Philip's blog

Who conducts the fuel efficiency tests for vehicles in the US? Is it the manufacturer, or some independent agency?

Whoever it is, I am very surprised that their result for my vehicle is more conservative than reality.

Officially, my Honda Accord 2002's highway MPG is 28. This weekend, I measured 32.48 MPG, with a sample size of 414.4 miles of highway driving (with a few miles of it in a city)—and that's with my headlights on and my laptop plugged into the cigarette lighter through an 12v-120v inverter!

Does anyone have similar (or opposite) experiences?

Iowa and farming are inseparable. When I was moving to Iowa, I had visions of meeting a farmer, seeing all the equipment, and getting a better understanding of the labor that allows Iowa to call itself the nation's N basket, for all values of N.

I moved here about a year ago and made very little progress on meeting a farmer. How could I? I wouldn't even know where to start.

Yet, fortune smiled upon me. A friend of mine has family who own a farm, and he invited me to join him over the weekend. It's near Stanton, Iowa—a small town about an hour southwest of Des Moines.

I got to meet his mom, dad, uncle, younger brother, and younger sister. The dad, younger brother, and uncle run the farm. They produce corn, soybeans, cow milk, and strawberries! I had the privilege of eating with them, spending time with them, and learning about their work.

Farm work, at least on that farm, consumes about 70 hours a week. Cows need a lot of attention—they're milked twice a day. The day starts at about 4:30 am: cows need to be rounded up at the milking saloon and processed. The second milking is at around 4 pm. Meanwhile, the land need to be worked, machinery maintained, cow feed replenished, manure scraped, and many other tasks.

This is the first time I've been close enough to a cow to touch it. The calves are pretty adorable, even though they don't like being petted and are in a barn with hundreds or thousands of flies. They're like Bambi—except with more potential.

The milking saloon is more high-tech than I thought: it's a barn that holds about eight cows in individual stalls. There is an entrance into the barn, an exit, and a walkway that connects all stalls with them. Gates control where the cows can go. The typical process: a farmer chooses what stall to open, opens it, and opens the entrance to the barn. The cow enters the walkway and proceeds intil an open gate forces it to enter the stall. Once it's in, the farmer closes the gate behind the cow. He then cleans its udders and hooks up this octopus-looking thing to each teat. It's a hub with four short hoses coming out of it; each one pulsates. All of them draw milk into the hub, which is connected to a translucent pipe that runs all along the barn. That pipe connects to the large refrigerator where the milk waits to be picked up by an 18-wheeler and carried to its final destination.

Apparently, this awesome technology is old—it was considered high-tech in the sixties. I am impressed nontheless.

I did not stay long enough to be helpful to the farm, but I had many new experiences, met wonderful people, and better understand what's involved in bringing food to my table. I feel grateful and content.

My last entry was about nine months ago. So much has happened since then. I've left Texas for the green pastures of Iowa. I've moved in with my beloved girlfriend. I am holding down a real, grown-up job.

Blah blah blah. The important thing is that as of Monday, I am a proud owner of a small motorcycle!

There are a lot of complainers about the penny: how it's worthless and should be phased out. I am one of them.

The most commonly proposed solution I read is that some rounding should occur at checkouts. For example, if the bill comes out to be $54.78, it should be rounded to $54.80. That's not a bad idea, but there is a problem. If rounding was done as the last step, there is nothing stopping a retailer from setting prices in such a way that totals are rounded in the retailer's favor -- that is, on every transaction, it just so happens that the customer must round up and pay an extra one to two cents. As an extreme example, consider a pack of gum that the retailer in Texas prices at 44 cents. After sales tax, the gum costs 47.63 cents. This would be rounded up to 50 cents.

Setting the price of gum at 44 cents means that the customer pays for it 50 cents, while setting the price at a penny lower means that the customer pays only 45 cents. The retailer can force an additional five cents out of a customer by changing an advertised price by a penny.

"It's just five cents; what's the big deal?" But how many customers go through the checkout lines of Walmart in one hour nationwide?

I propose a win-win -- or at least a win-neutral -- solution to getting rid of the penny. As a bonus, this solution does not require any government intervention. Are you ready for it?

Retailers should simply set prices such that, after sales tax, they end in a 0 or a 5.

This is possible because sales tax is a simple percentage of the subtotal. Thanks to the associative and commutative properties of addition and multiplication, there is no need to take into account all permutations of the store's inventory: the store simply needs to set individual prices such that x ends in 0 or 5, and any combination of such products will automatically have the same property.

Of course it is still possible for the retailer to adjust prices to increase profit (simply by always raising the price to the nearest 0 or 5), but now there is no asymmetry of information. Now the customer sees the exact price before deciding whether to put the item in the cart and the store cannot play dirty rounding tricks.

My solution will not work for items that are sold by weight, unless scales are modified to weigh in increments of 0.05 lb or similar as opposed to the standard 0.01 lb.

For items that are sold by weight, I don't mind the rounding being done at the register, for two reasons. First, there is a large amount of uncertainty involved with most sold-by-weight products. Whether it's cutting slabs or slices of meat or filling a cup with nuts, it's much more difficult to consistently produce packages that round in the store's favor. Second, the customer has at least some input when it comes to sold-by-weight products. If the customer is so anal-retentive that he doesn't want the store to make two cents of profit on his purchase (and hopefully I am not one of them), he can whip out a pocket calculator and figure out precisely what set of weights will yield a post-tax price in the customer's favor. Thus, items that are sold by weight are not significantly subject to a store's malicious adjustment of prices in the store's favor.

If a retailer can meet my conditions, then I claim that it's a definite win for customers and at worst a wash for the retailer.

So if there are so many penny-haters, and my proposal seems to work, and my proposal doesn't require anything more than a willing retailer and appreciative customers, why hasn't anyone done it? Or has someone?

Lastly, perhaps there should be a coalition, called something like "Penniless & Proud." Those stores that commit to eliminating the penny (through my proposed system or some other fair system) are rewarded with a special logo that they're authorized to display on the doors and in commercials. Once there is critical mass, economic pressures on the remaining retailers will virtually eliminate the penny from circulation.

Do you see any flaws in my proposal? Do you know of a better way? Do you know of any stores that have eliminated or reduced the circulation of the penny?

It seems that these days everyone is complaining about the evil of capitalism and that Obama needs to hurry up and fix everything. The article The Morality of the Free-Market System discusses some fundamental questions. Can Obama fix everything? Can he fix anything? Is the free market system fair?

What do you think? Is free market the way to go, or should our government be our shepherd?

I've checked off another item from my bucket list: I rode Amtrak across the country in a sleeping car. It was a very pleasant experience. I'd like to tell you about it, since I am guessing that most people who read this have not yet experienced Amtrak.

Sue's and my trip from her house to my house was fully on Amtrak and had two parts: South Bend (Indiana) to Chicaga, coach-class, then Chicago to Dallas, sleeper. Boarding there was my first experience with Amtrak. The traincars are huge! They're double-decker, and I'm guessing they're at least 18 feet high.

The first leg of the trip was short. The stewardesses were as friendly as long-unionized employees can be, the seats were nice and roomy, and there was more than twice the legroom as on a coach class of an airplane. Also, coach class had a power outlet for every seat, so while Sue napped I fired up the laptop and caught up on mail and news over my cell phone.

In Chicago we for the first time felt the significance of "first class." Chicago's Union Station has a Metro Lounge -- a room reserved for Amtrak's first-class passengers. The room isn't anything amazing, but it's definitely better than the continuous bustle and noise of the main waiting area. The Metro Lounge has chairs, TVs, a soda fountain that anyone can use as much as they want, and unlimited coffee. They also serve snacks (Goldfish), but we opted to eat in Chicago. Lastly, Metro Lounge offers perhaps the most useful feature of all: a temporary storage room, allowing us to store our carry-ons and walk around Chicago without worrying about bags.

The storage room deserves another mention. It was staffed by a "Red Cap" -- a guy who helps with first-class passengers with luggage. Ours was named Stephen. He is the most friendly and most dedicated unionized employee I've ever met. As we were walking out of the Metro Lounge to find Chicago food, he got Sue's attention and told her that her cell phone -- somewhere in her bag -- rang. I got his name, called Amtrak customer relations, and had them take note of Stephen's excellence.

Four hours after our arrival in Chicago, it was time to start the Texas Eagle route from Chicago to Dallas. We were taken to a numbered terminal that had a train waiting, and we boarded onto the sleeping car.

Amtrak offered us three options when we bought tickets: coach seats, a roomette, or a full room. Coach means sleeping while sitting and clothed; no thanks. A room meant enough space for four with even a sink and toilet in the room. That's nice but expensive. A roommette is for two, and it's at a good price.

As soon as we saw our roommette, we were impressed, and my happiness with it keeps growing as I discover new features and engineering tricks. The layout and features of the roomette are designed exceptionally well.

Each roomette is 6'6" by 3'6". In that tiny amount of space, the good people of Amtrak crammed in the following:

• carpet,


• two large windows,


• a sliding, locking door with windows,


• movable dark curtains in front of both windows and the sliding door,


• two soft wide, reclining armchairs that convert to a full-length bed,


• an upper bunk that can be raised out of the way or lowered for another full-length bed,


• a lamp to illuminate the whole roomette,


• focused reading lamps,


• a blue night light,


• temperature control,


• a power outlet,


• a full-height closet that can hold at least two coats,


• a box of facial tissues and a trash can,


• a removable tray table,


• a tall mirror,


• lots of space underneath the armchairs for carry-ons, and plenty of space for books and pocket miscellany.

Can you visualize all this? If no, then here are some photos.

The roomette is optional. In fact most people opt for "coach", which buys you just a roomy seat in a train car full of seats -- like on an airplane. Opting for the roomette makes you a "first-class passenger," and Amtrak still gives some meaning to this title.

Once we boarded, the sleeping car attendant came around, introduced himself, said that we can help ourselves to unlimited orange juice, coffee, and ice water, and that if we need anything, we can pull a knob in our roommette to summon him.

Shortly afterwards, the dining car steward came around and took our dining reservations. All meals are complimentary for first-class passengers!

Now we could relax. We would be on this train for almost 24 hours.

Before dinner Sue and I went to the observation car. The observation car has huge windows on the sides and on the ceiling, along with armchairs facing outward, for comfortable observation of the neverending corn fields on both sides of us.

After walking around Chicago for hours, I wanted a shower, and sleeping cars have a very nice shower facility. In my time aboard, I took three showers.

Lastly I want to mention food. There was a dining car attached to our train, and that's where they fed us. For dinner I had a flat iron steak and sue had a barbecue sandwich. Both were good quality, though my steak was not prepared properly. I asked for medium-rare and got one that was mostly right but had a very rare section. Asking them to throw it back on the grill for a few minutes didn't fix the problem, so I just left a piece. (I heard somewhere that one should never ask for rare or medium-rare steak at non-steakhouses. Amtrak is not a steakhouse.) The dessert was good. For breakfast I had a vegetable and cheese omelette while Sue had French toast. Both were great -- and free.

In many ways Amtrak is the best of a hotel and an airplane. Though they're a sucky business (they lose money every year and require government assistance), they offer an experience unmatched by any other form of transportation. I give it two thumbs up.

I got some coupons from Netflix to give out to my friends. These coupons extend the trial period for new customers from 2 weeks to a whole month.

If you'd like to take advantage of this, go to http://netflix.com/tellafriend and enter one of these codes:
* M283276490835
* M213226490865
* M233216490815

They all expire on June 15th.

I always like Tom Thumb's Artisan bread that they bake in-store, but I never buy it because it's expensive.

A few days ago I've decided to bake it at home. The boyfriend of an acquaintance, Andreas, posted a recipe, Artisan Bread in 5 Minutes a Day, on his blog. It was so easy that I had no choice but to bake it.

The result is cheap and delicious:

A+ Will Bake Again!

Is there such a thing as "free lunch"? When is "free lunch" truly free?

Assuming that we're talking about a literal lunch, the answer is never. A lunch has value: someone had to collect the raw ingredients, someone had to put them together, someone had to serve it to you, someone had to pay property taxes and upkeep on the restaurant, and so on.

With lunch, someone gains only as a result of someone losing. With a business lunch, the salesperson or the interviewer pays for your free lunch. With a soup kitchen, the charity or local government pays for the lunch. The charity gets its resources from charitable donors, while the local government gets its resources from local residents. The same applies to any item that has value: no one acquires it without incurring a cost.

Today I want to tell you about a way to get free lunch. In fact, I'll make it as simple as possible: I'll give you step-by-step instructions that almost anyone will be able to follow to fruition.

1) Get a credit card that offers rewards;
2) Visit the US Mint and find the "$1 Coin Direct Ship" section;
3) Order online as many coins as you can with your rewards-bearing credit card;
4) Receive these coins in the mail;
5) Deposit the coins in your bank and pay your credit card bill;
6) Go to step 2.

I did one iteration of this, and I come with photos. Here's the box I received in the mail:

Here's one sub-box with 250 $1-coins:

With my credit card, I made $33.33 in rewards for doing essentially no work, and I can repeat this ad infinitum. This can buy a hefty lunch!

Is it a win-win? Who paid for my thirty-three-dollar lunch? I expect to see a correct answer in the comments.

Yesterday I had an experience that has left me shaken up.

Our house's garbage disposal stopped working. I flipped its switch a couple of times, then stuck my hand down there to investigate. I've done that before and usually have been able to fish out a knife or other small but hard things.

This time I couldn't feel anything jamming the blades, so I tugged on them a few times. Then I removed my hand and reached to turn on the disposal once more.

Then I realized that I left the switch turned on.

Now I understand how accidental gun discharges happen.