Yay! (Note that the biography is somewhat error-riddled) Update: it was actually quite accurate.  Also, slightly earlier, there was this.

That’s it for today — just me being conceited.

Remember the Scopes Monkey Trial, where a high school science teacher was convicted of teaching evolution? That happened in Rhea County, Tennessee.

Apparently, that county has been expressing its conservatism again.

Curious about the type of people in Rhea County, I did a demographic query. The results list a prominent neighborhood type as “shotguns and pickups,” something that I found amusing.

So I was eating burgers on the porch today after Spring Cleaning at the house (the barn is clean and organized again!) when one of my Brothers made a very disturbing observation: I have some gray hairs on the side of my head!!! Yikes, that’s frightening. I mean, jeeze, I’m 21 years old; that shouldn’t happen for another decade or two. I guess I should be thankful that I have hair, but still…

I’ve got to hand it to Motorola’s engineers.

On the night before I left for Paris, I decided to do some laundry. So as to get everything clean at one time, I decided to wash the jeans that I had been wearing earlier in the day. Everything went smoothly until I went to move my clothes from the washer to the drier.

All of my clothes were in the drier when I checked the washer for any laggards. I noticed something dark, relatively small, and apparently hard sitting on the bottom of the washer. “D’oh! I must have washed my wallet!” I thought. No, that couldn’t be — I don’t carry a wallet (I use something akin to a money clip, except without the clip part). Hmmm… what could it be? I reached in and retrieved the mysterious object. When I saw it, my heart sank.

It was my cell phone.

My poor little StarTac, having taken so much abuse (and numerous broken antennas) appeared to have finally met its demise. The phone must have been in one of my jeans pockets when I threw them into the washer, which means that the phone was certainly powered on during the wash cycle. The phone gave no indication of life following the wash; no beeps, no lights, just nothing. It was unresponsive to the power button. The LCD had water in it, which flowed back and forth as the phone was rocked.

The phone was almost certainly dead, but I felt a need to make a desperate attempt to revive it. It wasn’t that I needed the phone per se but rather the 90+ phone numbers stored within. Like so many people in today’s society, I have become completely dependent on my cell phone for remembering phone numbers. If I were to lose my phone, I would only be able to call numbers imbedded in my psyche from those damn auto insurance television ads.

I moved the phone to my room and surrounded it with silica gel (a desiccant).

Overnight I did wait, hoping in my dreams that the gods of technology would take pity on my poor phone and grant it resurrection.

In the morning, I looked at my phone, hoping to find it dry and happy. I cautiously pressed the power button, hoping for newfound electronic life. But it was not to be. The phone remained silent as ever.

At that point, I reasoned that perhaps only the battery was destroyed, so I cautiously plugged the phone into the wall charger. Seeing no sparks, I tried again to power on the phone. It awoke! With a melodious beep and a bright LCD, it sprang back to service, supported by power from its electric tether.

Pleased with the triumph, I unplugged the phone and left it to dry out for the week while I was in France.

Upon my return, I attempted to recharge the battery. To my pleasure, the battery started accepting a charge after a few hours indicated its readiness.

As I write this now, the phone is sitting behind me, happily waiting at the ready for communication. Battery life seems not to have been impacted and the water has disappeared from the LCD. The only lasting reminder of my heinous electronics faux pas is a slightly more broken antenna. That, I can definitely deal with.

——–

I’m pleased that the phone worked, or else I would not have been able to hear an amusing voicemail message left on my phone while I was in Paris. The message was from my Brothers down at Panama City Beach – specifically Dinger, Stu, and Nagel. They were gently chiding me (in a good-natured way) for not being down there with the rest of the Pike seniors.

I do somewhat regret not going to Florida with all of them, but that doesn’t mean I regret going to Paris. I really enjoyed Paris, not only for the sights and experiences, but also for the quality time it allowed me to spend with my little bro Tyler. I’m very happy that I went, and even more pleased that the whole thing went extremely well.

Ah, the sights. Over the time we were there, I saw Notre Dame cathedral, Pompidou modern art museum, the Seine river, the Arc de Triomphe, the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, the gardens and chateau at Versailles, Luxemburg Palace, the Catacombs, and the outside of the Royal Observatory. I wonder where I’ll go when I return in the spring?

Paris is great. I’m somewhat sad to think that I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning. More on that in a minute. First…

I think I have found a solution to America’s obesity nightmare: make food more expensive. As I look around on the streets of Paris, I see very few overweight people and certainly none that are obese. I thought that perhaps this was because of the excessive amount of walking that all of them seem to do, but then I saw the prices of food: astronomical!



Let’s say that I want to eat a sub sandwich. In Paris, the equivalent is a sandwich made from a baguette (As an aside, baguette-based sandwiches seem to be the most popular ‘fast’ lunchtime fare in this area). The baguette sandwich is about a foot long, roughly two inches in diameter, and filled with a single layer of lettuce, a single layer of tomatoes, and a single layer of cheese (the exact type of filling obviously depends on the type of sandwich). Overall, it is *considerably* smaller than anything one would find at a Subway, Quizno’s, or Jimmy John’s. The strange thing is that it tastes considerably better than, and is just as filling as, anything found stateside. The real shocker is not the petite size of the sandwich; instead, it is the price: an average of EUR3.50. At current conversion rates, this works out to roughly $4.55. This price seems fairly consistent wherever I have been in Paris, even when relatively far away from the usual tourist hotspots.

Keep in mind that the mean purchasing power parity per capita in France is 28% lower than that in the USA. Note that purchasing power parity is independent of exchange rates.

Other food is expensive too. Want two scoops of ice cream in a cone? That’ll be EUR3.00 — and these are small scoops, about a third of the size of an American scoop. A liter of orange juice will set you back at least a euro. Want a plain baguette? Plan on about EUR0.80 to get one from a bakery. Here’s the real shocker: a liter of Pepsi — the same fructose-laden caramel liquid that we have in the States — costs EUR1.50. That would be EUR3.00 for a two-liter bottle.

I think that the French simply can’t afford to get fat. Calories are cheap in the US, but not so in France. Over here (Paris), foods come in smaller portions, but at high cost. Over here, foods aren’t stuffed with sugar and fat. High-fructose corn syrup and partial hydrogenated soybean oil are but vague, distant concepts. Without using these additives, it is harder to make food cheap.

The French appear to enjoy eating just as much as we do, perhaps more. Americans, more and more, seem to view eating as a sort of race: faster, faster, faster! Everywhere, from home, to school, to work, eating is a chore that must be accomplished as quickly as possible. We need to consume massive amounts of food just to satiate our hunger: the taste and energy value of the food does not seem to register in our brains as quickly as we can devour it. The French, on the other hand, seem to view meals as an opportunity to enjoy company and make good conversation. Meals are a time to savor life, perhaps with a bottle of good wine to remind one of the finer things in life. Service at restaurants and stores is prompt, but not hurried. Meals often are spread into courses, usually including dessert and terminating with coffee (a small cup, roughly espresso-shot-sized). Eating is a rewarding experience. One leaves a restaurant satisfied without consuming much.

If food, on a caloric basis, were more expensive in the US, I think that people would enjoy it more, enjoy it slower, and enjoy it in smaller quantities, as much more effort would go into paying for said food. Would people be supersizing as often as they now do if to do so cost $2.00? I think not. (This is not especially relevant anymore; supersizing is being phased out.) Just think of the health benefits if Americans simply cut a hundred calories out of their daily diets.

Ah, cheap fast food. It seems as though some people virtually live off of the stuff. One man tried to do so for a month, and it took an incredible toll on him. On the upside, the effort won him a Sundance award.

Make food more expensive, make people eat less of it, and make people live longer.

——-

On Tuesday, we visited Versailles. The gardens and chateau there were simply breathtaking. Although the plants lacked their flowers, the evergreens were as lush as they always are. I found walking through the long rows of trees and shrubs to be extremely relaxing. The entire place was a refreshing change from Paris.

Getting to Versailles was more of a challenge than it should have been. We started by taking the wrong train out of Paris. Unfortunately, we didn’t realize our mistake until we were well into the northwest suburbs (Versailles is to the southwest of Paris). To make it worse, we had to pay for another ticket just to get back to where we started so that we could take the correct train, at which point we had to pay for yet another ticket. Oh well. We got there eventually, and we got to see a part of France that we otherwise would never have visited.

Today, we visited the catacombs. Tonight, we plan to dine at a nice Parisian restaurant. Tomorrow, we return to the United States.

After looking closer and trying harder, I can now say that, yes, many Parisians speak English. We must have simply had bad luck on our first day here. I’m not sure where the notion that Frenchmen are rude developed. Everybody we have encountered has been polite, helpful, and friendly, even when we weren’t buying things from them. I’m also curious how Paris got a reputation as a dirty city. Other than an occasional lump of dog feces, Paris seems at least as clean as any major US city. Overall, people seem happy here. I’m glad I got the chance to experience it.