College graduate should be taxed at the capital gains level

Here's an odd thought? What if my income was taxed at the same rate as Mitt Romney's?

Good ol' Mitt really hasn't worked for many years. He might speak now and then and receive a fee for that, but he really is just living off his money from Bain Capital, which earned him that money by laying off hard working people. And if you're a conservative, do not give me the, "Well, they have a right to make a profit." BS!, if in the same breath you then gripe about jobs being shipped overseas.

I digress. Back to my point: Every American who graduated from college should be able to write their taxes off as capital gains.

How? You ask. Remember the recruiter for your college. You bristled at the price tag, and they said, "It's an investment in your future." An investment...that is what capital gains are. So when the recruiter convinced you to go, you went planning on a descent salary. An investment right?

Now, I know of my most ardent GOP friends will erroneously say, "That's not your investment. It's the banks'!" How do you think we got into the crisis we are in? People gambled with bank money. We on the other hand didn't gamble with it. We tried to be safe and get a degree that would pay a living wage after graduation. 

Considering most people who graduated from college don't make a decent salary and many make just enough to not qualify for federal aid, yet enough to starve, I think every dime of their income that is withheld should be withheld at the capital gains level of fifteen percent. This should be in effect until they pay off their student loans. Once those are paid off, they are then obligated to pay their tax bracket. Until then, they are investors reaping on their return. Good capitalists who paid and are paying and should thus be taxed accordingly.

Now, I know many will say, "If this is the law so many people will want to get into college." Is that bad? And if we turn them down, is that bad? Set the bar high, set the reward high, and people will flock to you...kind of like how they should approach dealing with teachers.

End point - College graduates should pay only 15% on their income as other capital venturists. It's an investment and only fair. Isn't that what all my good conservative friends want? An equitable tax code? I've no problem with college graduates struggling and fighting out of the gate. It's good for us. But tax us accordingly.

9/11 Blahs

I suppose the requisite way to start this sort of posting is to tell readers where I was and what I did that day. But I won't. Instead, I'll admit that when I woke up today, I felt...blah. That sounds bad, but it's true. I went to church, and that was great, in that our minister spoke so eloquently on forgiveness. Otherwise, I was pretty disengaged from much of the sentiment today.

Saying I was blase today will likely not make me a popular person. But I was. It didn't feel like 9/11's tenth anniversary, it felt like Groundhog's Day. What I mean by that is I read the paper this morning and the articles, editorials were thus: "There Are Moderate Muslims," "America Unites," "Sports Help Healing," and John Kass' column, "America Needs to Not be Fearful" or some such garbage title. In short, it was nearly the same stuff I saw ten years ago in the paper. Kass' column floored me because I thought, "Really? Do we daily live our lives in fear?" No not really. This was a great boilerplate for 9/11/2001. But for 2011, it was such a lazy freaking article. After ten years, the best insight that fishwrap scribe can come up with is "Don't be afraid"? How John Kass still has a column is beyond my comprehension and I hope some day he has a congressional investigation so it will provide him more material to write about superfluous crap.

So yes, I was a little let down. It felt as if papers and news outlets went and said, let's grab what worked ten years ago. We have though, I hope moved beyond all these tropes. I guess not.

I also did not feel a great deal today because in the subsequent anniversaries, I had great conversations with my classes about the significance of 9/11, but after three years, my students were too young to really care. They suddenly didn't want to talk about it. Talking about it led to arguments about Iraq, insults to George Bush, and so on. So as they no longer cared because they did not want to cause unpleasantness, I guess I didn't either.

Then I saw the documentary on CBS tonight. It followed the Miracle House, a firehouse that lost none of it's members on 9/11, but are now seeing their heroes dying of cancer. I initially didn't want to watch it. Jets vs. Cowboys sounded better. But I made myself watch it, and it was very emotional. A flood of frustration rushed back as I was reminded of the 343 firefighters who stood in the towers, as police rushed out because the building would collapse, but because the police and fire were not on the same frequency (Thank you Rudy), the firefighters stood pat and refused to leave (because they had not heard the building would collapse), shepherding people out until the building collapsed. And then last year GOP members of Congress fought hard not to give benefits to those heroes.

The whole documentary brought back a rush of thoughts and memories. So here is my "Where were you?"

I was asleep. I got a call on my home phone. It was my friend John Popelka, a vet of the Afghan war (not then but since). John was screaming, "Luke, get your fucking ass up..." to which I ended listening to the message, thinking he was just trying to mess with me since I was living three hours behind him. Not long afterwards, Alette called me on my cell phone which was not yet a week old...I'd never had a cell phone before this. She told me a plane hit the World Trade Center. I told her that was no surprise. Planes fly close there. She then said, "No, another one hit, and another plane hit the Pentagon." At that point, I said, "It's bin Laden." ( It amazed me that the media had to explain who bin Laden was despite the fact that he was involved in the 93 bombing of the WTC and our embassies in Tanzania and Kenya. It was like he was completely off the radar for most Americans because he was the plucky little A-rab in a cave challenging our big bad power. But I knew back in 94 he was dangerous.) I jumped up and looked at the TV images through the snow; images provided by a makeshift antennae made from a coat hanger. The buildings were burning.

I burst into Paul's room, "Paul, the fucking trade centers got hit by a plane, so did the Pentagon." What I remember of all this was I could not stop smiling. This did then and still does sicken me. It was not as if I was happy, but the absurdity was not lost on me, and I could not make sense of it all. I was damn near hysterical.

We watched the buildings fall. Then I had to go to class. I called Arizona State to see if we had classes, and they said, "All classes are still scheduled." That cracked me up. My apartment and ASU were on the landing path for Sky Harbor Airport. And planes were still landing. But class is class. I had to go.

I went and our teacher was so flippant: "Well, bad things happen. That doesn't mean our plans change." In hindsight, I thank her for that attitude. It's rubbed off on me. After that, I went to playwriting workshop. Then I went and sat in front of a recruiting station for I don't know how many hours.

When I arrived at home, I had multiple missed calls from my dad. I called him back and his first words were, "I hope you didn't do something stupid and enlist." My dad is a career military man, and has a love of country I wish I could emulate. (This is not to say I don't love my country. I do, and I learned it from him, but as a son follows the father, I feel completely inadequate compared to Dad.) His objection was not based on joining, but rather, letting emotions get the best of me. To this day, I wish I had, especially given Pat Tillman...although maybe not.

And that's the essence of this 9/11 issue: Our passions and anger. As I heard in church today, forgiveness is exceptionally hard to enact. We offer forgiveness, hoping we get results/benefits, but the reality is that true forgiveness has no stings attached. Tough to do. Try it some time.

What it comes down to for me...my 9/11 story starts one month prior. I was working for damn near nothing at an Off-Broadway theatre all summer. My boss took mercy on me and tossed me some money to go see shows. I saw two, and planned on a third with my roommate, an interior designer. We went to the Trade Centers for the TKTS. It was closed. He insisted I go atop the trade centers. I'm not impressed by architecture, and I tried so hard to get out of going up top, insisting I'd be back following year. We went up, and it was AMAZING. It had a museum there about the building of the trade centers. From the observation deck, we saw all of Manhattan, and all the planes flying into Kennedy and La Guardia. They felt so close.

As we stood atop, I asked with my roommate, "Could you imagine being up top here, when the bomb went off back in the parking garage?" - a reference to the bombing in 1993.

He responded, "You wouldn't have felt it." I was shocked. "These buildings are meant to withstand a lot at their base," he explained. "To take it down from the base is worthless. If the buildings are to come down, they are designed to have charges at the mid to upper levels and let the weight from above take it down."

"How would you do that?" I asked out of curiosity.

"I have no idea," he said. We saw it less than a month later.

People I had met that summer did die. That's hard to swallow, but I offer this as hope or...well I don't know, but it's worth mentioning.

I spoke to my college friend Jill after the attacks. She said they tried to close their windows and keep the A/C on. They were not too far, and downwind, of ground zero. She told me, for a few weeks it smelled like burning flesh. However, the day of 9/11, her roommate and she were in an argument over bills or some such roommate dispute. Her roommate, Yael, was late for work, and she left with nothing resolved. She took the subway, stepped out, walked to work in time to see a plane hit the building she worked in.

Somehow, it never makes sense, but in that chaos, there seems to be order.

So as I started today with the blahs, I've suddenly, felt more inclined to reflect. We have since killed bin Laden, and I hope we celebrate less, and reflect on vengeance and forgiveness. Will we forget? No, never. But I hope we can move on as a nation to greater heights, true Christianity that so many conservative politicians espouse, but seem unwilling to practice, i.e. forgiveness, which then leads to growth. Sadly, if today's paper was any indication, we are still locked in the tired old slogans of unity and revenge and fear and trite acceptance, i.e. tolerance rather than acceptance, popular but unfounded ten years ago. I choose to move forward.

My certificate of live birth

So, maybe some of you have heard that I am getting married. This whole process requires that I have to have a certified birth certificate. It's very easy to acquire. It is, however, nothing more than a sheet of paper claiming that it is my "certificate of live birth."

This got me to thinking of President Obama (yes, the last president officially elected, G.W. Bush doesn't count). His big issue was bureaucracy that did not immediately allow for full disclosure.

After trying to get my birth certificate, here is all I can say. All the idiot tea party members who have stood firm that our President is not American are wrong. Every, every (have I said every?) critique they raise reflects an ignorance of the way our state governments run... yes tea party fanatics, the states run these things. See the 10th Amendment, which you all cite so much, but of which you do not know the ramifications.

To begin. I ordered my birth certificate for the wedding. I cannot, cannot get my birth certificate. I can get a copy that certifies live birth. I called at least a half-dozen state organizations to get my birth certificate, only to create a little ballyhoo (NJ law says I am good with a certified certificate of live birth; but that doesn't work for the President, so it doesn't fly with me). Basically they directed me to a number of state offices to which I would have to write letters just to get my official birth certificate. Ironically, much of the state employees I spoke with seemed floored that I would want my original birth certificate. I kept saying, "I need it." They asked, "What is wrong with the certificate (of live birth)?"

Here's what it boils down to. I got a copy of my birth certificate. My parents were signed onto it, as was the attending MD. It's a copy, but hey, I think it works. We'll see.

Ok? Following me so far? I cannot get my birth certificate in Wisconsin, unless I write a few letters to legislators who are too busy to respond to my sad applications (I learned this in both Illinois and Arizona). The best I can get without donating money and pulling strings is a certificate of live birth. I checked with NJ and they said, "That's all we need." I thought it would be a problem, but they said, "That's all we need." Yes I know that is repetitive. That was intentional.

This is not the kicker. The tea party freaks out at the official mark of the state of Hawaii with President Obama. They are so mad that it took nearly two weeks for the birth certificate to be certified some time after his birth. My birth certificate has been officially certified on 09.09.1977 (and yes, I realize I'm giving away my age). This is over two weeks from the date of my birth. But that is bureaucracy.

So end of story, I was born in Kenya. It took three decades to set it up so I could run for president, and I totally have planned, since my birth, to subvert the US Constitution. I am not a US citizen. I've only faked it, and you birthers can start the process of deporting me. To quote your prophet G.W. Bush, "Bring it on."

Love,

Luke Krueger

So I've been off for a few weeks.

The worst part of road burn is waking up in your own bed and having no idea where you are. This is what happened to me over the last week, and it didn't help that I left my fiance and her friend stranded at a train station.

Let's recap the last few weeks. I did my initial U-Haul road trip. That had me landing in Topeka, KS. Then an interview in OK, and a night in Amarillo, TX. Then off to Las Vegas, NM, which rocked. A night in the roach motel in Gallup, NM. Drove to Phoenix, and spent a week there. Had to get back to DeKalb to get my crushed car into the shop. I drove all day and night. Arrived in DeKalb at 11:00 AM. Got my car to the shop, spent a few hours with Chris, slept for a few, and was up at 3:00, and at Midway by 4:00 for a 6:00AM flight to NYC.

This was the worst flight I've ever been on. Word was that due to recent storms, there were no available pilots to fly given FAA restrictions. Then they found one, but he was down to the minute. So he took every jet stream and made the flight one that tossed luggage and books down the aisle. When we touched down, it was such a hard landing my gimpy shoulder went out of socket, and my back wrenched so badly it still fucking hurts. Advil so longer works...which is why I am up. Back pain is awful.

I did one week at camp and had to fly back for a family reunion/engagement party. The camp I ran wasn't supposed to go up, but at the last minute, it was viable, and when you work for someone like D Murph, you can't say no. He let me leave camp though for 40 hours.

I left Thursday at 7:00. Landed in Milwaukee at 9:00. Met my sisters and Bryan (Marla's fiance) and we ate and drank. Up the next morning, and hit the road. I got a free breakfast because I went to Panda Express and asked for steamed veggies. The veggies weren't ready, but Kung Pao chicken shortly was. I said, "I'll take that." When I had to pay, the manager said, "It's on the house. We didn't have the veggies ready." I offered to pay, repeatedly...they refused...this is the difference between the Midwest and the East. So my breakfast was free.

Did the four hour drive to Merrill, WI, and saw my beloved family I've not seen for so long. I saw little kids who sat on my lap who are now adults. Weird. I was mixing up names. This is sad...it reminded me how disconnected I am to my great extended family. Worst of all, I had to leave before, one of my greatest friends, Ben Henrich, my cousin arrived, and he (rightfully let me hear it). He went out with Chris and my sisters, and I got the text, "Your fiance is awesome, and you suck for leaving early." That hit me hard. I will NEVER put myself in that position. God bless Chris for being so great as to meet parts of my family alone, but it reminded me, I have to be more in touch. I can be gregarious, but I just shut down to way too many people.

Anyways...the Friday shindig was awesome. We ate very well. Chris got her first taste of cheese curds and LOVED them. Personally, those things disgust me, so I guess I'm not a true badger, but Chris is. The entire night was Chris meeting the family: My Uncle Lee, who I did not talk to enough. My uncle Bobby and Aunt Dorthy, Aunt Harriet, cousin Holly, cousin Jerry Lee, and so on. The greatest moment was when my Aunt Carol and Uncle Dave (who are providing our music for the wedding), asked if we wanted to hear the wedding music. Of course we said yes. So, in their home which is on the Wisconsin river, with an amazing picture window, we sat there and listened to harp and violin play our wedding music. The worst (or best) came when they played "Lo How the Rose Ere Blooming". Chris and I both cried.

"Low How the Rose Ere Blooming" is central to our relationship from the movie/book _The Time Traveler's Wife_. She understands that I am on the road, and I arrive and disappear in no time; much as the protagonist of the book/movie. On top of it all is the age difference, so we always joke that while I was doing X in college, she was in elementary school, and how funny would it be that if I showed up, and told a fourteen year old Chris, "Your future husband is a professor right now." I know that's not elementary school, but humor me.

The point is that the Time Traveler is always off, but not of his own will, and he hates being away, and struggles to survive, but some how he always makes it back to his love.

So after all the festivities, I finally went to bed at one. I was up at 3:30, and on the road to Milwaukee for an 8:00 AM flight. I made it in plenty of time. When I checked in a man walked up to the counter and said, "This woman doesn't speak English, but she was supposed to be in Minneapolis, but she was dropped off here, and so was her luggage." Whoops!! For a typical traveler, this is really nothing new. But the people at the counter didn't know this. The customer relations person gave me my ticket, and said, "You've been upgraded to business class." Good place to be. Free drinks, and loads of food. So much space too. Wow! I've never flown first class, and I don't anticipate I ever will, but this was a nice sniff.

It was one of the best flights I've ever had, smooth, I could walk around, it was nice. Is there a flight in this country without turbulence? I found it. Hit the ground at LaGuardia, which I still maintain is the biggest craphole of an airport in this country. Imagine the tiniest space you can fit 10,000 people in and you have LaGuardia. I caught a cab back to the dorm. Dropped my luggage and went to meet the kids.

More on the camp in a bit. So once I landed, I was back to camp director, which when you don't have a resident life director sucks because you're the first line of being the bad guy. Still, when I met up with the camp, they rushed up and surprised me...which with me in NYC is a bad thing because I nearly punched some of them. Still, I missed them. They were a great group. And they looked happy to see me, which shocked the shit out of me.

So camp, went, and that's a whole new blog, and with my A-hole neighbors who crank their bass, I'm in no mood to wax more than I need to on the point that I had crazy few weeks.

Once the camp was done, I went to Woody and Garth's engagement party, now that it's legal in NYC. The party was great except for the fact that is was casual formal, and all I had was camp clothes, which means a gray cotton shirt and torn khaki cargo shorts. Everyone else was New York Stunning. Didn't feel out of place though.

Stayed up, went to JFK at 4:00. Flight left at 8:00, I think. Caught my plane. Met Chris and Krissy at O'Hare at 8:30. We hung out in Chicago. I tried to get Krissy authentic deep dish pizza at Gino's East, but the guard dog at the door, an albino (not really) with a dumbass mustache tattoo on his finger kept misrepresenting the directions. "If you want to get out of line, seats are available at the bar." Okay, so we try that. Conner the near albino says, "I"m sorry only I seat you at the bar and restaurant." Oh. That means I have have to give you money, and I'll be damned if I do that. So we go back to line after losing our spot, my bad. We wait. Then Conner, "mustache boy" says there are seats on the patio if we wish to take them. I pull Chris and Krissy out of line, and say, "We'll sit outside." Conner says, "I'll sit you when I'm ready." At that point, I said, "We're gone." I used to love Gino's East, but after this, I will never take people to one of their places of business. It's not the hottest NYC club. It's a pizza place and as soon as they throw up the velvet robe, I'm gone.

We went to Navy Pier, which is a total tourist trap, I know, but at least they know how to take care of patrons, unlike Gino's East. Can you get my drift, avoid the big timer Gino's East.

At some point, I said, "I'm too tired. I need to go home and sleep." Went back to DeKalb after thirty, forty some hours of being awake, I went home and slept for 15 hours. Which made me miss Chris' phone calls for a pick up, and I'll never forgive myself for that. I totally let her down. Thankfully it was not an emergency, and they cabbed it back to DeKalb, which I paid for, but damn I felt like a schlub. They were totally cool about it.

So to recap. I did an all night drive to DeKalb from Phoenix. Slept a bit and then was off to NYC, where I ran a camp that the students lived and went to class in Spanish Harlem. Left on Thursday for a family party (which rocked!). Did the party on Friday. Left at 4:00 AM on Saturday. Landed and was back on duty on Saturday. Did the camp. Once it closed, I hung with my good friends,Garth and Woody. Garth was so nice. He kept saying, "I don't know how you're still standing." Went straight from the party to the airport, and then to Chicago. I still have no idea what time zone I am in. I've woken up for the last few days, and it takes me 30-60 seconds to establish where I am. It doesn't help that I moved into a new apartment. So let's hope I'll have a clue where I am at tomorrow.

Out,

Luke

Arrived in Phoenix

10-4, good buddy. My advice for this blog is: Don't buy into commercial BS where they make you buy something to get the wi-fi code.

Checking in from Phoenix, well technically, Scottsdale. Pulled into Phoenix this morning. It was hot, but despite what you think it's not bad. It reminded me of the first day I rolled into this town. I saw the bank sign that read 112. I thought, "I am gonna die." Then I got out, and it wasn't bad. I'm not saying 112 is great, but compared to 80 in DeKalb with 60% humidity, Phoenix is much better.

Yesterday was great! I met a brother and sister who took over their father's U-Haul dealership, after he passed. They grew up with the company. They used to play in the trailers. They had chores which included cleaning the trailers. The family is so ingrained in the town that it's no wonder the dealership has survived. They're dad ran for mayor, and was part of the council that combined the two cities of Las Vegas, NM.

The most exciting moment came when the interview had to break because they received an emergency call from the Forest Service in need for trucks to supply the fire fighters at Los Alamos. Man, they sprung into action, and got those trucks under contract, and ready to go. It was amazing. Look, I know people have their complaints about U-Haul, but if you have seen it from my end, these people are dedicated to customer service, flat out. There are dealers who are in it for the quick buck, but they disappear fast. Those who stick around do it because they love the community they serve, and the product they can provide, flat out.

So, lodging. Last night was harrowing. I slept very little. If you looked at the pictures, the place was a wreck. I didn't even post pictures of the bathroom because good lord it was disgusting, but as I said, not the worst place I've stayed. The bathtub was at least level and not at an angle and there were no exposed wires by the shower...and there was a lock. The refrigerator and A/C had something in common. They both ran but kept nothing cool. Thankfully, by morning it was 55 degrees as opposed to the 90 that it was when I rolled in at ten the night before. Unfortunately, my meat and cheese spoiled in the fridge overnight because, like the A/C it kept nothing cool.

Woke up this morning at six local, five in AZ. Hit the road and was in Phoenix by 10:30. The mountain shots are from the drive in from eastern Arizona. It's gorgeous land. I might try to go tubing on the Salt River, which I haven't done in years this weekend.

Arizona is a beautiful area of this nation. The desert combined with soft, struggling trees creates a portrait that would blow the mind of Windslow Homer. I loved the drive in; dreaded the Phoenix area drive. Phoenix area drivers are worse than OKC. People bitch about LA, but LA is harmless. They are crazy, but not reckless, the genuinely look for other drivers. Same goes for Chicago. Same, actually goes for NYC, and I've driven them all. Phoenix drivers just like to stay in the same lane, and they'll run your ass over if you get in their way, and goddamnit that's ok because they're Americans and can do what they want.

I must recollect this image. As I drove through Payson, AZ, there was a guy walking on the side of the state highway: Cargo pants, A-frame t-shirt, and a gun holstered on his right hip.

Back to the track of the trip and the pictures and karma of my previous night. My first stop was the library. Whenever people arrive somewhere new, they look for free wi-fi. They immediately go to Starbucks, or Panera, or some such commercial dump where they make you buy something to get the wi-fi, supposedly, for free. We pay taxes. The library is supported by taxes. They have wi-fi. Go in there, and hook it up. That's what I did in Las Vegas, NM; it's what I did in Tempe.

Why did I do this? Well, I needed a hotel. The fact of the matter was I'll be here a few days and I needed to shave before my next interview. So I hopped on Priceline.

This brings me to the other pictures, not mountains, which are my current lodgings. After waking up this morning and seeing unidentifiable stains on my bed sheets, I tried my old friend Priceline. Some how, I landed a hacienda at Cottonwoods resorts in Scottsdale for $37 a night. Twenty bucks less than what I paid for last night's lodgings. Although I think Sam Shepard would love last night's lodgings as the set for _Fool for Love_ and lord knows there was gun fire.

So this explains the interviews. I'm working on material, which since I have the next day or two off, I'll be posting blogs that are purely test material for the book. Done and

Out,

Luke

Tonight's hotel

So here's where I'm staying. Pulled into Gallup, NM thinking I could get a room, rest a bit and then get into Phoenix. Nope. There's a rodeo in town and all the rooms are booked. Thankfully this one had some vacancies...not sure why. Ah...tis a grand place. I took the plastic wrap from the box housing my whole wheat cheese and crackers to put over the TV remote. It's sticky. Funny though, it's not the worst place I've ever stayed.

Interview went well today. Will try to fill in and update tomorrow. Pretty tired, gotta another interview in Phoenix tomorrow. Drove down I-25, and I saw a big smoke plume from the wild fires near Los Alamos. It's crazy, huge, expansive, whatever grand term you can think of. Kinda sad. Finally, get ready for mass nuclear hysteria. There were lots of advertisements on the radio for iodine packs, to prepare for nuclear leaks.

Amarillo

Yesterday was a lot of driving. Thought maybe I'd try to get to New Mexico, but realized it'd be better to crash in Amarillo where I'd be a couple hours away from my next interview. Man though, was I beat, and tired. The road does it to you. Especially when most of the roads are straight. I keep thinking my GPS is broken because it's always showing one long purple line of road.

Started in Kansas yesterday, and drove south. Kansas grew on me as I traveled. The south of Kansas, was actually less of a straight line. Lots of rolling hills, nice curves. It's very green at this time of year, and there were huge swaths of cattle land filled with cows. On the road I passed the National Teachers Hall of Fame. Not the last museum/hall of fame I'd see. That was not the last interesting museum I'd see. Once I hit Oklahoma, I saw the national wrestling hall of fame, and the national cowboy hall of fame, and once I went through Amarillo, I passed the quarter horse hall of fame/museum. Place looked really nice. It looked new. I'm not sure if it's new, it sure looks like it. Either way, people must really like quarter horses because they put a load of scratch into this place.

From Oklahoma City on, this is a drive I am used to from my days traveling back to Dayton from ASU. Oklahoma gets a bad wrap. The east of OK is gorgeous: Rolling hills, streams, green, amber waves, the whole nine yards. Tulsa is there, and Tulsa is a great city too. Lots to do, doesn't have the metropolitan congestion though, and I'm sure if I lived there there would be plenty to do around town, and then a quick ride out of the city would have me golfing shortly thereafter. Even after Tulsa, west of OK City, the countryside still has a charm that makes me look sharp for tumbleweeds. It feels old west. Not a fan of OK City though. I guess I'm less a fan of their drivers. The many times I've passed through OK city, it has never failed to yield drivers who can't seem to tell that there are other drivers on the highway. There's an ethos in their driving that reminds me of something you'd see on the track at Talladega. Once beyond OK City, driving gets better, and the scenery is back to fields high with grass or wheat, and lots of rolled hay bails.

I thought Amarillo had changed a bit. On previous drives, this stretch from OK City to Albuquerque was what I considered a dead radio area. There were no sports stations, and forget picking up NPR. But as a testimony for the great hegemony that is ESPN, it is impossible not to pick up an affiliate of the mother ship. However, traveling along the panhandle of Texas,I picked up an NPR station. I was thrilled. Yet, right before entering Amarillo, I switched back to ESPN. They went to commercial, I flipped back to NPR, and its signal in Amarillo had been taken over by a Christian rock station. Silly me for believing informative public broadcasting might take root in this area.

The radio is fun to track the stories of local talk show. It's all conservative talk. I hear El Rushbo and Hannity. One tactic I notice they pull a lot is when people call in and want to disagree, immediately they ask a question that is very leading, and the person is automatically on the defensive and not allowed to make their point until they answer the unanswerable question: "Why do you want to punish rich people for being rich? Why are you a socialist? Why do you spread so much hatred?" I think they likely have a list of these fallacious questions that the jump to right away.

The most abhorrent thing I heard was a station in Kansas, don't remember the station, I had it for five minutes and it was gone. The host and her call-in guest talked about closing women's health clinics that they presume offer abortions. The man mentioned the killing of Dr. George Tiller as a blessing and sending a strong message that Kansas will not tolerate doctors who kill babies. The host agreed saying it was a blessed event. I couldn't believe I was hearing it, and was stunned. Then a call came in, I pulled over, answered it, and by the time I was done the station was out of range.

Food is still good in the cooler, keeps costs down. As people find out I'm writing for U-Haul they're asking me to get them discounts. Some from people I've not heard from in a long, long time. Suddenly they want a favor. Sorry, can't land any discounts. And it's not a card I like pulling. I've rented my fair share of U-Hauls, even had a storage space with them, but I never tried angling for discounts.

All right, gotta hit the road. Into Phoenix tomorrow. Not sure where I'll be tonight. I have an interview at 5 PM in Las Vegas, NM. That will likely last two hours, and then it is a long, long drive into Phoenix, a little less longer to Flagstaff. The nice thing is that by tomorrow, I'll have lots two hours, as Phoenix is now on the same time as the Pacific coast. So if I make it to Flag tonight, it will be between 10 and 12.

Hopefully can land a cord for the camera tonight or tomorrow. Then I'll have pictures.

Luke