house chores to do, but taking the garbage out was one Dad kept for himself and consistently complained about the service. I think it became a matter of wills over who was going to call the shots. Trouble was that garbage collectors tend to occupy a similar spot as does the anus in the old joke about who is the boss of the human body. Perhaps you’ve heard the joke.

Dad was a 20-year old Lt. in the WWII Air Force and at an early age had grown accustomed to having people jump when he barked a command. Of course, civilian life was different in that respect, and the garbage collectors tended to be different still. They generally set the rules of garbage collection, not the customers. I think Dad hated that. After a running battle with one garbage collection service, he even started wrapping his garbage in red ribbon, complete with bows just like a gift. True story.

Of course, we are all accustomed to having our garbage collected on a certain day of the week, maybe even twice a week. I’ve found that during my run at life, garbage collection has tended to be rather inconspicuous and of only minor irritation. But now and then, a new driver can change things and introduce irritation for a few collection cycles.

Our local rules are to place garbage in bags and then bags into cans. I tried doing it that way years ago, but with women in the house, we have always been significant bottom-line contributors to all the major paper companies and have produced far more garbage than can be conveniently fit into a can or even two of them; so, I prefer to use just the bags without the cans. My rationale is that one trip out with the bags is less work than two trips required by using the cans—one to leave it out and another to retrieve the cans.

Our local lady garbage Nazi clucks at me at times about my bags…but she’s been doing that for 20-years without result. We understand each other. One thing about garbage Nazis is that they are good at clucking, but weak at conflict.

Yes, yes, I know the animal problem argument and have suffered some irritation with aggressive squirrels, crows, a fox now and then, and a herd of raccoons at one house; however, overall I’ve experienced very little animal problems over the span of about 40-years of fussing with the garbage.

Most irritating is when a regular driver establishes a predictable schedule, then suddenly changes it, as happened again this week. The week before last, after months of picking up about mid-morning, he shows up in the late afternoon. Last week, he skipped a day and showed up the next. This week, as I’m enjoying my morning coffee, expecting him to come about mid-morning, he shows up at the crack of dawn. I’ve got to get it out before I planned…now my schedule is being jerked around by this joker who has suddenly gone erratic. Maybe I should use some of Dad’s red ribbon?

Adios

Super Bowl Flyover

There’s a snit in the air today as information about the Super Bowl flyover of 4 Navy F-18 fighters become public knowledge.  There are a few troublesome facts emerging.  Apparently the Navy acknowledges a fuel cost of about $110,000 for flying the jets from Virginia to Texas and back.  The other costs being tacked on would be for maintenance and other operating expenses.

One wonders why jets from Pensacola or Corpus or even locally from nearby Naval Air Stations in the DFW area couldn’t have been used.  Maybe they didn’t have any available state of the art planes or maybe not enough available pilots, who knows.

Of course, one obvious question would be to ask why do it at all when the stadium roof was closed due to snow and icy weather.  Some defenders are already responding to that one with statements that the flyover wasn’t done for the folks in the stadium, it was done for the 100+ million TV audience.

Well, be that as it may, there are some legitimate questions that need to be answered about this decision.

Adios

Truppenführung

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While chatting with a colleague many years ago, I remarked I was frustrated that so many people were not driven to do their work promptly and competently.  Some even seemed content to let things drop altogether, even though they were capable people.  Management tolerated it.

For those like me, those driven to get something done, life in a working environment that included many others with differing motivations was annoying.  Thankfully, I spent most of my working years in small, entrepreneurial endeavors.  There, we associated only with motivated people having useful skills.

My colleague, an ex-pat Brit who was content for many years to be Dilbert-like within a large corporation, got out a pad of paper and drew a quadrant diagram, numbering the quadrants 1-4.  He then marked 4 personality types, one in each quadrant and showed that each group was useful, except one…that one should be taken out and shot (his words).


His drawing and explanation amused me and I found later that the theory is well known in some areas of organization philosophy. 

1.     smart & sluggish

2.     smart & hard-working

3.     stupid & sluggish

4.     stupid & hard-working

Apparently the first known proponent to publish his version of the theory was a German Army general who rose to prominence during the period between WWI and WWII.  As Chief of the Army High Command, Kurt Hammerstein-Equord oversaw the composition of the German manual on military unit command (Truppenführung), dated 17 October 1933.  He originated a special classification scheme for his men:

I divide my officers into four classes;

1.     the clever,

2.     the lazy,

3.     the industrious,

4.     stupid.

Most often two of these qualities come together.  

•       The officers who are clever and industrious are fitted for the highest staff appointments.  

•       Those who are stupid and lazy make up around 90% of every army in the world, and they can be used for routine work.  

•       The man who is clever and lazy however is for the very highest command; he has the temperament and nerves to deal with all situations.  

•       But whoever is stupid and industrious is a menace and must be removed immediately!

Super Bowl – Take the Ball, Dummy!

I suppose one indication that you’ve gotten old is that things, that for a lifetime you’ve taken as fact, are rejected by that huge group of younger people that have been building behind you while you were distracted with raising your family.

For instance, once again this evening at the opening flip of the coin, I’ve seen a team win the toss and give the ball to the other club!!! Good God, man…what in the hell are you doing? My offspring patiently explain to me that that is how these things are done now. The winner of the coin flip gives the ball to the other team in order “to see what they have” they say.

Who gives a shit, I retort. My offspring return those patient with the old man glances, and I know that further discussion is useless…that is the way it is done today, Dad.

Look kid, I say. In my day I learned that having the ball was a distinct advantage over not having the ball. Most importantly, YOU CANNOT SCORE IF YOU DON"T HAVE THE BALL. Explain to me kid, how is it different to win the coin flip and give the ball away than it is to fumble or throw an interception? No answer, just that patient look.

Further, in the old days our thinking went like this…take the ball any time you have the opportunity. You will find out what they have soon enough.

The only time we might have considered choosing which end of the field to start instead of taking the ball, might be an instance of there being a strong wind. In that case, we might choose the end of the field to start the game that would give us the wind behind our backs in the 4th quarter. Of course, we didn’t have indoor stadiums when we played, so today wind is usually not a factor. Take the f***ing ball.

If you play chess, do you ever take black when you have the first choice? No, of course not, you take white...white always has the first move. Having that first move advantage all the way through a game between evenly matched players is very important.

….blank stares….

President Ronald Regan would have been 100 today. There was an extraordinary service held in California this afternoon to mark the milestone. Be sure to watch a rebroadcast if you get the chance. Rather than post a video of yet another young singer trying too hard to stylize our National Anthem and muffing the words, I thought it would more substantive to post a couple of other visuals. Mr. Reagan’s picture speaks for itself. The video is only 1 minute long…stay with it to see the last few seconds of the young marine holding his/her salute. Tell me what you think.

Adios

DFW Power Shortages - Winter Storm

I don't understand several things about the power shortages reported in Texas yesterday and today.  Maybe I'm wrong, but isn't summer air conditioning load much larger than winter heating load?  Is 20-deg. really that cold?

Why did ERCOT lose 50 generators totaling about 7,000MW?  I heard one radio report that the west Texas wind mills failed to provide power during this storm, but have been unable to find anything written about it.

Next day...Oncor, the transmission company admitted making a mistake by cutting off critical care hospitals while implementing ERCOT's "rolling blackout" order.  Oops, my bad!  Going forward, the Oncor spokesperson said they need to work on their "processes".   This new wave management gibberish drives me nuts.  It seems to me that the current approach to ducking responsibility is to fog the issue with meaningless lingo.

When our utility was TXU or even the TESCO, DP&L, TP&L companies before that, I don't recall them having the same problems doing what they were charged to do; generate and deliver electricity.  Sure, there were upsets due to tornado or hurricane damage, but losing 7,000 MW to a cold snap, come on now.

About 3-years ago TXU was purchased by 3 large investment fund managers and broken in to several subsidiaries--a generating co. and a transmission co. among them.  I'm not a fan of bankers, accountants, and lawyers trying to "run" technical enterprises.  Invariably, they focus on the short-term balance sheets and resist making long-term reliability investments.

If the technical group were out ranked and out classed by the financial gurus, then I would expect expensive things like preventative maintenance work to be a hard sell within the organization.  Ultimately, as the old adage goes, you can pay now or you can pay later...but with regard to keeping equipment running, you are going to pay sometime.

A technical guy will recommend doing the routine maintenance so you can better control the reliability, but a financial guy will want to wait until it breaks and he is forced to spend the money.  Unfortunately, waiting leads to unscheduled outages at the least convenient times.  But luckily for the geniuses making the "wait" decisions, retribution is rarely forthcoming because few outsiders understand the real problem they induce.

I think this is a sort of replay of the foolishness in the BP blowout this past summer. 

Adios

LeRoy Thompson & Dick Goddard – EHHS Photographers

We owe these guys a debt of gratitude for their perseverance in roaming the hallways so many years ago, taking the pictures for our yearbooks and whatever copies of the school newspaper still survive. Now I know that any excuse for getting out of class to do something more interesting was an enjoyable perk and taking pictures isn’t too strenuous. Yet, for the most part, whatever visual record we have left from those years at EH is to the credit of LeRoy and Dick. LeRoy was a school yearbook photographer all three years he was there, 1960-63, and was one of the top class scholars. I think he worked with Steve Franks (’62) for a year or two.

During the years my offspring were growing up I noticed that the photographic quality of their yearbooks was not as good as ours of the early 1960s. One likely reason for that is that LeRoy and Dick used a medium format camera which can be seen in the accompanying picture of the two of them. By the time our offspring went through those years, everyone was using smaller format 35mm cameras…the pictures just weren’t as sharp, largely due to the smaller negatives.

Both Dick and LeRoy are still living in the DFW area as far as I know. It would be a good project for someone in the area to look them up to see if, per chance, they still have those old negatives packed away in a closet. If so, we could pull some sharp scans from them that would knock your socks off.

Any volunteers?

The Fort Worth Star-Telegram negatives from the 1960s are in the Special Collections section of the University of Texas at Arlington Library. Electronic copies of specific pictures in a .tiff or .jpg format can be purchased for a nominal fee. You would need to be able to estimate the date of the picture with some accuracy in order to narrow the librarian’s search for the right picture. The closer, the better.


Adios

Bette Perot

Bette Perot taught a class called "Health & Safety" to 8th grade students at Meadowbrook Jr. High during the 1950s. She moved and spoke just like her brother, H. Ross, who at that time had not yet made his mark. In my memory, she came across as a feisty sort. I made all "As" in her class, about which I remember essentially nothing. I think it was 1950s version of sex education, but I could be wrong about that.

Come to think of it, that NHS chapter formed at Meadowbrook was so exclusive that a straight "A" card was not enough! Kiddies, that's how tough some our old days were...sad to see that recently Meadowbrook Middle was on the State's watch list for poor academic performance.

Adios

State of the Union - WTF?

There was a State of the Union speech last night.  I didn't watch it.  Figured that if anything worthwhile occurred, today's news would spew it out, ad nauseum.

Neat little slogan seemed to be launched...WIN THE FUTURE.  It took me about 2-3 seconds to notice the obvious acronym.  Difficult to believe that some snarky little speech writer thought himself clever beyond all reasonable expectation when he dreamed this one up.  Will be interesting to see if it has any legs today.

Honest Abe

For much of our lives we’ve all heard about “honest Abe” and honesty is the best policy. Long-time House Speaker, Sam Rayburn (D-TX), was known to counsel his younger colleagues, “Son, always tell the truth, that way you don’t have to remember anything.”

Abraham Lincoln (R-IL), was known for his forthright honesty and was also responsible for the South becoming a solid Democrat voting block for over a century.

Guys, if you’ve been paying attention to the ladies in your life, then you’ve probably noticed their amazing propensity for phrasing questions that are either unanswerable or incredibly risky to sustained harmony, should you offer an answer…any answer at all.

As men, we utterly hate to admit that we don’t know something—we feel it diminishes our stature to say, “I don’t know.” It's in the DNA. And also as men, we recognize that there are some questions our ladies ask that cannot be answered in any manner that would avoid us being emotionally pummeled. Do we tell the truth, or do we lie, or do we try to find a quick way out of the room?

This great commercial wonderfully illustrates ours, and Honest Abe’s predicament:

Adios

Sis Boom Bah

What is wrong with this picture?

CARNAC:              Sis boom bah.

ED:                          Sis boom bah.

CARNAC:               Describe the sound made when a sheep explodes.


Adios

Email Uses & Risks

I first recall hearing of email in the late 1980s with the arrival of CompuServe and Prodigy for the masses. However, since the use of those services required that you have someone else online to receive your messages, the early years were slow going with respect to common usage--together both services had slightly more than 1,000,000 subscribers and there weren't any other significant ISPs in the business then. By the mid-1990s AOL came on with strong marketing push and simple software. Millions of new users started going online and email began to flourish as a new communication mode.

We belatedly went on line about 1999 in our office, together with a clumsy email client program and began emailing with utter abandon. Unfortunately many of the people flocking to email communication had little or no training in the downside of written communications. Those of us who had been communicating in professional capacities for decades immediately recognized the inherent risks with this new form of communication.

Boston political boss Martin Lomansey was an individual that understood the value of discretion. He is attributed with the famous quote: “Never write if you can speak, never speak if you can nod, never nod if you can wink.” Former New York Governor Eliot Spitzer is attributed to putting a modern twist on the famous quote, “and never put anything in an email.”

Early on, I noticed that people were writing email messages I would never dream of writing—although I might consider voicing those sentiments now and then.

As a fledgling professional years ago, I was ready and able to engage in corporate battle over a number of issues until I circulated one especially caustic report castigating a headquarters dolt. Although I had the dolt over a barrel on that particular issue, a senior manager took me aside and explained the fine points of written communications within a large company, which more or less followed the advice of Boston's Mr. Lomansey. He specifically pointed out that whatever you write down can come back to haunt you even years later.  The lesson: be very careful what you write.

In today’s email world, those older wisdoms are being learned by yet another generation of young tigers. Unfortunately for them, the ease with which email can be prematurely released, copied, stored, forwarded, and reused makes it easy for would-be opponents to stuff an ill-advised message up your nose over and over again as well as scatter it to unauthorized recipients.

I don’t think many companies have been formally training their employees in the prudent use of written communications; perhaps like me, those lessons are still taught one-on-one.  However, if you are interested, one of the online magazines today published an 18-point list of things to consider when writing emails that can be found HERE.

Adios

Bob Larmer

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Bob was one of those kids with an infectious grin that I never recall being angry or upset about much of anything.  He was a good friend and sometime neighborhood prankster, as were many of us.  Bob had perhaps the best car of anyone in our class, a black ’57 Chevy.  Those cars were classics when they rolled off the assembly lines and have remained so ever since.

I recall him as a wiry kid, a varsity basketball player, and co-captain of the team.  He and Dillard, and Williams, and Roby, and the others were usually outgunned in 4A, but they gave ‘er heck anyway and seemed to have a great time playing the game. 

Sometime after getting that great Chevy, Bob started dating his future first bride and fairly quickly, the stories of his hi-jinks stopped.  But before then, he provided a couple of funny stories that I’ve remembered all these years.

Apparently, during his antagonize the neighborhoods phase, he drew the ire of a local man whose garbage can Bob or some of his running mates for some reason had repeatedly targeted for turning over.  Having grown weary of the mess, the man sat up one night to snare the miscreants.  He was armed with a .22 rifle loaded with birdshot.  Bob came in one warm Monday morning wearing a long-sleeved shirt and an uncharacteristic peeved expression.  The long sleeves were necessary to cover the birdshot wounds to his elbow.

And on another occasion I recall him loosing a brief bout with the local constable.  As kids, we never thought about how really small our area was nor how really few of us were out on the streets any given year.  So a kid driving a black ’57 Chevy would have probably been the only one of his kind in the entire area, and if the constable was the same cop most nights, well he wasn’t a dummy.  I don’t think Bob’s car got a spot in the garage, so it’s likely that the cop knew exactly where that black ’57 Chevy driver lived based on it being parked out on the street in front of his house most nights.

If I recall correctly, Bob had cut-out plugs in his exhaust system which permitted making a lot of noise…enough to be really annoying in the neighborhoods and enough to be heard for several blocks in any direction.  A smart kid, which Bob was, can be a pretty elusive little bugger to catch in the act, but one night our constable came up with a clever solution to administer justice. 

Bob came in one morning, mad as a hornet.  He had gotten a ticket for parking on the wrong side of the street…his car was pointing the wrong way.  And since the parked car had violated that parking law, the constable reasoned that he had to have driven on the wrong side of the street also, and left a ticket for that infraction, as well!

I still laugh when I think of that little story.  Sometimes you just have to just suck it up, pay the tab, and thank goodness you weren’t caught doing all the things you did as a kid!  Bob was still in good form at our May 2010 celebration—one of the really good guys.

Adios

Heritage

I’ve dabbled with some of the heritage clubs, mostly in an effort to build up an offspring’s grad school applications.  Growing up when we did, such clubs as DAR and others were known only by the awards they presented to a few of us at the end of each year. 

In my house those clubs were mostly thought of as society ladies or climbers and given little thought.  However, I discovered that although they are those things, many of them are also serious genealogists and depend on others developing the interest in their own heritage to ensure the survival of the clubs and the history.  Most of them are very nice people with a sincere interest in preserving American history.

The lineage proofs can be difficult and must meet a legal standard.  Many of the early proofs developed in the 1900s tended to be fanciful and are no longer accepted as legitimate references…suggesting that our impressions of the early DAR ladies as social climbers might have been partially correct.

A few years ago I challenged a Manhattan heritage group to recognize the service of my Arkansas grandpappy.  After about 2-years of gentle, nudging they agreed to do so.  It wasn’t so much that they didn’t want to do it, it was more that they hadn’t done very often before and had apparently lost the knowledge of how to go about it.  Be that as it may, they got it done at a lovely venue in mid-town, across from 30-Rock.

The society was clearly a social club where the original mission had given way to more of an old-style pecking order exercise.  Seeing actual veterans like me and my grandpappy was atypical for them.  Nevertheless, they did a magnificent job and never once made me feel unwelcome.

When the club president discovered that we were also Jamestowne Society members, she was openly and unabashedly impressed.  She had been trying for years to make her own connections to that group.  It’s kind of like the Mayflower Society, only for southerners. 

Most of the heritage clubs I’ve encountered are based on some form of military service of an early ancestor…a great grandpappy way back up the line somewhere.  A veteran would understand better than most that serving in a war is mostly a matter of being born within a fairly narrow range of years and being drug into it as a result of arguments between some old guys.

Bill Mauldin understood the facts of these matters and illustrated them as succinctly as anyone I’ve seen.  I forwarded Mauldin’s cartoons to the society president a few months after the ceremony…she got a kick out of it.

Meadowbrook Junior High - 1960

For better or worse, here some of us were as 9th Grade Meadowbrook Buffaloes in May 1960.  The next fall we would be EHHS Sophomores, starting out at the bottom of the pile once more.

These sheets are probably quite rare as there was no yearbook published during our junior high years; just these composite pages printed in the school newspaper.  You've got to be quite a pack rat to have saved this kind of stuff all these years, and that I am.

Then you have to fumble around with the scanner to get the oversize sheets digitized in pieces and stuck together.  Enjoy the memories.

I think I counted about 230 pics here which would be more than 2/3 of the 1963 EH senior class.  However, a fair number of these kids went to Poly after this and we picked up a contingent from Handley at EH. 

Any idea how many 6th grade classes fed this school and from which elementary schools?

Feeders:
    Meadowbrook Elementary
    Tandy Elementary
    Sagamore Hill Elementary

Others??





Adios

Car Development 1900 - 1965

This post is somewhat related to my earlier US highway posting HERE.

Shorpy, an online database of HD scans from very large, very old photograph negatives, is a terrific collection of originals from which to crop out small portions for a closer look at detail. 

Most of their pictures were taken in large cities where such hi-tech inventions as automobiles existed in numbers much greater than out in the hinterlands.  In them, especially NYC, you can actually see the transition from horse-drawn coaches to horseless carriages taking place.

The pictures are roughly spaced about 8-10 years apart in order to better illustrate the change in cars on the road.  The Goofy cartoon is one that I clearly recall from 1950s broadcasts of the Sunday night Walt Disney TV programs.  It depicts what was going on in California during the 1950s, but what Texas would not start seeing until about the 1970s as the highway system was built-out there. 

Adios

The Pointy Haired Boss - More

Reminds me of some of the newcomers I worked with last.  No kidding...

The Pointy-Haired Boss

Scott Adams, Dilbert's originator, has an amazing talent for capturing the essence of today's business management and working atmosphere.  I'm thankful to not be dealing with this kind of crap any longer, but can attest to its accuracy...it's uncanny.

I like to group a few similar strips together and post them here as a means of storing them for later reference.  Hope you enjoy them, too.  But if you don't, no matter...they're in storage for now.


Adios