Bill to make cockfighting a felony wins Va. panel’s OK

…was a headline of an AP article in the Manassas Journal Messenger that caught my eye yesterday. Several questions immediately popped into my mind:

1) What country are we in?

2) What century are we in?

3) Why is it even necessary to make something as patently abhorrent as cockfighting illegal?

4) Is it going to snow in Baltimore Thursday?

The last question is unrelated to the cockfighting issue. I’m just trying to figure out when I need to leave home in the morning for my meetings up there.

In the “sport” of cockfighting, two trained and specially-bred roosters, outfitted with spurs or blades on their talons, fight in a pen until one is killed or incapacitated. This gruesome pasttime is illegal in most states, with varying penalties.

Apparently, cockfighting is widespread in the US and in many places throughout the world, and its popularity in the US is growing in proportion to immigration. Last week, over 120 people were arrested at an event in southern Virginia, where spectators were charged $20 admission. The haul included 22 suspected gang members, who now face amputation, I mean deportation (sorry, freudian slip), and 10 children. Police also confiscated 126 live roosters, many of which had to be euthanized, along with numerous ones already dead.

In Virginia, cockfighting itself is not currently illegal; however, making money from it is: promoting, charging admission, and betting on, or awarding prizes for the fight are misdemeanors, punishable by a small fine. The legislative action indicated by the title of this article would make the sport itself a felony. Only Mississippi has more lenient penalties for cockfighting, according to the AP article. We’re number two, we’re number two, I was thinking until I discovered that it’s still completely legal in Louisiana and New Mexico.

With the new bill, legislators hope to make Virginia less attractive to cockfighting organizers from surrounding surrounding states, claiming that the tougher penalties in states such as North Carolina make Virginia a magnet for this activity, along with other criminal behavior that usually follows it, such as drug dealing, gang activity, and assault. In the aforementioned raid, police also found marijuana, crack, and cocaine. Win-win if you ask me.

Quoted in a USAToday article, Diana Orosco VanHoozen (!), a breeder of fighting roosters in New Mexico, is claiming discrimination by similar legislation proposed by State Sen. Mary Jane Garcia in that state. “I want to be able to still practice my cultural tradition,” she says, deftly splitting an infinitive while attempting to defend her ghastly occupation.

“Whose culture are we talking about?” counters Garcia, dangling a preposition in the heat of the moment.

“And why can’t we leave it there?” adds Bruck, ignoring the antecedent to amplify the larger point.

Another AP article quotes John Goodwin of the Humane Society of the United States: “This is a primitive blood sport that goes back thousands of years. Unfortunately, some people haven’t progressed beyond that.”

I think we now have our answers to the above questions. This is still the United States, but the culture war is raging on many fronts. We’re living in the 21st century, at least for some of us are. Why do we need to even make laws against things like cockfighting? Because there’s always somebody. We already have dogfighting. What’s next, horsefighting?

Anyway, sorry if today’s dispatch is kind of a downer - it didn’t start out that way, but how can you have fun with such an objectionable topic? So, you might be asking, Bruck, what can we do? I don’t know, I’m not a real activist type. I’d say call your local Humane Society and ask them.

Regarding question #4 above, it’s not looking good - snow & freezing rain are predicted. I’d better leave early.

How Not to Pick Up Girls

I’ve been happily and faithfully married for a large number of years to the noteworthy Mrs. Bruck, whom I did not at any time pick up. The skills I describe in today’s column are no longer relevant for my purposes, but may be of use to male VOB readers who do not share my fortunate circumstance, and who wish to replicate my erstwhile success in the fine art of not picking up girls.

In life you have to run with your strengths, and this is one that I’ve honed to perfection. I realize that not picking up girls is probably not a skill in high demand, but that’s what you’re going to learn about today. Certainly there are plenty of books and websites on how to pick up girls, and if that’s what you’re after, this column won’t be of any use to you. What I can help with is how not to pick up girls.

Here are a few easy ones right off the bat: Tell them you’re an engineer or engineering student. Even better: explain technical things in great detail, particularly things involving computers. Even more better: shout this over the loud music at a party or bar. Other tips: Wear bad-looking shoes. Don’t listen. Get rejected by all the more attractive girls first. Hang around by the bathroom door at a party. Talk about your old GF or ex-wife. Appear desperate. Be unemployed. Spit when you talk. Break wind.

Vehicle: most of automobile marketing focuses on how it will enhance your reproductive potential, but rather than indulge in futile deconstruction of the obvious, let me present some of my personal data on the subject. Having previously been employed in the automotive industry (see if you can guess which company), I’ve driven a variety of vehicles. Here are some data points relating pickup opportunities (number of women who have expressed unprovoked interest in me while on the road) to the type of vehicle I was driving:

Vehicle: # of pickup opportunities

Lincoln LS: 2

Ford Crown Victoria: 1 (she may have thought I was a PO)

Ford Ranger: 1

Ford Explorer SporTrac: 1 (a man, actually)

Ford Taurus: 0

Extrapolating from this limited data set, one way to not pick up girls is to drive an inexpensive, boring car.

The next lesson requires some background - for VOB readers who might not be aware, I have an identical twin brother. Just to cover some ground quickly:

- Yes, we know we’re identical.
- You know some other twins? That’s interesting.
- He’s older, by 4 minutes.
- We don’t look as much alike now as we used to.
- The occurrence of identical twins is totally random, and not hereditary.
- No, we don’t have any kind of telepathic communication.
- Yes, we had some fun once in a while as youngsters switching identities.

One weekend evening long ago I was visiting the twin brother of Bruck at his apartment in Chicago. He was having a few others over that night as well. At one point early in the festivities, the doorbell rang and he said, “Here, put this on and answer the door.” It was a sweater that his GF had given him for Christmas. This GF of his was a real piece of work but that’s a whole nuther story. We later referred to her as Crazy Lucy (not her real name, well the Lucy part wasn’t anyway).

Crazy Lucy was at the door and when I opened it, she leaned forward to kiss me. I backed off, and appearing stricken, she asked, “What’s the matter?”

I replied, “I’d like to get to know you a little better first.”

Fortunately she had a good sense of humor about it and didn’t injure us too severely with her goodhearted bludgeoning. She got off easy; as the other guests arrived, we blasted them with a CO2 fire extinguisher.

Okay, that story had nothing to do with not picking up girls, but the next one does.

A summer weekend a few years prior to that found my twin brother and me, along with several college friends, at the home of the parents of one of the group, on a lake in northern Michigan. One evening that weekend, the host dragged us up a huge sand dune near the shore of Lake Michigan, for a bonfire and cookout. He also brought along some friends from the local community, including a few girls to balance out the M-F ratio, which had up to that point been leaning a little too far in the XY direction.

At one point while we were talking around the fire, one of the local girls was intrigued with our twinhood (or maybe she was intrigued with something else, who knows, certainly not my sparkling personality). She asked, “Which one of you is older?”

I replied, “He is.”

She said, “Yeah, I can tell.” (to be fair he did actually appear a bit more a bit more weathered)

I said, “Yes, take a look at him now - that’s what I’m going to look like in four minutes.”

We all had a good laugh and then the local girls kind of cooled off and didn’t say much after that.

That night I stumbled upon another important facet of the fine art of not to picking up girls: humiliate them in front of their friends.

So there you have it, a valuable lesson from the bottom drawer of Bruck’s Love and War files. There’s a big world out there, brimming with available girls just waiting to be repelled by your social graces and rebuff your inept advances! Go bravely forth and suffer the rejection you so richly deserve!

Answers to Frequently Asked Questions

What website is complete without a set of “Answers to Frequently Asked Questions,” or FAQs? With the following I hope to set the record straight on every issue imaginable.

1) How was your weekend?

Not too bad, and yours? Play any golf?

2) How ‘bout them Redskins?

I haven’t been paying much attention to them. Who did the Lions lose to this week? They didn’t play? That’s right, now we’re in some strange, mysterious phase of the football season called “playoffs.”

3) Since they’re made of plastic, can Glock handguns pass through metal detectors?

No, only the frame and a few smaller parts are plastic. The barrel and slide, plus most of the mechanical parts, are steel plus other metals. Even if the entire gun were plastic, you still wouldn’t be able to get on the airplane with ammunition.

4) What would you like for dinner?

You know I like everything you cook dear.

5) Is this seat taken?

No… Go ahead… and squeeze… right in there… No, that’s alright, I just won’t inhale…

6) Can the Radio Shack HT-202 2 meter handheld transceiver be modified for out-of-band transmit or receive?

No! No! No! What are you, some kind of newbie? That question has been answered a thousand times on this forum! Now get off my screen and don’t come back till you learn how to use the search feature!

7) Paper or Plastic?

Plastic. No wait, I no longer have a dog. Paper, please.

8) Do these jeans make me look fat?

How much do they cost?

9) Where did you get the nickname Bruck?

From a talking cactus in the Mojave Desert on a cold, rainy Tuesday afternoon four Septembers ago last June.

10) Can I take your order?

Yes, I’ll have combination #7, regular size, diet coke, no ice please. Uh, excuse me, I asked for no ice. Could I please have that without ice? Thanks.

11) Who was your favorite Seinfeld character?

George. It was like looking in a mirror.

12) Which 12 gauge shotgun shell hull is better for reloading, Remington STS or Winchester AA?

It doesn’t make a whole lot of difference, but in the STS hulls, the powder cup and hull are one piece, whereas in the AAs they are two separate pieces. This supposedly improves pressure uniformity behind the shot, which should result in a more consistent pattern, but at my level of skill (75% on a good day), it surely doesn’t matter. I reload considerably more AAs simply due to their availability, but my reloader is set up to accommodate both type of hull without adjustment.

13) Which did you like better, Princess Diaries I or II?

One, definitely. I thought Anne Hathaway was a perfect girl-next-door-turned-princess, and Julie Andrews, well let’s just say if you liked her in “The Sound of Music,” you’ll love her in PD. One thing I would have like to heard more about was what happened to Cipher after he betrayed the rest of Morpheus’ crew - did the machines actually put him back into the Matrix, and if so, as a rich, important guy like they promised? And the horse’s severed head in the director’s bed, I really didn’t need to see that.

Sequels are almost never better than the originals. Except for the Police Academy films - they just keep getting better and better!

14) Are you going to finish that?

Yes, and if your fingers get anywhere near my plate I’ll eat them too!

15) Would premium gas make my car run better?

If you drive a very old vehicle (with carburetor, distributor, points, etc.), then yes, premium would help performance and fuel economy, and possibly give longer engine life. For vehicles with modern (late 80’s and younger) electronic ignition, read the label inside the gas door. If premium gas is indicated, then you should use it. If you don’t, your performance will just suffer but it won’t hurt the car. If premium gas is not indicated, then putting it in your car won’t help anything, so don’t waste your money.

Premium (high octane) vs. regular (lower octane) is all about piston knock. Piston knock is a symptom of pressure spikes in the cylinder during combustion resulting from uneven burning of the fuel/air mixture. The pressure spikes erode the piston face and can even punch holes in it over time. Knock is controlled via spark angle, which is the relative position with respect to crankshaft angle (piston position) at which the spark is ignited. Are you still reading this? Making the spark fire later (“retarded”) reduces knock at the expense of performance and fuel economy (PFE), while an earlier (“advanced”) spark risks increased spark knock to improve PFE. Don’t you have anything better to do than to read this drivel? As for octane, the higher the value, the more likely the gas is to burn more smoothly with less likelihood to induce knock for a given spark angle.

Old timers will remember making mechanical adjustments to their distributors to adjust spark angle based on audible feedback, i.e., actually listening for piston knock while rotating the distributor cap. The spark angle then was fixed in place forevermore, at least until it was adjusted again. In modern electronically-controlled engines, the spark angle is adjusted automatically by the engine computer, and can have different settings based on instantaneous conditions of the engine such as rpm and load. Seriously, stop reading this answer now or risk death from boredom!

So the idea is, and always has been, to advance the spark as much as possible without causing piston knock. Modern engine control systems employ a “knock sensor,” which is basically a microphone attached to the cylinder head, for feedback. The reason your vision is getting fuzzy is that your brain is attempting to crawl out of your head through the eye socket. The engine controller continually adjusts the spark angle until knock starts occurring or a maximum spark advance setpoint is reached, then backs off a bit for a safety factor. There are correction factors for rpm and load, i.e., the ideal spark angle at one operating point may be different from that of another operating point; the engine controller corrects for this.

With engines that run on premium gas, the maximum spark advance is higher than that with engines that run on regular. So in a premium-drinking engine (I’m sure you’ve died of boredom by now so I don’t even know why I’m finishing this sentence) which has premium in the tank, the spark is allowed to advance more, giving better PFE. If regular gas is used, the spark advance adjusts only to the point where knock occurs, which usually doesn’t afford any added PFE. In a regular-drinking engine with premium in the tank, the spark advance will run up against the maximum allowable spark advance without any added PFE from the premium gas. I’ve notified the fire department - maybe they can still revive you.

16) What kinds of stores are in the Mall in Washington DC?

“The Mall” in DC has no stores and is actually a huge lawn that stretches about a mile and a half between the Capitol building and the Lincoln Memorial. They should call it “The Lawn.”

17) Nokesville, where’s that?

Fitzwater Rd., between Aden and 28, which is called “Nokesville Rd.” at that point.

18) What’s the difference between a Probabilistic Neural Network and just using Bayes’ Rule?

Nothing really. The PNN is simply a multidimensional treatment of Bayes’ Rule, with some computational gingerbread for automation and application-specific integration.

19) Have they installed your ethernet drop yet?

No.

20) Do you live in the North or the South?

I’ve lived in Northern VA (NoVA) now for about six months and am pleased to report that it is a lovely place with an advanced and civilized culture. It is a unique area in US, dominated culturally by the federal government and the military, but also a high-tech hub (Silicon Valley East), and home to large immigrant populations.

To many in the rest of VA, NoVA isn’t really a part of VA. They consider it part of “the North,” whereas everyone to the north considers us part of “the South.” Technically, NoVA is part of VA, which, if you call the South the states that attempted to secede in the mid-19^th century, is part of the South. But frankly, the people that inhabit NoVA, along with the chain stores and restaurants that dominate the commercial landscape, are by and large no more southern than Don Cherry.

NoVA’s people are from all over the US and the world, but not too many of them have been here all that long. Soldiers and sailors with short military hitches and career-climbing government bureaucrats keep the real estate industry hopping.

In some of the small towns there is some down-home southern culture, but basically every village and farm within commuting reach of DC/Arlington is being gobbled up by subdivisions and developments, and that reach is getting longer every year.

My colleague Jeff (not his real name) is from southern VA, but has also lived in several other places in the US, including Chicago. I asked him what he thought, whether NoVA was part of the North or the South. He thought about that a minute and proclaimed, “Ah don’t know whut it is. It ain’t neither one.”

So there’s your answer: Ah don’t know whut it is, it ain’t neither one.

21) Has anyone ever actually asked any of these questions?

Well yeah… I mean some of them, maybe…

Youngstown, OH

Youngstown is a small post-industrial city located in northeastern Ohio, between Cleveland and Pittsburgh, PA. Its population is approximately 82,000. It was founded in 1797 by John Young. According to Wikipedia, “Youngstown offers an array of cultural and recreational resources.”

Last week I was listening to the local Christian talk show station and a woman who hailed from Cleveland, OH was giving a dramatic testimony about how God had transformed her life. When she was younger, she had gone to California to escape Cleveland. There she despaired at initially meeting only men from Youngstown, OH, which she claimed was the only place in the world worse than Cleveland.

I got my first hands-on impression of Youngstown when I was there for my brother's wedding in late 80's (Youngstown was the hometown of his bride). The weekend was your basic rehearsal / dinner / wedding / reception package; aside from being a family wedding, there was nothing noteworthy except that my money clip was stolen from my motel room, most likely by the cleaning staff. They only got about $30 but it's the thought that counts.

Most recently, we stopped at the McDonalds off the turnpike just south of Youngstown for lunch during our recent trip back to Northern VA from Detroit, MI. Based on the clientele and the overall atmosphere, I think we may have inadvertently stepped into the first ring of hell. Or maybe they were filming a horror movie. Or maybe the WWF tryouts had just let out. It was the most unhealthy, miserable-looking bunch of people I've ever seen in one place, besides at Walmart on a weekend evening.

In addition to the customers looking like they’d been sucked through a knothole, the staff seemed to be having numerous issues, and a long line was developing. One very disgruntled customer passed by us grumbling about never coming back there again. I think he was an oracle.

Digressing a bit, did I ever tell you about my one and only visit to Mickey Shorr? Mickey Shorr is a car stereo distributor, and the branch I visited was on Woodward Avenue in Royal Oak, MI, a few miles north of Detroit. In 2000 I was looking for a CD/cassette player for my Crown Victoria, having wearied of the limited diversion offered by its AM/FM receiver. When I visited Mickey Shorr, I had trouble getting service, and the employees were completely unresponsive, walking around in a daze, not appearing the least bit interested in separating me from my cash. So the remarkable Mrs. Bruck and I left the place shaking our heads and wondering why nobody there coveted our custom. Well it turns out that the time we visited was immediately after Eminem had gotten into a road rage fight on Woodward with a rival rapper and chased him into Mickey Shorr with a handgun. So that's my tenuous claim to fame. Here are some details: (the most rational article I could find on the subject). I also note with amusement that Eminem's real middle name is Bruce, which is a derivative of Bruck.

Anyway, I got the same kind of feeling at the McDonald's south of Youngstown. At one point a line opened up and the cashier said, "I can take the next customer." Some of us moved over. Then a guy who looked like he'd been doused in acid and dried off with a hammer, moved over and jammed himself in ahead of us in the new line (he had been ahead of us in the other line). At that point I said, "You know, I'm getting a bad feeling about this place. Let's get out of here before something bad happens," which we did. We moved on and had lovely sandwiches at Roy Rogers just inside the Pennsylvania line.

But my encounter with Youngstown prior to that was the really strange one. On the way home (to Detroit) from a house-hunting trip in Northern VA in early 2006, we stopped in Youngstown for dinner. At the end of that long and arduous weekend, we wanted something a step up from the fruit of deep fryers. So at about dinnertime we got off the Ohio turnpike in Youngstown and started exploring. We noted one rather humble non-chain restaurant which we passed on our way north toward what we thought would be downtown. We continued on for a few miles, and seeing absolutely no restaurants, returned to the one we had passed earlier.

We were what appeared to be the only real customers in the place. There was one fellow at the bar, who appeared to be related to, and working for, the guy behind the bar, who appeared also to be the cook. Then there was an elderly couple chain-smoking at the other side of the dining room, not dining but appearing to be working on some accounting paperwork on a table, and not having too good a time doing it. The elderly woman unnerved us - the entire time we were there, she stared at us, and me in particular. She literally never took her eyes off of us.

The guy at the bar served as our waiter, and although he wasn't exactly multitasking, didn't compel a large tip. Complimentary dinner rolls were provided. They were moldy. When we finally got the waiter's attention and sent them back, he promised fresh ones immediately. It probably wasn’t the first promise he had ever broken. The kids and wife of Bruck ordered mainly frozen/fried entrees, but the ever intrepid Bruck ordered from the "Mediterranean" section. I requested the Mediterranean pork steak, which came with several sides.

A couple of salads came, and were fine, nothing special, and the kids' and wife's chicken fingers, etc., were unremarkable. But here's the strange part - in that smoky, lonely, derelict-ridden outpost, I had an absolutely fantastic meal! The pork steak was large and tender, and there were ample fresh steamed vegetables, a baked tomato, rice pilaf, and a large baked hot pepper on the side.

Meanwhile the relentless staring continued. Young David got up to use the restroom and the four cold beady eyes never left him. I had the same experience when I took a hygiene break. I attempted to break the spell by saying hello and even offering a slight wave as I passed by, and my overtures were met with stony silence.

We paid and left, rheumy eyes upon us, strictly cash; there are certain people you don't want to give your credit card numbers to.

You've probably surmised correctly that we won't be visiting the fair city of Youngstown any time soon, at least until they get a good exorcist to clean things up there. In the meantime, some good urban voodoo would be to join me in applying white-out over the city of Youngstown on all of your Ohio maps. If we don't succeed in causing it to disappear, at least we will be less tempted to get off the Ohio turnpike when we're passing by.

Update on Winchester VA Boycott

We went to Michigan for the holidays, had a great time, saw many friends and relatives, and ate far, far too much. I'm pretty much looking like the Michelin Man right now, and not the newer, buff one either! We drove back home to Northern VA on the first of the year, which was our first driving trip back this direction since we moved here in July.

VOB readers from September '06 will remember my rant about Winchester, VA, how I failed to find an elusive "Welcome Center" there, and called a general boycott of that city. For review, here's the link: Boycott Winchester, VA. I do recommend reading that blog entry before continuing with this one.

I was running low on gas before we got to Winchester, so I filled up in western Maryland, just to make sure I wasn't in any danger of breaking my own boycott which I assume loyal VOB readers have also upheld. But on that leg of our trip, I was curious to see if the same misleading signs were still there, so I kept my eyes peeled for them. Oddly, I didn't see a single one. I did see one sign that said, "Tourist Information Exit 13B," but that was it.

It was kind of foggy through that stretch, however, so it's possible that I missed all the signs I had seen on the previous trip. I did see a large, rectangular white-on-brown sign whose lettering was obscured by condensation from the fog. What I think it may have said is, "Dear Bruck: Please accept our humble apology for misleading you into thinking we had a Welcome Center in our worthless town last July. It was a failed publicity stunt and we have since fired our PR company."

Or it may have said, "There really is no Welcome Center in our miserable city; we just put those signs up to fool Bruck, but the joke's over now. In exchange for calling off the boycott, we are offering Bruck a lifetime supply of Cracker Barrel hominy grits and redeye gravy, plus a free oil change and radiator flush at any of our Jiffy Lube locations."

Another thing it may have said is, "Welcome Center Exit 313. During the latter part of July, '06, the Welcome Center was absent from its current, convenient location, having been beamed to the dark side of Uranus where it served as a temporary VFW hall while the real one was undergoing repair from fire damage. We regret any inconvenience."

Assuming one of the above messages appeared on the sign that I was unable to read, I herewith suspend the boycott of Winchester, VA.