I like the Electronic Frontier Foundation generally. They’re sort of an online ACLU, and while they tend toward the strident, civil liberties in this day and age need that type of advocacy more than ever. I’ve supported them financially in the past, and I expect I will in the future as well.

But it drives me crazy when they get stuff wrong, as I believe they have in Police Who Illegally Broke Into Gizmodo Journalist’s House Deride Seized E-mails as ‘Juvenile.’

The iPhone 4 story, in case you’ve not heard it, goes like this: Apple engineer loses a prototype iPhone 4 in a bar, two dopes find it and sell it to Gizmodo who publishes all kinds of info about the then unreleased iPhone despite Apple’s repeated attempts to get it back.

At the time, police executed a search warrant on the home Gizmodo editor Jason Chen, who they believed had purchased the stolen phone which is a crime in the state of California. Here’s what EFF says:

…regardless of whether Chen or Gizmodo could have been charged with any crime related to obtaining and discussing the phone, state and federal law plainly barred the issuance and execution of the search warrant directed at journalist-held information “obtained or prepared in gathering, receiving or processing of information for communication to the public.”

The search warrant, of course, would not have had anything to do with Chen’s journalistic endeavors. It would have been concerned with the buying of stolen property and the recovery of the property itself. In essence, EFF is arguing that the journalist shield law is so strong that it allows journalists to traffic in stolen property without police or court interference. I disagree.

Let’s say I break into the EFF offices. If the police suspect me can they execute a search warrant looking for evidence? One would think yes. What’s unclear is why that should be any different if I’m a journalist.

I further object to this conclusion:

It turns out that prosecutors concluded that neither Chen nor Gizmodo did anything wrong after all. Legally, that is.

What the District Attorney concluded, of course, was that there was insufficient evidence, which is hardly the same thing.

I do agree with EFF’s assessment that the DA’s comments on Chen’s unpublished email correspondence were unprofessional. As someone who’s read Gizmodo occasionally, I’m also not surprised that the DA termed the email “juvenile.” But EFF is right in saying that the information should not have been publicly disclosed by the DA.

I wish they had the other parts right as well.

History
After a variety of health woes, my parents downsized from two vehicles to their one Honda Accord in 2006. They generously offered us their high mileage 1991 Honda Civic and, as I recall, we somewhat hesitantly accepted. Erin and I figured we’d drive it for a year, buy a new car to replace it, and all would be fuzzy bunnies and rainbows. Well, I think the reliability of the Honda, especially after the nightmare that was the Mazda 626, plus the lack of a monthly car payment, was compelling. We’d occasionally talk about upgrading to a new(er) car, but the Civic just kept chugging along and saving us money, so we kept driving it.

Here’s the thing: The late ’80s/early ’90s Civics with those little VTEC 4-cyclinder engines will run until the car literally falls apart around them. I don’t know what magic pixie dust Honda sprinkled into those things, but our 1991 Civic has 321,000 miles on it, and the engine, frankly, shows little sign of distress. It was rebuilt at some point (my dad says at 200,000 miles, but I think more recently), but it keeps going and going like an automotive Energizer Bunny. Meanwhile, the interior lights don’t work. The trunk leaks when it rains. The back doors won’t open. The radio doesn’t work. The crankcase leaks oil. The dashboard light is out (fun for night driving!). And more. So I’d been waiting for the day when the guys at Valley Specialists, the local Honda/Acura master mechanics who I highly recommend, would just tell me it was time to get a new car.

But it turns out they’re master mechanics for a reason: They can fix darn near anything, and they happen to be fairly affordable. So whatever problems I’d encounter would be inexpensive enough that I always thought I could eke a little more life out of the car. The turning point came in the Civic’s last visit, when the office manager Jim grimly informed me that Civic needed a $650 repair plus another $250 if I wanted to fix that oil leak. I dare say that my enthusiastic response was not what he expected; I knew this was the major car repair bill that would finally prompt me to upgrade.

The Honda Fit had been on my radar since it was introduced. The subcompact received rave reviews and seemed the perfect replacement. Although I occasionally need to drive a 120-150 miles in a day for work, mostly it’s a car Erin will drive about 5 miles to and from school. I looked a little bit at the all-electric Nissan Leaf. It would work well for Erin’s daily commute, but in talking with my soccer buddy Steve who owns one, I found that he was seeing a range of about 65 miles before needing to plug-in and charge up (for 30 minutes or more). I think that electric may well be the automotive future, but I don’t think it’s quite here yet. I also don’t know where I’d get it serviced, and not just because it’s electric—because it’s not a Honda. Since we moved back to Salem in 1999, I’d gone through four mechanics—one went out of business, two I didn’t care for, and one I didn’t think was competent. Getting a Honda meant having mechanics I knew personally (from soccer) and who I trusted. That alone was a very big incentive for me to stick with Honda/Acura.

Buying a Car
Here’s the process that I went through to buy the Honda Fit. I’m not saying I did it perfectly—in my defense, I’d never purchased a new car before—but at the end of the day, I’m pleased with the results. I feel like the parts of the auto buying experience that I could control actually went pretty well.

First, I started exploring used Fits. Well, that quickly led me to new Fits because great reviews, high demand, and the Japanese Tsunami had led many used Fits to sell for more than their original sales price. Traditionally cars lose 10% of their value as soon as they’re driven off the lot. Here, it seemed like the Fits were gaining 10% because nobody could get them.

I began by looking at the Honda web site and repeatedly using the “Build your Honda” tool. I must have tried dozens of different permutations of Fit and Civic and maybe a few other vehicles as well. I found it fun, and it was free. I also felt like I came away with a good sense of what options were available and what the MSRP (Manufacturer’s Suggested Retail Price) was on those things. I continue to think this is a good starting point for potential buyers.

Second, I knew that I had no desire to negotiate with car salesmen. I don’t haggle for a living, I’m not particularly good at it, and I have little desire to learn. That leaves me at a distinct disadvantage when it comes to the normal car buying process. (I did briefly entertain the idea of engaging our neighbor across the street, an attorney, to negotiate on our behalf.) Eventually, I looked at two car buying services, USAA and Costco. With these services, they contact a dealer on your behalf, negotiate a price somewhere below the MSRP, and send you the offer which you are free to then accept or reject. Both USAA and Costco services have a “build your own car” web site tool. I found that Costco’s had more of the accessories I wanted on the Fit whereas the USAA tool was lacking some. This is literally why I choose to go with Costco, and it was based on a misunderstanding.

Honda ships the Fit from their factory in Japan (new plant to open in Mexico soon) in a Base, Sport, or Sport with Navigation configuration. Those configurations can be either manual or automatic, so effectively there are six different models of Fit coming out of the factory (though in different colors, admittedly). All accessories—from floor mats to splash guards—are dealer installed options. I didn’t know it at the time because I didn’t see that on the Honda site. I assumed that Honda put all the accessories on at the factory. (But if they did, then what would the dealer overcharge us for?) So it didn’t matter that USAA’s site didn’t include all the accessories. The dealer would just be adding the ones I wanted after the car arrived. I’m satisfied with the $250 no-haggle discount I got via Costco; however, I don’t know if I could have saved more via USAA. If I were doing it again, I would certainly try USAA service as well to find out.

Costco’s car buying service simply put me in contact with the local Salem Honda dealer of dubious reputation. I filled out the online Costco forms on a Saturday. The local dealer’s rep called me Sunday afternoon with the name of a person to talk with at the dealership the next day. He told me they even had a Fit on the lot—it’s a car in short supply thanks to strong sales and a certain Japanese Tsunami of which you may have heard. Up to this point, things were moving smoothly, and I was pleased.

Arriving at the dealership, I was told the person with whom I had an appointment wasn’t in. They handed me off to Tony, a junior grade salesman with, as it turns out, no real decision-making authority. Tony was a nice enough guy, and I don’t want to understate that because being nice is important, but it was not a promising start. Oh, and the Fit they had for me to test drive? Sold. (“Overnight?” I wondered.) Then while sitting in Tony’s office, I heard on the intercom the name of the guy I was originally supposed to be meeting. Excellent. Of course he was in the building.

That’s what it took for me to understand what we had here: a classic car sales showroom. And I mean that in as disparagingly a way as possible because relationships are built on trust, and I go in ready to trust. But when you don’t have the car you say you have, when you make an appointment then change it when I arrive, and when you hand me to a junior grade fellow when the guy I was supposed to meet with is still in the fricking building, you’ll excuse me if my shields go up and I henceforth don’t fully trust a damn word you say.

Does that sound bitter? It’s not intended to because that’s not how I feel. I find sales shops like these, whatever the product line, to be unfortunate. I feel experienced enough now to deal with this sort of thing, but I hate that I have to. Why do Apple’s official retail stores have the top sales per square foot in the United States? Because they are the exact opposite of this type of buying experience.

Don’t think that I wasn’t cordial or that I wasn’t interested in doing business. It’s just that when you can’t trust who you’re doing business with, it’s a lot more work and it’s not pleasant. Tellingly, if these people were my clients, I would fire them.

For what it’s worth, Erin had her guard up from the very beginning. I don’t know if she has a fear of being taken advantage of, if she’s naturally more intuitive about these types of things, or if she’s just not quite as trusting of people in sales circumstances. Regardless, I tried to shield her from as much of this process as possible, because dealing with people you don’t trust isn’t fun, and she, quite understandably, hates it.

When Erin and I both visited the dealership in early August, we were told that we could reserve a 2012 Fit Sport that would be delivered in October. They would be getting four of them in: one was already sold (a classic sales technique, so no idea if it’s true), two were manual transmission models, and would we like this one here, a Silver Sports Fit with automatic transmission? Why yes, yes, we would. $500 down would reserve it for us.

The dealer didn’t have a firm MSRP from Honda on the 2012 models—a fact I knew from checking online previously—so I insisted that the deposit be fully refundable. If Honda was going to jack the price by $500 or $1000—the Fit is in high demand after all and the strong Japanese Yen is hurting profit margins—maybe I didn’t want a 2012 Fit. I had Tony write “Fully refundable” on the $500 deposit agreement we signed. The take-away here is that you should always feel free to modify a “contract” to your liking. If you don’t like it, don’t sign it. This wasn’t asking much of the dealer: If we didn’t buy the Fit, in no time they’d surely find someone who would.

We also looked at accessories. It turns out that there is the Honda price and the dealer installed price, and they are not remotely the same. Because your helpful Salem-area Honda dealer will charge you $75 to install…floor mats. I wish I were kidding. The cargo tray, a large plastic piece that literally drops into the hatchback area of the vehicle, is a relative bargain with an installation cost of $20. To be clear: I don’t mean that the floor mats were $75 and the cargo tray was $20. I mean that they cost whatever Honda charges plus the dealer charges $75 and $20 respectively to install those items. Ultimately, we decided to decline all accessories and packages through the dealer. We’ll be buying parts through College Hills Honda and having Valley Specialists install them all. Trust me, they won’t charge $75 to put in floor mats.

So we rolled on through August with our 1991 Civic. While we were on vacation in California, a received a call: They’d received a final shipment of 2011 Fits. Was I interested? At this point the specs and the pricing on the 2012s had not been released, so I had to take a leap of faith. Cars generally are improved at least slightly from one model year to the next, and I was willing to hope that I’d be rewarded by waiting 60 days. I knew there was no major revision scheduled between the 2011 and 2012 models, but I declined to take a 2011 Fit. I ended up being right about this—the 2012 was $50 more and added noise reducing glass and few other minor features—but this was just me getting lucky. Honda could just have easily followed Subaru’s lead and jacked prices 7%.

September came around, and I received a voice mail from Tony with the exciting news that “the 2012s are in, and oh, by the way would you like blue?” Blue had been our original color choice. We’d settled on silver since it was an acceptable alternative and, more to the point, actually available. Now I was being offered blue again.

“Hmm…Okay, sure…Pick up tomorrow morning? Great.”

I ran upstairs to tell Erin the news, and just after telling her, the phone rang.

“Uh, I’m really sorry, but the blue one was pre-sold to a lady in Alaska.”

Now that may well be true—indeed, it’s a weird enough excuse to have a ring of authenticity to it. But it’s also the type of thing you can hear as sales manager saying to a junior grade: “Just tell him you sold it to some little old lady in Alaska.” Erin took this, I’m sure, as further evidence that car dealers can’t be trusted, or at least that this one can’t, and she may be right. I’m inclined to think that Mr. Junior Grade got excited about having actual cars to sell and get a commission on, and he made a mistake. Ultimately, I didn’t care. Silver was fine with me. Junior Grade Tony, in the most wonderfully indicative phrase of our brief association, ended our phone conversation by thanking me “for being understandable.”

Getting the Car
Erin and I hauled the kids with us down to the Honda dealer to get the car. I hung out with them in the spacious upstairs guest lounge while Erin took a test drive of the Fit—the first for either of us—with Tony. She seemed to like it. It’s funny about women and cars. I think all she wants is reliable transportation from A to B and a radio to boot. Me? I’m stoked that the driver has 3 cup holders, that the iPod will play through the stereo via a USB jack in the glove box, that it’s got crazy-awesome fold down seats, and on and on. She assures me that she’s excited about all those things too, but surely we’ll agree I’m more demonstrative in my enthusiasm. Anyway, successful test drive.

Then the paperwork nightmare. Our $500 deposit? Not on their paperwork. The $250 Costco discount? Not on their paperwork. So Tony fixed it all up. Purposeful omissions or incompetence? I don’t know where Occam’s Razor comes down on this one.

We verified all kinds of information for them. They even ran a credit score (803—Woot!)—and tried to offer us financing at least three times. I was very happy to have set up financing through USAA previously. The dealer’s 3.99% APR offer from our August visit was beaten by USAA’s 3.25% APR. Now, when I’m just about to buy a car, they’re telling me that they can “save me some money on financing.” Well, if that were true, they should have started with their best offer. But they’re not going to give their best offer first, because if you’ll take 3.99% so much the better for them. Who is the dealer looking out for here? Right. Not the customer.

Finally Tony turned us over to the sales manager, Mark (who Tony called “The Bossman”), who proceeded to come over and talk at us with the speed of an auctioneer. Blah-blah-blah-and-all-you-need-to-do-is-to-sign-this-paper-here-saying-you-agree-to-buy-the-2012-Sport-Fit-at-this-price-and-you’ll-be-ready-to-go. It was, on some level, a truly remarkable performance. The very force of his words and personality left me momentarily stunned. I kid you not, I would almost be willing to pay the man to talk at me again just so I could feel that wave of confusion wash over me one more time.

Up to this point everything, however occasionally distasteful, I’d seen with perfect clarity; I knew what was going on. The Sales Manager does 15 seconds of rapid fire babble and, literally, for 5 to 10 seconds, I don’t understand what’s happening. It’s almost like he could have been talking in Greek. As I say, I’d almost like to experience it again just so I could try to figure out what he did.

I’m pausing here to expound on this for the following reason: I’m a business person, and I deal with people and money frequently in the course of my work. If I could be thrown into even temporary confusion, I pity the souls who don’t have any business acumen. This guy could fleece them like sheep, which he probably does. If you ever find yourself in any contractual situation where you don’t understand what is going on, take a timeout. And make sure that the paper you’re about to sign says what you think it should.

Because, interestingly, the Bossman’s paperwork didn’t have our $500 deposit even though Tony had supposedly fixed that. And the $250 Costco discount wasn’t in the paperwork either, a fact which, when we pointed it out, led to the following spectacular exchange:

Mark (gruffly): “The Costco discount doesn’t apply to 2012 models. It’s only for 2011s.”

Ty: “That’s not what we were told.”

Mark (aggressively): “Who told you that?”

Ty (looking at Junior Grade Salesman Tony): “Oh, hi.”

Mark storms off.

Tony, running off after Mark: “Don’t worry. I’ll fix this.”

Honestly, it was like being part of a real life comedy show. Mark was clearly just so disgusted that Tony couldn’t upsell us anything (financing, accessories, warranty, etc.) and that he had to give us a $250 discount on top of that, that he just walked off in a huff. I don’t think we even saw him after that. Which was OK by me. I don’t think he likes people. Hell, I don’t think he likes himself.

Importantly, Erin and I were in immediate accord: If we hadn’t gotten the Costco discount at this point, we would have walked. The $500 deposit was on a VISA, so I could have still disputed it if necessary. But I think it was clear, to Tony at least, that if he wanted the sale, he was going to have to give us the Costco discount. And what’s more I’m not sure that they would’ve had a lot of choice: Costco’s auto buying service has to be worth something, or why use it? If I’d walked out, I’d be sure to be talking to Costco and they’d be talking with the dealership and, potentially, Honda itself.

After the Mark episode, we were handed over the finance guy who made us officially decline all the warranties, protectants, sealants, and every other possible upsell. He filled out the DMV paperwork and took care of the final contracts which included the official sales price. As you might have guessed by this time, the price was incorrect and did not include our $500 deposit (though it did, interestingly, include our Costco discount). The finance guy told us that even though the number was wrong, we could go ahead and sign. “We’re not crooks,” he said, and I remember thinking (1) it’s always bad sign if you’re forced to make that claim and (2) that sounds mighty similar to Nixon. We insisted that the finance guy print up a new contract, a correct one this time, which we reviewed carefully and signed.

At the end of the day, I really love the car. I continue to think Honda’s engineering and design are amazing. If you’re a member, I recommend checking out the USAA and Costco auto buying services. I recommend buying your Honda accessories through College Hills Honda and having them installed by a trusted mechanic. I trust and recommend Valley Specialists. I would not use again and do not recommend the Honda automative dealership in Salem. But I do really love the car.

I met Jennifer Thieret Westermeyer at the Nice, France train station in the summer of 1990. She was on a train in, I was departing. We spoke for 5 minutes, then it was time for me to board. We promised to write.

We did, and over the years our correspondence tracked the changes of our lives. She married in ’92 and divorced in ’93. Graduated law school in ’95 and married again in ’97. Worked as an attorney and a public defender. I will miss her letters and emails because, whatever the information they contained, they always reminded me of our fond meeting in Europe, and, by extension, the hope it gave me for meeting new friends no matter where I go.

I wish that I could have known Jennifer better than I did. She was proof that it only takes 5 minutes to change someone’s life for the better, and for that and for her, I shall remain grateful.

I met Sal Reyes when I was 12 or 13, and he became instantly the best soccer player I knew. My first glimpse of him was at tryouts for a Salem-area U-15 select team. He was doing rainbows one after another at a full run. I remember thinking that if the rest of the squad were this good, I didn’t have a chance. Of rainbows I could do exactly one in a row, most of the time, and only if the ball were stationary. I was a bit young to be on the team—Sal and most of the other players were a couple years older than me—and seeing that level of touch and skill was instantly intimidating: I needed to get a whole lot better.

Happily for me and my peace of mind, Sal was the star of that team. Nobody had his talent. His English was iffy, but who cared? On the field, he was tricky, shifty, smart, and darn near unstoppable. I remember in one game watching him dribble virtually the entire opposing team, walk the ball into the goal, and get called for being offsides—which incensed us to no end, since how can you be offside when the ball is on your feet the whole time? To this day, I have no idea how he dribbled like he did. He was a wonderful soccer inspiration for me during my teenage years.

I played with him intermittently after high school. We took an indoor team down to a tournament in Eugene, and he was as amazing as ever. Played with him for a few seasons of outdoor Over-30 soccer until the cancer left him too weak to play. I remember in particular his last outing at Bush Park, where a group of us Salem Kickers gather regularly to scrimmage. He was so grateful and so delighted to be out there playing, and he was, of course, as dangerous as ever with the ball.

As recently as March, he had emailed with high hopes of joining us in this coming outdoor season. Obviously, it was not to be. Tomorrow, as the saying goes, is promised to no one. But 44 seems too young an age to die. I am thankful that the length of his illness gave him time for goodbyes and that I had the opportunity to express directly my admiration for him, both via email and in person at his 25th anniversary celebration in January. I know he was at peace, because he said so and because that is what the tone of life reflected. He had come to terms with his own mortality, even if perhaps I’ve not, and to the end of my acquaintance with him, he exuded a classiness and a style that leaves me hoping, once again, that I can someday emulate him.

We’ll start with the positives: Diane Lane is gorgeous, and it helps considerably that she’s in virtually every scene. The film is well-acted. It’s based on a true story. Secretariat is arguably the best race horse ever. Um…I’m running dry here.

Unfortunately: This is not so much the story of Secretariat as it is the story of Secretariat’s owner. Since owners of horses don’t really do a whole lot other than, you know, own horses, a lot of drama had to be manufactured. The jockeys, the trainers, the stablehands, well, they do the actual work. Any of theirs would have been a more compelling tale. Instead we see them in limited, very clichéd supporting roles. “Secretariat: A Horse and Her Owner” would have been a more accurate if not better title.

The film attempts to link Secretariat’s greatness to the women’s liberation and the anti-war movements of the early 1970s and to apply a Christian veneer to the owner’s faith in her horse (we open with a voiceover of Job 39:19-24), the latter of which is not wholly off-putting at the start but certainly is by the end when a Gospel choir seems to be equating a race horse with Jesus. These flaws, while egregious, are not the worst of it.

The conflicts in this movie are either quickly resolved (evil trainer is fired), nonsensical (inheritance tax of $6 million can only be paid by the sale of Secretariat), or forgotten (family issues conveniently disappear). The evil trainer scene was so trite that it was painful to watch. The inheritance tax issue which was to become the central conflict, driving all manner of choices and decisions, made no sense. If the farm is worth enough that they will owe $6 million in estate tax, the farm and its assets must be worth more than that because the US estate tax rate has never been 100 percent or, I guess in this case, more. (In real life, Secretariat did not save the farm. It was saved the year before by Secretariet’s stable mate Riva Ridge who won 2 out of 3 Triple Crown races.) Finally, the family issues: Mom is gone an awful lot, Dad is rightly aggrieved, and the kids don’t seem to care. Well, these all disappear in the last act, because who needs that kind of unresolvable unpleasantness when Secretariat runs so fast? It’s a horrible bait-and-switch because it means all the family issues that drive the first act are filler.

This is the type of movie you get when the writing stinks. Disney’s live action films have this tendency (“Remember the Titans” indeed), because theirs is a saccharin vision that never was or will be. Real conflict with messy complications and difficult choices has no place in their world. Unfortunately, that means there is little to be gained in watching their live action films. Despite the greatness of the horse, Secretariat is a case in point.

I’ve written at length about the dismaying slide of Scott Kurtz’ PVP, my one-time favorite web comic. I’m not a daily reader any more—I could no more handle the plummeting there than I could watch Matrix Reloaded again. I check in every once in awhile, though, just to see if perhaps Kurtz has returned to his senses. He did, after all, publish literally years of great material. Sadly, PVP has not changed since I wrote last year: It’s still an unmitigated mess.

Here’s a question for any long-time PVP reader: How would you describe Skull? Big blue troll, sure, but more specifically: Gentle giant, friendly, well-intentioned, flatulent, happy, and dopy-as-hell. For all his wonderful qualities, and they are many, he’s a dip. And that’s OK! He’s a great character that way. To wit, this comic from around 10 years ago:

Great comic, of course. Brent is snarky (as he should be) and Skull is happy and dumb. It’s a great little scene, true to both characters, and frankly touching too.

Here’s today’s comic:

What is Skull supposed to be there panels 1 and 2? Suave? Dear God, he’s never suave. He’s a dope. He’s happy-go-lucky. He’s incapable of even attempting to be suave! This is such a gross violation of character that it borders on what George Lucas did to C3PO in the droid factory. Characters in PVP have lost their characterization. This should be a scene of Francis meeting Marcy, not Skull and Sonya, but characters in PVP are now virtually indistinguishable from one another, so there we are. And it is painful.

Thought experiment: Re-imagine the above scene, staying true to Skull’s character. For me, it goes like this:

Skull (with eager expression): Hey, Sonya…Wanna see a movie tonight? Uh, with me?

Sonya: That’s sweet, Skull, but…

Skull (surprised): But what?

Sonya: I have a boyfriend.

Skull (happy): Oh, that’s OK. He can come too.

Everybody stays in character, you get a little Ghostbusters homage in there, and you’re set up for a wacky time at the theatre.

My best guess—and I don’t know the artist personally, though I did write him an email about these problems a while back—is that Kurtz is burned out. Maybe he has been for a few years now, and figured the recent move to Seattle might recharge the batteries. It won’t help, because PVP’s problems aren’t an issue of artist location or creativity. It’s that he’s moved away from the very things that brought him success, namely a superb comic style art and strong characterization.

As I’ve said before, I think Kurtz on his game is as good as it gets. He’s just been off his game for awhile now, and the above are some of the reasons why. I continue to hope he’ll get his mojo back.

Jonah finished 20 of 270 for 2nd grade boys in the Awesome 3000 yesterday with a time of 7:53 on the 1.5k course. That’s an improvement of 16 seconds over last year. I was very proud of his effort.

Similarly, I was very proud of Elisha’s effort. After a morning basketball game and getting injured at the beginning of the race, she stuck with it and completed the course which is a testament to her perseverance. Indeed, even that I think undersells how well she did. Rested and uninjured she can easily beat her time of 12:14, but it was good enough for 90th place of 178 for Kindergarten girls.

Unfortunately, I’m not sure the kids want to return to the event next year. With both Jonah and Elisha getting knocked over at the start (poor Elisha really getting creamed), neither seemed very happy with the overall experience. In another year, we may get a chance to test the adage that “pain is temporary, pride is forever” when we ask them if they want to run the race again.

I hope they do.

Is it wrong to celebrate the death of an enemy?

I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.—Martin Luther King, Jr 

Yet the world is an undeniably better place without Osama bin Laden in it. There is evil in the world, and at times the good must rise up and extinguish it. Surely, two world wars can have most of us agree on as much. Unless we’re willing to live with enslavement and tyranny, I see no other solution than force of arms for keeping dictators, madmen, and terrorists at bay. It is the sad nature of humankind that evil exists.

I think it folly to suppose that Gandhi’s and Martin Luther King, Jr.’s efforts through nonviolence and civil disobedience, as successful as they were in India and the American South respectively, could avert war between nations, stop international terrorism, or bring outlaws to justice. Indeed, without British shame and Kennedy’s National Guard one wonders how successful the aforementioned nonviolent movements would have been.

Nonetheless, nonviolence does not compromise one’s soul in the ways that violence does, and that is an enormous strength and value that should not be underestimated. Within a civil society, nonviolence protest can be the most effective and least diminishing course of action. It takes a willingness on the part of the oppressor to accept change, but it can be highly effective. (Case in point, the recent nonviolent revolution in Egypt.) That would be similarly true on the larger geopolitical stage, except that I don’t believe that it generally works. (At least I can think of no ready example.)

But none of this makes the good Reverend wrong. Hate begets hate, and darkness easily consumes the soul. Nations must fight wars with great reluctance not only because of the physical destruction that takes place, but because in war we dent our humanity, and after the experience our souls are never quite the same. The soldiers returning from the front lines are only the most obvious casualties. No one can convince me that our national psyche is better now than it was on September 10, 2001.

People are in the streets celebrating the death of bin Laden today, which strikes me by turns as macabre and idiotic. Celebrating death might be fine at an Irish wake, but it’s another thing entirely to be jubilant at the murder of another human being, no matter how heinous. Grim satisfaction seems a more appropriate response than jingoist pride—especially when in so many ways we’ve lost the undefinable “war on terror.”

Having spent trillions of dollars, instituted Big Brother-like surveillance both internationally and domestically, and dramatically curtailed civil liberties, how can we claim to have won? How will we ever? We’re on a path to literally bankrupt our country, and we’re less free (individually and collectively) than we’ve been at any time in living memory. Of this, what changes with the death of the world’s leading terrorist?

On this final question, I can only be happy if bin Laden’s death serves as the beginning of the end of US overseas military entanglements, and then not so much at his death as the possibility that we may begin to remake ourselves into a peaceful, solvent, freedom-loving nation. If his demise marks a necessary first step in a return to our better selves, so be it. What I celebrate is not his death, but the prospect of personal and national peace and the hope that such a thing is still possible.

A little over a year ago I decided to buy a new digital camera. The Canon Digital Elph I’d been using was still giving me good stuff and the portability was (and is) fantastic, but I felt like I was missing some great shots because of its minimal optical zoom. I’d always had good luck with Canons both personally and professionally, but I was enticed by a Panasonic Lumix DMC-ZS3 and it’s shiny 12x optical zoom.

The Panasonic wasn’t as easy for me to use as the Canons, but that could be my familiarity with Canon rather than any particular deficiency with the Lumix. For about 6 months, I really enjoyed the shots from the new camera. It wasn’t as portable, but it was small enough that I took it most places and the 12x optical was every bit as cool as I’d hoped.

Unfortunately, the camera stopped working. I have no idea why, but one day it simply refused to turn on. I bought a new battery to see if it was a battery issue, but nope, it seemed like a camera issue. So I called Panasonic for service under their 1-year warranty. They gave me an RMA number and had me send in the Lumix.

The next communication I received from them was what appeared to be a form letter informing me that the camera had a dented lens and would not be covered under warranty. I could spend almost $200 to buy a refurbished model from them or they’d just send me back my nonfunctional unit.

I’m a computer consultant by trade, which is to say that I’m well-versed in the proper and careful handling of electronics. If this camera has a “dented lens” it got it as part of normal use, not because I tossed it in the back of my car. (Subsequent investigation of online reviews reveals I’m not alone in having this “dented lens” issue). I explained this to Panasonic in a letter, but to no avail. They returned my broken camera unfixed and washed their hands of the matter.

I realize there are legal options available in this sort of thing, but frankly it’s not worth my time. I’d sign up for a class action lawsuit in a heartbeat, but

What I will do is this:

• Never again purchase Panasonic electronics of any kind—not an idle threat since I buy a lot of electronics;
• Tell my story as far and as widely as the Internet allows, which I’m happy to say is fairly far and fairly wide.

All manufacturers will have the occasional lemon. It’s part of any mass production process, and I accept that. I’m not even terribly concerned that my camera happened to be one of those. What’s unconscionable, however, is for a company to not stand behind its products when they fail. That I won’t abide, and I recommend you don’t either.

Just saw Rebecca Black’s “Friday” video, rightly voted the most hated on YouTube. I didn’t mind the video itself so much as the song, which was about as Autotuned and lyrically awful as anything I’ve ever heard. It’s almost like the song was programmed to annoy adults. For those outside the tweener demographic that this is clearly aimed at, the idea of a 13 year-old “kickin’ it” and “chillin’” and “cruisin’”—the latter being particularly remarkable since 13 year-olds can’t drive, so she’s doing all this with who exactly?—is another example of kids trying to act adult(ish) when it’s so painfully obvious they’re not. We all grow up in fits and starts. Most of us don’t (or didn’t) pretend so forcefully that we’ve already arrived then broadcast those attempts to the world.

So I’m clear—since I understand that Black has received personal messages of dislike from the looneys on the Internet—I’m not saying anything against her personally. In fact, I wish all the best and congratulate her on the success she’s achieved. I wish she would lay off the Autotune so we could hear the real her. But I also agree with Simon Cowell, the notorious judge of American Idol as well as a fine an evaluator of musical talent, who said Black should not “listen to anyone over the age of 18. I’m being deadly serious. Whatever she’s done has worked. Whether you like her or not, she’s the most talked-about artist in America right now. Nobody over the age of 18 should understand her or like her. So she should just do it her way.”