Earlier this month, a driverless car operated by Delphi, an automotive supplier, completed a 3400 mile road trip across the United States, the first unpiloted car to do so. Well, almost unpiloted. Actual human beings had to take control of the wheel when the vehicle exited highways and entered cities, so this 2014 Audi SQ5 is not expected to be putting around Times Square anytime soon. Wired magazine, always an optimist in these matters, says a fully autonomous vehicle might not be commonplace until 2040. Google, significantly invested in the driverless car market—and with a vehicle which can actually recognize hand signals from cops—expects sooner. Flying Pie readers, of course, being experienced motorists and wise observers of the human condition, know this will never work.
Most people like to drive. Siobhan and I split the driving on long trips because neither of us enjoys sitting comatose in the passenger seat for hundreds of miles. There are only so many stimulating intellectual discussions a person can have in a five-hour trip. And don’t tell me a passenger can always read or do crossword puzzles. That’s fine for you and I but some people throw up in the car when they read or do crossword puzzles. Okay, you say, but the new driverless car will allow you to stretch out, maybe take a nap in the back seat while it carries you to your destination. Hah! I don’t know about you but I’m not going to be doing much sleeping while a vehicle on autopilot is rocketing down the highway at seventy miles an hour, determining my fate. Well, ho ho, Bill, you might reply, we do that on planes all the time! Well, sure. See, on planes there’s not so much stuff to run into. At thirty-thousand feet, you’ve got nothing but atmosphere. At sea level, you’ve got toll booths, jaywalkers and blind grannies jumping into traffic from hidden driveways. It’s a scary situation.
What about teenagers? Kids like to drive around with the music amped up, the windows rolled down, trolling for hookup material. What about drag racing? Are they making these driverless cars with competitive genes? Will they have an on/off switch for civilized driving and hellraising? It’s a poser.
What if there’s an accident? Who gets the blame? There’s no driver. Do the cops cite the car with the inferior equipment? Insurance companies are apoplectic at the prospect. Every street, all pavement, each driveway in the U.S. will have to be mapped. There are FOUR MILLION roads alone to consider. What if it rains? What if it snows? What if the highways get icy? Will the car know? “Oops, it’s slippery as greased Teflon out there, I’d better slow down!” What about sudden flooding? What about Falling Rock Zones? What about potholes? The DVs can’t yet determine whether a road obstacle is a rock or a crumpled piece of paper. It’s a nightmare.
All of this seems so impersonal. If we’re going to continue on with the subject, we need a name for these driverless cars. How about “Bernie,” a friendly name we can relate to. Who doesn’t like Bernie? Okay, so far nobody has taught Bernie how to proceed in reverse. It’s not his fault, Google just has other priorities. What about ambulance sirens—can Bernie hear them? Well, um….no. Has anybody instructed Bernie in the perplexing matter of errant squirrels? Can he read ambiguous road signs? Does he know what SOFT SHOULDER means? It’s all so confusing. Makes a grown car want to cry. And then there’s the cost, about $10,000 to $15,000 over a similar unenhanced vehicle, at least at first.
Now, we’re not saying the Bernies might not be a lot of fun. I mean, everybody wants to be the first in his neighborhood to take one over to the McDonald’s Drive-Thru and ask for a burger. Or grab an otherwise impossible quickie on the way to class. But the fun is a high price to pay for a rolling deathwagon. And even if they magically iron out all the kinks, what you’ve got is still a big computer. There has never been a computer made which cannot be hacked into. So here you are, going to the prom in your Bernie limo and your chief rival for your date’s affections is a wily nerd possessed of exceptional hacking talents. You could end up like this:
“Gosh, Eddie—where the hell are we? This looks a lot like East Harlem to me.”
Or:
“Hey, Ralph—is your new car insured for water damage? It looks like we’re going off the end of this pier!”
You do what you want. I think I’ll stick with the old Caddy for a while.
American Pharoah Routs The Arkansas Derby
Pharoah To The Fore
Last week we told you that American Pharoah would win the Arkansas Derby; otherwise, the moon was made of guacamole. When a couple of decent competitors showed up, it was some cause for concern, but not for long. The likely Kentucky Derby favorite, usually a front runner, sat just off the pace of longshot Bridget’s Big Luvy (who should have been disqualified for Name Pollution) into the far turn, then accelerated and drew away to an eight-length victory under lucky Victor Espinoza, also the rider of last year’s Derby Winner, California Chrome. The time was a good 1:48.52, with the winner geared down during the last part of the race. The second-place finisher was Far Right, who charged back from last to nip Mr. Z at the wire. The first and third finishers are owned by the Zayat Stable and trained by Bob Baffert, who also conditions Dortmund, another prominent Derby contender.
The Arkansas Derby was especially significant for the Baffert camp because it illustrated American Pharoah’s ability to rate. The leader out of the gate in the Kentucky Derby is often a long odds horse with no possibility of winning the race; getting into a speed duel with such a noncontender is suicidal, so it is critical that a speed-favoring horse learn to bide his time. Some never do. And few horses go wire to wire in the taxing Kentucky Derby. Right now, Bob Baffert is in the enviable position of training the top two prospects to win the roses on the first Saturday in May. Think he gets much sleep?
Oil On Troubled Waters
A few columns back, we discussed a relatively new hemp-based product, a type of CBD oil, which was being used with great effectiveness by our friend, Irana Zisser, in Boca Raton. Irana was at her wit’s end dealing with the ravages of age and further complications from an automobile accident, a combination which had left her agonal and practically housebound. Doctors were reluctant to work on her, so grim was the prognosis and Oxycodone, her weapon of choice, was losing its punch. Just as Irana was circling the drain for the last time, she came upon a type of CBD Oil which instantly relieved her miseries. So astounded was she with the product, she contacted the manufacturer and asked if she could market the stuff; subsequently she did and some of it made its way to the Alternate Mayor of Austin and two-time Flying Pie Internet Hero Of The Year, Harry Edwards, who reported similar results. Before we started celebrating in the streets, Irana warned us that the product was not a panacea, seeming to work mainly on people with constant and extreme pain rather than, say, someone with serious arthritis. Unfortunately for Harry, he also experiences the latter. What to do about that?
Now comes our Kentucky pal, Bill Mauk, who has arthritis everywhere on his body except for his ears. Bill tells us he has found a marijuana-based product which gives him “80% improvement on good days,” perhaps less when a siege of rain plagues Lexington. Whereas Irana’s oil does not have psychotropic properties, however, this one does—although Bill tells us he never gets high off his juice. Long story short, the new stuff could have unpleasant legal ramifications which are not an issue with Irana’s product. Bill, like most of our friends, is not too worried about legal ramifications if a product lets him actually walk. “I can even work out without pain,” he says. “I feel like a new man.” We’re including a picture of Bill’s saviour, Bliss Tincture, which contains 566 mg. of “pure cannabis oil.” It sells for $45 a bottle, which contains one fluid ounce or 30 servings. In states where only medical marijuana is legal, a doctor’s prescription is required. If you know someone in California, well, everybody has a doctor there, right?
Klang, If Not Honk
Cartoonists, as we all know, are fascinated with sound effects. The old Batman comics were celebrated for their BAM!s and POW!s, which also became a prominent part of the old Batman television shows. When Billy Batson wanted to change into alter-ego Captain Marvel, he uttered SHAZAM!, after which an entire small panel of the comic strip was devoted to a large lightning flash, which ushered in either the dashing superhero or, as the evil Dr. Sivana always called him, “the big red cheese.”
Don Martin, one of the earliest illustrators for the infant Mad Magazine and an important contributor to their wonderful pocket books, once illustrated a collapsing building, adding the sound FA-GROON!!! Cartoonist Gilbert Shelton was so taken with this discovery, he immediately committed it to memory. “Okay,” he said, brightening up, “now I know that the sound of a falling building is FA-GROON!!! I never knew that before.” We all derive life lessons from different gurus, Don Martin seems as good as any. Shelton, of course, went on to become a world-famous cartoonist, himself, known primarily for his Wonder Wart-Hog, The Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers and Fat Freddy’s Cat, in all of which he made liberal use of sound effects. Two of Gilbert’s favorites were CLANG! and HONK!—dotting many of his panels and almost always used together, as in CLANG!HONK! to illustrate a din or a clatter, a mare’s nest of confusion, perhaps. Some of his friends began using the phrase (if you will) in everyday conversation and I still resort to it today. Imagine my surprise then as I checked Google Analytics the other day, investigating far-flung metropolises where the column had been read the previous day—and discovered it had been checked out by someone in Klang. Yes, really. Not having any idea that such an entity even existed, I got very excited by all this and and pursued the matter, quickly dredging up the facts that Klang is the royal city and former capital of the state of Selangor in Malaysia. And get THIS—it is cleverly located “within the Klang District in the Klang Valley.” I wonder if they have trolleys?
Anyway, if you’re out there, Gilbert, half the battle is over. I’ll be avidly searching each week in hopes that Honk will eventually show up. All I got this week was Oss, an undistinguished municipality in the southern Netherlands, but I haven’t given up. Perhaps if Honk eventually appears, Klang and Honk could become sister cities, exchanging cultural groups, trade commissions and moron jokes. Hey, don’t laugh—stranger things have happened.
Your Musical Advisor
A couple days ago, someone on the internet asked readers to post the name of the record album they would choose if they could take only one to an isolated island where they would be spending the foreseeable future. After a few minutes consideration, I chose a 1968 album by The Dillards called Wheatstraw Suite. Then I went to YouTube and listened to it, all 27 uninterrupted minutes. After almost 50 years, it’s still great. If you strike out on that one, try Sweetheart Of The Rodeo by The Byrds. If you don’t like that one, either, go back to music school, there’s something terribly wrong with you.
That’s all, folks….
