Car Service and Grammar

Without excessive qualifications, I would like to state that I am a big fan of open borders.  I am also a big fan of grammatical errors (if we would be so harsh to call them by such a derogatory label).

That said, I recently had a general maintenance check up done to my car.  I received this letter in the mail shortly after.

It starts in a very collegiate manner, "Dear Parizek,"  and resolves with my advisor looking forward to "better serve [me] vehicle in the future."  I am particularly fond of the northeastern slant to the entire work and the general disregard for any margins.

The service was excellent.

Arlington Decency

Arlington County is not one for much decency.  For example, everyone in Arlington is required to have a safety inspection every year and place an ugly, half-crooked sticker in the middle of their front windshield to prove they have done so.  Apparently, they promptly come sneaking around the day that these stickers expire to issue tickets.

I have been here for a month.  I found a nice place and, ever since I moved in, I have been parking in a spot right in front of my house along the street.  This is why it surprised me when I woke up this past week with a parking ticket on my car.

Confused, I looked to confirm that there weren’t any “No Parking” signs that had gone unnoticed, but my memories of a sign-free street were untrue.  My parking spot sat cowering in the wake of a spotless, new “No Parking” sign.  Funny.  The base of the signpost even exhibited freshly turned dirt and city project markings.  The pictures may help you visualize the “funniness” of this moment.

My favorite part is that on the back of the sign, the date and time at which it was installed are sharpied on.  The day was the same day that I received my ticket, twelve hours prior.

And so, unsuspectingly, as I returned from a pleasant day at work and an enjoyable evening of swing dancing, and forgot to check for new parking regulations posted in the spot where I had been parking for over a month straight, I had signed up for trouble.

Ill let you know how my modest contention letter fares.  I admit my illegality and ask for the simple decency of information before unnecessary monetary punishment.  Even the San Jose State bicycle dictators have been courteous enough to place a warning on students bicycles before blindly ticketing them for laws that came into effect within the last 12 hours of the day. 

On a more subtle note of how SJSU bike laws are like the US foreign policy with Cuba, I can defer you to one of my many unpublished letters to the editor.

Trajectory

By the way, if I have yet to mention it, this is what Im doing down here:

During the week, I am at the Ecuadorian Institute for Public Policy helping out on various projects and working on my own.  Recent themes have been free-trade, labor markets, translation and economic education.

When I head up to Guatemala, much of my time will be spent at Francisco Marroquin University.  I will hopefully get to know the school, which is a very innovative economic/business school, the faculty and much more about many of their projects which include lots of technology in the classroom, an economic education seminar and developing a PhD program with San Jose State University.

Hoedown Report

I would like to report a very successful hoedown.  Due to timing (the hoedown was planned right before I left on a trip to a far away land so I could get out of cleaning up) and geography (the far away land hinders a speedy, abridged compilation of the available digital evidence i.e. the photos and video), there may be some lag in the creation of the “What is a Hoedown?” documentary.  Nonetheless, at some point in the future you should be contacted regarding this matter.

Also, a humungous THANKS to Mom, Dad and all of our wonderful family, neighbors, friends, friends of friends and completely unfamiliar faces who made it a hoedown! of a time.

Tridge Revision #1

It seems I have miscalculated my audience.  Where I thought I could craftily sneak in a sleight of word and omit vital information, my father, a native of Midland, Michigan and one of the two people who has closely watched the evolution of my lying habits over the last 26 years (I don’t know which attribute may carry more weight, but rest assured that both of these factors are essential to the full understanding of this story), has called me on the following portion of my last post:

The three legs span the shores over the confluence of two docile, unknown rivers that will remain inessential to the full understanding of the story.

The rivers are, in fact, known as the Tittabawassee and the Chippewa.  They are even available for walleye fishing year-round.   Though, I will add, nobody was fishing on the day that I was there.  And although this new information has surfaced, the rivers remain, with me as the empirical witness, docile.

Found a Perch

As I packed the final boxes and moved them into the truck, Dad and Zon bid me farewell and left for their walk.  Hah, I bet you thought I was the one leaving!

No, no, it seems i have overleft my welcome.  Now it is just assumed that I’ll be moving somewhere else again in the next month and trying to use it as leverage to get hugs and cookies.  What’s wrong with goodbye hugs!? 

It was probably in the inchoate stages of my travels that i began forming this delusion.  I assumed that no matter how far I was going that when I got to the kitchen I would be bombarded with love.  Furthermore, i assumed that upon arrival to my destination, no matter how precisely i packed my bags, there would always be a treat Mom managed to sneak into one of my boxes. (I wonder what the airlines would say about this…).

But it wasn’t the love that was missing, Dad and Zon both yelled ‘see ya dude’ over their shoulder as they took off.  And though there was no See’s Milk Chocolate with Marshmallow at the bottom of my guitar case, i found a gift card surreptitiously waiting in my wallet to treat me at Trader Joe’s.

All that I’m trying to say is that if you travel a lot, there comes a time when a trip to the airport gets treated like a night at the movies. 

My new perch is downtown Palo Alto.  I live in the cottage (garage) of a Shingle Style house with Carpenter Gothic interiors (i’ll work on figuring out what this means too) in Professorville (though I am only a lecturer).  Close enough to home that I don’t feel like i’ve left, close enough to work that I don’t feel like i’m there,  and close enough to Stanford that i can still feel like i’m climbing the ladders of academia.

Meter Maids and Company

Two train ticket from New York to Philadelphia cost $35.00.  Amanda and I paid it.  But that I guess is not interesting.

My friends across Southern Europe had different interpretations of their public transportation systems.  Let me give you a list of our trips savings:

Barcelona: +16 Euros.  (Tickets to Sitges 6 Euros, but you can get on for the price of a metro ticket, 2 Euros.) Lyon: +6 Euros.  (There is no barrier in the Metro Station) Paris: +10 Euros. (Here you just jump, it is very circus like) Milan: +4 Euros (You validate the ticket in a machine on the Bus)—————————- Total Debits: +36 Euros in metro-hopping savings, a gift of local knowledge

But here comes the catch, the grand equilibrator (Yes, I’ve tactfully hidden information from you).

Milan: -34 Euros (A gift of foreign knowledge.  As we pulled up to a station and saw a handful of ticket checkers collaging the doors, we decided to jump off as to not be on the bus with them, though as it goes, they didn’t want on, but to see our tickets once we got off ((sad music)) (Yes, this is my story, i can choose the music).—————————- Total Credits: -34 Euros in metro-hopping slappings

Grand Total: +2 Euros!

Some people play Bingo or go to the Horse Track.  I ride public transportation while in foreign countries ((trail off with Hawaii Five-O type music)).

Order

Yes, order. What of it?  I presume, as this is a diary of travels, which in itself is a linear experience, that, as one day we may meet and discuss a story or two from the breadth of our disordered recollection, an incongruous presentation is a minor detail.

Campus Bike Laws Like US Foreign Policy with Cuba

Dear Campus Police,

Kindly, this past week, you warned the campus bicyclers of their boundaries.  And in appreciation of this altruistic behavior, I wish to help you understand why your actions are superfluous.

The prohibition of victimless crimes leads to deadweight loss (please, come over to the Economics department and I will be happy to explain this to you with fancy graphs and mathematical equations).  That is, by enforcement of your law, there is a portion of the net social benefit that neither you the policeman, nor us, the bicyclers, can attain.

Prohibition also leads to the reduction in the quality of a product, or in this case, the act of riding a bike.  For example, these restrictions will not deter bicyclers from biking innocently to where they need to study, it will only give them incentive to bike faster and more surreptitiously, leading to an increase in fatalities (or small scrapes) and a decrease in the attention they lend to operating their bicycles with efficiency.

Furthermore, the transfer of revenue from the bicycler’s pocket to the campus’ will place a financial burden on the average bicycler.  In the long run, the quality of the bikes we own will diminish because over time we will have less revenue to invest in their upkeep and maneuverability.

Also, I wish to comment on the placement of various bike racks that incite us bikers to inflict harm upon ourselves.  These bike racks are located in areas that we cannot legally access on our bike.  This is much like Americas immigration policy with Cuba.  We place an inhibiting trade embargo (no bicycling laws) on their country (campus).  It is extremely dangerous to cross the Florida Straits (space between ok zone and bike rack).  Yet, if the Cubans (the bikers) arrive on US land (the bike rack) they are given citizenship (allowed to park their bike).

These revenue-accruing acts that you are paid to carry out originated in medieval England.  The King learned that the punishment of victimless crimes was a great method to gain revenue.  These crimes were defined as acts that disturbed the Kings peace and permitted the sheriff to collect a fine.

I am aware we have only an interim King at the moment, though maybe you could explain to him, as I have to you, the negative externalities that arise from your duties.  Perhaps he will recognize your ingenuity and relieve you of such education-intrusive decisions.

Sincerely,

A concerned biker