That’s just my opinion, I could be wrong…

Dennis Miller, the comedian, social commentator, and all around intellectual bon vivant, once had a popular cable program that was famous for two things. His guests were encouraged to disagree without becoming disagreeable. There was no shouting on Miller’s show, even when the topics were incendiary enough to have degenerated into a slobbering, spittle-spewing, scream-fest had they been conducted by any other host of the day.

But perhaps more than that, Miller distinguished himself by beginning each program with a rant. These five- to eight-minute long diatribes were pithy, funny, often on target, and written with a highly specific perspective in mind. Yet no matter what the topic, Miller always ended his rants in the same way, saying, “Of course that’s just my opinion. I could be wrong.”

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Doin’ the bureaucratic boogaloo

Let’s try a thought experiment together, just you and me. First, we’ll set the scene. You own a company. A big company with thousands of employees, a budget big enough to choke a team of Clydesdales, and a customer base that numbers in the tens of thousands. Sadly, most of those customers are at least somewhat dissatisfied with the quality of the service your company offers.

And there’s another problem. You don’t actually have enough cash on hand, or credit, to purchase the supplies you need to provide some of the services you’ve advertised to your customers.

Oops. That’s not good.

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A wider waistline thanks to aviation

Thanksgiving is upon us. Then comes Christmas and the New Year and an encounter with that dirty lying scoundrel known as the bathroom scale. I will gain weight over the coming weeks. You may well add a few ounces to your frame as well. Thank aviation for that bonus of winter girth. Thank it all year long, too.

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Everything changes

It doesn’t take long to realize that everything around us changes through the years. By the time we’re in high school we notice that friends have moved away even as new friends magically arrive in town. The familiar old drug store becomes a realtor’s office, then might be torn down to make way for a new medical facility in the heart of town. So it goes.

The airport is no different than anyplace else, really.

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Poor little rich Americans

As we slide into the holiday season with the aroma of fresh baked pies and warm, happy families surrounding us, it’s worth reflecting on the world around us and the lives we live.

The United States and each of the 50 states that make up this grand assemblage of territories we choose to call home exists as an experiment. Historically we have been powerful economically, militarily, in terms of industrial might, and by making the most of the creative impulses of an astoundingly diverse population. Perhaps more than any other place on earth, we have invited the dreamer, the ne’er do well, the oddball, and the downtrodden to come live among us.

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People are talking

Thanks to the benefits of some decent parenting at the hands of my mother, who is a teeny, tiny woman with exemplary manners, I am a reasonably humble man. You will not find me standing on a stump telling the world what an amazing individual I am. There are two reasons for that, really. First, I’m not that amazing. Second, the women in my life, of which there are many, would gang up in a heartbeat to point out a series of flaws I possess that are so deep and so catastrophically damaging I might never be able to leave the house again.

Perhaps I’m overstating the point. But you know what I mean.

The crux of all this build-up is that I do not typically make a point of drawing attention to myself. Not intentionally, anyway. I do however make it a point to step up and speak in glowing terms about the Polk Aviation Alliance, an organization that is unique, growing, and finding real success.

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Observations and invitations

Attached to the main administration building at the Santa Monica Airport in Southern California is an observation deck. It’s a wide concrete structure with a curved metal railing that allows excellent views of the area, reaching from the Hollywood sign in the northeast all the way around to the Pacific Ocean on the southwest. A bleacher style seating structure provides a reasonably comfortable place to sit and watch the action on the airport.

That’s where I met Adam and Zoe. Adam is a software designer who grew up in Santa Monica. He’s been stopping at the airport for much of his life to watch airplanes fly, daydream about becoming a pilot, and generally enjoy a sunny afternoon.

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Tag team activism

The main hangar space at San Luis Jet Center in San Luis Obispo, Calif., was packed last weekend. A good 300 aviation enthusiasts came from far and wide to rub shoulders, commiserate, learn, be motivated, and be inspired to be more effective advocates for general aviation. They came to have a good time, too. And they did.

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Yeah, that’s not there anymore…

Normally I write this column in my office in central Florida. I’ve got one at Gilbert Field in Winter Haven, and another in my home where I do a considerable amount of my writing. It’s just more comfortable there. Let’s face it, there’s no place as inviting or as comfortable as home — except perhaps for our memories.

Thanks to the human brain’s almost staggering capacity to correct for errors, upsets, and ugliness, life is never more beautiful or satisfying than it is when viewed through the prism of our memory.

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We remember the bad, forget the good

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Although it is not scheduled to be released until January 2014, I have just finished reading “Fireball, Carole Lombard and the Mystery of Flight 3″ by Robert Matzen. His research is impressive.

Rather than dwell on the superficial or get bogged down on the sensational aspects of the story, Matzen treats the subjects like real people, getting right to the heart of the men and women the story revolves around.

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