Asshat vs. Asshat

Crowley vs. Gates. What a huge dick waving contest. Neighbor reports someone trying to break into a house. And that is exactly what Gates was trying to do. I hope my neighbors would do the same. Cop shows up to investigate. Instead of showing his identification politely and thanking the cop for trying to keep his house safe from burglary Gates takes offense and starts yelling and making accusations. I understand that blacks get fed up with some of the treatment they still receive, but pick your battles why don't you? Asshattery incident #1. I wonder if Gates' house actually gets burglarized in the future if the cops will bother to show up. So what was Sgt. Crowley's response? Once Gates identified himself Crowley seemed unable to realize that the major stimulus to Gates' agitation was himself. So instead of "Sorry to bother you sir, thanks for your cooperation." followed by a respectful exit, Gates gets arrested. Asshattery incident #2.

Now Obama gets involved and instead of the making the obvious observation that both parties were letting their endocrine systems overrule their brains, says that the police acted stupidly. Right now in the United States this comment is the equivalent of saying that water runs downhill. Nevertheless the statement was made. It might not have occurred to Obama but it doesn't take much reflection to realize that if there is some kind of altercation between a black man and an authority figure and Obama disses the authority figure it's going to be interpreted as racially motivated. So now we have Obama with his size 10s firmly implanted in his mouth.

Solution - all three are going to get together and have a beer. Right, next time you see a white cop and a black man calling each other names, just walk up and ask them to sit down with you for a beer. But since Obama is president the results are likely to be different. Namely, both parties are going to have to choke down their resentment at being treated like this is a disagreement between fans of rival sports teams and fake goodbuddyship for the press frenzy afterward.

And a good time was had by all. Doesn't America have some bigger problems than this? This is almost on the level of a falling out between Lindsay Lohan and Sam. ARGHHHH

Amateur Night

I've been a musician all my life. Currently I'm employed as a programmer but I have a degree in music and have played woodwinds and keyboards most of my life. I'm not going to try and remember how many years - let's just say that I played in the pit for a production of "Hair" when it wasn't a revival. I've been paid to play all my chosen instruments and still have an ongoing paying gig. I've been in and out of the musician's union and performed a wide range of musical genres. Still for most of my life I would probably have been classified as an "amateur". Wikipedia provides this as part of it's definition "Translated from its French origin to the English "lover of", the term "amateur" reflects a voluntary motivation to work as a result of personal passion for a particular activity."

Currently the majority of my musical activity consists of playing in a "community" (translation: volunteer) orchestra and pit orchestra for a community theater (same translation of "community"). Since I have, at one time or another, performed in professional groups of the same type and paid for the upkeep on my instruments as well as a few beers, then why do I do it for free?

Actually some recent experiences (see future blog entry "It's the pits!" for particulars) have led me to ask myself the very same question. Maybe I can use this venue to work out the answer.

One of the things that has always bothered me is the cost of attending live performances be they theater, orchestra concerts, opera, ballet, and the like. Pop music is kind of a different animal so I'm going to to stick to the venues I operate in the most. Right now (2009) in the Midwest it's $50 for cheap seats at any of these. And I'm not talking road troupes of current broadway productions either.

I'm talking Des Moines Symphony - certainly not one of the big 5 or even the big 50, Des Moines Playhouse, or Des Moines Civic Opera (although the latter IS one of the finest summer opera programs in the country). So it costs my wife and I $100.00 to attend a performance of any of these professional organizations. Got a family of four and you want to introduce the kids to live music or theater? Two Benjamins just for tickets not to mention intermission refreshments or a dinner before. I don't know about you, but I still consider a hundred dollars to be a lot of money. I know I'll consider it a lot of money when I retire on the pittance the bankers and Wall Street left me after paying out multi-millions in bad loans and executive salaries. But I digress.

So what do you do if you are living on a fixed income and you love to hear a live symphony orchestra or go to a live performance of a broadway musical? What do you do if you're a young married couple that wants the kids to absorb some live culture before they are completely brainwashed by MTV? Not to mention what you do if you are a single parent struggling just to put food on the table. What you do is to try to find free or very low ticket amateur productions.

The orchestra I play in gives free concerts and supports itself on member dues (that's right - we PAY to play) and donations. It exists on a shoestring and is constantly teetering on the verge of not being able to afford to put on the next concert. The theater group I play in the pit for charges $12 a seat, but considering the royalties charged by the companies that rent the music and parts in addition to costs to build sets, make costumes, etc. this is about as fine as they can cut it and continue to exist. But in spite of the shoestring budget, the home built sets and costumes, the actors and musicians put everything they have into it. The result is that the productions may not look as slick as the ones seen in the Civic Center, but the performances are filled with the passion and expertise that only tender loving care can give them. Audience responses are universally positive and even relatives visiting from the coasts who have been dragged to these performances are amazed at the quality.

Now I could pick up a gig now and then playing for the folks that can afford the best or I can play for the folk who love live performance and can't afford to pay for it. I can play for people who consider a large part of their ticket price to be their visibility as one of those who have arrived or I can help build the future audiences that will keep live performance viable in the future. I've come to a point in my life where I want to give something to the have nots. I've had a lot of things in my life that I regret and will never be able to change and while this doesn't make up for them - it's a way to do something very positive.

Bottom line, you can go out and drop several hundred dollars on an evening's dinner and entertainment and get broadway sets, polished performances long ago set in stone, or the finely tuned emotionless symphonic performances - you'll get what you paid for. Or you can go on the cheap to a performance where everyone is there for the love of it and every performance, though in humble surroundings, will be full of heart and enthusiasm. And as a bonus, you help preserve the group entertaining you so they can provide entertainment to those who otherwise could never see a live performance. For an old utility outfielder of the music biz there's no comparison.

Municipal Self Congratulation vs. Facts

Recently Des Moines, Iowa sent out an “informational” pamphlet to all the households in the city telling us how wonderful Des Moines is to live in, what a great job the city council is doing and how we should all quit bitching and fall down and worship our municipal benefactors. This was done at a cost of 93 cents per household for a total in the neighborhood of eighty thousand dollars. I’m not sure I would have been real happy with this expenditure even if the content were even close to accurate, but since I’m not, let’s take a look at how that 80K could have been better spent.

If I had more time and patience I would take each claim by the city fathers and cite an example to refute each one, but it will probably suffice to make a list.

1.have now lived here for 10 years. During that period of time there has not been a single day when the streets in the financial district, the heart of Des Moines’ tax base, has been free of barricades. Maybe we should fix streets before mailing pamphlets.

2.During the same 10 year period (in subsequent items, just assume that they are the result of 10 years observation) the entire storm drain system has been entirely inadequate. Water stands in the streets after even modest rainstorms. During heavy rains manhole covers are blown out of the streets and small geysers produce impassible conditions. In addition any precipitation at all causes a large segment of the city’s traffic lights to quit working. Is this a problem in an area where hardly a day passes in the spring and summer without a flood warning somewhere in the state? Think 80 grand might be a start toward alleviation?

3.The city loves to tout its river walk. One of the highlights of the river walk is a huge ugly complex of girders, mud and construction equipment that has been in this condition for at least 3 years and resembles nothing so much as an industrial dump site.

4.Downtown is supposed to be vital and thriving. The area is riddled with empty warehouses, department stores and condos.

5.The street department has absolutely no ability to plan ahead. The prime example of this is that in a two year period the street running in front of the State Capitol Building was entirely dug up three times for three separate projects. Could money have been saved by doing all three on a single time table?

6.The street department’s scheduling leaves a great deal to be desired in other areas as well. They certainly know how to start projects. They can put up barricades and tear up the streets – but then the projects are left alone while other streets are torn up and barricaded. Projects are scheduled for completion only after every street projected for work has been torn up and barricaded. Then years pass until the projects grind slowly to completion. In the meantime each spring, new barricades and torn up streets are added to the list whether the previous year’s work is done or not.

7.Streets are a problem in more ways than one. This is the only city of the many I have lived in that allows semis, construction equipment and other heavy machinery to drive on residential streets. Not only does this tear up the streets but trying to get around semis parked on narrow residential streets in order to get to your home is always a challenge.

8.I can remember driving through cities as early as the late 60s that had synchronized stop lights where it was possible to drive at a constant speed and avoid stopping. This is still news to our city fathers. Traffic lights go up with the settings they left the factory with. No synchronization not to mention the lack of different cycles for heavy traffic times and light traffic times. How much gas do you suppose is wasted sitting at red lights watching completely empty cross streets in industrial areas on Sundays and Holidays?

9.In the heart of the city, the financial district, where commuter traffic is heaviest, railroad lines actually run through the streets causing massive jams when trains run through during the rush hour. Progressive city Des Moines? This is strictly a cow town feature.

10.I have not seen a city police patrol car in the neighborhood I live in other than for emergency calls the aforementioned 10 years. Stop lights and stop signs are run, noise ordinances disregarded, residential streets used as drag strips, speed limits ignored and traffic ordinances of any kind pretty much ignored. There is no law in Dodge! Enforcement is nil. I don’t get it – and we really don’t have that many donut shops.

These are the most egregious faults. Like any city we have our urban blight. Empty stores can be found all over the city, some once inhabited by large retailers and now surrounded by weeds and debris. Areas where VIPs live and drive get plenty of attention while middle class neighborhoods get attention much later and low income housing is a black hole.

Things are unlikely to change because the city council is preoccupied with such matters as whether to rename a building that currently bears the name of a previous council member who is now a convicted felon for misappropriation of public funds. The populace has been cowed into an attitude of acceptance by complete disregard of their wishes by city hall. Publish all the pamphlets you want Des Moines Council. Those who live here know better.

Sorry this wasn't funnier. Living here is not funny either.

The Greatness of a Nation - 1

"The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated."
- Mahatma Gandhi

This is going to be a long one. Try to hang in there.

I do volunteer work for Dachshund rescue. I got into this because I got a great dog from a dachshund rescue organization and wanted to give something back. My original thoughts when joining my organization were of helping find loving homes for homeless animals and this is in fact a fair description of what I do. What I didn't count on was the constant head on encounters with selfishness, insensitivity, mind boggling cruelty and sometimes just gut-wrenching horror. (Disclaimer: My experiences are with dogs so I'm writing about dogs. I'm sure that things are just as bad for cats. So cat people please refrain from any accusations of dog chauvinism. Further disclaimer: My experiences are with dachshunds. Pit Bull aficionados be sure to write your own rant.)

How many people are involved in Dog rescue? It's hard to find a figure for this but consider; a search on Google for "dog rescue" returned 1,390,000 hits. A search for "dachshund rescue" returned 167,000. And what is the need? The American Humane society supplied these statistics for the year 1997:

* Of the 1,000 shelters that replied to the National Council's survey, 4.3 million animals were handled.

* In 1997 roughly 64% of the total number of animals that entered shelters were euthanized -- approximately 2.7 million animals in just these 1,000 shelters.These animals may have been put down due to overcrowding, but may have been sick, aggressive, injured, or suffered something else.

* 56% of dogs and 71% of cats that enter animal shelters are euthanized. More cats are euthanized than dogs because they are more likely to enter a shelter without any owner identification.

* Only 15% of dogs and 2% of cats that enter animal shelters are reunited with their owners.

* 25% of dogs and 24% of cats that enter animal shelters are adopted.

That's nearly 3,000 animals per year per shelter or 15 animals per working day. If you are an animal lover; and most shelter workers are there because of their love for animals, not the generally low pay; imagine that your job includes taking 15 animals a day into a room and killing them. These are animals, who because of thousands of years of domestication, have learned to depend on and trust human beings. Many are abandoned or lost pets who lick the hands of the workers who administer the gas or deadly injection so starved are they for human affection.

But this isn't about the shelters, this is about those of us who try to keep pets out of shelters, who try to intercept the unwanted pet before they get to the shelter or try to help pets already in the shelter. After all, the pet in the shelter only has a 1 in 4 chance of avoiding the hand of the euthanizer.

Let’s start with the merely selfish, insensitive and stupid. When one acquires a dachshund one gets an animal whose lifespan can extend to twenty years. Fifteen is not unusual. This is nearly as long as it takes to rear a child from infancy to independence. Recent studies indicate that dogs have intelligence comparable to that of a three year old child. I have my doubts about that, it may be an underestimate. When they want to dogs can demonstrate remarkable reasoning powers, when they don’t want to they just truck along on instinct – this tends to confuse humans who frequently equate intelligence with “what I want it to do”. My conclusion is that dogs are smarter than you think and far more laid back than humans. But that’s another rant. As mentioned previously, dogs have been domesticated to the point where they are no longer equipped to support themselves without human assistance. In addition to having had a lot of survival skills selectively bred out of them, they also have to cope with less than optimal physical traits. Thus the low profile of my breed, the respiratory problems of the pug, the bad hips of the shepherd, the size of the Chihuahua and I’m sure you can think of others. In addition to all this, dogs have been bred to bond with human beings. I’m not sure that I’m being all that anthropomorphic when I say that if this does not actually equate to affection, then it is very close to it. Watch a dog playing in the park with its master or welcoming the master home after an absence be it only a brief one. To say that the dog is experiencing something close to joy is certainly no stretch.

So we’ve established that dog ownership implies a long term relationship with a semi-intelligent species that is dependent on you and is capable of something close to emotions. Below is a list of the most common reasons that people give when they contact me to help find their dog a new home.

1. Moving
2. Landlord issues
3. Cost of pet maintenance
4. No time for pet
5. Inadequate facilities
6. Too many pets in home
7. Pet illness(es)
8. Personal problems
9. Biting
10. No homes for litter mates

I’d like for you to look at the first nine items on this list as if you were the parent of a three year old human and ask yourself “for which of these reasons would I give up my child?” A ridiculous question, right? If you were moving you’d look for proper accommodations, you’d move if the landlord gave you grief, you’d make time for the kid, you’d make whatever alterations in your living arrangements you needed. You’d deal with all your offspring and their illnesses. Whatever your problems you’d deal with them. Behavior issues would be addressed.

So what is it in the minds of so many that when they decide to get a pet, the unspoken assumption lies there hidden in the dark, swampy recesses that if situations change they can always get rid of it? Is it because you can pass this little piece of selfishness off on a stranger? “Roscoe doesn’t get along with the baby. Can you find him a new home?” Can I find him a new home?? CAN I FIND HIM A NEW HOME!!! How about a new home for the baby? How about you spend a little time to modify both Roscoe’s and the baby’s behavior. My guess is that Roscoe is not happy about having his ears and tail pulled. But wait, I forgot, you are probably going to let the baby pretty much raise itself until you can pack it off to daycare or school and hope someone else cleans up your mess there as well. But I digress. Got a problem? Just find someone to take the dog off your hands. No matter that he is emotionally attached to you, you that he depends on for everything good in his life. No matter that he will be nervous and frightened possibly for weeks after you change his whole world. He may get sick from the emotional shock. If he is already sick he will get worse.

Think that the dog will get over it? Let me tell you something. I have dealt with rescue dogs for years. I have two in my home right now. They know! When I go into a stranger’s home, if they have a dog I can tell in a few minutes whether this is a rescue dog or not. In the best case scenario the dog is almost pathetically grateful and devoted to the new owner, much more so than a dog that has been raised in the same family all his life. This is the greatest reward of rescue, you sense that gratitude, that indisputable attitude you see in the dog that something traumatic happened in his life and the new owner is his deliverer. It is a humbling experience. The other sadder case is that the dog is forever traumatized and hides and cowers from strangers and runs and hides from unfamiliar experiences. For this dog life will never be entirely good because at any moment he could lose everything. After all, it happened before.

I want to talk some about irresponsible breeding and puppy mills, but I think those are going to be rants of their own. It’s a lot to take in. Thanks for listening.

The Chronically Late or The Case for Drano Enemas

By way of preface let me make it as clear as possible that I realize that anyone can be late. Shit happens, the car craps out, you step in a gift from your dog on the way out the door, your wife can’t get your mother-in-law off the phone, the Okie next door has his four wheel drive penis substitute parked in your way, Congress has passed yet another brainless alteration in when daylight savings time starts, a million things can happen. But, let’s keep it real, everyone over the age of 3 knows that it’s statistically impossible for one of these things to happen to you every freakin’ time you walk out the door!

There are two kinds of chronically late individuals. The first is the person who is in some kind of leadership role, without whose presence an event cannot begin and the other is what I call the clueless doofus whose major responsibility is simply to show up.

I had to deal with a prime example of type 1 several years ago. It’s hard to characterize his behavior without supplying details that might identify him, but let’s just say that he presided over one weekly meeting where 100 people might be in attendance and several smaller meetings throughout the week with from 5 to 30 people in attendance. I had a minor functionality within the organization that required me to attend approximately 75% of all meetings. Over a period of eight years this guy was late to every single meeting I attended. Every one. Without exception. And when I say late, I don’t mean that he came skidding into the room a few seconds after the appointed time, I mean 5, 10, 15 minutes late. Invariably the first thing out of his mouth was “Hi folks, sorry I’m late.” Oh PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE! Give me a huge break! If you were sorry, you’d stop doing it.

Let’s examine the effects of this blatant disregard for one’s peers. 1) It pisses people off. People that attend your meetings have lives and they often have other things they would rather be doing. Even if they would rather be attending your meeting than anything else, sitting around waiting for you to make an entrance is not what they signed up for. 2) You lose respect. You want people to do something you won’t do, show up on time. Any leadership trainer on the planet will tell you this won’t work. 3) You send the message “my time is worth more than yours”. Right. Up yours fella, all man hours are intrinsically equal, and if the alternative is doing something productive as opposed to waiting for you, then the time you caused me to waste was indeed valuable. 4) It causes people to dread your next meeting. “This grinning chimp has done this to me umpteen times – do I really feeling like going out into the snow to have him do it again?” I don’t want to get into a rant here, but I think everyone gets the picture. I have to at least entertain the thought that when people do this, they want everyone else to be there when they arrive so that they can make an entrance. Bite that! If you want to be a leader, then lead and quit posturing.

Now we come to the masses of clueless doofuses. (say “clueless doofuses” 5 times fast) I happen to have spent an alternate life as a musician and now retain this part of my life as a hobby. I play in a community orchestra, have my own woodwind quintet, and play for various community theatre events as well as the occasional odd recital. Each of these groups has its own particular brand of doofus, so we’ll look at these one at a time.


The volunteer amateur orchestra: This orchestra exists so that people who for whatever reason (lack of expertise, lack of openings, lack of commitment) cannot play in available “for hire” orchestras. If you’ve ever checked out the number of “for hire” symphony orchestras in your community, you probably see where there might be more musicians around than there are orchestral seats. Also, our group which can be surprisingly listenable gives free concerts. This allows folks on fixed incomes, students, folks that don’t want to pay the premium to be seen with the blue haired aristocrats, etc. to hear live music they otherwise would not get to hear. It’s a great community service and we have a good deal of monetary corporate support that agrees with our goals. But I digress. The point is these people that participate are there because they want to play and have limited outlets. A small dedicated group of volunteers labor long and hard so these people will have this opportunity. So what happens? Every week at rehearsal at least 30% of the membership comes dragging in after rehearsal has started. You know the type, the same ones that come into the theater 10 minutes after movie starts dragging their drooling progeny who all do Irish step dances on your feet while they try to reach the most inaccessible seats. Let me illuminate this picture for you. Our rehearsal room is in a church basement. When set up we reach from wall to wall in both the width and length of the room. Instrument cases are stacked in every available square foot of floor space, instrumentalists have the minimum amount of room to allow movement to operate their instrument and both the conductor and back row of brass have their backs literally against the wall. An important fact to note is that the door to the room is in the front of the room, sneaking in the back is impossible. When the appointed hour arrives the 70% of us ready to play begin rehearsal. Ten minutes later the asshat parade begins, always the same people. Stepping on instrument cases, tripping over people’s feet, bumping wind instruments thus causing lip injuries, knocking music off stands, obscuring lines of sight, dragging coats and cases across the heads, arms and shoulders of other players and generally proving the existence of near perfect vacuums in the dark empty reaches of their craniums while leaving sorrys and excuse mes in their wake. Sorry? Like hell, you do this week after week with the same mindless grin on your face. Sorry? Hey, everyone is looking at you, you attention whore, you’re as happy as a tapeworm in shit. Excuse you? Yeah, the first time. Now eight years later feel my hate – hotter than a white hot poker gleefully inserted in a rectum.

The woodwind quintet: For some reason in here in MidWestSuburbOfHell USA it is difficult to find French horn players for our group. It’s not that such players are scarce; it’s that they really don’t want to actually play. This in itself is a bit of a mystery. Its not that they don’t want to rehearse, it’s that they won’t even play for money. Not just for our group, but for any group. And pretty good money at that. I wish I could afford to turn down $50 an hour gigs. There is a list of French hornists as long as your arm that groups are advised to call when such a player is needed, but getting them to actually agree to play is up for grabs. “Hey! I own a French horn and I want to be called for gigs. That’s it. I want to be called. I don’t actually want to play I just want to be asked.” What’s up with that? So anyway – we actually have a rarity in our quintet, someone who owns a horn and will, if begged in the proper obsequious manner, play. However, show up on time she will not. The four of us are at the gig in time to set up, warm up, and tune up. Now we begin the waiting. Will she show up? We have to start playing in 10 minutes. Should we try to call her? Oh there she is! And with a whole 3 minutes to get ready. No time to tune or warm up, we can do that after 10 minutes of sounding like four pros trying to drown out a Junior High Student. This is her behavior at paying gigs. Forget rehearsals! When she does show up she has invariably left some vital piece of equipment at home. Oh I guess we can’t rehearse our newest number today since you didn’t bring it. Music stand? Surely I can find a spare since you forgot yours. Once she actually forgot her mouthpiece. Plus she has the annoying habit of singing her part when she can’t actually get her lips around it, which is all too often. The point of this somewhat extended story? Lateness can be a symptom of overall cranial/rectal inversion.

I’ve probably gone past any reasonable length on this one, but my frustration has burst the surly bonds of earth. Get this, buttheads! It’s called a watch. Use it!

Winter in the Midwest and Abject Stupidity

When I moved to Iowa, no one told me that it was also fondly known as Baja Minnesota.

"Hey, you used to live in Illinois - what's the big deal?"

I'll tell you what the big deal is; blizzards. Not just snow, but piles upon piles of snow backed up by 40 mph winds and followed by days of below zero temperatures with -30 degree wind chills. Snow comes in from Nebraska horizontally. In Illinois a big snowfall is usually followed by kids sledding, building snowmen, ice skating on farm ponds. Not so in Iowa. After a snow in Iowa people of all age groups huddle indoors listening to the wind scream around the eaves and try to conjure up realistic sounding excuses for not showing up for school, work, church, or whatever other organization is fool hardy enough not to cancel their activities. Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Whenever it snows in Iowa it first lays down at least a quarter inch of ice which arrives as freezing rain. Gotta love that when you go out to get in your car.

Ah yes, the car. There is a macho mindset in Iowa that nothing can stop commerce/business and if you can actually see the doorway to a place of enterprise it will somehow try to open no matter what the depth of the drifts in the streets. So one must climb into the vehicle and venture forth.

Problem 1: In Iowa snow removal does not start until the storm ends. That's right, if the storm lasts 4 days and deposits 28 inches of snow, not a plow, not a salt truck, not a sand spreader will creep from the city barns until bright sunshine is clearly visible and not a flake still floats in the air. Calls to the department of public works invariably brings the response "The main arteries were clear by 7:00 AM". This is little comfort as you sit on one of the aforesaid arteries hung up by the frame of your car in the middle of a 6 foot drift. Worse, the city employees trusted with the responsibility of clearing the streets suffer from "seasonal amnesia" where they forget from year to year what the white stuff falling out of the sky is and how to deal with it. Thus for at least the first two blizzards, no street clearing activities take place whatsoever.

Problem 2: All native born Iowans had as their last vehicle a horse and buggy. That can be the only explanation for their total inability to make the slightest effort to observe traffic laws and courtesies. Turn signals? Just rip that lever right off the column, Pa, we won't ever be using it. Changing lanes? Just change, if there is anyone behind you they'll look out for themselves. Turns? Just turn from whatever lane you happen to be in to any direction you wish, someone will look out for you. No parking places? Just park in the street and walk away - seriously, on any given day the streets are full of cars abandoned in traffic lanes while the owners run in for a donut or whatever. And all this is when the streets are clear, dry and in the light of day. When the snow starts, the seasonal amnesia sets in and as one, Iowa natives believe that bad weather driving consists of a single rule "drive as fast as you can and everyone else will get out of your way".

Let's face it, there's a theme here - which will turn up again and again in this blog and it is that the great majority of people are STUPID. Half the people you meet are below average intelligence - think about it - and that average has been falling steadily since the late 1800s (don't believe this? get hold of an 8th grade math book from the 1890s and look at the problems. Give these to the high school student who needs a picture of a burger on the key of the fast food cash register in order to ring up your order and see what results you get.) STUPID I tell you, STUPID.