Erie, PA

Well! I guess everybody must have got lost on their way to Georgia Pacific. Sorry I missed you guys!

It's fine. Growing up, I was really insecure. That makes you brag, and "front" a lot. Also makes you self-absorbed. But I started reading some books on psychology, and listened to mommy, who told me to put myself in the shoes of those who abused me.

I evidently had an enate gift for empathy. It backfired, of course. I did see that they needed to abuse others because they felt insecure themselves...and it just pissed me off. I personally was incapable of cruelty, except the unthinking kind in a fit of rage. If I saw a certain look in their eyes, I sort of melted, and felt like shit for hurting them.

So why were these bastards who were trying to make me as miserable as possible so sadistic? Mom, I know you thought you'd make me a pacifist, but you just made me mad.

But I digress: Along the way, I learned from some really smart people that ego is more bad than good. Most people who we say are egotistical are actually quite the opposite. Anyone who is pretentious and "puts on airs" does so because he doesn't realize how obvious this is to other people; how silly they seem.

The reason they're oblivious to this is that when they look criticly at other people, they never pause to ask themselves: "Do I do that? Do other people see me like that?"

Anyone who asks these questions of themselves, if they have the courage, is forced into a critical self-examination. It can be very painful--seeing yourself as others see you. (Another mom-ism, originally from the Bible, I think).

And once you do that, you see the folly of ego.

Still, we're social animals, and hard-wired in many ways. A "pecking order" is, unfortunately, natural. The unthinking, reactive impulses which sometimes drive us are vestiges of a time not long ago when we pushed and jostled eachother for status in the tribe, or clan.

I learned that the most effective leaders, and respected people, evinced no pretense. Needed no symbols, or armor. They never pound their fists and shout "RESPECT ME!" In fact, they seem not to seek power, or status.

In fact, those who do seek power and status, as ends unto themselves, are those who deserve it least. These people, who float, like scum, to the surface through ambitious manipulation and coertion, are the worst thing that could happen to the people under them, or the group or organization they come to control.

BECAUSE, they DON'T feel a damn thing for other people. They don't respect other people. They want to micromanage everything, and can't delegate. They use force unneccessarily.

What's a good cop? A good cop is the guy who wants to protect people. What's a bad cop? A bad cop is a guy who went for a badge so that he would have power. The good cop will always automaticly do the right thing. The bad one will invariably abuse his authority. The good cop really hardly needs the badge. The bad cop hides behind his. And you see, which is best for his community?

So it is in every area. And this is all about ego. See what I mean?

Anyway, I changed my ways--somewhat. (As I've said, in many ways, I'm still a kid. Some of the things I remember writing and doing into my forties...I blush to remember them--and the fact that those who read or saw me do them do as well.)

Still, I'm light years beyond the insecure kid. Oh--but that reactive, reptilian demon still fights for dominance!

Why the hell don't any of you ever, ever, ever read any of this?

See how silly that sounded? "Waaah! RESPECT ME! Waaah!"

I suppose, this is good for me. Keeps me in check. A century or two ago, I probably would have been a mountain man. I wouldn't mind at all not seeing another human for years. Well...I reckon I'd have to make friends with some Injuns and git me a squah, heh-heh...

So why do I give a shit if everybody (except Juan, who has better taste) ignores me? I think that after awhile, catching myself getting pissed off at my family for not spending their time reading anything I write will sink in, and I'll stop caring, down to the reptilian roots.

Then I'll be free of it. Or something.

Well I should be loaded pretty soon. 700 miles by 1000 tomorrow, and it's almost noon already. Think I'd better see if there are errors in my logbook...okbye.

CLEVELAND

Well here I am. Where is everybody? Gee I thought they'd read my blog and want to see me!

I'm very hurt. Evidently, the selfish bastards don't realize how important I am! No--I know! They're just going to surprise me--that's it! I don't know how they're going to do it, since I'm behind a security fence, but that's the only logical explanation.

But I can't miss my beauty sleep, sitting here waiting, so they'd better hurry up. HEY GUYS! HURRY UP! That oughtta do 'er.

Meanwhile I'm soaking in the atmosphere, listening to 1100 am. The Injuns came close with Boston and Kurt Schilling, but lost...getting blatently hosed by the umps. Same old Cleveland! (the hosing part, I mean.)

HOTEL REVIEW: Raintree Inn (Best Western), Effingham, IL. Awesome, man! Park your rig right there, less than 50 yards from the hotel, the restauraunt, the LOUNGE, and the Petro Truckstop. Reasonable price. You get shampoo to swipe. You can ask for more and swipe that too. Breakfast includes chipped beef, fruit, and some other stuff I don't like.

The remotes work, and you don't need to be two feet away from the TV, like you do at one hotel that will never see me again. (I'm not kidding. I figured the remote needed batteries, because I had to get two feet away. The lady at the desk explained that it works fine from two feet away. As if that's perfectly normal. Then I went to a nearby truckstop for coffee, and on the way back this ugly bitch hollered at me and chased me down to ask for money. I started to say no, but she said, conversationally, that she knew that was my truck. (...and I'd hate to see anything happen to it because you didn't give me money, see?))

Nothing like that at the Raintree. AND (get this): Everybody speaks english, and is from America! Aint that wild, man?

And if you're nice to the barmaid, you can get smashed for about 15 bucks, inc. tip!

The restauraunt gives you the salad bar with the veal parmajan to go. These people don't know who they're messing with! I had to make sure to bend my knees when I put that container in my cooler, lest I throw out my back. Ate all day today. Man, the only way to beat the kid at a buffet to go is little micro-containers, or else by weight.

Yep. Crickets. Bet they're sneaking up on me now with a big cake and fireworks and stuff....

Okbye.

Effingham, IL

From HQ Little Rock, all they could get me was a load delivering tuesday in Cleveland. The idea is that at least I could get home. But then, I'm not allowed to drop the trailer. I thought about parking it and calling Gman for a ride, but decided to just hit this hotel enroute...which is next to a lounge and has truck parking...and kill time here.

My family's not close. That's not to say we dislike eachother, or that we don't like getting together. But we're sort of independant, and don't need constant phone calls etc. I think that for most familes, this is sort of a ritual which half of them dread anyway. So, basicly, it's no bigee.

Anyway it's tough for me. I have to get a lot of work done on my truck--to repair the damage resulting from my rollover. (I blogged about it, so I'm sure that everybody knows. NOT.)

This will take me down for several days. And I got hammered by the evil spirit in my truck which kept trying to kill it (or me) and cost me a fortune until about three weeks ago. (I hired an exorcist.) (Actually I figured some of it out and told the mechanics how to fix it. Disgusting.)

I got semi-drunk last night. Talked football with another driver. It was ok.

I was going to get an my tractor ABS valve, which is leaking (another air leak from hell), fixed here at the Petro. The part is only six bucks. Of course, they'd have to hire a cab to go get it for eighty buck. Well, that's ok too. And it would only cost me about eight hundred bucks.

The guy explained that he figured about three hours labor. I'd thought they charged 70 bucks an hour. I asked him when it went up to 240 bucks an hour, and he went into some nebulous spiel. Needless to say, I'll live with the leak until I return to Little Rock for the other repairs.

Anyway, I stay another night here, then tomorrow will motor on up to Cleveland, where I deliver to Georgia Pacific in Brook Park Road in the morning. My window is til 3 pm, but I always park overnight whenever I can, and get empty early. While I'm there, I'll check with them in person to see about a place to park a trailer when I do get home.

As it is, I have to drop a trailer in Springfield, which is 189 miles away. Bobtail up, and then back to the yard. 376 miles. 45 gallons. Eight hours.

Well, right now I'll bring my logs back up to date, hit the bar, come back, play some internet poker (last 5 one-table tourneys: Hold 'Em: 1st and 3rd. Stud: 4th. Omaha: 1st and 2nd. And now that I've actually said that, the safe will no doubt fall on me again, like it does every time I mention doing well. Dammit.)

I'll tell you one thing: More, and not less, luck slips in when there are four, three, and two players left. That's because it becomes far less likely that, for instance, and A7 suited, or a pair of nines--will get beat, so you raise them, and sometimes you'll bet nothing but a king high. And you can't just keep folding everything, because the blinds are too high, and you'll get eaten up.

The big money flies into the pot--you calculate a pretty good chance to come out the winner, and you take your shot. Skill still matters, but not nearly as much. An idiot who got lucky to get there with you is almost as likely to win going all-in with his stupid pair of dueces as you are with your Ace-jack...and you have to call with that.

That goes for Hold 'Em. It's a little less so for limit stud or Omaha hi/low pot limit. You can play smart longer in those games.

I really want to play Omaha straight, without the "low" crap, but nobody else will play it. That's because you actually have to be good to win this game, and can't get lucky with your garbage turning up a low hand. Also, many morons will raise the hell out of their A249, because they only need three of the five cards to be below eight...without pairing the ace or duece...to win a whopping 25-50% of the pot they just made sure would be as small as possible.

This sort of idiocy randomizes the game. It's like Bingo, or playing a slot machine. But it's the nearest I can get to real Omaha, which is my favorite game.

Well, okbye.

Rocksboro, NC

I got pulled off my load enroute to Opelika, AL. They said they needed help with a late load, and when they ask me like that, I do it. Another thing I noticed: "ASAP". That phrase means more to somebody who was in the military than it does to regular people. I kicked into overdrive.

Anyway, there was some confusion. I proceeded to the drop in Opelika, and, since you usually can't drop a trailer next to a stranded truck, I kept asking if I should drop the trailer at that stop once I'd unloaded. Uncharacteristicly, there was some confusion--I got sent on toward the other load with my trailer/current load. 28 miles out, I finally got a message: "Go ahead and drop your trailer at stop 1."

I had to turn around. But I'll get paid for the extra miles. I bobtailed about 120 miles and found the truck and trailer at this guy's house. It turned out that there had been some confusion as to the delivery time. The guy didn't have a house-phone, and I guess there was something wrong with his cellphone, because he was all set to run the load.

They had me go ahead and take it anyway. Which sucked, since it was a morning delivery, and it meant that I'd have to drive well into early morning.

Now here, a lot of drivers would say "I can't do it. I don't have the hours." And, per the 14-hour rule, I didn't. But you learn this stuff: A real pro just makes it happen. Know what I mean?

As a driver, you are responsible for your hours, see? Not your company. Your company tracks your hours via "macro's", or precanned messages you send daily through your Qualcom unit. You tell them how many hours you spent on duty the precious day, and of you get to seventy in an eught day period, they shut you down. That's the law.

As I mentioned earlier, most drivers are pretty creative, so the company also voluntarily uses the four thousand mile rule, which can't be defeated--although it can be maxxed out through timely use of the 34-hour reset rule...ok I'm sorry this is bow-ring.

Anyway, I just hammered it over here and found out they'd take me, so I unloaded early morning. The company is really happy with me now. It turns out that this was a new customer, and my early delivery helped us make a good impression.

I'll tell you, that makes me feel good. It validates my ethos.

Most drivers (like 9 out of 10) complain constantly. Many--though perhaps not a majority--do as I mentioned earlier. They tell the company "I can't do it. I don't have the hours." ...and the truth is, if I wasn't so happy working with these people, I would have also. But they give me reasonable loads, running me the way I can be most productive.

I'm rarely asked to deliver in unreasonably tight windows, and when I perform at a high level, I'm rewarded for it. So I made it happen. If there's anything I can pass on to my nephew, it would be that: If an employer or contractor treats you the same as the most unreliable, lazy, and uncooperative person around you, get out as soon as you can. And if they treat you well--reciprocate.

Gotta go.

The Situation

Every U.S. President, shortly before or after being sworn in, is briefed by his top advisors.

Understand first the real purpose of the Executive in this representative republic so carefully crafted by our founding fathers: His power is more or less co-equal to those of the other branches, and that is crucial. In this one individual is vested, by intent, enormously power.

The reason for this is that a true democracy is two wolves and a sheep arguing over what's for dinner. Representatives will, neccessarily, serve and answer to their own local consituancies first. They will compete (and make deals) with other representatives, forming blocs. They will attach riders to bills. They will trade favors. They will try to get re-elected, at any cost.

Their thinking tends to be rather selfish, and short-term. The Executive's first and foremost duty is the defense and preservation of this republic, in the present and the f u t u r e. That is, the whole country, and no specific community of any size.

This is important: The founders expected the Executive, once elected, to meet this obligation, even if it was unpopular. The Executive, if you will, is the ADULT.

This is because the Founders understood human psychology. What do you care about? Your paycheck. Your family. Your local community. YOUR everything. And check out the time-frame you think in: Basicly, your own lifetime. The Executive, by intent, cannot think that way.

More of human psychology: If it's not in your face, it does not exist for you. You might repeat, verbatum, stuff you heard or read about, projecting emotion--but it's a pretense. People dying, or whatever thousands of miles away, means little to you. It's allright--it's how we survived. It's normal. Overcoming it requires training and discipline--although many people, once vested with power over the lives of hundreds or millions, undertand inuitively that they must...put away the rose-colored glasses, and other childish things. (Too bad...many don't.)

And here's a little more: If you are well-fed, have a home, and are reasonably comfortable, and nothing "big" has happened for awhile, you assume that it will always be that way. Just sort of by magic. We are the most powerful nation on Earth, so nothing will ever be able to hurt us.

All of this is childish thinking. It's emotion-based. I has nothing to do with logic, or even common sense. Understand this.

You hear what you want to hear, and believe what you want to believe. You filter out whatever contradicts you. If you can't rationalize a rebuttal, you simply dismiss it and declare it dismissed. Reality is what is most comfortable.

The President of the United States MUST protect this whole country, now and in the future!

..at least that's what he's supposed to do. FDR was handcuffed for too long by public opinion. We know the result. At least he wanted to do the neccessary thing. But as you see: "You aint gonna send MY son over there to die for those people! What they evah done to us?"

Now, part of the briefing I mentioned earlier is called a "Threat Assessment". In a future Blog, I will synopsize two of them. The first will be the ones which every U.S. President got since before the Carter Administration. The second will be the one GW Bush got before 911.

This intro was simply to point out some oft-ignored facts about the President and his role, and the selfish and child-like nature of much of the population.

Nothing here is aimed at you. Please step back from your gut reaction and examine the statements made, as if you are out of that loop. As if this is another country. You'll see that nothing here is even debatable. Reality. Please.

Montgomery, AL

Wow! Usually, when one of us goes to Laredo, we have to sit in queque for at least 18 hours, but I got assigned within one hour. A LONG one, with two stops.

I didn't have the hours. Getting here puts me over 4,000 miles. This is as far as I could get, using black holes and adjusting for my odometer errors, and I had to get here 12 hours before I arrived. (I had a dream in which I slept at a rest area 65 miles south of here, but of course that was just a dream, as my log will prove.)

I'm 60 miles from my first drop. I'm supposed to get there before 3 pm tomorrow, then go 900-odd miles up to Wisconsin to deliver at final. All this is illegal as it is, but I am insideously diabolical.

I'm glad that I got here last night, since that means that 34 hours from then, I can reset (zero out) both my miles and hours. So, at about noon, I make the drop, and have plenty of time for Wisconsin.

DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME.

A few days ago I got up to Fort Smith and got my tax stuff to my new tax-lady (who turned out to be a real babe, which I didn't dare mention.) She was quite unpretentious and open, and I really appreciated it. She also had a few questions for me, which--when I stuttered--she said "I'll get that from them".

Now THAT was cool! One of the reasons I tried to duck this in the past was the fact that the last tax person I talked to expected me to do damn near all the books for myself. In an earlier incarnation, I had to go to the IRS website, find a rule, and fax it to my "tax professional" before she'd believe that I didn't owe over THREE GRAND for an insurance settlement!

I mean, I could do this myself, but am just too lazy. The whole REASON I need a pro is because I don't want to mess with it. I would have had to dig and study for several hours, probably, to learn what I learned from this cool lady in about ten minutes. I don't even know what she'll charge me yet--didn't bother asking. She's GOOD, and will keep me off aspirin and pepto-bismal.

The company charged me a hundred bucks to print out and mail to her my detailed records. I dumped my quarterly reciepts on her desk. I found out that I'd driven over 156,000 miles, and told her.

The bitch of this? I gotta pay sixteen percent in damn SSI! So clearly, I need to incorporate, or maybe bury a big amount in a 401k--I mean, I don't want one thin dime going to SSI. The communists will never permit market-based SSI reform, which is the only way to save it.

They won't permit it because they know what those investment dollars would do for the markets and economy, and know that it could prove how vastly superior free markets are to government-run social programs. They need helpless, dependant people. It's their power base.

How do they know it would work? PERS--THIER retirement system!

But I digress. I took this opportunity to get a tax-deductable hotel room. I'll watch TV and play internet poker til check-out time. My truck is 50 feet away. Did my laundry. Recharging the old batteries.

A Jim Kerry comedy is on. A motorcycle cop gets no respect because he's a wimp. Then he explodes, and his alter-ego kicks ass. Something like that happened to me. My mother was a pacifist. 'Nuff said.

Laredo

My company does a lot of traffic between the US and Mexico. We bring our trailers here to drop them at distribution centers. These centers then dispatch the trailers to Mexican drivers, sometimes unloading them, and re-combining loads in the process.

Gottaloadwill continuelaterokbye