American Economy modeled as gas

A random blog article about how economists are modeling all of the economy but the top 3% as a gas. You have to read it if only for this quote, "...as macroeconomist Makoto Nirei puts it, the gas model "seems to me not like an economic exchange process, but more like a burglar process. People randomly meet and one just beats up the other and takes their money."

Boy do I feel foolish

So my hand isn't broken. My trip to see the Navy doctors and get X-rays was revealing. I got off on the wrong foot by forgetting my consultation paperwork, and compounded my problem by being a little insolent with the Physician's Assistant on duty. Oh well.
I got an overwhelming response on the Informal Reader Survey. Three people responded. They were overwhelmingly female and middle aged, so I am redoing the page with pink accents with 24 point font so they don't have to wear their reading glasses when they check out the page. (I am allowed to tell that joke because both my parents are middle aged and very near-sighted. My vision is better than 20-20 now but when I turn 40 I will instantaneously go blind.)

Football Is More Violent Than War

Who would have guessed that I would sustain the first broken bone of my life playing football in Iraq? Three or four weeks ago, when I ceased to be a line medic and moved into the aid station, I played a football game and fell on my hand knuckle-first. I remember that immediately my pinky knuckle was deformed, swollen, and very painful. I thought immediately "Something is wrong." Then of course I thought, "It'll heal". If it had been anyone else's hand I would be in trouble with the medical platoon for not providing care.
So I was lifting weights the other day and mentioned how stiff my pinky finger had become to another medic and showed him the lump underneath my pinky knuckle. He suggested a condition known as "Boxers' hand". Boxers often break their metacarpals from punching with the smaller knuckles on their hand. I showed my hand to our doctor and he immediately concluded that I had broken my hand.
So I am probably facing surgery sooner or later to fix the problem. Things were going so well...

Places to Go Before I Die

I place a lot of emphasis on wish fulfillment in my life. I want to be able to grow old and not regret wasting my youth. I mean one can be responsible, get a job and get married, or one can party oneself cross-eyed. It is obvious what route is most attractive.
I was reading Stuff magazine (or was it Maxim? They are so similar that I think they might as well combine forces and stop competing. They could call the new magazine Stuffxim, pronounced "stuff 'em") the other day and saw a list of party spot world-wide to visit for New Year's Eve. Of course, last New Years Eve I had a hot date with a dude wielding an AK-47 and wearing a long beard so I didn't visit any of the aforementioned reveling rendezvous. I did start thinking though, where do I want to go party while I am still young enough to enjoy it? Well here's my list:

• Ibzia, Spain. It's only the wildest party in all of Europe, if E! Entertainment is to be believed. I think I read a statistic somewhere about how 70% of all females who visited with their boyfriends cheated while they were there. I am certainly not taking a date when I go.
• Sydney, Australia. I was planning to go while I was in Korea because of the things I have heard about Aussie women and the pictures I have seen of Australian beaches. The number one reason? Nicole Kidman and Elle McPherson are Australian. I've been trying to figure out where to go to meet lonely 6 Ft. tall super model types all my life.
• Cozumel/Mazatlan/Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. I spent 4 hours in Mexico during spring break, and I saw enough to know that anything goes in Mexico. Anything.
• Las Vegas, Nevada. I want to see Sin City while there is still sin left to be committed.
• Los Angeles, California. I am not really interested in seeing the stars. I have been watching that TV show The OC and I think that LAX is the closest airport to Newport Beach.
• The French Riviera. Because I want to see French girls and there are no beaches in Paris.
• Reykjavik, Iceland. Hip people worldwide are flocking to Iceland because of the great night-life, the northern Lights, and the hospitable people. I am hip right?
• Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. One Word. Carnivale!
• Bora Bora, South Pacific Islands. Because everyone says they want to go to Hawaii. I want to see the South Pacific, but I also want to be original.
• Miami, Florida. Ok, so maybe Will Smith isn't the greatest rapper alive; but I think he was onto something with that song.
• Hedonism, Jamaica. The name says it all.
• Benin, Nigeria. Because Dallas, TX is home, but Nigeria is Home.

Informal Reader Survey

If you don't know, I have been plotting a massive redesign for sometime, but it occurred to me that I haven't included a major constituency in the decision-making process - you the reader. I don't gather usage statistics and for all I know all I may have ten readers total (but they all send great care packages!) but I do want all ten of them to suggest how the site might better serve them.
At the same time, please don't be offended if I completely ignore your wishes and do something completely different. It isn't callous disregard - it's... I'll get back to you on what it is, but I do understand one thing about my readers. The majority of my readers stay interested because my situation is the same or similar to that of one of their loved ones. When I was in AIT, a woman read my site and told me of her fiance who was going to Fort Sam Houston. She lived in fear that he would succumb to the many temptations to be found in San Antonio. Another woman wrote me when I was in Korea about how her son was also in Korea witnessing and probably experiencing moral depravity with "Drinky girls" in Tongducheon. Now that I am in Iraq, I get family members of deployed soldiers.
I am trying to say that in six months I will have new readers because I will have started a new adventure. I don't know what happens to the old readers, but chances are they stop reading. I can't even get my family and friends to read all my blog posts.
I need email from as many readers as possible about why they read, who they are, and what they like or don't like. I don't share reader's names or their names.

Rock Star's Websites

When putting together your own "rock star" website it is necessary to study actual rock star websites, which I have been doing in my spare time. I discovered that a lot of Rock Stars have old, poorly updated websites. It looks like many people put a lot of money and work into developing flashy cutting edge websites when the web was new and then discovered how much was required to maintain such a website. A lot of sites have flashy graphics and music but no content to back up the site's pretty looks.
My goal and what I mean by Rock Star website, is a site that looks expensive but is designed without any expensive parts. The site should be colorful, energetic, and look as if it might fly off the screen but without breaking the budget of the guy who built it.
I do know these things:

• I hate rectangles.
• I like irregular borders.
• I like not having any borders.
• I like Jenniferlopez.com.
• My liking Jennifer Lopez's site has more to do with the picture on the left side of the site than it has to do with the design.
• I don't look as good with my shirt off as J.Lo. does. (But I do look real good, let me assure you).
• I hate sites that make you download stuff to see them.
• I hate sites that only work on certain browsers.
• I think really cool designs should also look really simple.

Those are my design principle right there, in a nutshell.

While you ponder my rules of good design check out www.firstrock.net.

I finally got a programming job

After an exhaustive search for employment I have finally found a job doing programming work. The catch is that I had to join the Army become a medic and forget half of what I knew about programming to get the job. My newest task in the medical platoon is to replace the old platoon database, which is a formidable endeavor. The old database had 47 fields in a table and 816 records. "Daunting" is a good word to describe my job for someone whose only experience with databases comes from a 3 credit class he took in college almost 3 years ago. To further complicate matters, the database could probably use some Visual Basic expertise, another class I was blowing off on a regular basis 3 years ago.
Despite all the cobwebs in my brain, the database is actually coming along fine. It's going better than my last project, building a heating rack for iv fluid with balsa wood and duct tape, which didn't really go that badly either if you ask the people who matter most.
My next big project for the platoon is building the platoon website. I am going to make us all look like rock stars. That is as soon as I can get someone to send me some decent image editing software...

Happy Valentine's Day

Happy Valentine's Day!
That is, if you actually want to enjoy Valentine's Day. I mean, Valentine's Day is just another one of those commercial, market driven holidays that corporate America uses to separate honest people from their money.
Ok, So I am a little bummed about not being able to hook up on Valentine's Day. Sue me!

Do You Remember The Time I Almost Got Married?

I don't know whose been reading for how long and how long those peoples' memories are, since I no longer gather any usage data; but I was curious if anyone remember the story I told about the "soldier medic" at Fort Sam Houston who wanted desperately to get married. This is what I said:

...Like this girl I know who is getting chaptered out of the Army due to health problems. She realized that she will be without any benefits or employment so she is trying to get married to someone for the health benefits! It will happen to because she is an attractive girl. I was tempted myself - if only for the chance to demand that she do her "wifely" duties...

Well I have trouble resisting a good joke, so I called her and suggested that we should get married for the money. So of course, she said yes. Luckily, I was hanging out with other medics who were able to administer CPR. She went on to say that she had always liked me and that she would be happy to do her "wifely duty". I had of course lost all powers of speech.
I bring this story up because she e-mailed me the other day and told me how her life was going, which was pretty well actually. She's working and will soon be returning home to attend college.
I still can't help but wonder "what if?" What's more, if I was married I'd have had priority for leave dates. What if?

My Name is Idaho, and I am an Addict

My name is Idaho Edokpayi, and I am addicted to television. I may have said something about being addicted earlier, but you must understand that my addiction is serious. I think I would be less obsessed if I was mainlining heroin every thrity minutes. I have never watched much on tv until I discovered the wonders of broadcast television the summer I graduated college. I watched an entire season of "The Real World: Chicago" in one day. Suddenly, I understood what it was to actually enjoy a program and want to watch new episodes in sequence.
The next year, I discovered the magic of DVD's and Tivo all at once. I am now forever spoiled. My life is over.
It's that simple.
When I am not watching "Smallvile", "Roswell", or lately "The OC"; I am watching "Buffy, The Vampire Slayer", or possibly, even worse, playing Soul Calibur 2. Soul Calibur 2 has to be what you might get if you took crack and digitized it and put it in a video game. There are times that I am not even enjoying playing the game, but my fingers won't stop and I can't seem to drop the controller. I don't even know what other games I own on my Xbox anymore.
This is bad because I am a soldier... in an infantry battalion. I am surrounded by fellow addicts! When somebody isn't saying, "Hey, Doc let's watch some OC" or "Hey, Doc let's watch some Buffy" they are telling me that I couldn't beat them at Soul Calibur if they all had no thumbs and were forced to play the game by pecking the buttons with their noses. Wrong thing to say.
What more can I say? I love television. Just not on TV anymore - I've got my brother, an electrical engineering major, working on technology to send the visual impulses directly into your brain. You'll be able to watch hours of TV in seconds. Just think of the possibilities!
TV is a heck of a drug.

Is This Thing On?

Somebody recently emailed me to ask why I hadn't posted in two weeks and I nearly replied that I thought I had. I looked at the blog and I haven't. I have been posting by email and I am not sure if I have been careless or if there is a problem but I know of at least one email post that still hasn't shown up.
If you have been checking the blog and thinking horrible things, well they are not true. I would never lie about my feelings for your sister... Wait wrong apology. I am alive and well as those of you who have been e-mailing know very well. I am sorry and I'll pay more attention to whether my posts actually get on the blog in the future.

When it Rains it Pours

My location in the Sunni Triangle looks like a monster truck rally, which isn't far from the truth when you consider how much modified up-armored and armored HMMV's weigh. Winter here can be cold, damp, and dreary - which is to say that it is probably preferable to the only other season we have here, which is summer. We have tracked mud on every square inch of floor indoors and most boots have changed color from tan to brown. The majority of my platoon is complaining of cold symptoms, and I am suffering the exact symptoms but I hate medication, ironic since I am the medic. 

For those of you who are interested in my soccer ball project I have a few helpful guidelines:

• You may send the balls deflated.
• Size doesn't matter, but I would recommend a size 5 ball. (The kids aren't picky)
• I am not affliated with any charitable or  international aid organizations.
• I make up the rules as I go.

Keep those things in mind and we can have a beautiful relationship. I am going to post pictures of smiling children with soccer balls at this location , my new photoblog, A Thousand Words. There will also be pictures of daily life in Iraq.

That's all for now, I am leaving to go take my mudbath.

So You Need Proof?

When I came up with the idea of giving Iraqi children soccer balls I always knew in the back of my mind that I would need proof that I was actually giving the balls to the children. I originally intended to take pictures as proof, then I I realized that may not be adequate. However, I don't have much in the way of other options. I intend to take the pictures and post them on a photoblog (as yet unnamed but coming very soon) but in the end, I'll have to ask you to just trust me. The address the soccer balls are sent to is an APO address in Iraq and honestly, other than perhaps a soccer coach, who wants a million soccer balls in the mail?  I suppose it could be part of some diabolical plan to take over the world, but what are the odds?

Meestah Give Me Football!

I would never explicitly ask for something for myself on the blog. I might however drop subtle (ok not so subtle, or rather really obvious) hints. However, for somebody else, I don't feel the slightest compunction making my demands known.

What I want are footballs, known to you as soccer balls. The never ending refrain of the Iraqi children's singsong pleas is "Meestah give me football!" They ask for other things of course, pencils, pens, crayons, stickers, coloring books, papers, money, watches, sun glasses, etc. But they always ask for soccer balls. And I never have any. So I aim to set this situation right. So please, send me your balls. Soccer balls, I mean. (perverts)

This is how it works. If you send me an email, I'll email you back instructions on where to ship your soccer balls. If you already know my address feel free to just go ahead and send them.

Thanks! You many now return to your regular programming.

Combat Carpenetry

If you had been near my location in Iraq recently, you would have thought it was a construction site. Well, my location is a construction site; but it's also a fortified position, bristling with heavy machine guns and booby traps. People passing by simply do not realize how close they come to death everyday.

The most popular pastime recently has been carpentry. I even tried my inexperienced hand at some minor projects. Thus far I've built a platform for exercise and a floor for my room, and both were remarkably similar in construction. I built the platform so I could do calf raises without breaking my neck on the balcony or the stairways and I put the floor in so I didn't have to walk in the dirt in the little room I call home. I am satisfied with the results, even if the results are lopsided and unfinished. Finished wood where I live is unheard of. It wouldn't go with the decor.

I took some pictures recently (THANKS DAD!) to send home to the folks and my mom upon seeing the pictures immediately wanted to know where my gun was. I replied that it was strapped to my leg like it always is. It seems that the family is afraid I'll get shot because I am not carrying a big enough gun. I just want to say, don't worry about me - I have 20 body guards and they are all packing heat. Me worry? Nah!

Ever wake up on the wrong side of the bed or sleeping bag in my case? Today, I was in such a nasty mood that I would have punched Mother Teresa in the ovaries if I had seen her.

Check out the Bravo Company website. http://www.b-co.1-503rd.org/

Gotta Go!

It's a New Year

I have no resolutions except to do everything I can to return to the States in one piece. I should think of something funny to say but some days you just don't feel it. I WANNA GO HOME!

Happy New Year

Happy New Year to you and yours!
Umm by the way, unless the Army is willing to relax its strict rules of behavior and allow shenanigans like what is depicted in Starship Troopers (co-ed showers, sex in the tents) I am very much not in favor of women in the infantry. I'll explain what brought this up another time.

stuff not to send a soldier

My platoon has been getting a lot of packages because of the time of year and we appreciate the sentiment and the good things the people of America have sent us. Some things have been cause for head scratching or bemused laughter. For instance, if the address says anything about "Infantry Regiment", "Inf.", or anything resembling the word "Infantry" feminine hygiene products will not be appreciated. We feel much the same way about vitamin supplements meant for women, and magazines like "Redbook" aimed at an older female audience. Men in an infantry line company really do not care to read about why Julianne Moore believes that no one should get plastic surgery. (We would tend to believe that many people are in dire need of immediate emergency plastic surgery, but that's just us.)

Also don't send us water. I am amazed that the water survived the trip without springing a leak but, a single bottle of water is a mockery more than anything else. If the Army can deliver my mail I am sure it can deliver sufficient quantities of water also. Now that I have told you not to send water, I am sure we will have a shortage and I will be forced to drink water from the open sewers in the street. No matter, what does not kill me sends me home early.

I can't think of anything else you shouldn't send offhand but I'll let you know when something occurs to me.

Merry Christmas

In case I don't see you again. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

By the way, visit www.desertoutkast.com, make PFC Gonzo happy too this Christmas.

I'd be happy if he'd just take down that stupid picture of me sleeping.