Back from Houston after a three hour “fifty minute flight.” I hate airlines. Hate them with the white hot fury of 10,000 suns. They have no compunction about loading 200 people onto an aluminum tube, only to push back from the gate and cut the engines to ride out the storms. You have to sit there and listen to the corny bullshit from the stews and the pilots while the temp rises and everybody starts sweating. I swear to God, I’m driving to any Texas location from here on out. I would have been home an hour earlier, and I would have been able to

• stop for a cheeseburger
• snarf a few tall-boys
• smoke cigars
• listen to my own tunes
• sing along out loud to myself
• make phone calls to people who need to hear from me
• stop along the road and fire up email

You tell me…any reason to keep flying to Houston, Austin or San Antonio? Absolutely NONE that I can think of. I spend 3 hours minimum flying to or from any of those places anyway, and that’s when everything is smooth as silk, which it just never is anymore, not on a round trip. One leg might be workable and businesslike, max, never two, and just forget a three-legged one. Guaranteed to waste a half a day…guarandamnteed. Plus, with driving, know what you get? NO IDIOTIC GOVERNMENT EMPLOYEES! No taking off my shoes, no listening to their stupid kindergarten puns, no having to hear how to get through the security line. Damn, I hate those people. I understand they have to deal with all levels of flying experience, but I’m sick to death of being forced to positively acknowledge that I know that I have to take my laptop out of it’s case. No shit, really? Four years in, and with the entire weight and force of the US Federal Government behind them, the people who built the atomic bomb and put a man on the moon, these assholes still require you to take off your sandals and put your laptop in a dishtub. When did we become so fooking stoopid, anyway? Hell, I’ll add years to my life just by virtue of not having to deal with that kind of mindless idiotic crap on one-half of my bidness trips.

Double-plus, with the new law, I get to carry my .45 in the truck. That always makes me feel better, having firepower to hand.

Gawd, I’m such a hayseed. I’m getting truck seperation anxiety.