My Poor Baby's Cousins

Mortality Tables
new 5/13/03
Today I got two letters asking if cam failure is inevitable or abuse/neglect related. I would remind all owners that this is a design defect which has so far effected each and every year and in very large numbers.
Based on rather sophisticated modeling our best estimate is that by the end of 2002 about 77% of V8SHOs have experienced cam failure. By the end of 2003 we project 86% of V8SHOs will experience cam failure. This is a confirmation of my worst fears based on the recent sudden drop of reported failures. When do Sharks Quit Eating?
Our reports are that Ford has been out of engines since last summer, We have also received a lot of reports of folks getting stiffed by Ford even if they have a warranty. What We Know, What Ford Does Not Want You to Know, & Who Is To Blame.
We once thought that an owner should experience a ticking noise for a month or 1,000 miles before a cam lets go. We since learned not to rely on that. We then assumed that every cam failure is at least preceded by some audible warning, That is not the case:
"BTW, for those SHO owners delaying the weld, please consider this. The sprocket on my back exhaust was loose and had moved about 1/8 inch. Absolutely no noise yet. I'm a very lucky guy and I truly do appreciate that fact. " - FPS Cam Weld Experience
We know that about 1,000 V8SHOs have welded cams which should never fail as long as the valves don't stick. We now know that about 21,000 V8SHOs were made. What we don't know is what percent of the V8SHOs with cam failures are repaired and back on the road. Certainly an owner is more likely to repair an engine when the book value was $20,000 than when it is $6,000 or less. Based on informal estimates I suspect only 50% - 25% of recent cam failures are quickly repaired.
If we do prevail in our class action lawsuit it may be in 2007 or later? How many owners will then take that compensation and revive a SHO that has been parked for 4-6 years? We know this, the vast majority of V8SHOs with stock cams have failed or will fail soon to the complete indifference of Ford. Reptiles and ants make better parents. If you have a V8SHO and the cams have not yet failed I can tell you of the guy I know with 190,000 miles before he got the ticking noise. But I could also tell you of 3 cam failures before 25,000 miles and that the average cam failure occurs at 75,000 and that we think about 82% have failed so far. (not that there was ever an aftermarket market for our cars). The target market for new V8 SHOs was 55 years old, now tell me 82% of near retirement owners abuse their cars?
Soon and very soon there will only be those who welded or pined their cams or the very rare exception. Hey maybe you are that lucky? I doubt it, and I am sick because soon our car will all but cease to exist. And Ford never cared, they knew and let it happen.
If you have a V8 SHO, weld it or you will soon lose it. It is that simple. See Folks Who Will Weld Your Cams. One can prevent failure at much less cost and trouble than repair or replace an engine. If you lose an engine and even if you one day get reimbursed by Ford it will never bring back the buffalo.
You need to do the 100k PM anyway, fix the burned rear main wiring harness and clean the butterflies anyway. Why not do it early and save your car too?
See Consensus Recommendation
Sorry to be the one sharing bad news,
Buford

Easter

Ok, honestly, what is Easter to you? Would you rather be celabrating; God in human form who has defeated natural laws of life and death, or a fuzzy bunny? I'll pick the first, thank-you very much. I finally cleaned my (Nate's) car yesterday! I only did the interior, but I finally got the coffee off of the steering column. You know, the stuff that's been there since November. I even, maybe, got a little sun. I know it's not good for my skin, but I didn't get pink and it does a hell of a lot of good for my insides. I love the sun! Happy Easter! He is risen! Alleluia! (ok, enough exclamation points) !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (sorry)

3 Doors Down: Kryptonite

I took a walk around the world
To ease my troubled mind
I left my body laying somewhere
In the sands of time
But I watched the world float
To the dark side of the moon

I feel there is nothing I can do, yeah

I watched the world float
To the dark side of the moon
After all I knew it had to be
Something to do with you
I really don’t mind what happens now and then
As long as you’ll be my friend at the end

If I go crazy then will you still
Call me Superman
If I’m alive and well, will you be
There a-holding my hand
I’ll keep you by my side
With my superhuman might
Kryptonite

You called me strong, you called me weak,
But still your secrets I will keep
You took for granted all the times
I never let you down
You stumbled in and bumped your head,
If not for me then you'd be dead
I picked you up and put you back
On solid ground

If I go crazy then will you still
Call me Superman
If I’m alive and well,
Will you be there a-holding my hand
I’ll keep you by my side
With my superhuman might
Kryptonite
Yeah!!

If I go crazy then will you still
Call me Superman
If I’m alive and well, will you be there
Holding my hand
I’ll keep you by my side
With my superhuman might
Kryptonite

If I go crazy then will you still
Call me Superman
If I'm alive and well,
Will you be there a-holding my hand
I'll keep you by my side
With my superhuman might
Kryptonite
Yeah!!

I think of Nate everytime I hear this (and yes, you are still Superman.)

Growing Apart

You see, there once were two little girls,
And these girls were very much the same,
And they became the best of friends.

They had pure hearts behind clear blue eyes,
And they had imaginative dreams stored in clear minds.

The one little girl would stumble,
And the other little girl would support her.
The one little girl would lose her way,
And the other little girl would open her eyes.
The one little girl would cry a tear,
And the other little girl would wipe it away.

The two little girls shared their dreams,
And confronted their fears.
They comforted each other in times of despair,
And they were the best of friends.

One day, the one little girl found her dreams to be crumbling,
And she looked to the other for support,
But the other little girl had turned into a woman,
And dreams were empty hopes to her.

The one little girl could no longer see the right path,
And she asked for assurance in what was right,
But the other little girl had become a woman,
And her footpath was paved with eggshells and glass.

The one little girl cried a river,
And she reached to the other for a dry shoulder,
But the other little girl had abandoned her childish fears,
And her shoulder was drenched with the sorrow of a woman.
Her arms surrounded the world in the raw,
And justified their careless bloodshed.
She no longer had the strength to spare.

The one little girl still held this woman as her friend,
And she saw the hurt in her clear blue eyes,
And she did not understand.

The one little girl offered her love to her friend, who was now a woman,
But her friend needed more than she could get.
The one little girl saw that her friend would never be happy,
And she was very much like her friend,
And the one little girl could no longer find a reason to be happy.

Taproot: I

I am seeing tunnel vision in a world thats dark and cold, I cannot believe how much I've changed since the days of old, I know it's temporary but I need to focus straight, I cannot believe I lost control of my fate, I need forgiveness from the people I truely care about, I need support behind my back to help me spit it out I am gonna win, I can't afford to blow this one, I hate myself sometimes, I love myself, I need this way of life because it holds me. contradictions the way of life happiness is wealthyness is healthy now I've made it through those lies and deceit, I think whats done is done and I can't complain anymore i am sure, now that I've found myself again it feels great I can't believe I'd lost control of my fate.

************************************************************************************


How can I take control of my fate? How can I direct my life through God and all that is good, and ignore all that is evil? Sometimes it is so hard to decern what is good and what is bad. I guess that's what's so hard about getting older; not everything is 'yes' or 'no' anymore. You have to learn to adapt to having grey, not just black and white. It's so frusturating! I like everything to be clear cut and have straight lines and set bounderies. I like that comfort of being sure.

I have once again been reminded why I don't want kids...

I'm with Cassie (Yea!) and we/she are babysitting at this one place in this one city. They are really not bad kids, but they are crazy! I'm also trying to write a paper, which is totally not working. It's a bad subject anyways. I'm supposed to define a role that I have been in or am in. How stupid is that? go against everything I've been taught and stereotype myself to fit in a box. Arrrggguhhhh! I am going to get a new pair of jeans (actually only one, isn't that weird how we call it a "pair"?) tomorrow or the next day so I can wear them to the concert on Saturday. I'm so excited! I'm also really excited to go to Vierginia. I'm still hoping and praying that my Mom will say yes. I came up with a revelation, actually, not really, I'm not sure if it's true or not, but here goes. Why do I still think about you? Because I can't stop. Because I still love you, even if we have both moved on. Because everytime I do think about you, I realize there is one more piece of my heart that you still have. Because I realize that I may never get all of those pieces back...

Ya, I know you've heard it before...

The Serenity Prayer

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can;and wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time; Enjoying one moment at a time; Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace; Taking, as He did, this sinful worldas it is, not as I would have it; Trusting that He will make all things rightif I surrender to His Will;That I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely happy with HimForever in the next.Amen.
--Reinhold Niebuhr

largest volume airports (as far as human traffic)

1. Atlanta (Hartsfield-Jackson) ---- 83,578,906
2. Chicago (O'Hare) ---- 75,373,888
3. London (Heathrow) ---- 67,343,960
4. Tokyo (Haneda) ---- 62,320,968
5. Los Angeles International ---- 60,710,830
6. Dallas-Forth Worth International ---- 59,412,217
7. Frankfurt International ---- 51,098,271
8. Paris (Charles De Gaulle) ---- 50,860,561
9. Amsterdam (Schiphol) ---- 42,541,180
10.Denver International ---- 42,393,693
11.Las Vegas (McCarran) ---- 43,436,571
12. Phoenix (Sky Harbor) ---- 39,493,519

Do you ever scream for help, have it offered to you, deny needing it, refuse it, and then cry because you REALLY need help? It really only makes you angry, sad, frustrated, depressed and leaves everyone else with the same feelings and wanting to stay a long way away from you for a very long time. Speaking of long, check out my awesome run-on sentences. I really don't see a problem with them, but my english teacher does, and I get little "r.o." marks scattered all over the papers of mine that I thought were really quite good. Thursday, though, I will be able to crawl, kicking and screaming, to Metro. I really hate that I can not enjoy a plane flight. The thought of flying actually is appealing to me, but I have this annoying sickness that gets in the way of me having any fun. I wonder if they give complementary beer to sexy-ass girls with a sweet smile and a fifty. Depends on the guy I guess. By the way, if you are an Armenian waiter at Andiamo in Rochester; you have a voice like warm dark chocolate, which I can't get enough of. Can I pay you to talk to me? I'll tape it so I can listen to it in my sleep and in math class and when angry library patrons are yelling at me and I guarantee I'll be a happier person. Just name your price. I can't give any sort of commitment, though. I'm allergic to that. But I have lost all sense of self worth and self esteem. I have no regrets about going to school with no makeup in the same hoodie and jeans for weeks. Forget the smile too, that left when it heard my heart was taking residency elsewhere. Neither has written in a while. I think I've lost their address, and I don't know if they will ever come back to me. I'm not sure if I want my heart back, I think I should wait until I'm wise enough not to wear it on my sleeve or give it away to the first bidder. Does one ever learn this? I would like my smile, for I was just learning how to wear it. It was a little big for me to be comfortable with, but it spread happiness, and I think other people liked that, especially the guys. I don't think I know what a hot guy looks like anymore. They all disgust me and repel me with the scrolling "liar...promise breaker...user...Counterfeit..." on their foreheads. I seemed to have lost the want to flirt with such creatures. Maybe some of those Scottish blokes will woo me. I think I'll stay away from the Brits, but I could go for a Scot. Must have sexy voice, since most interaction will be via telephone. Or maybe I'll just erase that thought... I'd better start on next week's homework, I don't want to be working on it during spring break, that's why it's called BREAK. But wait, there's another meaning to that five-letterer. Time to consult Webster's. Thanks for enduring, you may leave my world now, I think the voices are calling me, they want to know how long I will make them listen to my crying tonight before I let them sleep.

Bleed-Cold

I'm feeling crossed
I take it inside
Burn up the pain
My thoughts are strange
Just like the things
I used to love
Just like the tree that fell
I heard it
If art is still inside
I feel it

I wanna bleed
Show the world all that I have inside
I wanna scream
Let the blood flow that keeps me alive

Take all these strings
They call my veins
Wrap them around
Every fucking thing

Presence of people
Not for me
Well I must remain in tune
Forever
My love is music
I will marry melody

I wanna bleed
Show the world all that I have inside
I wanna scream
Let the blood flow that keeps me alive

Won't you let me take you
For a ride
You can stop the world
Try to change my mind
Won't you let me show you
How it feels
You can stop the world
But you won't change me

I need music
I need music
I need music to set me free
To let me bleed

Passive-A Perfect Circle

To Eric

“Dead as dead can be,” my doctor tells me

But I just can’t believe him, ever the optimistic one

I’m sure of your ability to become my perfect enemy

Wake up and face me, don’t play dead cause maybe

Someday I will walk away and say, “You disappoint me,”

Maybe you’re better off this way

Leaning over you here, cold and catatonic

I catch a brief reflection of what you could and might have been

It's your right and your ability To become…my perfect enemy…

Wake up (we'll catch you) and face me (come one now),

Don’t play dead (don't play dead) Cause maybe (because maybe)

Someday I’ll (someday I'll) walk away and say, “You disappoint me,”

Maybe you’re better off this way

Maybe you’re better off!

“You fucking disappoint me!”Maybe you’re better off this way

Go ahead and play dead

I know that you can hear this

Go ahead and play dead

Why can't you turn and face me?

Why can't you turn and face me?

Why can't you turn and face me?

Why can't you turn and face me?

You fucking disappoint me!

Passive aggressive bullshit

My Selection for Prose Analysis in Compositon 101

The Flash of my Skirt
Excerpt from Astonishing Splashes of Colour by Clare Morrall
A Booker Prize Finalist

At 3:15 every weekday afternoon, I become anonymous in a crowd of parents and child-minders congregating outside the school gates. To me, waiting for children to come out of school is a quintessential act of motherhood. I see the mums- and the occasional dads- as yellow people. Yellow as the sun, a daffodil, the submarine. But why do we teach children to paint the sun yellow? It’s a deception. The sun is white-hot, brilliant, impossible to see with the naked eye, so why do we confuse brightness with yellow?
The people outside the school gates are yellow because of their optimism. There’s a picture in my mind of morning in a kitchen, the sun shining past yellow gingham curtains on to a wooden table, where the children sit and eat breakfast. Their arms are firm and round, their hair still tangled from sleep. They eat Coco Pops, drink milk and ask for chocolate biscuits in their lunchboxes. It’s the morning of their lives, and their mums are reliving that morning with them.
After six weeks of waiting, I’m beginning to recognize individuals, to separate them from the all-embracing yellow mass. They smile with recognition when I arrive now and nearly include me in their conversations. I don’t say anything, but I like to listen.

(Kitty explains a previous meeting with one of the mothers)

Our conversations are distinctly limited- short sentences with one subject, one verb. Nothing sensational, nothing important. I like the pointlessness of it all. The feeling that you are skimming the surface only, whizzing along an water skis, not thinking about what might happen if you take a wrong turning away from the boat. I like this simple belief, the sense of going on indefinitely, without ever falling off.

(Kitty starts to talk to the mother whom she met earlier)

Another mother is standing close to us with a toddler in a pushchair. The boy is wearing a yellow and black striped hat with a pompom on it, and his little fat cheeks are brilliant red. He is holding a packet of Wotsits and trying to cram them into his mouth as quickly as possible. His head bobs up and down, so that he looks like a bumble bee about to take off.

“I have to get back,” I say. “My husband will be expecting me.”
She smiles and pretends not to mind. I watch her walk miserably away with her two children and wish I could help her, although I know I can’t. She chose the wrong person. The yellow is changing. I can feel it becoming overripe- the sharp smell of dying daffodils, the sting and taste of vomit.

Away From the Submarine

What do you think of when you see yellow? What emotions does it stir in you? I believe that color can have a strong, but often unnoticed impact on our moods and emotions. This is why I have chosen a few paragraphs from my favorite book, Astonishing Splashes of Colour, by Clare Morrall. This is the author’s first publication, and was a Man Booker Prize finalist in 2003. This novel (especially in the excerpt I have provided) offers a perfect sprinkling of symbolism by color, an awesome balance of description, key word choices to draw the audience in, and subtle hints of an analogy.
Allow me to introduce you to Kitty, a thirty-something reviewer of children’s books who is married, but fills her lonely days feeding her obsession to replace her lost son. In the opening of this book, Kitty is passively participating in the “quintessential act of motherhood,” as she sees it, which is the dismissal of children from a school. At the closing of this paragraph, we are introduced to yellow. The first sentence of the next paragraph clearly states that this color is used to symbolize optimism. At the end of the seventh paragraph, it is likened to vomit, symbolizing a distasteful situation. When describing the fat little boy, he is wearing yellow and black, like a bumblebee about to take flight, with red cheeks.
Colors are not the only adjectives used in these vivid descriptions. The picture in Kitty’s mind of breakfast in the kitchen creates a striking still frame with the wooden table, gingham curtains, firm round arms, tangled hair, Coco Pops and milk. This scene gains a quiet life when they “ask for chocolate biscuits in their lunchboxes.”
There is a subtle analogy between Kitty’s estrangement with the other parents, and even her own concepts of children and adults. She views a child as more of an individual, but the parents as an “all-embracing yellow mass.” They are yellow like “the” submarine. The yellow submarine that comes to my mind is the one depicted in the famous song by the Beatles in the 1960s. Compare the “all-embracing yellow mass” to the self contained, comrade-like environment of the crew on the underwater vessel, somewhere far away from the hometown (Kitty?). As the song goes; “We all live in a yellow submarine….Everyone of us is all we need/sky of blue/sea of green.”
In the second paragraph, the children are described with detail so that you can see them in you mind, yet the mums (note the plural form) are added almost as an afterthought in half a sentence. Again, in the fifth paragraph, the mother is allowed only half a sentence; the boy is given the other three and a half sentences. Even though she is considered an adult, Kitty’s brain functions in a child-like way. When she does mention the adults, it is with a certain sadness. The mums and dads are yellow like the sun, but it is a deception. The sun is not yellow, she insists. So then are the parents and their happiness also a deception?
This deception becomes even clearer in the last paragraph. The mother whom Kitty is talking to pretends not to mind and walks miserably away.
Also note how, for the most part, sentences in this excerpt with a happier emotion are composed longer than those conveying a sadder, more negative setting. For example; “There’s a picture in my mind of morning in a kitchen, the sun shining past yellow gingham curtains on to a wooden table, where children sit and eat breakfast,” as opposed to “I like the pointlessness of it all,” “She chose the wrong person,” or “The yellow is changing.”
Clare Morrall’s use of color adds a refreshing life to this story. As Kitty moves through time, you can almost see her advancing through shades of color as well. Rays of yellow surround, and out glow her. The author really draws you in without you realizing it. You almost can’t help feeling sorry for Kitty; a fragile woman trying to fulfill her need to be a mother by waiting for her absent child to come running out of the school with open arms. She is trying to avoid any more attachments or loss: “….the sense of going on indefinitely, without ever falling off.” She is afraid of losing something, she wants everything to be ok.

My bro is number 2 (I'm behind the camera)

Smothered

Inside this skin,
I don't seem to quite fit in.
Being myself,
Sometimes requires a little help.
I don't fit the standards of this town.

My hair's too dark,
My skin's too light.
Please, let's not start.
Youre rules are much too tight.
I refuse to conform.

Open Arms

I am ready to shower you with love.
I welcome you with open arms.
You will be my pride and joy,
I will be your courage and strength.

You will fear no more, my child.
I will protect and guide you.
My voice will call your name,
You shall not recoil.

You may sleep peacefully now.
I will love you as my own.
You will learn to trust and live.
Come near and rest.

"R.K. On Death"

Take death for example. A great deal of our effort goes into avoiding it. We make extraordinary efforts to delay it and often consider its intrusion a tragic event. Yet we'd find it hard to live without it. Death gives meaning to our lives. It gives importance and value to time. Time would become meaningless if there were too much of it.If death were indefinitely put off, the human psyche would end up, well, like the gambler in the "Twilight Zone" episode. -Our Lady Peace

Me and My Jewel : )

The Beginning of a Great Memoir

Yea! I am starting another semester of school tomorrow. I can't wait. At the rate I'm going I will be going to Michigan State in Fall of 2008. Shazamm! I just really hope I get (if any) a good room mate. As long as we can stand each other, I'll be happy. I do feel , though, for some reason , that I am wasting time. I don't know why, I just feel like I should be doing more, or could be doing more. Have you ever eaten chocolate chip waffles at Waffle House at 11:00p.m.? Now that is a wonderful feeling. One of those times when you could have just jumped out of a bestseller on the front shelf at Borders or Barnes and Noble or something. It helps if you're there alone, which I was not. Or if there are a couple of truckers at the counter, which there was not. Maybe a tired, young couple wearing pajamas, which there was, but minus the pajamas. Ok, maybe a paperback at the checkout at Rite Aid.

Me, totally butchering Cannon in D in May of last year.