As my old boss would have said, this is not right:
A firm that advises investors on corporate-governance issues said yesterday that Robert I. Toll, the chairman and chief executive officer of Toll Bros. Inc., a builder of luxury homes, was overpaid.
In the February proxy statement, Toll, 66, was listed as making $29.3 million for the year ended Oct. 31. Of that, $10.1 million was exercised stock options, a $17.5 million bonus, and $1.3 million in base pay.
$1.3 million in base pay should be enough for building little–well, big–boxes made out of ticky tacky,
little big boxes all the same.
I’ve been working all day. I’m all about cooling towers.
So has Will Bunch. He’s all about the drumbeats.
As Gilda Radner might have said, “If it’s not one fraudulent war, it’s another.”
What a–you will please pardon the expression–mutual
mastur admiration society.
The only thing worth a look is the gowns. Because it’s all packaging, no package.
We did our regular weekly grocery shopping today. We put it off yesterday because Second Son came home for a visit.
Bad luck. Bad choice.
Snow was forecast (well, actually, it’s coming down at a pretty good clip as I type this–looks like a couple of inches on top of what’s left on the ice from last week’s storm–and I do mean ice) and no signs of stopping any time soon–the forecast is one to four inches, followed by freezing rain for about twelve hours (ouch! more ice).
The supermarket was mobbed.
Now, this is hardly a wilderness–unlike, say eastern Colorado, where houses may be miles apart and many miles from the nearest services.
There is hardly anyone in my neighborhood who lives more than a 15 -minute walk from at least a convenience store–maybe 20 minutes with snow on the ground.
Yet, when snow is forecast, citizens’ eyes glaze over and, like zombies, people head for the supermarket, there to scarf up all the bread and milk in sight (even if they don’t eat bread and don’t drink milk) in some sort of primitive, mute ritual.
It’s some kind of bizarre, sublimal reflex, as if the word, “snow,” triggers a vision of the Yukon and, somewhere deep in their subconscious, people imagine themselves marooned in their log cabins until Sergeant Preston digs them out, three episodes from now.
It’s fantastically, farcically in(s)ane.
Jon Swift, via Andrew Sullivan.
It’s gotta be true. It’s been conservatively filtered. Remember, the Law of Gravity pulls only to the right.
(Aside: Words fail me.)
But let us assume, just for the sake of argument, that Blair and Cheney are correct about things going pretty well around Basra, and that everybody else is wrong. If that were the case, then why wouldnâ€™t the British agree to simply shift their remaining forces to the more violent Baghdad, where they could reinforce Bushâ€™s Surge? Blair, in his remarks to Parliament the other day, never even mentioned that optionâ€¦because it is politically untenable back home.
All of which is further proof that the term â€œcoalition forces,â€ a staple of cable TV news, is a misnomer. By late summer, after the latest British drawdown and a scheduled pullout by Poland, and a scheduled pullout of Danish ground forces, the tally of non-American troops will total roughly 11,800. Thatâ€™s only enough people to fill half the seats at a Sixers basketball game in Philadelphia. And, at most, thatâ€™s only 10 percent of all the troops in Iraq; by late summer, Bush will be supplying, at a minimum, the other 90 percent.
And the uber-President continues to insist that things are going well.
Which prompts the question: Do they lie to themselves as much as they lie to the rest of us?
All folded up:
A Reg reader got in touch to tell us that since installing Vista on his machine he can no longer rename folders he creates on the network.
Creating a new folder on his machine’s own drive is fine but there is no way to name or rename folders or files on the network. Calls to the hardware manufacturer were not helpful but the retailer where he bought his machine was more helpful.
Bizarrely the bug seems fairly well known – there are posts on Microsoft’s TechNet dating backing to last summer.
And I was considering getting a new Windows box. The PIII is starting to drag under the weight of Redmond.
Guess I’ll wait until Microsoft has Windows working.
Nah . . . I’m 57 years old. I don’t have that long.
The cavalry is on the way.
All I can say is, this takes–oh, never mind.
From the newspaper that would have a four-page front section if it weren’t for the Boscov’s ad:
A Minquadale Fire Company truck — with its lights and siren operating — was traveling south on U.S. 13 at McMullen Avenue, state police spokesman Sgt. Joshua Bushweller said.
As the truck neared the I-295 off ramp, a 2002 Dodge Ram pickup truck turned off of the highway and into the path of the firetruck.
(Actually, Boscov’s is a great store–possibly because it’s still family-owned. They are, I think, single-handedly keeping the Wilmington paper afloat. And the News-Journal is a Gannett newspaper, so it can’t help it–it’s from the company that brought you the MacDonald’s of newspapers.)
In my line of work, flowcharts and algorithms are frequently used to help people solve problems according to a predetermined routine. Check this, check that, and so on.
Like this one, which applies to any problem:
Diagram composed with dia
Well, someone has found the problem solving flowchart used by the Current Federal Administration:
With a tip to Phillybits.
Little bit of wind today. In fact, it was kind of like South Dakota.
The speed limit on I-495 has returned to 65 mph after being lowered to 45 for more than two hours because of high winds.
Delaware State Police said wind shear knocked an SUV into the guard rail in the northbound lanes near the Pennsylvania line around 1:30 p.m.
Old joke I learned from a South Dakotan:
Why is South Dakota so windy?
Because North Dakota blows and Iowa sucks.
What is wrong with this story? (Opie, you’re not allowed to enter the contest. I know you’ll catch it in a second.)
Having taken action not to subject even one hair to the sometimes-degrading process of therapeutic redemption, the freshly head-shaved Britney Spears has signed the guest register at “an undisclosed rehab facility” (as her rep Larry Rudolph says to People mag), ostensibly to battle addiction (by battling your tendency to battle against yourself, 12-step sages say). No idea how long Brit’s sojourn is to last. Last week, the Kevin Federline survivor enjoyed a measly 24 hours at Eric Clapton’s Ã¼ber-selective Crossroads Centre in Antigua.
The news comes after days of derision aimed at Brit’s decision to shear her pop-star hair. But consider Ellen Ripley in Alien 3. Or Demi Moore in G.I. Jane. (Even Marlon Brando’s phantagasmoric pate in Apocalypse Now!) Unlike Solomon, who became a weakling after Delilah sheared his manly locks, women who are untressed gain power. (Brando transcends gender.) Their baldness emboldens them to act boldly, like that sublime killer virgin, Joan of Arc.
And isn’t Brit our PoMo Joan, whose destiny is to lead us all to a place beyond red states and blue states. A place where we all get to hang with Paris and Lindsay every day.