Monthly Archives: June 2006

Fair and Open Competition…

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There are few things that strike more fear into the hearts of government employees than the thought of falling under an efficiency study conducted under the guidance of OMB Circular A-76. “A-76” is government parlance for what the private sector loosely refers to as “outsourcing.” In essence, the private sector is given the opportunity to bid on work that is traditionally performed directly by government employees. In a fair and open competitive environment, both government personnel and the private sector are given an opportunity to create a more efficient performance model. On average, each competition generates a cost savings in real dollar value of between 25-40%.

The point is to save taxpayer money and minimize the cost of government overall by making operations more efficient. Yet government employees and unions are abjectly horrified by the though of these competitions. It seems that the competition of the open market is good enough to form the basis for the global economy, but not good enough for the government that sustains that market.

I cannot argue that some individuals are economically hurt by these competitions. I myself may be one of those displaced, and yet I can’t help but believe in the fundamental nature of the free market to create a better product or service than a closed system. The great achievements of the last century have been driven by the market economy. Why are we afraid to turn this mighty effort towards embracing more efficient governance as well?

Shifting my flag…

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In the age of fighting sail, an admiral’s headquarters was identified by a unique banner or pennant, his flag. Hence we have the terms: flagship and flag officer. If the ship were holed or too damaged to stay in the fight, the admiral, and his flag, would be transferred to another ship. In that way, flagship refers not so much to the physical vessel, but to the high-ranked personage aboard. When the fleet returned to port, the admiral’s flag was shifted ashore.

While I’ll make no claim to be a high ranked personage, I am shifting my flag for at least the next two weeks, I am taking this show on the road and will be back in my home-away-from-home at Winchester, Virginia. Same great posts, new geographic location. Possibly even better posts because the group I will be with provides some of the best grist for the mill.

Gimmie Fever…

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I’ve got the fever… a disease that only spending $30,000 on treatment can cure.

I want a new car.

I made the mistake of test driving the new Mustang convertible last weekend. It wasn’t my fault. I was going to Best Buy and the dealership was right next door and they had a pretty red number sitting right there out front. I mean, it couldn’t cause any harm just stopping in and kicking the tires, right?

The minute I sat down, I knew I had the bug. A 300 horse V8, enough head room even with the top up, trunk space for golf clubs… and then I took the top down. All I can say is that it is truly a car to be “seen” in. Old people, little kids, guys driving the family minivan, all cast sideways looks. Some are brave enough to actually risk being noticed themselves and actually turn to see things full on.

My salesman had obviously played this game before and egged me to “let it out a little more” in the turns… to see what she could “really do.”

The worst of it is I don’t even want to get rid of the Jeep. This is a pure case of lust… just wanting a taste of a little strange. There’s nothing wrong with that, right?

Beautiful Day…

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I was flipping through the XM channels during my drive this morning and landed on one of them playing U2’s “Beautiful Day.” There’re communists, but even so, I do tend to like most of their tunes. When something rapish followed up, I switched over to Fox News Radio in time to catch the “breaking report” that al-Zarqawi had been killed in Iraq overnight.

The score so far, for those listening at home:
• 1 international terrorist leader killed
• 2 countries liberated
• 1 nuclear weapons program surrendered
• 1 religious extremist government toppled and on the run
• 1 megalomaniac dictator captured and standing trial
• 2 despotic sons killed

Our soldiers and airmen proved once again that the United States has produced the best trained, best equipped, best fed, and most highly educated warriors in the long sweep of human history.

It’s a beautiful day indeed.

Better to burn out…

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I didn’t think it was possible, but I may have awarded the Asshat of the Week trophy too early in the week. As I was motoring towards my apartment following the two hour afternoon commute from hell, I noticed a plume of black smoke ascending from the end of the exit ramp. Coasting to a stop behind a gathering line of traffic at the top of the ramp, I has a beautiful view of one of our local gas stations. Sitting in the edge of the parking lot, about 15-20 feet from the pumps, was a car that had obviously pulled off the road. There was fire. A lot of fire.

Now, I understanding the engine compartment catching on fire while driving your vehicle is bound to be a traumatic experience. I also understand that you instinct will be to pull off and run like hell away from said potential fire ball. Instinct, however, should also warn you not to pull into a gas station and abandon you flaming fireball of a vehicle.

The sign at the pump clearly illustrates not to smoke and not to use your cell phone. It even spells out how to make sure that you ground yourself prior to using the pumps. It does not, however, stop to explain the danger of parking a flaming car in close proximity to a dozen gas pumps. I guess there should have been a sign.

I’m not even going to mention the half dozen upstanding citizens who were standing there pumping gas into their own cars, oblivious to the potential blaze of glory in which they were about to be vaporized. I think one of them was even talking on her cell phone. Tisk Tisk. She must have missed the sign, too.

A Fine Commute…

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I’d like to personally extend a heart-felt fuck you to the Asshat Construction Company that somehow managed to find a way to keep the Beltway closed until 6:30 on a Monday morning. What project manager decided that was a good idea? Did you somehow miss the eight goddamn miles of traffic that backed up while you were still on site? Did you think the massed phalanxes of headlights were a glowing tribute to your job well done?

Now, I understand the Wilson Bridge is a choke point on 495 at the very best of times. On weekends and during rush hour it has a tendency to become something of a slowly rolling parking lot. Oh, there was a detour; a detour in the form of shunting southbound traffic from a four-lane highway onto an exit ramp and then back onto the highway via the accompanying entrance ramp. Someone apparently forgot to go to class the day they were teaching traffic planning at engineer school.

I understand the company will be fined $50 per minute for the delay, for a whopping total of $4500. I could have a little more respect for this kind of punishment if the fine were even $500/minute. To a firm of that size, a $4500 fine is something akin to keeping $1 from junior’s allowance this week. Sure, he’ll notice at the time, but a week from now he’ll have forgotten about whatever it was that he had gotten in trouble for in the first place.

For those of my readers living in Western Maryland, I want you to imagine taking a drive from Hancock to Frostburg with the heaviest traffic you have every seen… I mean literally bumper to bumper, moving a few feet per minute with the occasional breakout to 5 miles per hour. Imagine this backup started at Rocky Gap. Now imagine that the cross-town bridge was closed and every bit of traffic from 68 was being diverted through downtown Cumberland and the Narrows into LaVale. Now imagine the total drive took you three hours. That should roughly approximate my morning.

Mr. Project Manager, congratulations! You’ve won the first ever Asshat of the Week Award. I’ll see you in hell.

The first birthday post…

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This was not the post I had hoped to write. The best of birthday rants I had been working on just didn’t read right, so you’ll have a brand-spanking-new rant for the occasion.

For the record, I hate birthdays. Actually, I suppose that’s not technically accurate. I enjoy other people’s birthdays, but am more ambivalent own. Congratulations, you’ve managed to keep yourself from becoming a former human being for another 365 days. Well done. It seems a little disingenuous.

While others celebrate the turning of another year with reckless abandon, I have almost always looked upon mine as a moment of pause. Time to take account and reflect on the works left undone, those not yet undertaken, and those that will never be. By the time Alexander had reached my age, he had unified an empire. Others stood on the cusp of their glory… Jefferson and Hamilton were about to make their mark on the Republic. When he was two years junior to my age now, Theodore Roosevelt published a seminal work on the naval campaigns of the War of 1812 and served in the New York House of Delegates.

My war rages on; one side bent on perfection, place, and prominence and the other to accept what is as good enough. I’ve lived my life in pursuit of what’s next while never being satisfied with the achievement. I’ve repeatedly sacrificed the personal on the alter of the professional. I cannot fault the results, but the price has been terrible in its own right.

I’ll not resolve these battles tonight, or perhaps ever. But each year, with the coming of June, I will be reminded, and I will ponder them afresh.