Kill the Pigs-And Other Great Ideas

The title came from a story I heard a few weeks back, when I was in dark mode without a functional laptop and therefore all my columns were produced only in my head, so the details are a bit foggy due to age and the death of too many brain cells over the years, but as best I can recall it was a story I heard on NPR during the Great Swine Flu Panic of 2009 about how Egyptian officials had decided as a precaution to kill all the pigs in that ancient land. Not such a burden considering Egypt is a majority Muslim nation and they along with their Abrahamic and Semitic brethren in Judaism aren’t real keen on swine to begin with. But the catch was that the minority Christians weren’t too happy, especially those who made a living by having their pigs eat garbage, serving as a sort of a living garbage disposal.

Aside from the slightly disturbing idea of pigs eating garbage, something my Iowa bred wife tells me is also common among farmers in the Midwest, this got me thinking about other great ideas that have been put out there, starting with my decision to have pork chops for dinner anytime soon. With so many great notions floating around out in the world, it’s tough to know where to start, kind of like shooting fish in a barrel. In the interest of being relevant with current events, why not aim the first blow at venerable General Motors.

GM has decided, in its infinite wisdom, to downsize and cut out a few lines of vehicles. Probably not a terrible idea, given that their stock has plummeted from $70 to around 70 cents and they have officially gone onto the corporate dole. But the geniuses that have run the company into the ground came up with the plan to cut out the Saturn and the Pontiac lines. In the interest of full disclosure I should note that I once drove a Saturn for a good stretch, and I currently drive a ten year old Pontiac. I love both cars, the Saturn for its steady reliability and cost efficiency, the Pontiac for its peppyness and sharp looks, especially on the few occasions during the year when I actually have it cleaned up.

The Saturn is the perfect car for these times, sensible and smart without being too tough on the monthly nut, and the Pontiacs are not only easy on the eye but fun as heck to drive. What about gas mileage you ask? For all the hype on hybrids, and for as many of those ridiculous little cars that Austin Kutcher drove through Europe, I get about 25 miles to the gallon in a ten year old ride, probably not much less than these so-called green death traps. So GM, who we are all supporting now, is cutting two of their better lines so they can make more Chevy Malibus and a scam environmentally friendly vehicle called the Volt that will sell for 40K, or more likely, not sell for 40K. Good job GM, great idea. I think a round of bonuses are in order for the good men (and you’ve got to think it’s men because women aren’t that obtuse) who make the calls up there in Detroit.

While we’re on the subject of industries in peril, how about the vulnerable New York Times? In a recession and among declining use of their product, the savants that run this self-important journal of our age decided that it would be a good idea to raise the price of the paper that nobody apparently is buying anyways. Now all the news that’s fit to print will cost more than whatever it costs now, which should solve all their problems. In fact, GM should take a cue and double the price on the Malibu.

Our next great idea comes from good old Newt Gingrich, the former House speaker, who has traded in his Congressional seat for one on the news chat shows, and apparently is on the same diet plan as Keith Olberman and half of the coaches in the NFL. Newt is on record recently calling Supreme Court nominee Sonia Sotamayor a racist because she made a mostly innocous, if not altogether prudent comment a decade or so back. I love it when middle aged white guys cry racism, the injustice of it all. It gets my liberal heart bleeding as much as when I hear rich guys complain about all the taxes they are paying. Hey buddy, trade me paychecks tomorrow and I’ll be more than happy to take on your tax burden.

White guys don’t have much standing to play the race card, or the gender card for that matter. Let’s face it, us white guys have had a pretty good run of the house for a heck of a long time, and if we now have to compete with the rest of the ethnicities and with women and with the rest of the world, it might do us some good, not to mention it’s simply the natural course of justice getting around to doing its thing. It also wouldn’t hurt many of these guys to push away from the buffet table and get on a treadmill once in awhile, especially if I have to look at you on the tube spouting off about the latest issues.

So many great ideas, so little time, so I’ll try to wrap this up with a hodgepodge of stuff I encounter on a regular basis. People who drive solo in the car pool lane, and then inevitably get pulled over, the cars you see while you cruise by in traffic with one person in them and that can’t possibly have been speeding. As risk reward decisions go this one is a bit lacking, you won’t save more than a few minutes, and I’ve got to think that the fine is quite a hefty one.

People with Japanese tattoos, boy that was a heck of an idea. I’m not sure when that craze started or why everyone wanted Japanese writing on their bodies, but there are quite a lot of people, many of whom I see at the gym, of both genders who must be scratching their heads trying to remember what they were thinking, and what the heck the tattoo says anyways. I’m thinking of getting a Japanese dictionary so I can start translating. No I’m not.

The final, and perhaps greatest idea of all for consideration today is the idea that some wise guy came up with to build a big city in the middle of the desert. Most cities were built around a river, needed for power in the early industrial days, or on a coast somewhere with nice afternoon ocean breezes and chilly damp nights even in the dead of summer. But some smart explorer after travelling hundreds of miles from the coast found the lowest and hottest spot he could bare and said to himself, “Eureka!” And so was born the city I have called home for nearly 20 years, since I left that aforementioned cool Mediterranean climate for the friendly confines of transplanted palms, sunny blue skies, and temperatures that would make Mephastopholes piss and moan. Not to be outdone, some other guy came along and started New Mexico, a place with all the heat of Arizona, and with the exception of Santa Fe, none of the charm. Which always makes me wonder, what exactly did we win in the Mexican-American War? Couldn’t we have just taken the coastal strip of California and let the Mexicans keep the rest?

Oh well, not all the ideas can be gems, otherwise how would we appreciate the really good ones when they come along. Like cold Guiness, Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia, tuna sandwiches, electing Barack Obama, and summer vacation! And you can’t beat summer vacation, unless you live in Phoenix, drive a Chevy Malibu, subscribe to the New York Times, have Japanese tattoos, and like to enjoy a good pork tenderloin now and again.