Chevy Volt Versus An Electric Vehicle That Isn’t Crap

I’d like my readers to view two video ads for electric vehicles.  The first video is a 3:26 ad for a group of electric motorcycles  (on the market today).

The second video is about 30 seconds, produced by General Motors, and advertises a car they’ve stopped building.  I already examined it in The Car We Were Forced To Build.  My introductory sentence was as follows:

“Watch it and you’ll be embarrassed to be in the same room with that level of saccharine bullshit.”

Note the difference between the two ads!  What does the motorcycle ad have:

  • Rock and roll
  • Pretty girls
  • Electric guitars
  • High speed (though it’s not super fast)
  • Wheelies, stoppies, driving in dirt

What do you learn from the motorcycle ad:

  • It’s electric
  • It charges everywhere
  • It’s fun
  • Girls and electric guitars and leather jackets and driving fast…It’s good to be alive!

Compare it to the Chevy Volt ad:

  • No pretty girls
  • No rock and roll
  • The car (almost) never moves under it’s own power.
  • The fastest the Volt moves is as a chassis on an assembly line that is actually slower than a couple of town dogs.

The juxtaposition of the two is why I can’t stop beating the living &^%$#$ out of Obama’s expensive green jobs horseshit unicorn-mobile.  But, and this is a ray of hope, the motorcycle actually looks kinda’ cool.  Remember, I’m not anti-electric car.  I’m anti-shitty overpriced crapfest that attempts to deny market forces (and fails miserably).  Also, all vehicle ads should show the vehicle being fun…this is how God intended it.  Every time a car shopper viewed the GM/Chevy Volt they dried their tears and purchased a Honda Civic.  Show me a vehicle ad that makes me want to weep and I’ll show you a government that shouldn’t be selling cars!

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I Have Witnessed A Chevy Volt… On Earth!

I had come to believe that the Chevy Volt were like unicorns.  Everyone can describe them (and some people weep at their beauty) but they don’t exist.  (Maybe they’re vampires?  They control the minds of the weak, suck the blood out of their victims, and are nearly impossible to kill?)

Yesterday I saw one.  I saw an actual real life Chevy Volt being driven on an actual road by (presumably) a human being.  I didn’t expect much but an electric car (of any kind) is kinda’ cool so I expected a little “wow factor”.

Instead it was just a shabby generic shitbox limping along the right turn lane.  It was quiet I guess.  It looked like the “V” part of the “Volt” placard had peeled back.  Other than that it was utterly unremarkable.

I guess I expect a $40,000 car to be at least as interesting as a Volvo.  This was more like something you’d drive if you couldn’t afford a Civic.  Oh well.

Also the guy driving it looked royally pissed off.  I can’t say why.  It’s not necessarily the car’s fault.  (Maybe someone dumped a piranha in his lap?)

At any rate let it be known that in the fall of the year 2012 I saw a living example of the shovel ready green technology of 2008.  There, I said it.  Having honestly admitted that they do exist on actual public roads I’m going to go back to hatin’ them.

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You Didn’t Build That

Hat tip to Garage Logic.

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Tinfoil Hats And Federal Reserve Law Enforcement Officers

The problem with being paranoid is you might be right and therefore not paranoid at all.  This really takes the fun out of things.

Case in point, “fiat currency”.  In a sane world you’d just have “money”.  Money makes sense.  Why?  Because hauling around a bushel of soybeans to trade for a case of PopTarts would suck.  I’m happy with the idea of a medium of exchange.  Unfortunately I’m not so happy with the concept of “fiat currency”.  “Fiat currency” is the technical term for little slips of paper (or numbers in accounts) that have no value whatsoever other than a governmental blessing.  The only reason I can use cash to buy cookies or cocaine is because the Government says “these slips of paper are totally awesome and nothing like that ream of paper you just bought at Office Max”.  There’s one other part of that belief.  If the people (en masse) start thinking currency is just paper… it’s game over.

Fiat currency is an impolite phrase.  Nobody likes it.  It’s something you’ll never hear uttered by most Americans.  It also sounds silly right up to the point when it doesn’t.  Like now.  The debt is $15,981,575,234,553.39 and during bailouts in the last few years “totally awesome pieces of paper” have been created in such number that the Government couldn’t even physically print them.  Not that they didn’t feel like it.  It’s simply not possible.  Even if you get a discount on cheap photocopy paper and have oh I don’t know… big bunch of factories that make money there is too much imaginary money to print it.  When dollars are wished into being so fast that physically representing them on paper is impossible I get nervous.  This makes me sound paranoid when I get together with the family for Thanksgiving.  It’s tough being a Curmudgeon.

Even as I write this I realize that at least one other tinfoil hat wearing American will see the flaw in the above paragraph.  You see I referred to the U.S. Mint as the Government’s big bunch of factories that make money.  Other people who think too much about fiat currency  (and therefore at least sound paranoid) will surely note that mint only makes coins…which are only good if you want to buy a soda at a vending machine.  All the paper money is represented by Federal Reserve Notes.  They’re made by the Federal Reserve.  Who cares right?

Well there’s this part about the Federal Reserve being somewhat independent of the U.S. Government.  Don’t trust me.  Here’s what Wikipedia says :

“…the Federal Reserve is independent within government in that ‘its monetary policy decisions do not have to be approved by the President or anyone else in the executive or legislative branches of government.'”

I can quote more authoritative sources than Wikipedia but if you’ve read this far you already knew it.  I don’t see why my savings should be denominated in slips of paper that can be invented (it’s not even necessary to print it) by people who answer to darned near nobody and can tell the President and both houses of congress to kiss their ass.  It’s as if you renamed “Big Donny’s Pizza” into “Federal Pizza” and started making imaginary pizzas…and I had to eat them.

Of course none of this is new.  We haven’t been on the gold standard for years and the Fed has invented money out of thin air since then.  This is why stuff that you’d buy for $1 in 1913 costs about $23 now.  (You can have fun with inflation… I just picked that as a random example.)  There’s no law that says you’ve got to print money until dollars are worth less every year for decades on end.  It just seems to be how things go.  I suppose the ability to “invent” money is as hard to resist as the power of Sauron.

Why mention all this?  Because I wanted to list a few things that:

  • Are true.
  • Don’t sound true (even though they are).
  • Sound really paranoid when you discuss it (even though they are true).
  • Freak me out.

There’s something else that is true and yet sounds nutty. The Federal Reserve, which is quasi-independent of the Government and can hand me a pinecone and tell me it’s a $50 dollar bill if they wish… have their own police force.  They are called Federal Reserve Law Enforcement Officers.  They’re a relatively new thing; they were created following September 11, 2001.  They have cool badges and guns and all the groovy stuff you’d expect.

You’ve got to be kidding me. A police force that doesn’t answer to the president or anyone else and employed by a system that can invent it’s own money.  Am I the only one that thinks this is a bad idea?  Also why should a bank to have it’s own police force rather than using something like Federal Marshals?  What’s next?  Should WalMart have it’s own Air Force?

So far nothing has become of it.  Still I think it’s a bad thing.  Does it make me hopelessly paranoid?

Also if you already knew about this… do you freak people out at Thanksgiving?  Just askin’.

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Trying To Make Peace With The iNinjas

I carefully evaluate technology before embracing it.  Wiser men than myself have warned that it’s better to think things over a bit before swigging a New Coke, using a fancy derivative in your investment portfolio, or buying the first Betamax on the block.

This isn’t to say I’m anti-technology.  Technology is great stuff that keeps us from hunkering in caves and dying at 35.  I wouldn’t want to live in a world without automatic drip coffee makers, antibiotics, telescopic rifle scopes, or word processors.  But I am definitely technology suspicious.  You have to identify when technology is shit served up on a platter of false hope.  For example; mustard gas, the Chevy Volt, non-dairy creamer, the AMC Gremlin, Hot Pockets, and (unforgivably) “Nader alarms”.

This brings me to pad computers and especially the iPad.  As a first strike against it, the iPad comes from the spawn of Satan; Steve Jobs.  (He’s not dead you know… he’s a disembodied nerd/spirit running Apple from the “cloud”.  Always ready to deflower any fool who can summon him with incantations and a black turtleneck. ) Like Mephistopheles’ deal with hell, Apple’s iPad seems like a fools bargain which “frees” you from the ability to control your own machine.  Plus you can only keep the iNinjas at bay if you keep Apple’s presence in your home to a minimum.

In fact I’ve so far pigeonholed iPads as the most useless idea this side of an internet enabled refrigerator.  (Unlike the Kindle which has battered my reluctance down and taken over half my library.)  iPads seem to be a computers which are incapable of… well… computing.  Nobody composes literature (even bad poetry) on one.  Nobody uses one to do their taxes, tune a fuel injection system, or calculate ballistic coefficients.  It’s a dumb terminal for the “cloud” that happens to play angry birds and look cool.  Thus I’ve associated iPads with irrelevant teenage bimbos maintaining Facebook personas.

Today I got a different view.  I was in the local grain elevator.  I love grain elevators.  They’re the most classic of timeless American institutions; a combination of free enterprise, important services to society that are masked in obsolescence, and total obscurity.  Plus they sometimes explode.

The grinders are huge American metal devices which are twice my age and have more mass than a Buick.  (I’m talking about Buicks made back when the door alone felt like battleship armor.)  The floors are wood and well worn.  The ramps are gravel and large enough that you can drive your tractor (or farm-semi) inside.  The siding is equal parts faded sheet metal and dry rotted planks.  The lighting is old incandescent bulbs (suck it Al Gore!) encased in protective glass containers that look surprisingly like Mason Jars.

It is also a haven of capitalism.  Prices are listed on a blackboard.  They change daily.  In fact the blackboard looks suspiciously like what I’d expect a bookie would have in 1950.

Plopped in the middle of all this decrepit and aged Americana was a decrepit and aged farmer.  He looked less well dressed (and less modern) than these folks:

As always, thank you for your support.

But far more intelligent than these folks:

I’m Larry. This is Darryl and my other brother Darryl.

He was parked on an old truck seat with his feet on a coil of bailing wire.  He was ignoring me.  (I was the only customer he’d had in hours.)  I expected lousy service.  All real grain mills pride themselves on poor service to rival the most obtuse pierced wonder at Starbucks.  It’s a rural hazing procedure.  Plus old people don’t move fast and who the hell hurries for cattle feed anyway and the damn kids these days and the price of diesel is caused by those jerks in Washington and the new seed is shit and…  Yes, moving slow and complaining is a form of art when done well.

Sadly, he was staring at the glowing phosphorescence of a *$%#@@$ iPad!

Oh no!  They’d gotten to him.

Then I peeked over his shoulder and saw that he was carefully reviewing grain prices and a weather map.  He had a string of numbers in a piece of paper and he was staring at the weather map as if willing it to predict the future.  (For those of you who don’t know…the futures market at this level is practically gambling.  Despite what you hear during testimony about Federal subsidies, farmers sometimes take huge risks in anticipation of huge gains.  He was pondering what I presume was a high risk / high reward bet.  Amusingly he was looking at weather stats from another state.  Probably wondering if their weather had hosed them enough for him to hold out on his local harvest.)

Data heavy high-risk calculations by an overall clad, red state, elevator operator, in nowheresville?  On an iPad.  This was not Angry Birds!

I have backed off my earlier assumption that all things that go though an iPad are fluff.  Now I see them as 99% fluff and 1% real decision-making power.  Cool.

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Washington Post Encourages My Bashing Of The Volt

For a while I made a hobby out of bashing the Chevy Volt.  Was I shooting fish in a barrel?  Yes; if by “shooting” you mean “detonate with a nuclear bomb” and by “barrel” you mean “area of ideologically driven blinders” and by “fish” you mean “unsupportable assumptions”.  Was it pointless?  Yes!  (Since when does it do any good to point out the emperor is wearing no clothes?) Do I care?  No.  Volt bashing made me happy so what other reason did I need?

Eventually (in March 2012) I decided I’d beaten the dry earth where a horse once stood for too long.  Every person on earth had either figured out the Volt was an expensive bust or they were unteachable.  (Also I had baby chicks to raise; a far more important task than watching politics.)

Here’s a list of various rants I spewed forth about the lamentable wheeled horseshit produced by planned economy misfits in my country.  The list might be incomplete and it’s definitely out of order.  I work for free so you get the quality you’d expect.  Here goes:

What interests me is the media is slowly getting with the program.  I called off Volt bashing in March and but the Washington Post has looked past Obamas halo to write about it in September.  Well done gentlemen.  I refer to GM’s vaunted Volt is on the road to nowhere fast:

“No matter how you slice it, the American taxpayer has gotten precious little for the administration’s investment in battery-powered vehicles, in terms of permanent jobs or lower carbon dioxide emissions. There is no market, or not much of one, for vehicles that are less convenient and cost thousands of dollars more than similar-sized gas-powered alternatives — but do not save enough fuel to compensate. The basic theory of the Obama push for electric vehicles — if you build them, customers will come — was a myth. And an expensive one, at that.”

A final note to folks who haven’t hear my Volt screeds.  I have no problem with electric cars (in fact I’m pissed what passes for one because I had such high hopes).  I do, however, have a problem with shitty cars.  I also have an uncontrollable urge to take a meat cleaver to the perversities of a command economy especially when they take root in my country.

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This Fisherman Won’t Take The Bait

Warning: Political Content.  You are encouraged to ignore it.

Every time I go on an extended wilderness trip and/or disconnect from communication (which is more often than you’d think) I’m hesitant to go back on the grid. As I said in Off Grid I:

The dark side of “off grid” is going back “on”. Sometimes I come back “on grid” to discover people have gone full Technicolor stupid in only a few days. I’ve returned to crashed markets, exploded shuttles, the O.J. Simpson murder, and discovering countries nobody cared about when I left are an undeclared shooting war in our “vital interest” on my return.

Which brings me to the thoughts of a few days ago.  It was dawn and I’d just eaten an excellent breakfast of broiled fish and hot coffee.  (I make excellent coffee while camping and make sure to season it with a heaping dose of whiskey.)  The skies looked clear and inviting.  I suspected the fish bite might come back for a last hurrah by noon’s light.  I was rested, relaxed, and smelled like a man who hadn’t taken a shower in far too long.  All was well with the world.

Alas it was my last morning.  By sunset I’d be in my truck.  By midnight I’d be 300 miles away, in a different state, time zone, and universe.  Parting is such sweet sorrow.

Also; what had “they” done in my absence?

It’s an election cycle and the incumbent is as desperate as the challenger is uninspiring.  Nobody in power would benefit from the dog days of summer winding down in peace and harmony.  Something had surely gone down.

A mass shooting with the attendant police state expansion?  That didn’t seem likely.  A company I never knew suddenly too big to fail and the attendant little death by auto-erotic asphyxiation of what’s left of the economy.  (Think AIG and GM.)  Nah, that seems dated and both parties are whistling past the graveyard with debt.  Gas prices spike and everyone loses their shit?  Nope, folks have been pretty supine about gas prices in 2012.  Occupy Wall Street?  Nope, I once thought they’d resurrect in 2012 but I was wrong.  A movement of losers, they seem to have the lasting power of New Coke.

Finally I had my guess.  War.  I fleshed out my prediction.  It would be somewhere that has produced virtually nothing important in a century… except oil.  Probably a nation of theocratic oppression.  First there would be civil unrest from people who have no rights.  Then they’d break shit and blame America for their tragically limited lives.  Then the guns would come out and both American political parties would collude to get us mired in another horseshit argument between rival groups of assholes.  America would be globally blamed for everything from the unemployment to the weather and people would somehow have lots of pre-manufactured flags ready to burn.  (Who sells the flags?  Do pissed off people keep stocks of American flags?  I certainly don’t have stocks of foreign flags handy for when I feel like rioting.)  It would have to be a really nasty place that hippies love.  The kind of dump where women wear Glad bags and gays get stoned while Berkley elites explain the moral relativism of their actions.  Obama, who is Carter without the sweater, would avoid Iran like the plague and Israel will eventually handle them anyway.  So I ruled out Iran as well as Afghanistan and Iraq.  Hmmm.  Syria.

I’d get in my truck, turn on the radio, and find us at war.  In Syria.  War in the middle east?  Somehow that’s less unexpected than AIG.

I hoisted my pack and set off to fish for a last few precious hours.

Back in town I turned on the radio.  The usual dog and pony show had indeed gone down.  In broad strokes my absence was marked by anti-American riots in Egypt and a Libyan ambassador beaten to death while the consulate burned.

I think I predicted reasonably close.  I’ll admit that both locations have a lower “women in Glad bags” index than Syria.  On the other hand neither of them has anything approaching freedom of press, religion, or much else.  Neither has produced anything of merit for decades.  (Can Libya manufacture anything?  Can Egypt export anything more complex than olive oil?)  Aren’t these the shining stars of the “Arab Spring” so lauded around the Prius and Whole Foods set?

I’ll also admit that we’re not doing Jack Squat about it.  (I hear Carter cackling in the wind.)  This happens to mean my “war” prediction was incorrect. Which is good news.

On the other hand there  are about 196 countries in the world and I almost picked the right one.  Shocking eh?  The world is roughly 25,000 miles at the equator.  It’s less than 700 miles from Damascus (Syria) to Suez (Egypt).  (Google happens think it’s insurmountable and route around the whole Mediterranean for 4,000 + miles.)  Geographically my error is 2.8% (700/25000).  Not bad for a redneck sitting on a rock in the wilderness.  The CIA could ditch their global operations and just buy me a coffee once in a while.

How could a clueless blogger call it that close?  Lets turn that around and ask, how can this surprise anyone with a pulse?

I have no special knowledge but even a moron can discern certain patterns.  Half of the pattern is a bunch theocratic douchebags that oppress people.  They have perfected  the successful gambit of blaming America (or Israel) for their manifest failures.  Their people, exposed to generations of propaganda, are buying it hook, line, and sinker.  Here’s a hint, if your cat barfs on the rug in Aswan (Egypt) and you think America (or Israel) is the cause, you’re an embarrassment to yourself and your society.  The other half are American elites (both parties) who make a living pretending that theocratic jackoffs are “moderates” and evil does not exist.  Here’s a hint; evil does exist and if you don’t accept that you’re useless.

Meanwhile the usual fools are playing their accustomed parts.  The press is emoting over whether a “riot” that involves RPGs and happened on 9/11 is “spontaneous”.  A hapless yahoo who made a you tube video has been dragged off in handcuffs.  Nice example of freedom of speech for Americans in their home country.  What’s your encore?  Talking heads meanwhile are getting the vapors with Mitt Romney speaking too “stridently” and it’s interference with Obama’s (awesome?) “diplomacy”.  Here’s a hint; when RPGs are involved diplomacy has failed.  Above all quit feeding me shit about a crowd dancing around a burning building (which they lit) and their heroic efforts to drag a mortally wounded ambassador to the hospital.  C’mon journalists, even in an election cycle you at least have to pretend to be serious.  Nobody drinks that much kool-aid and even my dog won’t buy it.

Take home message?  This is all theatre.  It’s tragic that anyone (including the ambassador) should die in violence.  It’s pathetic to imprison a You Tube “videographer”.  It’s pathetic to decide which speech is most relevant as the ashes of a consulate smoulder.  But no matter how sad the price to be paid, it’s all for show.

Don’t take the bait.  The shit shall flow deep for another few months and none of it will be real.  Keep the TV on a short leash and go fishing as much as possible.  And thank goodness we’re not at war.  I’m not sure how that happened but it’s good news.

P.S.  None of this taints the excellent fishing trip.  Thanks to all who asked because I had an excellent time!

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I Have Returned

I came. I saw. I fished.

This photo isn’t me. Also remember this kids; the surgeon general warns that corncob pipes should never be smoked when they’re bigger than your spleen.

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An Even Keel Is A Good Thing

Everything seems to be on an even keel.  Even, shockingly, politics.  Despite my “self imposed media blockout” I did notice that the MSM grudgingly admitted during the Republican National Convention that their sworn enemy doesn’t actually have horns and a pitchfork.  Nor has the presses pet party done anything too unusual.  An outbreak of reasonableness?  Nah…it’s just the last of the dog days of summer.

I have finally finished butchering the chickens and the woodpile is (almost) up to my standards of “attacked by glaciers” readiness.  An outbreak of efficiency?  Nah…it’s just the dog days of summer.

I’m rewarding myself by going camping.  I expect the nation to keep it’s shit together for a few weeks more (before election manufactured crises crank up) and am desperately hoping I don’t come back from the woods to discover some company I never heard of is now a subsidized cornerstone of the whole economy (I’m looking at you AIG).  It’s possible.  Even likely.

While I’m camping I’m going to have one and only one thought about politics; “as of today nobody really knows who will be president next year”.  I’m happy that we have contested elections.  Even if we have to pick between a socialist and a walking coma at least the outcome is not pre-ordained.  Is that not awesome? Go America!

That thought will last about ten minutes.  The rest of the time I will have forgotten the outside world exists.  There’s nothing like a fishing pole to put the world in perspective.

See ya’ all (figuratively) when I get back.

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You May Take The Day Off

…and surf elsewhere because I’m too lazy to blog right now.

I burned all my energy butchering chickens and it’s nap time for me.  I suppose my muscles will ache less knowing it was a worse day for the chickens than it was for me.

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