What You Know Is What You're Exposed To

One of the cars I am driving this week is a 2011 Nissan 370Z convertible. I know: My life sucks. Unfortunately, I don't measure my life solely by what I'm driving; so, in spite of having a hot convertible to motor around in, my life does pretty much suck at the moment.

But I digress.

I have this wonderful convertible to tour around in and have been taking every opportunity to cruise Main Street in Greenville. What's the point of having a hot convertible if you aren't going to show off a little bit? Or in my case, a lot.

If you are one of the folks unfamiliar with Greenville's Main Street, its traffic usually flows with the speed of the driver's-license-renewal line at the DMV. Sometimes seasons change before your very eyes while traversing the eight blocks or so Between the Hyatt and Smoke on the Water.

Traffic would move with a tad more alacrity on Main if the city would prohibit left-hand turns. It is only one lane in each direction. I've sat for two red-light cycles waiting for some fool to make a left turn. It's a PIA.

But if you are going to cruise in Greenville, Main Street is the appointed avenue.

During one of today's stop-and-go drive's many pregnant pauses, a gawker shouted to me from the curb, "Hey, what is that?"

Because these cars have been around for years, the question caught me a little off guard.

I replied that it was a Nissan 370Z.

"Wow, nice," was his response.

I guess, thinking about it, I don't see a lot of these convertibles on the road. I saw a lot more of them in Florida. Maybe it's just that there aren't nearly as many convertibles running around South Carolina as South Florida.

It just got me thinking about things people probably take for granted based on where they live.

The episode, for some reason, caused me to remember an encounter I had in Lubbock, Texas in the early 1990s. I can't remember the exact year, but I had flown into Dallas to pick up the gal I was dating long distance from Florida on my way to my sister's for Christmas in Albuquerque.

Chevy had a spanking-new Tahoe waiting for me at DFW to make the drive. Whatever year it was, Chevy was making major changes to the Tahoe and this was one of the next-generation vehicles. They were still weeks away from landing in showrooms.

Believe me, it would have gone completely unnoticed in South Florida; but in Texas, it caused quite a stir.

I was at a gas station filling the tank in Lubbock when a car came screeching to a stop in front of me. Jumping out of it, an NFL linebacker-looking guy came running toward me.

"Man alive, that's the new Tahoe, right?"

I told him it was.

"I'm a salesman at such-and-such Chevy dealer around the corner and we haven't seen one of these in person yet," he offered. "Can you wait here a minute? I'll be right back."

I finished filling the tank, hopped back up into the cab and gave this guy a couple of minutes to return.

Within two or three minutes he was back with two other salesmen and the sales manager. They crawled all over that Tahoe.

Ten minutes later we were back on the road, and avoided getting gas inside any Texas city limits from that point forward.

I guess what you know and what gets you excited can have a lot to do with where you are from.

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I'm Only One Man

Believe it or not: I am busier than usual right now.

That doesn't mean I'm making money, mind you. But I do have some work to do. I have been hard at it for two days now.

Consequently, I don't have the left-over creativity, nor the motivation to shovel the usual load of BS required to fill this spot.

Hang in there! My work load is sure to evaporate as rapidly as it appeared. I will be back in full blogging form shortly.

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As Everywhere Else, Things Are Slow in Hollywood Right Now

Say it ain't so.

I was shocked and dismayed to read the headline that Ryan Phillippe is contemplating abandoning his acting career. (Insert collective gasp here.)

Who is Ryan Phillippe? you may be asking. Exactly.

That anything this guy utters -- other than maybe, "I'm the Long Island Serial Killer" -- should garner any media notice is evidence of a truly slow news day.

I don't mind Phillippe, really. He's an inoffensive personality and an actor of acceptable competence.

His biggest claim to fame was being Mr. Reese Witherspoon. Yes, he has been in a lot of movies, but so has Vincent Schiavelli. And, Vincent is much more recognizable and memorable.

I think most people would have trouble picking Phillippe out of a lineup; particularly if it was out of context.

He is one of those actors, though, who does turn up in a lot of movies. However, a dozen other 30-something guys could be substituted to play those roles without anyone taking notice or it having any real impact on the film.

Apparently Phillippe was bemoaning the fact that he has spent 20 years being chased by the paparazzi and is sick of it. I guess since the Hilton sisters are maintaining a lower profile, there are a lot of paparazzi with nothing better to do than turn their cameras on Phillippe.

My advice to shy Ryan: Stay home.

In other celebrity (or near-celebrity) news: Charlie Sheen seems to be one skank short since porn star Bree Olson jumped the listing Sheen ship.

He made the announcement to a half-filled hall during the Tampa stop of his comedy tour. If the reports are accurate, his break-up (by text message no less) news and a nubile young thing flashing him while on stage were the high points of an otherwise grim performance that included a sincere plea for the audience to help him get his CBS "Two and a Half Men" gig back.

Aw, Charlie, get a grip.

This week's "Oh, Charlie, I Want to be Like You" Award goes to David Arquette, another Hollywood burnout marking time until his next stint in rehab.

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Close Your Eyes, Children, and I'll Tell You a Fairy Tale: Corn Ethanol Can Replace Gasoline

Right up there with Roger Patterson's sasquatch film and Bernie Madoff's $50 billion ponzi scheme, one of the greatest scams ever perpetrated against the American public is corn ethanol. If you want to know which presidential candidate running in 2012 is serious about reducing the budget deficit and therefore the U.S. debt, it's the one (if there is one) who campaigns in the Iowa caucuses promising to end all subsidies for corn ethanol. To do so will require brains, courage and will.

Every president since Reagan has been a big supporter of ethanol. Nothing transforms a corn ethanol critic into one of the converted as rapidly as a run at the presidency; just ask Hillary or John McCain. Both were rabid vocal critics of corn ethanol who had some sort of epiphany on the road to Des Moines. Obama was a big supporter of corn ethanol, even as a U.S. senator; Illinois grows a lot of corn and has several refineries for producing ethanol. Both receive a lot of subsidies (taxpayer dollars) to do so. Obama has never seen a taxpayer dollar he didn't want to spend or, better yet, throw down a rat hole.

Here are some facts about ethanol:

• The amount of corn required to make enough ethanol to fill the 25-gallon tank of an SUV could feed one person for a year. Lester Brown of the Earth Policy Institute in the Washington Post
• It would take 546 million acres (an area more than 3 times the size of Texas) to grow enough corn to make the ethanol required to replace gasoline in fueling our cars. Farm land currently under plow for growing all crops is around 440 million acres.
• Taxpayers are being taxed three times in supporting ethanol: subsidies to farmers for growing corn, subsidies to producers for making ethanol and higher prices across the board at the grocery store. As the price of corn escalates so does the price of everything it goes into from corn flakes to cattle.
• In 2006 total subsidies (taxpayer money) for each gallon of corn ethanol produced was roughly $1.20. In that year, U.S. corn ethanol production was 4.9 billion gallons or about 3% of gasoline used. Let's see, carry the 1, umm that's approximately $5.9 billion in taxpayer dollars required to prop up the layers of business needed to replace just 3% of our gasoline needs for one year. That's in addition to the $2.30 or so it cost to by a gallon of ethanol in 2006.
• On average, 150 gallons (yes, 150 gallons) of fresh water is required to make 1 gallon of corn ethanol. Only 5 gallons of fresh water is needed to refine 1 gallon of gasoline. (It takes nearly 900 gallons of fresh water to make one gallon of ethanol from soy beans.) Are you thirsty?
• Corn ethanol is about 30% less efficient than gasoline, so for every gallon of gas you burn, you need roughly 1.3 gallons of corn ethanol.
• Depending on how the reporting agency is cooking the books, for every Btu of energy needed to make corn ethanol, you get back between 1.1 and 1.3 Btus of energy. For every Btu invested in refining gasoline, the return is 6 or 7 Btus. Corn Ethanol makes wind mills look down-right efficient.
• Corn ethanol burns dirtier than gasoline. What! Yep, even the EPA admits that adding corn ethanol to every gallon of fuel in your car, will cause your vehicle to belch out from 4% to 7% more NOx and VOCs than gasoline alone. These are the pollutants blamed for smog and erosion of the ozone layer, as well as global warming and climate change -- if you buy into that stuff.

Corn ethanol is voodoo technology. It's nothing more than a false solution to the unattainable goal of U.S. energy independence. Both are fairy tales.

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Pampering the Uber Wealthy One Poop at a Time

Thank, God! Finally a toilet for the well heeled.

I can't begin to tell you how many sleepless nights I've clocked worrying over the sorry state of affairs that Warren Buffet, Bill Gates, the entire Walton clan and the rest of the uber rich must pee into commodes not much different than mine. What's the point of being uber rich?

Next you are going to tell me they have to wipe with rolled tissue. Oh the humanity!

Looks like my sleepless nights are over, though. I read that Kohler has just introduced the Numi. It's a $6,390 poop collector that is smarter than your 12-year old.

If you go to Kohler's Numi Web site, you will see photos of a hip, young, wealthy couple smiling at one another in what appears to be a penthouse living room with this toilet smack-dab in the middle of it. Of course, the walls are all glass. I guess if you blow $6,000 plus on a crapper, you want to make sure your invited guests see it.

What features could it possibly have to inspire the super rich to plunk down more than six large to plop their self-indulgent behinds onto it? Here are a few of the more notable ones:

• Because it is tankless, it eliminates the any need for handle shaking to stop the water from running. In fact there is no handle.
• It ends the great battle of the sexes over a toilet seat left up. It has a sensor that determines if the caveman, er, male has finished his business and automatically lowers the seat. (No doubt the divorce-attorney lobby is already attempting to get this feature eliminated.)
• A bidet that can be customized for its user to adjust water temperature, force and angle of the stream. I'm sure Duracell sales are going to plummet on Palm Beach and in Beverly Hills.
• A seat warmer will prevent those 3-AM shocks during the winter.
• A foot warmer: Why should your piggies be cold when your ass is toasty?
• A remote control to operate all of this stuff.

Now more than ever, I wish I was rich. They say money can't make you happy; but apparently, it can make every bowel movement much more enjoyable; and, if Kohler's marketing department is correct, something you want to accomplish in front of an audience.

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7 Sensible Cars You Won't Mind Owning

Okay, so these aren't barrel-of-monkey fun, but I've put together a list of  7 cars that are inexpensive to buy, relatively cheap to insure, provide solid fuel economy, score well in crash tests and won't embarrass your kids when you drop them off at school.

In terms of value, they excel. You can read more about them at http://www.bankrate.com/finance/auto/7-fun-cars-that-make-sense-1.aspx.

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Growing Older: Even the Best Intentions Can't Overcome Advancing Years

It's hell getting older. My advice: Avoid it at all costs!

I joined some friends on Sunday on a little spruce-up project at my favorite Greenville restaurant, The Peddler. Why, you are probably asking yourself, would anyone spend his Sunday afternoon sprucing up someone else's restaurant?

Here's the long-version 4-1-1...

When I made my, some would say, impulsive decision to buy a house in Greenville, SC and move here, it was based on a number of factors. For those of you unfamiliar with this episode, basically I made this decision over a 3-day, exploratory visit. A buddy and I arrived in Greenville mid-morning on a Friday, flew back to Florida late Sunday afternoon, and in between I decided this is where I was going to live and found a house. See why some might characterize this as impulsive?

Well before this trip I had made up my mind to leave South Florida, but I was in search of a place to land. Greenville was on the list of a few potential spots that included Louisville, Dallas, New Mexico and Tennessee. Mississippi had also been in the running, but Hurricane Katrina refugees had inflated real estate prices in the Mississippi areas in which I was interested.

Back to those influencing factors. What piqued my interest in Greenville in the first place was that I have several friends who had purchased land in the area with plans to relocate. At the time I knew of four separate couples with such plans. Since then I've discovered two other sets of friends with similar intentions. The buddy I made the trip with and his wife have since purchased a lot here, too. I came to see what all the hubbub was about.

Next, I was smitten by Greenville's downtown the second I laid eyes on it. Difficult to describe, it's a cross between Mayberry and Coconut Grove. (You can check out one of the travel pieces I wrote on it at www.buynowupstate.com/upstate_market.php.)

When my buddy and I stepped onto Main Street for the first time and I saw the Blue Ridge Brewery, my reaction was, I'm home. Walking the six or seven blocks of Main Street from the brewery to Reedy River Park only solidified my initial opinion.

Finally, my buddy and I had dinner that Saturday night at The Peddler. This is a restaurant in the great-old-steak-house tradition. Great steaks, a salad bar that brings tears to the eyes, friendly service and a rustic atmosphere conspire to create the perfect dining experience. That first night we met George and Deborah Schneider, the owners.

After dinner, my buddy and I adjourned to the bar. Toward the shank of the evening, George and Deborah eventually made their way down and ordered dinner. My buddy and I introduced ourselves. Two hours later we were talking, laughing and cutting up as though we had all know one another for 20 years. I don't exaggerate when I say that I have never met anyone that I liked so much, felt so comfortable with and was as determined to establish a friendship with as George Schneider.

After buying my Greenville home, I made several trips from Florida to check on my property and always had dinner at The Peddler on those trips. After making the move, I went there once a week when not on the road traveling. We shared a love of wine and would often try to surprise one another with special wines we had found. We swapped texts and phone calls. In the nearly three years I knew him, we did indeed become friends.

George died suddenly last August. That loss impacts me yet today.

Calling ourselves The Peddler Wednesday-Night Irregulars, a group of us hang out in The Peddler's bar on Wednesdays. We've been doing this for about two years. Some Wednesdays maybe only three or four of us are there and other Wednesdays the group will swell to 10 or 12. We are the Irregulars, don't you see.

In early fall we pitched together and planted a Japanese Maple next to the sidewalk leading up to The Peddler's entrance. We did it in memory of George. We have lighted the tree and ordered a plaque. In May we will have a formal dedication ceremony. Several Irregulars from Florida, as well as the locals, will be here for it.

This past Sunday, we met at The Peddler to whip into shape the area around the tree. Basically this involved refurbishing the two park benches that were in serious disrepair. It entailed replacing several of the wooden slats and painting both the wrought iron and wood. Doesn't sound like much of a project; but in what can only be described as Laurel and Hardy meet The Three Stooges, it took four of us nearly five hours and a 12-pack of beer.

What we lacked in skill we made up for in bench-refurbishing ignorance. It was a blast. However, five hours of bending, kneeling, crouching and bending some more left me in pain. It's two days since the ordeal and I am still hurting. Momma?

Of course we could have simply forked out the cash and bought new benches, or hired someone to refurbish the old ones; however, this was personal for us. We wanted to do it.

I can live with a little pain; but I'm here to tell you, growing older is hell.

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