Help Wanted - Citizen Journalists

No, seriously.

Pegasus News depends on contributions from its readers. Although our staff of professional journalists will cover traditional news stories, we know that our readers usually “know more than we do” and may want to share their expertise with the entire community. Therefore, we would like to give our readers a voice by allowing them to participate as “citizen journalists” who will submit stories, columns, audio and video on subjects about which they are most passionate.

Because Pegasus News will not be constrained by print space limitations, we have the ability to write about niche topics that traditional media may not cover. For example, parents will be able to receive stories and pictures from their kids’ youth sports leagues, and local jazz aficionados will receive regular articles about the local jazz scene. As a result, citizen journalists should write for an audience comprised of readers with a strong interest in a given topic. In other words, we are not seeking “surface level” articles written for a general audience. If you write about SMU football, we want in-depth analysis of gameplans and depth charts. If you write about the Frisco city council, we want detailed descriptions and analysis of the meetings.

If you are interested in writing, please submit to citizens@pegasusnews.com a writing sample, a description of the subject area you would like to write about, and a brief explanation as to why you are qualified to write about the topic. It is perfectly acceptable to say that even though you are an insurance adjuster, your true passion is rugby. It is also acceptable to write about topics in which you have a personal stake, such as politics or your industry, so long as that is clearly disclosed in the items submitted. Our readers will be able to comment on any Pegasus News story, so it is in all of our writers’ best interests to be open about their intentions rather than have a reader point out any hidden agendas.

Mike has, by far, the best thought-out model I’ve seen so far for this kind of endeavour.

Congress — Good for thee, but not for me:

It also recommends that certain categories of passengers be exempt from airport security screening, such as members of Congress, airline pilots, Cabinet members, state governors, federal judges, high-ranking military officers and people with top-secret security clearances.

That’s bloody well typical. And it bloody well better not be in the final proposal. Not when I’m schlepping the lines 10 or 15 times a month, earning the wages that pay the taxes that slop the government trough that these hogs have their snouts buried in.

I could rattle on for hundreds of words, but why bother?

Big Bill Quick calls them out:

You want to make sure there isn’t a single shred of support for waging the war on terror? Make it plain, then, that our lords and masters consider themselves too good to endure the hardships they order for the rest of us peons.

War on terror, good. Wanding six-year olds and bomb-sniffing their Sponge Bob backpack*, bad.

* Actual true-life story.

Why didn’t I think of that?

At the Ritz Carlton Lodge in Greensboro, Ga., they can enlist a BBQ Butler to help them choose from a selection of meats, smoke wood and sauces — and to fire up the grill as well. The price tag for the service? $245. BBQ Butlers are the latest addition to the expanding fleets of butlers at the Ritz Carlton and other hotels who assist with activities like tanning and bathing.

Charging for BBQ, that is. I don’t want to assist anyone with their bathing. OK, some I would, but I’d probably do that for free (and end up shot.)

Maybe. The risk is that if we are able to cook the books and make nuclear seem the best fix to sustain our insatiable habit for energy, this will turn money and attention away from incresing efficiency and conserving. The bottom line: we want what we’ve always had and more and don’t want to consider anything but growth at any price. Nuclear will allow us to get by another generation, perhaps two, with our gargantuan environmental footprint. And nuclear, of course, will not power our SUV’s or power shipping and commerce needs in ships, trains, and air transport.

Sorry, Fred, but I’m just not going to tell my grandkids that they are going to be required to learn to read by…what? Bio-diesel? Or maybe they should just give up the reading, since it takes tallow to make them candles. And just forget about getting out of this river bottom, unless you’re going to walk out.

I’ve never quite understood this insistence from the greenies that now that they have theirs, everybody else can just go hang. Mother Earth was ripped to shreds decades ago to provide the vast majority of resources required to get to this happy turn. And if I’m not mistaken, Fred still has a couple of fossil-fuel driven vehicles that help him get from there, with the woodburning fireplace and large garden and gorgeous creek, to here and put food on the table. So, until those trucks are turned into planters and the PC (and server it connects to) is running on bird-friendly wind energy, could we please stop the misery-shouting about our dependence on freaking energy? Everybody sucking in oxygen today needs it, and will continue to need it, and those needs are going to do naught but grow.

Damn, I’m cranky, but this kind of bullcrap makes me that way. Nuclear-schmuclear — might as well kill myself so that we don’t hurt Gaia any more. No putting your brain to it, no putting your shoulder to it…just sit there in the darkness. Crikey.

Uno:

As a result, EOG has drilled 18 wells in Johnson County this year, fewer than originally planned, according to Papa.

Even so, EOG’s Barnett Shale production is expected to average about 50 million cubic feet per day this year, down slightly from the previous estimate of 60 million cubic feet. EOG has eight drilling rigs working in Johnson County and one in Hood County.

Hmmm…50,000,000 / 18 = 2.8MM per well X 1031 (BTUs per cf) = 2,900MM BTUs X $7.647 per MMBTUs = $22,000 per day, per well. I think. If my math is right, and it almost never is. But if it is, the next story is why I’m slowly rapidly going crazy

Two-o:

Demand for drilling rigs, led by activity in the Barnett Shale natural gas field near Fort Worth, has caused a 10 percent rise in rig costs this year and will push rates up higher through the end of 2005, the chief executive of Patterson-UTI Energy of Snyder said Thursday.

“The demand for drilling rigs is as high as we’ve seen since the 1970s, and the heaviest demand is in the Barnett Shale, followed by the Rockies,” said Cloyce Talbott, chief executive officer of Patterson-UTI.

Patterson-UTI owns and leases 398 land-based drilling rigs, about one-third of all rigs now operating in the continental U.S.

The Barnett Shale has become Texas’ largest natural gas field, with about 90 drilling rigs operating in Wise, Denton, Tarrant, Johnson and Parker Counties.

The lack of Somervell County in that list is one thing, the scarcity of rigs is another. No pipeline activity on this side of the river that I know of is the third. I don’t think I’ll be able to relax until we start turning right.

Think it’s safe to say I’m officially an old guy. I read the business page over lunch instead of sports. I have a quick-link on my toolbar for the WSJ. I would have to search my bookmark file to find one for ESPN. In fact, I don’t understand what they’re saying on ESPN anyway…as in “That’s Persian he’s speaking, not English.” don’t understand. Anyhoo, the big stories:

• Contra John Weidner’s theory about bad names being bad business, Verizon is doing just fine, thankyouverymuch, and they’re closing in on Cingular. From a geek perspective, this is the Iron Cage Deathmatch of CDMA vs. GSM. Anecdotal note: my Verizon (CDMA) phone works in the middle of the Brazos River…customers with Cingular (and other GSM) knock on my cabin door all the time to borrow a phone. Anecdotal note 2: I was in St. Louis yesterday, yet another city served by BroadbandAccess (the Verizon EVDO offering.) Flight delays occurred (I know, dog bites man), yet I was able to stay semi-productive with emails. Sweet.

• IBM has released a new mainframe, the z9. It runs 60 partitions. It supports Linux (that’s not new). 60 freaking Linux images. Makes me wish I was still in a basement being a systems programmer, squeezing out efficiencies. But then I wouldn’t be running around using cellular wireless.

• Hola, mi Latino hermanos! Hispanic radio station is the biggest in Dallas. I gotta get my espanol from barrom level to workable conversation level.

But I did get to read the Sports Page…at least the first two pages. After the second mention of the ESPYs as if that bunch of circle-jerk baloney were something that is a real indication of actual sports meaningfulness, well, I gave it up. Especially when I saw the Page 3 headline that Joe Theeeeesmann was going to be on Monday Night Football. Good gravy. There goes another appointment with the teevee, right off the calendar. Oh, I’ll probably still watch, but I’ll hate it. That guy brings a big fat garbage bag of nothing to a broadcast.

Good news: Stars v. Kings on Oct. 5. Bad news: Kenny Rogers, camera-man hating hurler, grabs some pine at the house for the next few weeks.

Sorry for all those DallaSnooze links…I know their website sucks, but those are my notes. Seeya round like a donut.

As you may have noticed, increasingly-rare reader, output has fallen off here. I’m in the middle of the busiest summer ever in the history of TFG. Typically, July & August are barren wastelands of un-returned voice mails and un-replied emails sitting around in shorts and tank tops doing shots of whisky at 2 in the afternoon, face-to-face meetings restricted to lunch-time gabfests of golfing, fishing, hunting and what-have-you. Not so this year — not so far. Over the next three weeks, I will be in Houston, Phoenix, Denver, and St. Louie. Chicago, San Jose, and Seattle still need to be shoe-horned in there, too. I’m bloody well happy about this, as I detest the Euro penchant for vanishing off to summer estates and Spanish beaches in the summertime. For a while there, America seemed to be slipping into that disgraceful mode, and since it’s only July 11, it could still happen this year. For now, though, it seems we have our game face on. Being as generating wealth is what we not only do best, but do better than anyone else ever in the history of Ever, my cold, black capitalist heart sings.

The Tiny Bidness is suffering as a result of my relative inattentiveness, but that is naught but a holding pattern until somebody pulls their head out of their ass and builds a pipeline so that we can drill for the natural gas that the entire world wants. As I said to Sr. Fireant the other day, there is right now money laying on the ground and I’m trying to grow longer arms. As a fall-back, I’m undergoing surgery to put some metal rods in there. It’s killing me to see chances go by the wayside only cuz I gots no cash. It’s not like I have many prime earning years left as it is, so I’d kinda like to get it over and done with, one way or the other. Rich or poor, doesn’t matter to me. In-between and stuck in neutral is pretty damn sucky, though.

Man, am I glad the weekend is over (that’s the -EV part). Four 18 hour days in a row takes it out of you. I could use another 3-day national holiday weekend for profitability’s sake, but right now at this minute, I never want to see another member of the public again. I am truly fortunate that I have so many really good customers, but man o man — those piggish ones just sap you. If I have to pick up one more poop-filled diaper thrown down at the base of a tree, I might just snap. And the tube people — I’m having daydreams of double-tapping all the frat boys dropping their cans and plastic water bottles where they stand, like the whole damn world is their trashcan. I’m talking vivid Kill Bill-style blood-spurting mayhem daydreams. Oh, Lord, help me. All they really need is a year of Cub Scout meetings.

Tomorrow is a day off from my little day-job outfit. I’m super-glad about that. I’m staying an extra night at el rancho.*. I spent every nickel I had to buy this place, purely as a refuge, from the hustle-bustle of high-tech sales BS, of sorts. Then I went and turned it into a weekend job. Yes, look it up — “I” for idiot…you’ll find me there.

* I can’t wait to saunter into the diner for a nice, carby breakfast with hashbrowns and toast, and read the whole business page and the sports page, with no rush at all.

…+ more blah-blah. From the Wall St. Journal. Pretty good stuff about, as they call it, China, Inc.

I’m sorry if this bores the poker guys, the food guys, the political guys, the baseball guys, the music guys, or the guys who come to laugh at the hayseed. This is fascinating stuff that covers a pretty broad spectrum of my interests: energy, globalization, capitalism, geo-politics, Core-Gap, the American economy, sales tactics. Honestly, I’m surprised that everybody else isn’t captivated. But then, I always were a unique sumbuck.

Eric Seigmund talks about the CNOOC bid for Unocal.

Those of us who have been directly affected by corporate takeovers immediately recognize the phrase “seek to retain substantially all…employees,” which is generally code for “most of them are history.” However, Cnooc would presumably be more likely to retain employees than Chevron, given the lack of overlap with an existing employee base, especially in non-field personnel. Chevron has remained non-committal about its layoff plans, although it has already said that it would consolidate Unocal’s headquarters into its own offices.

Me, I just plain don’t want massive American reserves in Chinese hands, enriching the Chinese. There’s only slightly less of a worry with them in an American corporation’s hands, but I’ll take that.

And, yes, I recognize my hypocrisy, being an unfettered laissez-faire capitalist for the most part. I’m willing to be convinced that this is OK for America.

Of course, all this great bidness comes at great cost. I’m forced to fly more often. Flying has become such a soul-sucking, life-force-sapping, ass-whipping ordeal that I simply cannot wait to retire. The TSA is humongo freaking governmental bureaucratic waste of money. The airlines are dropping flights and packing the remaining ones to the gills. Airports pierce your eardrums with announcement after announcement after announcement, and then the tape starts over, louder. Giant lumbering belching buses stop and start up and down the curbs picking up and dropping off the stunned sheep. Passengers stumble around barefoot because the aforementioned TSA want to x-ray every single shoe. You get pitched $5 headphones in the air so you can listen to insipid edited crap from one of the teevee networks or some crap movie. Gate agents let people onto the plane with steamer trunks that wouldn’t fit in a seat, much less the overhead compartments. That’s after they snarl at you if you have the freaking gall to ask about a possible upgrade that you’d willingly pay for.

The TSA is my biggest gripe. Today, they decided to enforce a ban on cigarette lighters. Next week, it will probably be binder clips, or toe rings, or mullets. Who knows? Totally random. Gotta x-ray those boots, but not these. This week, sandals have to come off, too. Next month will surely bring something new and chaotic. The problem is there is no pro-activity and no consistency. I travel for a living, and I (try to) monitor the state of the State Security so as not to upset the apparatchiks’ apple cart. But a belt that sails through the gate at C29 in DFW will set off the klaxons at B5. So now, embarrassingly, I try to get as nekkid as I can. I’m changing clothes in filthy filling station bathrooms so that, where possible, I’m in shorts, a Hawaiian shirt, and freaking flip-flops when I roll up to the dimbulbs manning the gates. And they still “recommend” that they x-ray the flip-flops. Please. I also want to know when they’ll be able to identify a freaking laptop that’s still in a backpack. Those are x-ray machines, right? They can see through things, right? What is the point of taking them out and putting them in a plastic bus tub? Boarding passes in your hand, too. What’s the genius reasoning behind that? Making sure I didn’t lose it or change it in the fifteen feet since the last gal looked at it?

I don’t know what the answer is to this mess. It just seems like we’ve got idiots running the place, looking for ways to make people crazy, instead of finding ways to keep us safe. I’m not any safer because they force nice grannies who wear too much jewelry to disrobe, or make the Down’s syndrome kid take off his wristwatch because they set off their dumb metal detectors. Common sense, folks…try it, please, instead of memos from dorks in DC.

Yet another half-week in the Greater Phoenix area, making connections and doing some bidness. Tuesday was a late night with an extraordinarily large global manufacturer. Last night was a late night at the Casino Arizona poker room with a raft of partners, where I got sucked out on at least 100 times to the tune of a lot of dough. Lashed up some moving parts to kind of put together a nice partnership with an up-and-comer, too, that will keep me hopping for the forseeable future.

Casino Arizona was a decent enough room. They spread 3/6, 4/8, and 6/12. I heard them calling 10/20, 20/40, and 30/60, too. The dealer told me too late that they also had a 5-150 spread limit game going most nights, too. I was too far into the Amber Bock at that point to wade into those waters, but I would have greatly preferred that to getting killed in 3/6 no-foldem-holdem. At least four sets got snapped off, I missed a dozen open-ended straight draws, and only had one nut flush draw all night long (of course, that I missed, too). Two of the guys I took out there were total newbies at casino poker. One of them won his first six hands after we sat down and bought in, which made most of the table start talking to themselves. It was pretty funny, as it drove off at least two guys, the last one of which got wiped out on a freaking flopped boat by my pard. I re-learned quickly why I hate limit hold-em, too. I want a hammer to go after the two-out-hitting suck-out freaks. I wanted a real hammer when my Hilton Sisters (QQ) got cracked by 3 Ks, two of which came runner-runner to make a set for the guy in the black hat (starting hand: K5o). Grrrr. That made me talk to my self. Bah…I hate limit. I did avail myself of the $2.25 Country Breakfast of two eggs, hashbrowns, toast, and a slice of grilled ham the size of a hubcap.

I’m sure there are better rooms in Phoenix, but I didn’t have time to go looking for them. I definitely don’t have the gusto to play poker for 7 hours, either. I’ve got a bad case of hold-em knee right now from sitting for so long, and I was getting up every two or three orbits just to take a little walk. But — everybody had a good time, and we got some good solid bidness done, so I’m not complaining . . . very much.

Ford slashed its 2005 earnings outlook by 29%. The auto maker has been hurt by slumping sales of big trucks and SUVs

I noticed this evening that I just rolled over 60,000 miles in my 2002 F-150, and I’d love nothing more than to go buy a new one. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to pay the exorbitant price they want for a newish copy of the same model 3 years later. There ain’t nothing on it worth $10,000 more. I don’t need no damn DVD player, side-impact airbags, GPS navigation system, or 36″ spinner rims on a damn pickup. They started adding geegaws for urban yoots, hausfraus, and dashing young bankers from Upper Booho, and completely forgot about the dude who has to haul things around on occasion.

You can ditch those cheesy Toby Keith commercials and save some money, too, Bill Jr.

I like having a nice, new truck to pile my customers into to go out to lunch, but I really don’t do such things that much anymore, anyway. If I did, I’d go get a Lincoln. Always liked the Pontiac Bonneville, too, for that matter…kinda racy, ya know?

I just looked at my calendar for the Tiny Bidness, and I’m completely booked until May 20. I’d build another one of these suckers, but I’m worried about running my hands into the ground. We’re already on the thin edge of raggedy as it is, though. We get any bigger and I’m gonna have to start paying a wage, not just room and (some) board.

Speaking of board, I fired up the old barrel smoker and did a full brisket, and a beer can chicken. The hands will get most of that. They eat better than my wife and kids do. It’s their fault, though, since my kids and wife won’t eat anything that doesn’t come from a triple-sealed and flash-frozen cardboard box or in styrofoam that’s hand-delivered by Chinese guys.

Speaking of the old barrel smoker, it’s time to go pro, I think. This old thing was left here as a “gift”, and I’ve gotten three more seasons out of it. But now, more and more pieces are falling off of it, it’s leaking smoke around all the edges, and it’s a pain in the tookus to clean. A new smoker is the kind of purchase that requires much cogitation and research…it’s not something you jump into. I definitely want the kind with a seperate firebox that’s easy to clean. I hate opening up the lid to add more wood and letting the smoke out. I think I’d get better briskets by keeping the heat even more indirect. I don’t give a durn about grilling — I’ve got a little cast-iron hibachi that does a superb job of fixing up two steaks, or a whole cut-up chicken, or brats.

Speaking of brats, it looks like the stRangers finally get to have their home opener this coming week — on a Tuesday when I’m out of town, natch. I got to see some of the formerly-patented Ranger batting heroics yesterday, though, as they took down the hated Mariners of Seattle:

However, Hank Blalock and Richard Hidalgo each hit two-run homers off Eddie Guardado in the ninth inning to pull out a 7-6 win.

Sweet.

OK, then — gotta go fix the water heater circuit breaker…fun never stops here in TFGLand.

Yes, it’s early in the day, but my year has finally ended. With the finalization of negotiations, and the concomitant closing of the biggest deal to date for my day-job’s bleeding-edge product. Unless you’re a salesdork, you’ll never entirely understand the sweet, sweet smell of that December 31 faxed PO. If you are a salesdork, well — knuckle bump, baby, and triple martinis and stinky cigars at Kirby’s bar are on me.*

As far as this year’s amateur night goes, The Boy and his new bandmates are staying over (“Your mom’s so cool!”), so no wild-n-wacky adventures for us. I’ll probably just empty the ashtrays I’ve filled up over the last week. But here’s a good recommendation for ye: Dale Watson at Dan’s Silverleaf. Dale is kinda traditional country, which is never a problem for me. I hear tell he’s a great showman, too. We briefly considered making this show, but I don’t want to be anywhere near a road tonight. The cops have quotas, too, ya know, and I’m an easy mark for the Deputy Dawgs — big fat guy with a cigar, pick-up truck with a toolbox, NRA sticker, hot redheaded wife. Why take the chance?

* 13 months with no commission = a lot of stuff that has waited up to 13 months to get fixed, so no, I’m not out looking at new trucks. More like a new dishwasher and fix the icemaker. Can’t say the new King Ranch F-150 ain’t an eye-catcher, though…