There is more sophistication and less sense in New York than anywhere else on the globe." - Don Herold

A state representative in Utah will introduce a bill this fall giving death row inmates the option of choosing to die by firing squad instead of lethal injection. This after the botched execution in OK several weeks ago. In the Slate article I read a critic of the move who said things can go wrong with a firing squad, too. He pointed out that if the guys with the guns miss it can result in pain for the executee.
Uhm, if the guys with the guns can't hit a target the size of a person's hand from 30' away - go ahead, give 'em 60' - we need a more stringent job app.
The critic also said that if the guy moves just a little the result could be a very painful death.
"So here's how this works, Bugsy. If you stand real still it will be over with before you know what hit you. If you fidget and sway there's a chance you could writhe on the ground for a minute or two in some real pain and agony before you finally die. Your call."
Just sayin'.

The Census Bureau keeps track of the names parents give their kids. In 2014 six children were given the name Subaru.
That got me thinking about other car names - brands or models - that could be given to a baby that could reasonably be considered appropriate. At least not bizarre.
Spark (Chevy)
Sienna (Toyota)
Aria (Tata)
And that made me think about the truck. If the team name "Redskins" is discriminatory and inappropriate then the model name Chevy used for their trucks in '58 and '59 probably doesn't make the cut either.
Apache

There's something weird about Rick Steves - a cross between geeky and smarmy - but his PBS show is engaging. It makes me want to travel.

My trip into church means getting on the 101 at Union Hills. Less than a mile later the wide exit for Bell Rd. begins, and more often than not I see a cop with a speeder pulled over there. I guess Sunday mornings when the freeway is lightly traveled means easy pickings for the officer out to nab the driver taking advantage of the rare opportunity to open it up a bit. This morning's catch included a guy on a pretty hefty crotch rocket who was pulling away from receiving his paperwork just as I passed that point. I thought about how ticked he must have been.

In my rear view mirror I saw the DPS officer pull his car further off the shoulder and under the overpass, probably to do his paperwork - or maybe finish his donut. In the next mile I was passed by three or four cars doing at least 15 over. The acceleration after their "Uh-oh. There's a cop" deceleration as they passed that point.

Driving a 50-year old station wagon enforces a mellowness that makes it a kind of four wheeled joint. No point being in a hurry 'cause the car won't. I plant it in the right-most lane and roll along at a relaxed 65 mph. Maybe a little less because the speedo reads high. I watch cars scream up on my bumper and sit there impatiently until the exit lane opens up. They accelerate as they pass me on the right so they can brake at the top of the ramp.

The Falcon is good for me. I need the calm it requires.
I think we need to prescribe a dose of Falcon to most of the people I see on the freeway.