Mass transit has a rough time in Kansas City. It keeps coming up time and time again, but the basic problem is that the city is so spread out that every proposal ends up being expensive while also only accommodating a limited number of people. Also, the airport is like a billion miles from anywhere anyone wants to go in the city.
Natter 67: Overriding Vetoes
Off-topic discussion. Wanna talk about corsets, nail polish, duct tape, or physics? This is the place. Detailed discussion of any current-season TV must be whitefonted.
Mass transit has a rough time in Kansas City.
Awww, my Dad grew up on the old KC trolleys.
You can still see the tracks in places.
If you click around this map of AT [link] it's pretty clear where rail should go, and then you fill in with buses (or streetcars!). DART and the TRE (Trinity Railway Express runs from the airport to far FW) connect, but does not stop in Arlington.
You know how insane George Will is when you realize he's probably never lived in a city without heavily-used mass transit. So much for taking away people's choices.
My parents lucked out—although they came up snake eyes in the daughter-in-law and grandchildren crapshoot, we have a good relationship and my youthful rebellion consisted of being a sloppy dresser in high school. Apparently Mom's goody-two-shoes childhood overbalanced the karmic payback from Dad's upbringing as part of a pack of Devil-children.
Has anyone linked to the Sheen dictionary? [link]
There's nothing like driving to give me feelings of inadequacy. This is partly because I am aware that driving is the most dangerous thing I do and I have no illusions that I am in control. This is what happens when someone does a lot of research into risk.
My dad's been gone for 20 years, and I've never been anything but happy that he's gone, although I sometimes mourn what he could have been.
I don't even know if my father's alive or dead. Don't care much. Mainly I'd like some of his DNA for a paternity test. Nothing would make me happier than to find out for certain that he wasn't my biological father.
Not only are you allowed to have a car, but you have your own demographic sterotype. Sporty two-door, 4 cylinder engine, automatic transmission.
Dagnabbit, no one told me! Crap.