Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Signs of Life

I was originally going to call this post, Things I Don't Understand but because there are so many things I don't understand, I knew there wasn't room in this column and it would probably mean me having to get up before noon to try to cover them all.

But what triggered this line of thought was seeing a electronic sign on the freeway yesterday saying Ozone Warning.  I kept a keen lookout all day because I didn't want any mean ole ozone getting me.  But the more I thought about it, isn't the Ozone layer is suppose to be a  good thing?  People are always talking about how bad the hole in the Ozone layer is, so why is there a Ozone warning..  Make up your mind.  Is it good or bad?


Homeland Security Advisory System scale.


It seems to be alot like the Terror Alert Warnings from the Homeland Security people, whoever the hell they are. Did you know there are actually five colors used in the system. Green is Low risk, (Have a Great Day) Blue is General risk(Have a Good Day) Yellow is Significant risk(Go to work, come home, get in bed) Orange is High risk(Stay home, get under bed,get religious), and Red is Severe risk(Kiss your ass good bye).  Yellow is the status quo because Green and Blue have never been used. What really  pisses  me off about that, is those are my two favorite colors.  Oh well.

 There is no published criteria for the threat levels to change.  The Homeland Security folks say that providing detailed current intelligence would endanger their ability to gather similar information in the future.  Ok so they are making the threat level public but not telling us why. What are we suppose to do when they decide to make a color change?  Is there some manual on this that I missed somewhere?  Do we all become University of Texas Alumni and drink only orange juice on Orange day or walk around with the red ass on Red day.  Maybe the agenda is simply to be able say after something happens, "Hey don't blame us, we said it was Red day."

This somehow reminds me of being in a small classroom in Olney, Texas during the 1950's and having to get under my desk ever so often.  Even in my small undeveloped nine year old brain, I was pretty sure that desk wasn't going to protect my butt from an atomic bomb.

Stay tuned for future adventures.
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