Month: April 2004

KevinLeave a comment

I HATE IT When I Can’t Find a Link!

While surfing last night I found something so simple and obvious that it literally caused me to laugh out loud that I hadn’t thought of it myself. The new liberal talk-radio network, ‘Air America,’ which has been rightfully ridiculed for numerous things (not the least of which being the fact that it’s named after the CIA front air transport company of the Vietnam era) is now on the air, and failing miserably. Put forward as an antithesis to Rush Limbaugh and his “dittoheads,” someone yesterday put forth the idea that “Air America” fans should be rightly named… wait for it….

AIRHEADS

And now I can’t find the link to credit the source, dammit. If anybody knows, drop me a line.

Damn, the cluelessness of the left is sometimes awe-inspiring.

UPDATE: Reader Jay found the link. It comes from Robert Cox of The National Debate:

NOTE: I continue to do my best to listen to Air America and am hereby coining the phrase “Airhead” to refer to persons making dopey comments on Air America Radio. Feel free to use this term as needed. I will issue Airhead Alerts as appropriate on this web site.


KevinLeave a comment

Human Nature Doesn’t Change

I found this quiz through a piece over at What We Mean. It seems that some commenters at Little Green Footballs echo the opinions of the Nazis when it comes to genocide. The quiz tests your ability to determine which quotes are from LGF commenters and which from Nazis. I took it, and scored 69%. It’s not that difficult, but the similarities between the (admittedly) cherry-picked comments are pronounced.

The point of the original piece seems to be: “The horrible evil commenters who are supported (or at least not censured) by LGF are Nazis!” (And it’s not a logical long-jump to the implication: “All right-wingers are closet Nazis in favor of the genocide of our little brown brethren,” either.)

My take on it? This is the thing I don’t understand – why do many people seem to insist on believing that Germans during 1936-1945 are somehow different from humans from any other time? Or that the really evil Nazi’s were just a tiny fraction of the population? Human nature is human nature. People who think this way have always existed, and they can sway others to believe the same way.

That’s how people become convinced that it’s a good thing to see their sons and daughters strap bombs onto their bodies and climb onto buses.

Humans have an almost unlimited ability to go insane in so many different ways. Go read DemocraticUnderground.com for the flip-side.

KevinLeave a comment

Ah! Another Example of Cranio-Rectal Inversion!

Seems that 60 Minutes curmudgeon Andy Rooney is but the latest victim of this non-fatal but viciously brain-damaging affliction. I’d write something suitably pithy in response, but the Heartless Libertarian has already done so.

That last line juuuust about says it all, there, Heartless.

Touchè!

UPDATE: For those commenters suggesting that Andy Rooney didn’t write this piece, here’s another link to the same essay in the Buffalo (NY) News. If Rooney didn’t write it, I’d imagine he’d have issued a protest by now.

KevinLeave a comment

Is a Symphony better than a Carnival?

A new blogmeme (is that a word?) has started, the “Best of Me Symphony,” in which blog authors are invited to send in older posts they’re particularly proud of or feel need to be viewed again. This week’s Symphony, the 19th, is hosted by Blogo Slovo, and my entry is first!

The Symphony is the brainchild of Jim Peacock of Snooze Button Dreams. As Jim explains it:

This post compilation meme is structured like the Carnival of the Vanities but concentrates on the best posts from the history of weblogs. Post submission criteria are very simple. The post must be at least 2 months old and the submitter must think it is a very good post. How easy is that?

Easy enough. This is my second entry. The best part of the concept, IMHO, is this:

Note that a post does not have to be submitted by its author so readers and lurkers with or without their own weblogs may contribute.

Perused the archives of someone’s site and found something that knocked your socks off? Forward the link to Jim.

Helluva good idea.

Stream of Consciousness

KevinLeave a comment

It’s interesting (at least to me) the things that go “click!” in my head while I’m reading stuff. Things I come across throughout the day, or the week, or the month will ferment in the recesses of my psyche until they’re distilled into a thought. Or they just rot back there until flushed away…

Anyway, due in part to our recent sparring sessions, I spent some time this afternoon back over at Tim Lambert’s Deltoid where last week I took a Myers-Briggs Type Indicator test that told me I was an INTJ (Introverted iNtuitive Thinking Judging) personality type. I didn’t at that time follow the links to see what that was supposed to mean, but I did note that Tim’s type was INTP (Introverted iNtuitive Thinking Perceiving,) not far at all from mine. This evening I went back and followed the links and read this assessment of the INTJ personality type:

To outsiders, INTJs may appear to project an aura of “definiteness”, of self-confidence. This self-confidence, sometimes mistaken for simple arrogance by the less decisive, is actually of a very specific rather than a general nature; its source lies in the specialized knowledge systems that most INTJs start building at an early age. When it comes to their own areas of expertise — and INTJs can have several — they will be able to tell you almost immediately whether or not they can help you, and if so, how. INTJs know what they know, and perhaps still more importantly, they know what they don’t know.

INTJs are perfectionists, with a seemingly endless capacity for improving upon anything that takes their interest. What prevents them from becoming chronically bogged down in this pursuit of perfection is the pragmatism so characteristic of the type: INTJs apply (often ruthlessly) the criterion “Does it work?” to everything from their own research efforts to the prevailing social norms. (Guilty!) This in turn produces an unusual independence of mind, freeing the INTJ from the constraints of authority, convention, or sentiment for its own sake.

INTJs are known as the “Systems Builders” of the types, perhaps in part because they possess the unusual trait combination of imagination and reliability. Whatever system an INTJ happens to be working on is for them the equivalent of a moral cause to an INFJ; both perfectionism and disregard for authority may come into play, as INTJs can be unsparing of both themselves and the others on the project. Anyone considered to be “slacking,” including superiors, will lose their respect — and will generally be made aware of this; INTJs have also been known to take it upon themselves to implement critical decisions without consulting their supervisors or co-workers. On the other hand, they do tend to be scrupulous and even-handed about recognizing the individual contributions that have gone into a project, and have a gift for seizing opportunities which others might not even notice.

In the broadest terms, what INTJs “do” tends to be what they “know”. Typical INTJ career choices are in the sciences and engineering, (Guilty!) but they can be found wherever a combination of intellect and incisiveness are required (e.g., law, some areas of academia). INTJs can rise to management positions when they are willing to invest time in marketing their abilities as well as enhancing them, and (whether for the sake of ambition or the desire for privacy) many also find it useful to learn to simulate some degree of surface conformism in order to mask their inherent unconventionality.

Personal relationships, particularly romantic ones, can be the INTJ’s Achilles heel. While they are capable of caring deeply for others (usually a select few), and are willing to spend a great deal of time and effort on a relationship, the knowledge and self-confidence that make them so successful in other areas can suddenly abandon or mislead them in interpersonal situations.

This happens in part because many INTJs do not readily grasp the social rituals; for instance, they tend to have little patience and less understanding of such things as small talk and flirtation (which most types consider half the fun of a relationship). (Also guilty!) To complicate matters, INTJs are usually extremely private people, and can often be naturally impassive as well, which makes them easy to misread and misunderstand. Perhaps the most fundamental problem, however, is that INTJs really want people to make sense. (Absolutely, positively guilty!) This sometimes results in a peculiar naiveté, paralleling that of many Fs — only instead of expecting inexhaustible affection and empathy from a romantic relationship, the INTJ will expect inexhaustible reasonability and directness.

Probably the strongest INTJ assets in the interpersonal area are their intuitive abilities and their willingness to “work at” a relationship. Although as Ts they do not always have the kind of natural empathy that many Fs do, the Intuitive function can often act as a good substitute by synthesizing the probable meanings behind such things as tone of voice, turn of phrase, and facial expression. This ability can then be honed and directed by consistent, repeated efforts to understand and support those they care about, and those relationships which ultimately do become established with an INTJ tend to be characterized by their robustness, stability, and good communications.

I found this fascinating, because the actual personality test is laughably simple, but this description fits my personality to a tee. My wife emphatically agrees. She told me to frame the printout for future reference.

Then I read the personality profile for Tim, INTP:

INTPs are pensive, analytical folks. They may venture so deeply into thought as to seem detached, and often actually are oblivious to the world around them.

Precise about their descriptions, INTPs will often correct others (or be sorely tempted to) if the shade of meaning is a bit off. While annoying to the less concise, this fine discrimination ability gives INTPs so inclined a natural advantage as, for example, grammarians and linguists.

INTPs are relatively easy-going and amenable to most anything until their principles are violated, about which they may become outspoken and inflexible. They prefer to return, however, to a reserved albeit benign ambiance, not wishing to make spectacles of themselves.

A major concern for INTPs is the haunting sense of impending failure. They spend considerable time second-guessing themselves. The open-endedness (from Perceiving) conjoined with the need for competence (NT) is expressed in a sense that one’s conclusion may well be met by an equally plausible alternative solution, and that, after all, one may very well have overlooked some critical bit of data. An INTP arguing a point may very well be trying to convince himself as much as his opposition. In this way INTPs are markedly different from INTJs, who are much more confident in their competence and willing to act on their convictions.

Mathematics is a system where many INTPs love to play, similarly languages, computer systems–potentially any complex system. INTPs thrive on systems. Understanding, exploring, mastering, and manipulating systems can overtake the INTP’s conscious thought. This fascination for logical wholes and their inner workings is often expressed in a detachment from the environment, a concentration where time is forgotten and extraneous stimuli are held at bay. Accomplishing a task or goal with this knowledge is secondary.

INTPs and Logic — One of the tipoffs that a person is an INTP is her obsession with logical correctness. Errors are not often due to poor logic — apparent faux pas in reasoning are usually a result of overlooking details or of incorrect context.

(Portions in red are my emphasis.)

Tim is a professor of Computer Science and Engineering at the University of New South Wales, Australia.

Then, later this evening I was reading Megan McArdle (Jane Galt) concerning the Rice testimony before the witch hunt, err, 9/11 Commission, wherein Megan said:

The energy expended trying to blame this failure on someone–George Tenet, Louis Freeh, Condoleezza Rice, or whoever–goes beyond mere regular partisan bashing. It seems to me to express an underlying conviction that of course someone could have stopped this – it’s only a question of who. For the commission, especially, it’s an unacceptable answer; they simply cannot turn to a frightened American public and tell them that it’s really too bad, but we live in a scary world.

Not that this is any kind of earth-shattering revelation, but it struck me – once again – how it is that people justify civilian disarmament to themselves.

It’s somebody else’s responsibility to stop evil.

If one is detached from, and even oblivious to the world around them; if one is immersed in the theoretical without acknowledging what actually works versus what is ideal; then one can build a philosophy that justifies acknowledging a right to self-defense, but at the same time justifies complete civilian disarmament. That philosophy must deny that “we live in a scary world,” and it must rely on someone else to be responsible. In this case, some unknown person or persons in the employ of the government. The idea that it’s a scary world and that people in this world do evil things with intent is something that has to be avoided, because it runs contrary to the philosophy. The philosophy says that if everyone (save the government) is disarmed, then people will stop doing bad things. If you are attacked, the responsible party is not the attacker, it’s that ephemeral other who is responsible for your safety and failed to secure it.

It’s a wonderful theory, but it doesn’t match reality.

It doesn’t WORK in this scary world we live in.

On the other hand, from a pragmatist’s viewpoint (mine), recognizing the actual risk means acknowledging that my probability of being on the receiving end of a violent encounter is pretty damned low – but non-zero. I know what I know, and I’m acutely aware of what I don’t know. It also means acknowledging that the odds of a government official being present to protect me and mine is at the critical moment approaches even closer to zero, so I’d prefer the option of being armed – just in case. I therefore strongly object when others, who don’t seem to acknowledge that “we live in a scary world,” want to tell me I can’t because doing so is in violation of their philosophical world-construct.

I acknowledge their world-view. I just understand that it’s wrong.

I guess that appears as “simple arrogance to the less decisive,” eh?

Remember: Only Four More Days Until BAG Day II!

KevinLeave a comment

Aaron reminds us that April 15 fast approaches. Not Tax Day, but Buy A Gun Day II.

I’ve already got mine, the Makarov I bought for my birthday. But if you got something back from Uncle Sugar due to Dubya’s tax cuts, consider picking up something that’ll piss off Michael Moore or Diane Feinstein, or at least get their panties in a bunch. Consider what you have to choose from!

A “Saturday Night Special” (for those of you with less discretionary cash,) an inexpensive firearm like a used S&W Model 10 .38 Special revolver.

A “Pocket Rocket” – for those a bit more well-heeled – a small handgun in a large caliber, like a Kimber Ultra CDP II

For those of you who prefer long guns, how about an “intermediate-range sniper rifle,” as the VPC likes to call them? In this case a Savage 10FP. (Yowsa! I’d like one of those!) or something less pricey, like a standard Model 10 GXP package. Either one will let you “reach out and touch” your target.

Or, for you scattergun enthusiasts, perhaps something for home protection? (Already got mine.)

And, of course, the pièce de résistance (assuming you aren’t willing to wait for the sunset of the AWB) there’s always the option of an FN-FAL, or an AR-15.

And finally, the gun that strikes fear in all those armored-limousine liberals, the mighty .50 BMG rifle! For the budget-minded there’s the single-shot Armalite AR-50, a mere $2,745.00 retail, complete with “Owners Manual, Lifetime Warranty, Tylenol and Ear Plugs.” But no ammo. Or for those who have earned a really good living exploited the downtrodden workers, there’s the semi-auto Barrett Model 82A1, a mere $7,300 retail, and the “weapon of choice” of criminals across these United States. Just ask the good Senator.

Well, there are just a few ideas for you. Now, go forth and shop! The recovery of the economy rests on your shoulders!

Reprinted Without Permission of the Author

KevinLeave a comment

Mostly because I have no idea how to locate him.

Back in 2001 I wrote on a site that no longer exists, Themestream.com. C. Dodd Harris of Ipse Dixit was also a contributor. It was, sort of, the largest joint blog going, with neatly subdivided topics. The thing that surprised me (and in retrospect probably shouldn’t have) was the volume of really high-quality writing. There are a lot of intelligent people out there who just need an outlet, it seems. Anyway, I archived quite a bit of the stuff I found over there, and I ran across this piece this morning while looking for something else. I liked it enough then to save it, so I thought you too might enjoy it. The author is John M. Bennett. Mr. Bennett, if you’d like me to yank it, drop me a note.

Picknicking for Peace

by John M. Bennett, Feb. 2, 2001

Because the tone of political discourse in this nation has become rather hateful, I decided to ask two friends, one very liberal, the other very conservative, to join me for a quiet lunch in the country. I thought a peaceful setting and the sociability of sharing food would help us discuss our differences with civility.

We found a pretty spot near a stream that had very little trash along the banks. An old sofa and a pile of tires nearby were overgrown by vines, so the splendor of nature was virtually unspoiled. Leslie, the liberal, and Conrad, the conservative, followed me toward a large willow tree whose trunk had been elaborately decorated with primitive engravings and paintings. “Why don’t we set up under this tree?” I said.

“I’m a lesbian!” Leslie exclaimed.

“I ain’t no homo!” Conrad replied. They glared at each other.

“Maybe we should have some food before we start the discussion,” I suggested.

Leslie glared at me now. “Do you have a problem with my sexuality?” she demanded.

“No, I was just wondering where we should sit.”

“I ain’t no homo!” Conrad said, who was also glaring at me.

“Okay, I guess that’s all straightened out. Should we sit under this tree?”

Leslie punched me in the shoulder. “It’s none of your business how I express my sexuality, and your homophobia is interfering with my happiness!

Conrad took a few steps away from me and reached under his jacket. “You one of them homophobiacs?”

“Easy, Conrad. I’m just trying to figure out where we should eat. Should we take a vote?”

“Why bother?” Leslie said. “You two men have already decided, and Conrad has a gun. My rights have been violated before I even had a chance.” She fell to the grass and began sobbing.

Nobody had a better location to suggest, so I spread a blanket next to Leslie and brought out the food. Since Conrad and Leslie seemed a little touchy, I decided to serve them. When they had their sandwiches, potato salad, and chips, I went to the ice chest for drinks. I noticed that Leslie had pulled out a calculator and was furiously calculating.

“How many potato chips did Conrad get?” she asked me.

“I didn’t count them, Leslie. Would you like some more chips? And would you rather have a Coke or iced tea?”

“I want to know how many potato chips the men got!”

“Okay. Conrad, count your chips, would you please? Coke or iced tea?”

Conrad didn’t answer. He was staring at something in the tree. “Be right back,” he said. He ran off to his truck, ran back with a rifle. “There’s a crow up there.”

“Uh, that’s kind of a big rifle for crow, isn’t it?”

“Thirty-aught-six,” he agreed. “It’ll splash a crow from here to kingdom come.” He looked away from the tree to give me an Eastwood squint. “You trying to say I can’t own a gun?”

“Not at all. Just seems kind of heavy for shooting crows at a picnic. Besides, there are some houses over that way.” I pointed to a neighborhood across the stream.

He didn’t quite aim the gun directly at me. “You can have my gun—”

“Easy, Conrad, I don’t want to pry your cold dead fingers off of anything, I was just saying—”

Leslie punched me in the shoulder again. “You know why people like you want to shoot crows?”

“But I’m not shooting any crows.”

“Shut up! You want to shoot crows because they’re black. You can’t get away with shooting black men and raping black women, so you kill crows as a symbol of your hatred.”

“But I don’t hate black people. I don’t even hate crows. I just want to be sure you have enough potato chips and something to drink.”

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

Leslie fell to the ground, sobbing. “You killed him, you killed him! That poor, innocent, harmless, beautiful, tolerant, gentle, wise creature of the open sky and the lofty breezes.”

I handed her a glass of tea. “It’s okay, Leslie. I think he missed.”

“It doesn’t matter! Shooting at a bird is just the same as killing a person. It’s like he killed me!”

Conrad had gone back to his truck to stow his rifle. “Conrad? Could you do me a big favor and apologize to Leslie for making her feel like you killed her?”

“I ain’t apologizing to no lesbo. And I ain’t no homo!”

“I know, Conrad, you’re a manly man with mediocre shooting skills. Still, I think it would be nice—”

Someone’s hand was in my pocket. I spun around to see that Leslie had lifted my wallet and was pulling out a twenty-dollar bill. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m going to a fundraiser for the beached whales after the picnic, and I need some money.”

“But I was going to buy groceries. And I need some gas to get home.”

Leslie glared. “Gas is evil.” She took the rest of my money and handed back my wallet. “Besides, don’t you even care about the beached whales? They’re smarter than people, you know.”

“It’s not that I don’t care, I’m just not personally acquainted with this particular whale.”

“Can’t be that smart a whale,” Conrad added, “if he can’t swim well enough to miss an entire beach.”

“It’s a she, not a he!” Leslie punched me again before she continued to Conrad. “Why do you always assume that the male is the dominant one in every situation? It’s a she-whale and her baby, or it could be her and her baby if she decided to reproduce, which is entirely up to her.”

“I get it,” Conrad said. “It’s okay for a slut whale to act however she wants, but if she’s a respectable married whale that goes to church, she’s got no rights.”

“I get it,” Leslie replied. “A male whale can nail as many female whales as he wants, but if a female whale has just one partner, she’s a slut.”

We seemed to be losing the spirit of civility, so I tried to change the subject. “Conrad, did you count your potato chips yet?”

He made a fist and smashed his potato chips into a pile of chiplets. “Looks like about half a million.”

Leslie began sobbing. “I only got sixty-four. I’ve been discriminated against by more than one hundred thousand percent.” She shoved her calculator in front of my face. “See? The numbers are right there, and you can’t deny it. Besides, it’s solar-powered. I don’t believe in batteries.”

“I’m sorry, Leslie. Please take my chips. You can have my sandwich, too.”

Conrad punched me on the other shoulder. “What do you got against guns anyway? You some kind of wimp? You trying to make me feel second-class?”

“I’m sorry, Conrad. I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. I own a gun myself, you know.”

“Is there sugar in this tea?” Leslie said, gagging. “White sugar? Do you know how they treat those poor, oppressed farmers who grow and harvest the sugar cane?

“I’m sorry, Leslie. I won’t buy any more white sugar.”

She snorted. “So you’re going to starve the sugar farmers so you can feel like you’re making a difference?”

“I’m sorry. I’ll buy more white sugar.”

Conrad punched me. “You buying that foreign sugar? What about all those poor American farmers growing American sugar who are going hungry just so you can save a few pennies?”

“I’m sorry. I’ll buy more sugar from them, too.”

Leslie punched me. “So you care more about your sweet tooth than you do about the beached whales?”

“I said I’m sorry! I’ll make some caramel and send it to the damn whales!”

They both stared at me in shock. “God,” Leslie said. “You’re just full of hate and anger, aren’t you?”

Conrad nodded. “Can’t talk to someone like you who takes everything as some kind of personal attack.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to be more civil. Would anyone like more potato salad? Another sandwich?”

Conrad jumped up and pointed. “Look at that. There’s an ambulance and a bunch of cops pulling up to that house. Looks like they’re taking a body out.”

“Probably some hateful, fat, white man who had a heart attack from too much white sugar,” Leslie suggested. “No great loss.”

“Probably some homo lesbo who died of homo-AIDS,” Conrad countered. “No great loss.”

I could see that several of the people gathered around the house were pointing in our direction. “Listen, friends, maybe we should be going.”

While I packed the picnic gear, Leslie calculated the effect of potato chip discrimination on her earning potential, and Conrad tossed empty beer cans from his truck into the stream. As I loaded the stuff in the car, I felt a large splat on top of my head. A crow was just flying away, cawing bitterly.

Before I could wipe it off, several police cars arrived. The officers surrounded me, guns drawn, chests puffed out for the television cameras that had followed them. “Don’t move!” their leader yelled. One of the cameramen shook his head, and the leader had to repeat himself several times before they got the sound just right. The cameraman finally nodded, and the leader continued. “You been doing some shooting around here, have you?”

“Not me. You see, Conrad was shooting at a crow—”

“With those houses nearby?”

“Yes, sir. I tried to warn him—”

“So you knew there was a danger to innocent people, and you did nothing to stop it. Is that right?”

“That’s not right! I was trying to stop him, but Leslie distracted me—”

“Ho, ho, ho! Disrespect and denial. Looks like someone’s going to spend his jail time in anger management and sensitivity training classes.”

“Disrespect and denial? But I didn’t shoot—”

“You have crow crap on your head. That’s all we need to know. Take him away!”

As I sat in the car, handcuffed, hungry, waiting for the cops to finish their interviews, Conrad tapped on the window. “Sorry you got busted, wimp. Thanks for the chips.”

A few seconds later, Leslie finished her interview, and she tapped on the window, too. “You know what your problem is? You never listen to other people. I’m going to tell the whale that you hate her.”

I couldn’t be sure, but as they drove me away, I thought I saw the reporters trying to get a statement from the crow. I was satisfied. We had definitely made progress.

It is hell being reasonable, isn’t it?

Nuke the gay baby whales for Jesus!

KevinLeave a comment

Crucifixion Commission to be Formed

April 11, 2004

(The gospel according to Donks)

12 Apostles Knew in Advance

Reuters, CNN, ABC, NBC, CBS and AP are reporting that the Romans and Jewish leaders are not responsible for Christ’s crucifixion. They claim the 12 apostles had advance warning about this in a dinner meeting they had with Jesus prior to the crucifixion. Calls are now being made for a formal comission to be formed to investigate the events leading up to that day to determine just who knew what and when they knew it. The commission’s star witness is said to be Judas who served with Jesus prior to the crucifixion

Stolen shamelessly from Curmudgeonly & Skeptical who… well, follow the links.)

UPDATE: From the comments at FreeRepublic – “Continuing investigation into the Cross: was it built by Halliburton?”


KevinLeave a comment

Unintended Consequences

Private industry and individual genius is what has always driven the small-arms market. The recent panty-bunching fear of the .50BMG rifle as a “weapon of war” is but one example. The .50 caliber cartridge and the M2 machinegun were the products of the individual genius of John Moses Browning, but the use of the .50 BMG round in long-range precision rifles was the brainchild of a few dedicated experimenters, brought to commercial success by Ron Barrett, and they were shot for recreation and in competition long before they were adopted by militaries as “weapons of war.”

The Geek has some excerpts that illustrate what happens when the civilian market is stifled by idiotic laws, and how detrimental it can be to our military.

Give it a read.

Write your congresscritters.

KevinLeave a comment

This is Why Socialism Never Really Catches On

(And this is why I read Feces Flinging Monkey. How does he find this stuff?)

The mysteries of tipping the maître d’ to get into a posh restaurant.

I’ll never have a use for the information, seeing as I consider a decent lasagne haute cuisine, and dismiss most restaurants described in the piece as serving “foo-foo food,” but the psychology behind it is as old as man.

Hmm… Maybe I will have a use for it someday. Just not at a restaurant.