Diversity, Equity, and...

Pssst!  Have you noticed that the tallest basketball players tend to do the best at the game?

That's no News Flash, I know.  But just like being a 6' 5", 245 lb. guy named "Lia", swimming against 5' 2", 110 lb. Riley Gaines, more often than not results in a victory.  If you're 7' tall, it certainly does prove advantagous in getting old rock in the old hole.

Up to now, we've relied on reason to get us through the obvious advantage Black players have over White players in the National Basketball Association.  They're taller, and being taller helps.  That's why they average 3" in height advantage over their White competitors.  

And that's perhaps why Black's are over represented in the League, to the tune of 77.9%.

But now the Wheaties have helped to grow a whole new crop of tall players.  Including one Oliver Rioux.  He was 6' 1" the day he entered the 1st grade.  And he's been growing ever since.

Ollie has agreed to Join the University of Florida this fall.  He'll then be the tallest collegiate player in the entire world.  

At 7' 6 and 1/2".

And oh yeah, he happens to be White.  And a Canadian.

And there's a young lady in China who simply stands under the hoop and waits for the ball.  Her name is Zhang Ziyu, and she is 7' 5" in height.  I personally believe she was lab-grown, but who cares?  This is becoming the game of giants, for giants, of giants.  And we mere mortals need to buy their overpriced sneakers and move on to darts, or pool (my specialty!), or perhaps water skiing.

BTW, have you ever seen a Black guy sailing?  Just wondering...

But until then, I was reading all this D.E.I. stuff, see?  You know, Diversity, Equity and Incoherence.  And just like boys can now pretend to be girls and swim against them in competition, I'd like some of that equity to help me play basketball against these giants.

Maybe spot me 50 points?  Or maybe let me foul them indiscriminately?  Like a quick shot to the nuts every now and then?  Would be easy, since they're hanging right about eye level.

Or perhaps force them to use dark sunglasses?  Or don't let them begin play until the 3rd period?  Or give them a hefty dose of Ex-Lax just before the game?

Please get back to me on this.  I'm working of the presumption that the crazies on the far-Left, who clap politely while boys crush girls' sports titles in every single event, will decide that a decrepit old man, who needs a couple of canes to get from his car to his drug store, should be able to play, and get an advantage while doing so.

Like that sentence?  One of my best.

So unless we decide that certain sports are the province of certain races, or certain heights, or of certain abilities (Singing?  Dancing?  Chess?), we need to figure out a way to make the game equal.  And playing against a guy 12" taller than you, where height is an advantage, is just not fair.  

The Chuckmeister hath spoken...

Your EV Update...

Well now, since "THAT'S" over with, we need something to talk about until November 6th...

So here we go.  Those of you who follow The Chuckmeister, your go-to guy on all things automotive, know by now that new cars cost double what they did a decade ago.  And that the monthly payments to buy them have increased by 55% over the past 3 years, equalling almost $900 now.  And that car insurance is up more than 50% in some areas.  And double if you own an EV.  And that your Gubmint has issued a diktat (the way they spell it in Russia) that you WILL drive electric vehicles (EV) by 2030!  If you want to drive at all!   

Face it:  Electric cars are the answer to a question only very few are asking.  I guess every generation has to have something to be afraid of.  When everything's A-okay.  

As I've written, for some, "The Sky is Falling!"   

The Mumbler-in-Chief issued this proclamation, despite the fact that we're sitting on a river of oil that the USGS (U. S. Geological Survey) has told us will last for more than 200 years.  Plus three other U. S. oil formations bringing that total to 900 years!  

You know that the U.S. was a net exporter of oil and gas while The Donald was POTUS, right?  And that gas averaged $2.80 a gallon the day he left office.  It isn't anymore.  It's $3.89 nationally, and $5.60 here in Taxifornia.  Where it's so dayummm Blue that they don't even pretend neutral governance anymore.  Did you know that 47 of Taxifornia's 54 counties are owned and controlled by Democrats?  And that they can pass any ridiculous laws they can come up with?  Including a new law requiring other cars to beep at you if you're speeding!  Including paying hamburger-flippers $10,000 a year more than military enlistees?  

On the strength of this unilateral "Executive Order" (no legislation supports it), the auto makers began to gear up to manufacture grossed-up golf carts.  And to dedicate vast sums of $Cash in the changeover.  Ford even required dealers wishing to sell EV's to pony up $500,000 for the opportunity.  

Imagine:  You're a Ford dealer and you have to pay Ford to sell Ford products.  Hmmm...    

The auto makers were happy about this turn of events, as EV's have far fewer parts (1,300 vs. 33,000, on avg.).  And they're easier to design around (the battery is under the floor).  So they were willing participants in this folly.  They were gung ho, despite the fact they knew making EV's to try and fix Global Warming is a Leftoid's pipedream.  They were in it for market share.  And PROFIT!    

What they didn't count on was the American People.

Some "early adopters" bought EV's, to be sure.  Up to 6.7% as a total percentage of cars bought last year were plug-in EV's.*  Especially those located in the big cities where commutes tend to be short.  Many bought them as 2nd cars for just that purpose.  17.3% of all new cars bought in Taxifornia last December were EV's.  Mostly Teslas, BTW.

And 92% of EV owners have a second, gas-powered car.  As a backup, no doubt, knowing that their $expensive little toy will fail them when they need it most.  

If it's very hot out?  Won't work.  If it's very cold out?  Won't work...

And then last November the sales stopped.  Dead.  In their tracks.  For the reasons I'd forecasted a year ago.  It's called the "Cuisinart Effect."  Cuisinart was a food processor.  It burst on the scene in the '80's.  Would-be chefs had to have one.  And they bought one.  Until the day when everybody who wanted one, had bought one.  And then that $100 Million Dollar, Publicly-Traded Cuisinart Corporation went bust!  Couldn't they foresee that there was a limited number of chefs? 

Couldn't they see there were a limited number of those wanting a growed-up golf cart?  You're watching it happen again...

Ford's CEO Jim Farley stated recently that it had stopped construction on its Michigan battery plant.  And halved production of EV's.  And stopped production of its F-150 Lighting model pickup.  The one with oodles of horsepower.  A pickup that can burn rubber for blocks.  Exactly what people looking for a pickup tend to desire.  A $70,000, tire-shredding pickup  

Whu...?

That same CEO said Ford had lost more than $5.6 Billion, with a "B," on its  EV's last year.  He said they lost...get this...more than $133,000 on each EV they sold in 2023.  So on waaay overpriced EV's, they lose $133,000 each!  Are their stockholders reading this?    

And GM lost $2.7 Billion in the same period.  And although GM's CEO says its still committed to EV production, it's trimmed back its production schedule by 45%.  

Face it, EV's suck for most of us.  "Range anxiety" is still a hugely limiting factor.  It's sometimes tough to find a place to charge them.  And 20% of chargers are out of commission at any one time.  And if you choose "Supercharging," it can be as expensive to charge them as buying gasoline.  And their range is still limited.  Especially when it's very hot or very cold (figure a loss of 30% either way).  And it sometimes can take an hour to charge.  Against 5 minutes at Larry's Gas Station.  

Who thought up this sh*t show?  

Oh yeah, they just put out a poll showing that fully 83% of all plug-in EV owners would return to gas-powered cars next time.  Not a good endorsement.

But for those very few who live and work in an urban enviro, make lots of $cash, are comfortable with the idea of your neighbor helping you buy your car (your $7,500 tax rebate that other Taxpayers pay for), can charge their cars overnight, in their own garages, and for whom it would be a 2nd car (still can't rely on them for long distance trips), EV's can work fine and save on gas.  And if you're also willing to pay a $Yuuuuge premium to Save the Planet.  While ignoring the fact that it takes 20 tons of Earth to generate 17 pounds of Lithium.  And EV batteries take fully 17 pounds of lithium.  Which is the key heavy metal needed for battery production.

And while Ford was losing its shirt for following O'Biden's orders, Tesla went on a price-lowering tirade!  Musk lowered the price of all his models by an average of more than 25% in the past year.  How would you like to have purchased a new Model S for $100,249 in January, and then discover its retail price was $74,455 in March?

I mean, EV owners can expect to get smacked with a 49% depreciation rate the moment you drive if off the showroom floor.  It seems to me they're asking waaaay too much from you, the poor customer.  

And speaking of Tesla, did you know that the first Model S was only sold in 2013?  Yes, Fellow Patriots, the EV market is only 11 years old.  So how long will that battery last again?  And how much is a replacement, again ($20k, at least)?  And how much will it cost me to dispose of this rare Earth time bomb when it gives up the ghost?

And then there's the secondary market.  What's a used EV worth?  Nobody knows!  Elon Musk has now sold some 2 million of them.  But Hertz just dumped one-third of its entire fleet of 60,000 Teslas at bargain-basement prices because they're too costly to maintain!  What's that tell the prospective retail buyer?

And what will happen to the Brand, and to the reputation of EV's in general, when those beat-up used Teslas hit the road.  And Fisker just went tits up, for the SECOND TIME, not only screwing its 5,000 orphaned owners, but dragging down the entire EV market.  Plus Lucid's future isn't all that bright, either.  So what's a used EV worth?  

What'll ya' pay?  

Put simply, unlike our fleet of 220,000,000 gas-powered cars out there, we don't know what they're worth on a used car lot.  We have no reliable data.  And if you own one you're already caught up in this drama.    

Plus, they tend to spontaneously combust.  News just in has two Tesla S's colliding at highway speeds.  Causing a roaring battery fire.  That could not be put out by water.  And another "S" ran it's 12 volt battery dry in Phoenix, locking a 20 month-old infant inside.  In 100 degree heat.  Firefighters had to break the Tesla's window in order to gain entry.  And are you really comfortable with some snot-nosed genius at Tesla World Headquarters be able to push a button and turn off your air conditioning in West Texas heat if you don't pay your lease bill?  These, Fellow Patriots, are problems you do not face with ICE automobiles...

So, like I've said before, those who choose to get involved in this mess, after being warned by me and others, deserve everything that they get.  

"A Choice Between Negatives."

I've been passing along some of my Dear Ol' Daddy's homespun wisdom over the past few postings.

Because he was brilliant.

Some of that brilliance was passed along in his DNA, for which I'm eternally grateful.  And the wisdom I'll pass along today is very relevant.  I came to him once with a thorny problem.  One of those "50 - 50" deals.  A coin flip.  And he said to me,

"Boy, when faced with a choice between negatives, choose the one least negative."

Daddy said you almost always know where you want to go, or which job you want to take, or which girl you want to date, or how you want to vote.  Sometimes you just need a little extra, unbiased help.  I've had a few of those "fork-in-the-road" moments during the course of my storied life.  Perhaps you have as well.  And I've always used Daddy's logic.  

So here's what Daddy said.  "Simply flip a coin."   Ascribe one choice with "heads," and the other choice with the "tails."  Then flip.  I know it sounds simplistic, but bear with me.  The very second the coin stops rolling, and you see whether it's a heads or a tails, you'll know exactly how you really feel.  

The answer will go straight to you heart and bypass all the thinking and feeling and justifying you've done up to that point.

There may be an event upcoming in yout life or our Country's life which permits you to use my Daddy's wisdom.  Such as, who's best suited to run the Country for the next 4 years?  That might be a "fork-in-the-road" for you.  And event requiring you to make a choice.  Watch the debate, then decide.  And if you need some help, take out a $Quarter and give it a flip.  It may well be a "Choice Between Negatives," but I'm working on the assumption that as a patriotic American, you'll pick the choice least negative...

Pain Management is a Pain!

 Likely as not, "seasoned" 'Muricans like me, and perhaps you, take a pain pill or two to get through the day.

Or perhaps more than one or two.

In my case, it's all the Federal Gubmint permits me.  I'd certainly like more, but it's No Way, Jose.  The Gubmint stuck it's gigantic nose in my business about 15 years ago and has been tightening the screws ever since.  And it's worth some figurative ink to tell you about it.

Way back about 25 years ago I hurt my back.  And I was prescribed 6 Vicodin (Hydrocodone) a day.  That's a popular pain medication that also happens to be an "opiate."  

Well now!  It seems that a particular family that makes the stuff (Purdue) I was prescribed dumped loads of the stuff all over Kentucky.  At one time 90% of the population of Kentucky had been given a prescription for the stuff.  Whether they knew it or not.

And whether that was true or not, or simply faked, matters not.  It seems like everybody in Kentucky wound up an addict and toothless.  And the Gubmint then chose to get involved.

The Beast was awakened.

The first thing that HHS did was reduce my Vicodin supply to 5 a day from the previous 6.  Why?  No one ever told me.  I think it was a knee-jerk reaction to the Kentucky mess, but what it meant to me was an increased level of pain.  

Tough nuggies, Veteran citizen!  Your Gubmint don't 'splain and don't care!

And then about 10 years ago the Gubmint's HHS decided to reduce my Vicodin dosage once again. They decided I could get along quite nicely on only 4 pills a day!  So 25 years ago my pain was tolerable with 6 pills.  Now, 25 years later, the reason for my pain has worsened, and I get only 4 pain pills to handle it.  It's a net lose-lose!  

And if you take a trip to Tiajowannnna and try and buy some, you'll likely wind up with Fentanyl and be dead by morning.  I believe they call that a "Choice Between Negatives."

Jeeesh!

And to make matters worse, not only must I get along with only 4 pills a day, I have to visit a "Pain Management Specialist" every month before I can get the prescription for those measly pills!  I have to drive to a pain doctor who will simply verify that I am still vertical.  I guess.  They weigh me, and take my blood pressure.  For what reason I've never learned.  Maybe it's a layer of insurance in case us old folks drop dead in their exam room. 

Since they're not my doctor, and aren't in charge of my health care, I know of no other reason to insert such an unnecessary individual between a primary care physician and his patient.

Unless somebody's getting paid off.

And God help us all, there are thousands who are getting paid off.

This pain doctor's waiting room I'm required to visit usually looks like the bar scene from Star Wars.  Old, creaky, wounded, limping, hurting, often drug-addicted/addled oldsters and Veterans on walkers or canes, who must stop by this waste of time in order to get their tickets punched.  The only reason I can think of is to keep the family doctor from self-prescribing (it happened a lot, to be fair).  Or writing ghost scripts which likely occured in Kentucky.  

Anyway, it's a waste.  And in the 9 years I've been forced to stop by my pain guy's office...I've never met the pain guy.  Only his physician's assistant.  Who takes my blood pressure, then asks me robotically how I am, and then leaves the exam room.  For no apparent reason, as they do not practice medicine.  They only permit medicine to be practiced!  I could literally leave my car running out front for all the time this takes.

And get this:  MediCare, the folks who underwrite all basic and HMO and most PPO plans, pays this pain guy $256.12 for this visit.  Five minutes!  

In my next life I want to come back as a Pain Guy.  All they have to do is verify people are still alive and our Gubmint pays them $256 bucks.  Each.  All day long.  

Are we dumb, or what?

Just think about the millions and millions of Senior Citizens who waste their valuable time, effort, energy and money, which they don't have so very much of, engaging in this folly.  I hate waste.  I particularly hate the waste of my own time.

I have written letters to ombudsmen and TV stations and MediCare and MediCal about this dummass process, and to date, no response.  If you know anyone who knows anyone who can fix this outrage before I keel over, dm me and let's talk...

Are We Devolving as a Society?

I can say for sure that there were no transgender folks in my high school when I was growing up.  Nor my hometown.  Nor my county.  Not that there's anything wrong with that!  

In fact, there were no transgenders anywhere.  The term "transgender" was only coined in San Franpoopco back in the late 1960's, as a protest against the police.  And it's an escape from societal norms that's expanding to this day.  

Except they've been smart enough to sidle up next to those "LGB" folks, and join in on the fun.  That's "Lesbians," "Gays," and "Those Who Cannot Make Up Their Minds." 

Thus, we then had "LGBT."  Creating then a vacuum into which the other anti-social oddities were drawn.  As we've learned.  And then others who've decided to color outside the lines brought their particular fetish or brand of weirdness to the group and added their unique "Initial."    

In fact, just finding out how many transgenders there are is tough.  Health and Human Services tells us that 1.7% of our population is transgender.  I'm sure they're trying to minimize the number.  Other Federal agencies put the number as high as 3%.  And the "Lesbian and Gay Alliance" puts the number at 5%.  I've read it could be up to 8%.   That means as many as 20 Million people are representing themselves as transgender, whether they are or not.

And fully one-third of all transgenders are gay, we're also told.  By them.  So they're fully entrenched in that "LGBTQ2TIA++" thing now.  Can you imagine a convention of these folks?  So the Bottom Line:  Two-thirds of the 15 or 20 million people who present themselves as transgender aren't gay, and one-half of them aren't even transgender.

And even though Ronald Reagan doesn't have his own holiday, nor John F. Kennedy, nor Dwight D. Eisenhower, the guy who won WW2, the transgender folk are being celebrated all month long.  So all you have to do to be celebrated is to be confused about your sexuality.  The parts and pieces you were born with don't work for you any more and so you have your own month.  It's now "Transgender Awareness Month."  You've no doubt grown weary of seeing that on your TV all day long.  

And then there's also "Transgender Happiness Month" all month in San Franpoopco.  And "Transgender Day of Visibility." in North Hollywood.  San Fran also has their "CITP" Program.  That's "Consideration for Immigrant Trans People."  Such a nice gesture!  They offer $1,200 a month for 18 months for any "Newcomer" (illegal alien) who breaks into the U.S.A. from any of those 196 countries flooding our Southern Border.  Imgine that!  They pay you to break our laws!

Almost makes you want to join in with that group pretending to be trans in order to get some financial benefit, right?  Especially since being trans is pretending, right?  I mean, they're handing out goodies, why not get in line?  Especially if you're a Veteran.  For whom there is no recognition or awareness nor consideration at all.  You're completely invisible to these people so very busy virtue signaling.  Just put on a dress and some 3" heels and a nice wig and you'll be set for life!  Like about 10 million of your fellow soon-to-be citizens...

But God help you if you give any of them grief.  Just let them live out their lie in front of those who know they're lying.  And assuage their uber-Liberal leanings in the process.  Plus, reap the many $Rewards.  Otherwise, you'll get arrested for some bogus civil rights complaint and wind up in jail.  While they're getting elected to Congress.   

And so, Fellow Patriots, we went from no transgenders to 20 million of them.  Are we devolving as a polite society?  I'll leave the answer to you...

The Kardashuns...

If Orenthal James Simpson hadn't tried to decapitate his ex-wife, Kim Kardashun and her XXL arse wouldn't be famous.  

Nor would her sisters.  Nor her mother.  Nor her step-fa, er mother.  Nor the Sacramento Warriors...  

Those under 40 might not recall that O. J. knifed his ex to death.  Tried to cut her head off, he did.  And that of her friend, a waiter from a local restaurant.  And his lawyer at the time was a guy named Robert Kardashian.  A reasonably well known Lost Angeles defense lawyer.  And once O.J. got indicted for murder, he threw Bob over for a guy named F. Lee Bailey.  Who you also might not remember, even though he was the most famous lawyer in 'Murica at the time.  

So Bobbie, as he was known, died shortly thereafter of a massive heart attack.  And his wife was left with 28 daughters to feed.  Whose arses were growing.  But then she discovered she could market those panty-poppingly yuuuuge arses!  And yuuuuge arses seemed to be in at the time.  To Black basketball players and rappers in particular.  

So she started marketing her daughters' arses.  To the Sacramento Warriors, it would seem, as well as to available rappers.  Because she had enough of them to supply the whole team!  And the Team kept signing new talent every year so there was an unending supply should there be a falling out.  

Oh yeah, and that guy/gal who got mommy some fame, first for being an Olympic Medalist, and then a Transgender, er, spokes...woman.  So being married to this guy/gal got mommy back into the Big Hollywood Picture and raised her daughters' Celebrity Quotient.  And got mom a reality TV show.  Enabling her to show off her daughters' arses.  Which ran for 37 years.  

It enabled them to all start their own cosmetics and clothing lines and name their children after directions on the compass.  And become Enablers on all those TikTok channels.  Making them multi-$millionaires.  And making China, TikTok's owner, multi-$zillionaires.  

Not that they couldn't have ridden those voluminous, garment-stretchingly enormous, sun-blotting arses to fame and fortune on OnlyFans, even without that decapitation thing and all.

 

Flying, Back Then...

I started flying on business back in the early 70's.  And when I did there was a high likelihood the seat next to me would be empty.  On either side.

In fact, there was a very great chance half the plane would be empty.  And that the half-filled half would be wearing suits.  No shorts, no T-shirts, no flip-flops.  Because it cost a bundle to fly.  That was before the Gubmint forced the leaders of the airlines to stop getting together in the bathroom and colluding to fix their fares.  So that more of the public could participate.  Prior to which it had been the province of the Upper-Middle Class and wealthy vacationers.  Plus corporate representatives.  And politicians.  Plus Big Ticket salesmen selling Big Ticket items.  

Like me.

I recall it costing $405.00 to fly from Lost Angeles (before it was "Lost") to New Yawk City back then.  Back when you could walk down the streets of either city and expect to still be alive when you finished your stroll.  To not be mugged, or knifed, or robbed, or shot.  Or their current favorite, carjacking.    

And you can just imagine what $405 in today's money would buy (that was five decades ago!).  Because $405 factoring for inflation is worth $2,400 today!  And I flew round-trip LAX-NYC more than 100 times during my 7 years of steady air travel.  

That works out to about 3 months in the air.  

I wound up being appointed the International Sales Manager for a medical equipment manufacturer.  And the World was my Territory.  As well as my oyster.  I not only had to fly everywhere to put together and manage a sales team, I had to then visit foreign countries to set up distributorships.  So my corporation issued me an "Air Travel Card," the-then credit card good for all airlines.  You just flashed that red card (making Gold Card holders green with envy) and stepped aboard.  And during the period 1976 - 1983, I averaged, averaged, $6,200 a month in air travel.

And that's not counting rental car expenses (one car for every flight), nor all the thousands of hotel/motel rooms (one room for every flight).  Nor meals and incidentals (2 or 3 meals for every flight).    

That's a lot of flying!  That's a lot of Hertz!  That's a lot of Holiday Inn!

I travelled so much I recall asking a wake-up call operator one morning where I was?  She said, "The Holiday Inn, sir."  And since they all looked the same back then, I said, "Okay, thanks for that, but give me a clue.  Which state?"

When you fly for a living, you get confused sometimes about where you are.  As if it matters.  It's like "muscle memory."  You just plod through the motions until "go time."  That's when you get in front of your potential customer, after that bushel basket of somebody's money you just spent to get there, and try and close the deal.  All the flying and driving and eating and sleeping is incidental to that sales call.  

A very expensive sales call... 

In fact, I averaged a plane a day for years!  And that's not those one-stop, take-off-and-landing-and-take-off-again, continuing flights.  That's different planes and different flight numbers.  In fact, there was one 24-hour period during which I flew on 5 separate planes to five separate destinations.  Columbus, OH at 5:15 a.m., to Cleveland, then on to Chicago, IL.  From there I flew just across the Detroit River to Windsor, Ontario.  I then taught an 8-hour class at the University of Ontario to a room full of PharmD candidates on "The Theories, Principles and Practical Applications of Sorbent Hemodialysis Science."  Then a 6:00 p.m. flight back to Chicago, then to Louisville, KY, and on to Lexington.  All within 24-hours.  

Oh yeah, and that last leg, that Louisville to Lexington?  Yeah, that included flying around a tornado and suffering the terrors of an emergency landing.      

Oh yeah, if you're keeping score, I lived.  My kids are surely happy about that...  

And how about this: I started one Monday morning having a bizz lunch on the Space Needle in Seattle; then toured the Alamo in San Antonio, Texas on Tuesday; had dinner at famous Pitty Pat's Porch in Atlanta on Wednesday; took in the Museum of Science and Industry and Second City in Chicago on Thursday; and had a lovely dinner at Windows on the World in the Twin Towers (we should bow our heads) on Friday.  And that was just one week in the life of the pre-Chuckmeister.  

Getting up and heading off to the airport was my daily routine.  And during this period I visited 49 states and 37 countries.  Sorry, North Dakota, couldn't fit you in.

I had some favorite airlines, yes.  I recall PSA, fondly.  That was "Pacific Southwest Airways."  They flew up and down the West Coast back in the '70's and '80's.  And I flew with them from LAX to SFO and back literally dozens of times.  They were famous for catering to us mostly male business flyers.  The "stews," as they were called back then, were leggy 20-somethings in mauve and orange hot pants and skimpy tops, plus white "go-go" boots to round out the uniforms (the '70's were something, huh?  Can we go back?).  They even featured a big painted smile on the nose of their DC-9's, right under the pilot's cockpit.  

I would have flown PSA even if I had nowhere to go.  In fact, since the World was my territory, I often did just that.  Just hopped on and then started selling something to somebody when the plane landed.  'Cause no matter where the plane landed, I could do bizz...

We all know what flying's like today.  Seats that shrink right before your eyes.  Every single seat sold at least once.  You've got a guy with a comfort chicken in his lap on one side, and a 500 pound sumo wrestler, who's bathing-averse, on the other.  

Who is desperate to tell you why he's voting for RFK!

And in place of everything included in the price of a ticket, as it was an eye-blink ago, you now have to rent a blanket.    

But back then it was a pleasure!  The planes were all newer and the stewardesses were all newer, too.  And "friendly" ("wink-wink"). The 727's and 737's and 747's and DC-9's and DC-10's and L-1011's were all spotless and ready to ferry our post-War citizenry around the Country.  And the stewardesses (what they were called before we got "woke") averaged about 25 or 26 and were there to please.  Take that as you wish.  To be a stewardess back then was a yuuuge step up from jobs normally open to young women.  Remember the 3 jobs that were the province of women back then?  Secretary, nurse and teacher?  To which we then added "stewardess."  

They were all beautiful, the planes were all beautiful, and life was simply beautiful.  

And you made enough friends while flying to sometimes keep you busy even after all that flying part was over.  Ahem...

And then the Gubmint stepped in and demanded air fares be open to competition.  

These Congress-types work for us, right?  Anyway, the lowest price is the best, they said.  So the airlines had to cut out all the "fluff," which is why we chose one airline over another!  Flying went from men in suits in half-filled planes, to fully-filled planes, one-third kids, shorts and t-shirts, on their way to Disneyland.

And so the profit incentive was mostly wrung out of the equation.  Little regional carriers, like PSA, could no longer compete.  And lots of airlines either merged with a larger competitor or went broke as a result.  Trans World Airlines and Eastern Airlines and Northwest Orient and Frontier and Ozark and Southern and many others all went down in metaphoric flames.  Including, I would add, the famous "PanAmerican Airways."  The folks who started it all.  

Sort of gives one a chill down the old back, now don't it?  

But the pilots were all fresh out of Vietnam and happy as a clam to no longer be dodging gunfire.  And the stews were happy they weren't teaching wet-nose kids or taking dictation.  It was sort of like, "fly where you want, collect phone numbers of the "10's," and some "9's, and go about your business."  Until nightfall.  When everything changed.  For the better.  You were in a strange city with nothing to do.  The stewardesses were in a strange city with nothing to do.  The hotels had bars and discos to keep their visitors entertained.  So you whipped out those phone numbers.

Did I ever have a close call?  Not really.  There was this time an L-1011 I was riding in managed to lock its brakes on liftoff from St. Louis' Lindberg Field, resulting in a roaring fire.  The hydraulic fluid in the right landing gear was ablaze.  The plane did a quick 360 and we landed in foam.  No harm, no foul.  We got free drink coupons, BTW.  Sort of a big yawn.

On one other occasion of note I caught a 747 from LAX to SFO on Saturday evening.  I was the only customer on the entire plane.  16 cabin attendants (stewardesses)...and me.  Can I tell you the champagne flowed!  New friends were made!  Phone numbers were gathered!  And there was summm party at the hotel! 

So, having flown all my adult life, to 6 of the 7 continents, more than 2,000,000 miles in the air, I can say I truly enjoyed it.  In the past tense.  I would never fly again, however.  I chose years ago to no longer fight this maddening crowd.  

I will not pay to have to arrive to an airport 3 hours early.  And pay a wad of $cash to park my car.  And submit to being felt up by some 400 lb. illiterate in order to get through security, when millions are wandering across our Southern Border without such rude and disrespectful treatment.  An then be flown in a plane being hot-lapped from city to city that just might fall apart.  By an air crew and an Air Traffic Control System whose employees were all hired and trained using DEI and CRT.  

Hire the barely qualified if their skin is the right color, lease planes from the lowest bidder, and hope for the best.  I was going to say "pray," but I doubt they're familiar with that concept.

Do you really care about the skin color of your pilot?  Or that of the guy/gal/other handling your plane up there in that Air Traffic Control tower?    

So if I can't get there by car, or train, or motorcycle, or sedan chair, or on the back of a camel, I'm not going.  You do as you wish, but flying commercial today is like paying to be mistreated.  I am not a masochist!  And you shouldn't be either!  The public will get what it pays for.  If it demanded better, it would get better.  Parts falling off of airplanes?  Fights breaking out at 30,000 feet?  There's a real opportunity in the ailing airline business for some $Billionaire to start an airline that does what PSA did, way back when.  

Doubt me?  Remember what happened when JetBlue came upon the scene?  The public embraced leather seats and widebody aircraft and free wi-fi and seats designed for humans with wide backsides and being treated like we're the paying public.

What a concept!

I never flew on business in the old Soviet Union.  Or dared fate on Cuban Airlines.  Or a Chinese airline.  But having spoken to those who have, what's offered now to the American public is a pretty good representation.  I'm ashamed to say...

Old folks die off continually and they take their memories with them.  And that's a real shame, because those they leave behind will have no idea just how good it was..."back then."