Dot's a wrap

Tonight's batch of three-dot splendor comes from loose notes from the late 1990s.

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Neologism file: anomalicious—not just strange, but evil. (1995-07-20)

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You got a broken muffler belt. (Rural mechanic diagnosis)

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Marcia's requirements for potential marriage partners: Don't marry anyone until you have (1) seen them vomit, (2) gone on a long car trip, and (3) met their parents. I would add, for those of us of a certain demographic, met their kids.

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A change is as good as a rest. (Lioness's mother on staying busy)

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The first duty of a revolutionary is to get away with it. (Abbie Hoffman)

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Conceit causes more conversation than wit. (La Rochefoucauld)

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It is practically impossible to teach good programming style to students that have had prior exposure to BASIC; as potential programmers they are mentally mutilated beyond hope of regeneration. (Edsger J. Dijkstra; I think you could say the same about FORTRAN, my first language.)

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Romeo wasn't bilked in a day. (Walt Kelly)

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Transcendental defenestration (idea for a new cult, 1999-2-21)

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It's difficult to make a good show if the ingredient doesn't bleed or twitch. (Irondad, a fan of the original Japanese Iron Chef)

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Everybody is somebody else's weirdo. (Unix fortune file)

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Kaa's method for getting rid of religious proselytes: say “Well, I'm a nudist. If we're going to talk religion, I've got to be naked.”—and start disrobing.

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My hometown of Hobbs, NM, is not exactly a culinary Mecca. Here are my notes from a trip there in 1998. Chinese Kitchen: rubber General Tso's chicken. Furr's cafeteria: broiled salmon with half a cup of tartar sauce; overcooked carrots; Iceberg lettuce and plastic tomatoes; cold toast; nice new potatoes with onion; German chocolate pie. Got the runs.

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You can't underestimate the power of fear. (Tricia Nixon, according to a Unix fortune)

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Back when Zen Rhino was a chef they had a special called “Happy Trails”: stuffed triggerfish and a Roy Rogers.

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Philately will get you nowhere. (JS 1998-8-26)

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Thank goodness modern convenience is a thing of the remote future. (Walt Kelly)

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I can do without actually having to traipse around in leather lace-up boots and be hit upon by furry men in codpieces. (Sen, on why she doesn't like the SCA or RenFair scenes)

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Ambiguity is a two-edge sword. (JS 1998-6-6)

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Nobody can be like me. Sometimes even I have trouble doing it. (Talullah Bankhead)

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The public at large tends to confuse the composing of a symphony with the writing of its score. (Edsger J. Dijkstra)

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(1) If my girlfriend calls me passive-aggressive one more time, I'm going to make her pay in ways she won't even be aware of. (2) I'm not going to stop torturing myself until I figure out the cause of my pain. (The late Ycho)

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She's about as stable as a coffee table perched on an epileptic penguin's beak. (Djinn, on an acquaintance of his)

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Visual Basic? I might as well build my program out of mud and popsicle sticks. (nails)

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But it's not *TRUE* object-oriented programming unless you can subclass a semicolon. (jafo, 1997-12-3)

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Do you think reading about cowboys is sufficient to ride a horse? Like horses, real programs tend to throw you. (JS, late 1997, to a programming student)

100 meteors

Meteor-watching is the wide-angle form of astronomy. No optical aid, just lie flat on your back with a good all-sky view. On 2010-12-14 from 0058 to 0230 I observed 100 meteors of the Geminid shower, plus three sporadics. That's better than one a minute. Two of them were brighter than Sirius, and one had a strong blue-green color. Several of them left trails visible for a few seconds.

The Etscorn Observatory here on the NM Tech campus is not a bad place for meteor-watching. There is a berm surrounding the observatory compound that cuts off most of the nearby light sources. However, it was pretty chilly out there tonight: the thermomenator in the car read 25F when I was heading back home, and there was frost on the roof of the car. My hands were so cold after packing up that I had hand cramps. I had to stick my hand in my armpit for a while just so I could operate the car key.

Equipment: foam pad; sleeping bag; heavy coat; fur hat with the fur on the inside where it will do the most good; gloves; water; flashlight. If you do this sort of thing in the winter, keep in mind that you will not be moving much, not generating much heat.

For comfort, I much prefer the Perseid meteor shower in early August. My friend Elinor the astronomer uses the term “sucker holes” for those gaps in the clouds that make you hope it will clear up, but then it doesn't. For the Perseids this year I was lured out to the observatory by some sucker holes, but before I'd been out there an hour, it was socked in.

Tonight, though, the sky had that diamond-hard clarity that we often get in wintertime here on the altiplano. Nothing like staring at the entire sky for an hour or two to give one perspective.

A tale of three cities

This week's three-dot monsterpiece comes from a 15-to-20-year-old group of 3x5 cards that I fished out of the washing machine soaking wet. Because of my fetish for Fount India ink, they were all crisply legible after they dried out.

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This is real music. There's no accordion part. (Roger Melone rehearsing the New Mexico Symphony Orchestra Chorus.)

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There are lots of groups you can go sing in and have fun. (Roger Melone again. He meant that some choruses are only about fun. I personally think singing with this group is about the most fun I've had in my entire life...once the sweating and working are out of the way.)

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Q: What's the difference between a soprano and a seamstress?
A: A seamstress tucks up frills.

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I gotta be stuff and do places! (JS 1995-06-30)

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Q: What's the difference between genius and stupidity?
A: Genius has its limits.

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If we can put a man on the moon, why can't we put them all there? (Brenda Santistevan, 1997-07-10)

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The only thing we have to fear is pheromones. (JS 1995-12-23)

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Who's got time to budget their time? (JS 1996-03-08)

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If your battle plan is going perfectly, you are in an ambush. (Early USENET)

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NM Tech Computer Science professor Victor Yodaiken always referred to our local supermarket as “The Produce Museum”. I have never bought a bag salad there that would last until the third day. Rumor has it that Socorro is the end of the line for three different produce delivery routes, so we get the stuff that nobody in Belen, Carrizozo, or T or C wanted.

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Neologism file: His optimism soon dwaned. (Steve Ingoglia, 1997-4-18; dwindled x waned.)

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Everybody misquotes these lines. I carefully transcribed them during my N thousandth viewing of Wizard of Oz.

“I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.”
“Now I know we're not in Kansas anymore.”
“I keep forgetting we're not in Kansas.”

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Natalie Derrick: He was Baroque.
Jeff Rhoades: He had no Monet.

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Dump the notes, play the music. (John Murfin, 1996-02-24. John is an outstanding Celtic fiddler who knows approximately 10^13 fiddle tunes.)

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If you could teach your dogs to smoke, they wouldn't chew up your slippers. (John Murfin)

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It's too dark to see flashlights. (Becky Titus, at a Hop Canyon party.)

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I'm very attached to non-attachment. (Me, demonstrating how not to do Buddhism, to Magail Medina, 1995-8-2.)

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Is it still Monday again already? (JS 1996-02-01)

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We have three seasons every month: morning, afternoon, evening, and wrinkled. (JS, 1996-08-24; can't remember what inspired this but the 3x5 card has a note: “Overactive Surrealist gland.”)

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You're born a Patty, then you find the grill. (Jan Thomas)

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Less often than not. (JS 1997-06-12)

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Sub-pessimal. (JS, date unrecorded)

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Q: What do you get when you cross a Unitarian with a Jehovah's Witness?
A: Someone who rings your doorbell for no particular reason.

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Out one ear and in the other. (James Robnett, 1995-10-20)

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The trouble with the rat race is that if you win, you're still a rat. (Anonymous)

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Q: What's the difference between an oboe and an onion?
A: You cry when you're chopping up an onion.

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It's laudable to want to study your errors. But it helps if they aren't coming at you so thick and fast that you can't study them in isolation. (JS 1995-11-19)

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No matter how cynical you get, it's impossible to keep up. (Lily Tomlin)

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I would never die for my beliefs because I might be wrong. (Bertrand Russell)

Three dots in the fountain

Shipman family standards: “Purt-nost,” which is sort of a hybrid of “purty near” and “almost.”.

“What time is it?”
“Purt-nost five.”

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One of the commonplaces of reunions is riotous tales out of school, from the days when we were young and foolish (we're old and foolish now.) Like the time some of my friends, under the influence of the Demon Rum, drove their car onto the railroad track at the Socorro station and went as far as they could go. Not sure why, but at the place where they got stuck on the tracks, the car was freed up by the expedient of tipping it into the adjacent irrigation channel.

These are all grownups now, at least nominally. Some of them resent being reminded.

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You can see just by watching him. (Ty Murray, Pro Bull Riding tour announcer and nine-time world champion)

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No foot will remain unshot. (Pat Buckley on the Democratic Party)

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Dogminatrix: one who instructs dog owners in the proper maintenance of the dominance hierarchy. Cesar Millan, for example.

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An American tourist in Belfast was confronted by a masked gunman who demanded, “Catholic or Protestant?” and pointed the gun at him.

The tourist thought for a moment. He had an even chance of being a martyr. Then he got a bright idea and replied, “Actually, I'm Jewish.”

The terrorist smiled through the hole in his ski mask. “I must be the luckiest Arab in Ireland.”

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Vegaquarian: Someone who eats only vegetables and fish. (Lynne Heatwole)

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Merle and Janet Bickford were a married couple of artists that I knew many years ago. They were both sculptors and had a large studio near the Pacific shore where they both worked.

At one point they sculpted each other, in life size, using a wild assortment of scrapbox materials. They were trying to express, they said, the complexity of their relationship. When the pieces were completed, they showed them.

During the showing, one art patron took such violent exception to the ice pick that was buried up to the hilt in the eye of one of the figures that she plucked it out and threw it on the floor. The artists rushed over and put it back in, insisting that that was an important part of the overall composition.

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Bubba and Junior were standing by a flagpole, looking up at it. An attractive blonde engineer walked by and asked them what was going on.

“We need to know the height of this here flagpole,” answered Bubba.

The blonde pulled a wrench out of her pocket, unbolted the flagpole from its base, tipped it over and walked it down, laid it on the ground, pulled the tape measure off her belt, measured it, announced “Eighteen feet, six inches, plus or minus a quarter,” re-installed the flagpole and went on her way.

“Ain't that jest like a woman,” said Junior. “We need the height, and she gives us the length.”

Non-Euclidean carpentry

To read this story, I'll have to ask you to visit it on my antique 1996-era personal Web pages. You can leave comments here if you like.

Three if by space

As of May 2007, the Owl Bar in San Antonio, NM, went through an average of 300 lbs. of green chile per week. That amounts to about eight tons a year. That does not include the Owl's Albuquerque branch.

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A veritable Who's Who of Who's That. (Richard LeRoy on movies with no one famous in the cast)

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I shoot every third salesman, and #2 just left. (Sign in Prescott Grey's office)

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My dad was fond of three odd lunch items: cervelat (a Swiss sausage), braunschweiger (a soft liver spread—bleah), and Durkee's salad dressing. From the Wikipedia article on the Glidden paint corporation, I learned that Glidden bought Durkee & Co., and that Durkee's sauce was reputedly a favorite of President Lincoln. From Durkee's web page:

In 1857, Eugene R. Durkee created the product that helped make him famous, which today we call Durkee Famous Sauce. It was the first prepared and packaged salad dressing. To appreciate this endeavor, remember, this was created prior to refrigeration. It was carried west by the pioneers. Historians have found old, discarded Durkee dressing bottles along covered-wagon trails. Durkee Famous Sauce was even purported to be stocked in Mary Todd Lincoln's pantry and served to Abraham Lincoln in the White House during the Civil War.

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Hooker: Buy a lady a drink?
Patron: As soon as one shows up.

My friend Frank says he has actually used this line. He is very tall and wide, though. I wouldn't dare. I hate pain.

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Me: Don't mind me, I'm just part of the furniture here.
Dan Lunceford: I would never describe you as furniture. Furniture is utilitarian.

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Four life stages of soprano: bel canto; can belto; can't belto; can't canto.

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There are four types of tenors. A countertenor sings alto and even soprano parts in falsetto voice. Lyric tenors are for light romantic roles, while dramatic tenors are for tragic roles. Heldentenors (literally, “heroic tenors”) are for Wagner.

Two of my voice teachers said that if I had started younger I could have been a Heldentenor. The joke goes that there are four types of tenors:

• A countertenor has no testicles.
• A lyric tenor has one.
• A dramatic tenor has two.
• A Heldentenor has two, but he is standing on one of them.

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Neologism file: travedy = travesty x tragedy (Laurelle Powers)

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Neologism file: cargyle = the diamond-shaped patch of debris in the middle of a busy intersection that both straight and turning cars miss (Gary Henderson)

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Neologism file: quoozy = queasy x woozy (Nan)

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Perl: The popular version of Intercal. (Dworkin Müller)

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The video game Dance Dance Revolution requires that players dance around on a special mat to score. One friend of mine who was rather overweight at graduation showed up two years later looking quite svelte, and attributed it all to spending significant time playing it.

Marcia said there was a new one called Pole Dance Revolution that was being test-marketed at the Burning Man Festival.

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Goddamn English people have ruined our language. (JS 2009-01-02)

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Eastern New Mexico University in Portales is a first-rate school for music and performing arts, among other departments. However, compared with my alma mater New Mexico Tech, it is somewhat less strong in science.

My friend Phil Johnson and I used to go birding frequently in Boone's Draw, a beautiful wooded tract near Portales that is one of the best birding spots in the state, surrounded as it is for many miles in every direction by treeless grasslands. The spot is also known to ENMU students as a party spot, since it is miles out of town and quite isolated. Tony Gennaro, the science department, told us that there were rumors of devil worship there, but based on our experience camping out one weekend there, Phil judged that beer worship was more likely.

One fine day we encountered a big hulking guy creeping around with a bow and arrow. Turns out that he was a student in an ENMU anthropology course. The instructor had taught them how to make knapped flint arrowheads, and promised this student that if he could successfully slay an actual bunny rabbit with it, he was guaranteed an A.

Three dots for Sister Sara

Excess will not be enough. (Director's advice to Jim Carrey before he made the life-action Grinch movie)

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So it's less of a tossup and more of a toss-off. (Anthony Martinez on XM's classical channel, before they merged with Sirius)

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Five stages of life:

1. You believe in Santa Claus.
2. You don't believe in Santa Claus.
3. You are Santa Claus.
4. You look like Santa Claus.
5. You believe in Santa Claus again.

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I nom, therefore I om. (Nan Silvernail; 'om' rhymes with 'Mom'; reference to lolcats)

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Are you out of blinker fluid? (Encouragement to drivers who do not use their turn signals. "Turn signals are a sign of weakness," says Nan.)

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Q: What's the capital of Iceland?
A: $4.30.

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Focus on your own damn family. (Bumper sticker)

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A well-deserved inferiority complex. (Miriam Nadel)

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They're deep-frying everything on a stick these years at State Fairs. Here are some ideas I haven't seen yet:

• Chitlins.
• Kim chee.
• Liver.
• Lutefisk.

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It's a good thing the shoe bomber didn't hide anything in his ass.

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The little girl started to eat before the blessing. Grandpa admonished her, “In this house, we pray before we eat.”
“But Grandma's a good cook!” protested the little girl.
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I can tell you from long experience that one of the hardest things about choral singing, and especially solos, is knowing when to breathe. A prudent soloist will have required breaths marked in the part well ahead of performance, and perhaps some optional breaths marked that may or may not be used depending on one's wind and the tempo. Which leads to this story about a rising young soprano who shared a stage with one of the most experienced warhorses in all of opera.

RYS: Do you really need that many breaths to get through that?

MEW: Honey, it takes a lot more gas to run a Cadillac than a Volkswagen.

As for the Republicans

“As for the Republicans—how can one regard seriously a frightened, greedy, nostalgic huddle of tradesmen and lucky idlers who shut their eyes to history and science, steel their emotions against decent human sympathy, cling to sordid and provincial ideals exalting sheer acquisitiveness and condoning artificial hardship for the non-materially-shrewd, dwell smugly and sentimentally in a distorted dream-cosmos of outmoded phrases and principles and attitudes based on the bygone agricultural-handicraft world, and revel in (consciously or unconsciously) mendacious assumptions (such as the notion that real liberty is synonymous with the single detail of unrestricted economic license or that a rational planning of resource-distribution would contravene some vague and mystical ‘American heritage’…) utterly contrary to fact and without the slightest foundation in human experience? Intellectually, the Republican idea deserves the tolerance and respect one gives to the dead.” (H.P. Lovecraft, 1936)

Hat tip to Digby.

Three-dot style

I didn't realize that my cousin Helen reads this blog, until she chided me (with good reason) for not posting enough. I hope this item will address this fault of mine, at least briefly.

When I lived in the Bay Area I enjoyed reading Herb Caen's column in the San Francisco Chronicle. Much of his content was what he called “three-dot journalism”, short items separated by ellipses.

So here are some random short items gleaned from one of the series of 3x5 cards I carry in my Nerd Pack at all times: the Misc series.

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One of the place names on the Alamo Navajo Reservation near Magdalena, NM: One-armed Man Who Walked Off Cliff.

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Neologism file: Monitor lizards—people who spend all their time on the computer. (Nan Silvernail)

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“It's like applesauce that knows somebody.” (Marcia B. on the apple compote at Standard Diner in ABQ.)

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“Cotton balls garnished with angel farts.” (ibid, on haute cuisine)

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Socorro, NM, was established in 1626, torched in 1680, and resettled around 1815.

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There are two stories of how the Llano Estacado, the great Staked Plains of Eastern NM of my youth in Hobbs, were named. One theory is that the early explorers used tall stakes pounded into the ground to navigate—heaven knows there are few landmarks there, or any terrain relief. The other theory is that the edge, the Caprock, looks somewhat like palisades of stakes from a distance.

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“A lifetime of temporary relief.” (a chronic pain sufferer on her life)

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Natillas is a favorite local dessert from our Hispanic heritage here in the Rio Grande Valley. It is a custard with some vanilla wafers in it. The winner of the local reader's poll for this was Teofilo's in Los Lunas, right across from the Luna Mansion, which was recently bought by the people who own Teofilo's. Shipman's summary: Yum.

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Speaking of local culture, mañana does not mean tomorrow. It means, not today.

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“Cubist seeks square hole.” (Nan)

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In Jack Williamson's autobiography, he tells the story of how he and Fredrik Pohl investigated the site of the famous Socorro Saucer Incident. They found two anomalous things about the scene. There were four depressions in the sand claimed to be the footprints of the saucer; they were laid out in a perfect square, except that one footprint that would have been positioned on a large rock was off to the side. Wouldn't a landing strut sit on top of the rock, or at least leave scrape marks on the rock? Also, the scorched bushes were scorched from the bottom up; one would expect bushes scorched by flame from above would be scorched from the top down.

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“Politics is the art of getting votes from the poor and money from the rich while convincing each group that you are protecting them from the other.” (anonymous British labor official)

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“Self-loathing government dependents.” (Pat Buckley on Teabaggers who are on Medicare and Social Security)

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“Software as a disservice.” (Me, on SAS, Software As a Service; I also view The Cloud with some great suspicion.)

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“A gift of fertilizer!” (Me, examining a guano strike on my car. So if you hear me say this, it's a more polite way of saying “bullshit.”)

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“Sometimes being an adult means not telling Mom.” (Nan)

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“Is that flounder or flow under?” (Overheard at an Albuquerque restaurant.)

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“We've got to find out where this chocolate is leaking from.” (Overheard at the Village Inn, ABQ)

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A man asked his wife, “I've never understood that is meant by this phrase ‘Mixed emotions.’ Can you give me an example?”

His wife replied, “Here's one: You have the longest one of all your friends.”

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“This restaurant is a free circus. All you have to do is pay attention.” (Sign on a refrigerator at the Manzanares Coffeehouse, Socorro, NM.)

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Neologism file: apostatheosis—the ultimate in apostasy. (Jim Campbell)

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Neologism file: conslutant [sic]—one who gives advice for extremely low prices.

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Random neuron firing: I finally remembered the name of the legendary high-volume fish restaurant on the Berkeley waterfront: Spenger's. Ate there somewhere around 1980. Great food, huge selection, and massive crowds at all hours.

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“In order to understand recursion, first you must understand recursion.” (Anon.)

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“Vertil concoupe”; this is how a member of my family, probably my sister Sally, mangled “convertible coupe” at a tender age.

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I missed the New Mexico State Fair this year, so I failed to try Deep Fried Butter, but Zombie Doughnuts in Albuquerque has a maple bacon espresso doughnut that is also pretty impressive on the junk-food scale.

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Me: Good bye, cruller world.
Nan: I'm going to a buttermilk place. (2010-08-23)

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“We ran out of green chile so we had to come home.” (Pat Buckley on his return from to Socorro from a vacation in Wyoming)

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“If the unexamined life is not worth living, the over-examined life must be well worth living.” (Miriam Nadel)

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Verdolagas is the local Spanish name for common purslane, which is one of the evil weeds banned by city ordinance here in Socorro. According to my informant, it is a delicious stir-fried vegetable, eaten commonly here in Hispanic households, and a good vehicle for red chile.

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The Animas River runs through northern New Mexico near Farmington. I heard that the full name is Rio de las Animas Perdidas, the river of lost souls, because in flood it has killed many in the past.

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Neologism file: Decolletage—avoiding Colette. (Me)

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Kid: What are all those books that look alike over there?
Parent: That's the Encyclopedia Britannica.
Kid: Whoa, somebody printed the whole thing out?

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“Rougher than a stucco waterslide.” (Justin McKee, color commentator for the Pro Bull Riding Tour)

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In the Hobbs (NM) Varsity Band, one of our signature pieces was a bombastic little march entitled “Grandioso.” Only recently did I realize it was ripped bodily out of Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody. I'm so ignorant about classical music. On several occasions, the only way I've found out about a great classical piece was to perform it with the NM Symphony Chorus.

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Neologism file: not-o-pilot—when you're not paying proper attention. (Me, 2010-09-20)

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“It's a control freak thing. I won't LET you understand.” (Bumper sticker)

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I don't mind straight people so long as they act gay in public. (Bumper sticker)

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“Nature abhors self-esteem.” (Me, 2010-09-30)

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At one point in my secondary school years, Dr. Pepper introduced a soft drink called Pommac. It was sort of the Edsel of soft drinks: introduced with a big splash, a commercial disaster. I used to drink this stuff. Pale pink, carbonated, not entirely unlike champagne.

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Random neuron firing: I finally remembered the names of our family friends in Inverness, FL, around 1955: the Roscoes. Our family lived in this soggy pesthole for a few months between Dad's jobs because Dad's parents had retired there. The Roscoes were local real estate brokers who found us a small farm to live on. There were two horses on the property. Like so many young girls, my sister loved horses; as I recall, she actually rode the filly, Rowdy, at least once. The other horse was a big stodgy plow horse named Bob. I had no idea what he was good for, but I was only five then. I recall the electric fence in particular. I found out the hard way, of course.

Of cannons, Tchaikovsky, and a pregnant cheetah

On my regular web is a story from my first performance with the NM Symphony Orchestra Chorus in 1995.

I live

Got a total knee replacement 6/4...surgery went ok. I got a spinal instead of a general anaesthetic so I got to hear the saw...but that's the only thing i remember...they had me full of happy drugs.

Today the nurse said i was her star patient...walked about 10 yards with a walker...further than one expects.

Very hard to touch type with a blood oxygen probe on L index finger so i'll keep this short...many thnaks to all the well-wishers...will post here a bit when things improve.

No ski jumping for women in the Olympics

I was surprised to learn that:

• A woman named Lindsay Van owns the all-time ski-jumping record for the hill being used in the Vancouver Olympics, and
• There is no ski-jumping event for women in the Olympics!

Apparently, men can't handle being bested by women. (10-minute video)

Kai Lung unrolls his mat

There are so far two books I have liked so much that I typed them in to make them freely available. I just finished the second one: Kai Lung Unrolls His Mat, a quite singular work of fantasy by Ernest Bramah first printed in 1927.

The other one is Why don't we learn from history? by B. H. Liddell Hart.

One day while checking out

Not sure why I'm an extrovert, but I scored 0.8 on the Myers-Briggs extrovert-introvert axis. This sometimes manifests in my tendency to start up conversations with random strangers.

The other day I was waiting to check out at Costco. It was crowded, and every one of the checkout lines had at least five carts. In front of me was a mom with two young boys, so I decided to use one of my Standard Gambits on her. “My,” I said, pointing at her younger son, who was somewhere around a pre-schooler and sitting in the cart, “what aisle did you find this product on? It's an attractive little number.” She smiled and thanked me.

At that point the older son, who looked to be in early grade school, pointed at the younger and said, “He wrecked the whole house!”

“That's his job,” I replied. (Thanks to the redoubtable Amy Blackburn for the “That's their job” meme, which is so universally applicable.)

“Why are you wearing sandals?” asked the older son, since it was a rather cold day in Albuquerque.

“I guess it's because I just don't have any common sense.” Several other people who were waiting nearby cracked up; this of course made my day.

I looked the kid straight in the eye and said, “Not everyone who is old is smart.”

This got another laugh from the folks standing in line, and a woman from the next line over remarked, “But everyone who is young is inquisitive.”

“That's their job,” I replied.