Whilst listening to NPR today (that's National Public Radio for the Brits among you), I heard of a biotech company that has genetically enhanced zebra fish so they'll glow in the dark. Yes, Americans now need fish that glow in the dark. Pardon me for being the Voice of Skepticism, but what happens when these fish get into the general fish population and start breeding? You know they will; people who get tired of pet fish often flush them down toilets or toss them into lakes or ponds. Do we know what their offspring will be like? What happens if someone eats one? Of course we can't answer any of these questions, yet some company eager to profit from the American passion for useless bullshit is charging ahead nonetheless.
I'm not opposed in theory to messing with genes, particularly if we can head off in fetuses some pretty nasty diseases or deformities. However, I'm troubled at the notion of fiddling with DNA just so we can have more attractive pets. Genetic power is pretty awesome, if you think about it, and such power should not be wielded lightly. The results could be pretty gruesome.
Wednesday, December 31, 2003
Tuesday, December 30, 2003
Rude Candy Update!
I have eaten the Yorkie, and can report that I do not feel any more manly than I did before. However, I think that perhaps a better subject is required. Yorkies may not work on queerboys.
Rude Candy
One of my coworkers gave me a chocolate bar she picked up on her recent trip to Ireland. It's called "Yorkie", and the tag-line is "It's Not for Girls!" The "o" in the name even has the stick-image of a woman in the red circle with the line through it. How politically incorrect! That kind of thing would never fly here, that's for sure. Fun!
I just had a meeting with our HR rep about transferring within my company or to another branch of the parent company. She asked me why I wanted to do so, and I decided to tell her. She was very diplomatic, of course, yet she managed all the same to communicate her own unease with our current commandant's rule. She related that he had once said to her, "When you're put in charge of this company, you can run it your way." That's what you say when you've been asked a question to which you have no good answer, and it tells you all you need to know about the prez of this company. He's basically said, "My way or the highway", so I choose the highway.
I just had a meeting with our HR rep about transferring within my company or to another branch of the parent company. She asked me why I wanted to do so, and I decided to tell her. She was very diplomatic, of course, yet she managed all the same to communicate her own unease with our current commandant's rule. She related that he had once said to her, "When you're put in charge of this company, you can run it your way." That's what you say when you've been asked a question to which you have no good answer, and it tells you all you need to know about the prez of this company. He's basically said, "My way or the highway", so I choose the highway.
Monday, December 29, 2003
Save me from the suburbs!
I haven't blogged in ages, as this weekend I was busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest. Here goes.
I was at my sister's for Xmas, which meant venturing into the dreaded suburbs. I probably come off as a metropolitan snob, but I have very good reasons my disdain. They are:
1) Suburban development overstrains local roads, requiring more state money for highway expansion. Like the movie says, "If you build it, they will come" and so it has proven with roadwork. Widen a highway today and in five years it will once again be over-capacity.
2) Suburbs ruin the cities by encouraging white flight. The white folks leave, taking their tax dollars with them and shrinking the tax base. The cities respond by raising taxes on those who remain, further encouraging departure, while suburban municipalities lure city businesses with low-tax office parks.
3) Suburbs increase auto dependency. The 'burbs are built for people with cars; hell, some of their streets don't even have sidewalks. That increases fuel consumption and air pollution, makes auto accidents more likely, and denies to an already dangerously sedentary society an opportunity for exercise.
On top of all these reasons, there's something else that has always nagged at me. One of the primary reasons people give for moving to the 'burbs is safety, yet once they relocate, nothing changes. They still lock their doors at night, drive their children everywhere because they think walking around is unsafe, and they still buy and keep guns. I don't know if these people are statistically safer, but they sure don't act as if they are safer.
I was at my sister's for Xmas, which meant venturing into the dreaded suburbs. I probably come off as a metropolitan snob, but I have very good reasons my disdain. They are:
1) Suburban development overstrains local roads, requiring more state money for highway expansion. Like the movie says, "If you build it, they will come" and so it has proven with roadwork. Widen a highway today and in five years it will once again be over-capacity.
2) Suburbs ruin the cities by encouraging white flight. The white folks leave, taking their tax dollars with them and shrinking the tax base. The cities respond by raising taxes on those who remain, further encouraging departure, while suburban municipalities lure city businesses with low-tax office parks.
3) Suburbs increase auto dependency. The 'burbs are built for people with cars; hell, some of their streets don't even have sidewalks. That increases fuel consumption and air pollution, makes auto accidents more likely, and denies to an already dangerously sedentary society an opportunity for exercise.
On top of all these reasons, there's something else that has always nagged at me. One of the primary reasons people give for moving to the 'burbs is safety, yet once they relocate, nothing changes. They still lock their doors at night, drive their children everywhere because they think walking around is unsafe, and they still buy and keep guns. I don't know if these people are statistically safer, but they sure don't act as if they are safer.
Wednesday, December 24, 2003
A not so very special blog...
This is a less sharey blog than the one I posted a few days ago. I'm not very sharey, and I still have an emotional skidmark from the last post. But here goes.
I feel pretty good today, a feeling that started last night as I talk a long, late-night walk. This year hasn't been the best for me. You see, problems normally require action, and I am all about action. Present me with a difficulty and I can overcome it. (Hear the "Laverne & Shirley" theme music?) However, 2003 was about uncertainty, which I don't handle so well, probably because I am not quick to make life decisions. Once I make a decision I stick to it come hell or high water, but it's getting there that takes me awhile. I'm arriving (I think) at some clarity, and I feel enormously better because of it.
"Come hell or high water"...isn't that a funny saying? I mean, first you have hell, a place of fire and pain and suffering and doom, where your hopes mean nothing and despair and misery reign. Then you have high water, which...ruins your carpets and makes you file a claim under your homeowner's insurance. Somehow the two just don't seem to go together. "Hell and velour sweatsuits"...now that's scary.
I feel pretty good today, a feeling that started last night as I talk a long, late-night walk. This year hasn't been the best for me. You see, problems normally require action, and I am all about action. Present me with a difficulty and I can overcome it. (Hear the "Laverne & Shirley" theme music?) However, 2003 was about uncertainty, which I don't handle so well, probably because I am not quick to make life decisions. Once I make a decision I stick to it come hell or high water, but it's getting there that takes me awhile. I'm arriving (I think) at some clarity, and I feel enormously better because of it.
"Come hell or high water"...isn't that a funny saying? I mean, first you have hell, a place of fire and pain and suffering and doom, where your hopes mean nothing and despair and misery reign. Then you have high water, which...ruins your carpets and makes you file a claim under your homeowner's insurance. Somehow the two just don't seem to go together. "Hell and velour sweatsuits"...now that's scary.
Friday, December 19, 2003
A Disgruntled Observation
I'm pretty disgruntled with my employer, and have been for about a year. I'm not going into the why and when (I get angry just thinking about it), but suffice to say that the company has dealt me several direct face-slaps, all the while telling me how valued I am, how good with the clients, blah blah. Anyway, the whole thing got me thinking about corporate America in general. Is it really any more efficient than the public sector?
Sure, it's easier to fire a private employee, but what does that matter when you're replacing him with an even bigger dunderhead? By keeping Dunderhead #1, you're at least getting consistency, if not quality. Don't think it happens? The new prez of my company goes on and on about a worker (who will be known here as Annoying) who's really a better talker than she is a doer. "Annoying is such a great worker...she'll go far in this company." That's a direct quote. Fact is, she's knows nothing, but she can talk a great game. And she's pretty, which I am sure accounts for much of that acclaim. Annoying isn't alone, either; this company is rife with people who do great B.S. but know little and do less.
I've held seven jobs since high school, six of them in the private sector, and in most of 'em I was surrounded by people who definitely did NOT put government workers to shame. This is the breakdown I see:
30% - Waste of oxygen, good only for keeping chairs warm, but obviously so.
30% - Average worker, basically earns keep.
10% - Also a waste of oxygen, yet presents the appearance of productivity and talent. The most pernicious of the breed.
20% - Motivated and fairly talented, definitely worth keeping around.
10% - Bright and gifted, assets to organization.
It sounds cynical to say that only 60% of the workers in an average company are at least fair, but IMO it's the truth. Why not get rid of the other 40%? Because many of those are in management positions, and they don't eat their own. In fact, those in Group #3 tend to rise to management, which shows you just how pernicious they are. It's one thing to be a fool; quite another to be a fool in charge.
I once heard someone say on a posting board that someone who can succeed at business has the requisite skills to hold public office. Judging from the "successful" people with whom I've worked, I'd say they're barely qualified to hold a spoon.
Sure, it's easier to fire a private employee, but what does that matter when you're replacing him with an even bigger dunderhead? By keeping Dunderhead #1, you're at least getting consistency, if not quality. Don't think it happens? The new prez of my company goes on and on about a worker (who will be known here as Annoying) who's really a better talker than she is a doer. "Annoying is such a great worker...she'll go far in this company." That's a direct quote. Fact is, she's knows nothing, but she can talk a great game. And she's pretty, which I am sure accounts for much of that acclaim. Annoying isn't alone, either; this company is rife with people who do great B.S. but know little and do less.
I've held seven jobs since high school, six of them in the private sector, and in most of 'em I was surrounded by people who definitely did NOT put government workers to shame. This is the breakdown I see:
30% - Waste of oxygen, good only for keeping chairs warm, but obviously so.
30% - Average worker, basically earns keep.
10% - Also a waste of oxygen, yet presents the appearance of productivity and talent. The most pernicious of the breed.
20% - Motivated and fairly talented, definitely worth keeping around.
10% - Bright and gifted, assets to organization.
It sounds cynical to say that only 60% of the workers in an average company are at least fair, but IMO it's the truth. Why not get rid of the other 40%? Because many of those are in management positions, and they don't eat their own. In fact, those in Group #3 tend to rise to management, which shows you just how pernicious they are. It's one thing to be a fool; quite another to be a fool in charge.
I once heard someone say on a posting board that someone who can succeed at business has the requisite skills to hold public office. Judging from the "successful" people with whom I've worked, I'd say they're barely qualified to hold a spoon.
Thursday, December 18, 2003
More Things I Like
Quaker Corn Bran: The best cereal ever, and it's not even sugar-coated. Picture Captain Crunch but puffier, hollow, and made of corn. And tasty. Unfortunately I can rarely find it at stores, and I'm seriously considering attempting to buy directly from the manufacturer.
The Green Party: These folks stand for all the right things, and I support them strongly. I suggest you do the same.
Meatball sandwiches: I use turkey for my meatballs, but once they've stewed in the marinara it makes no difference. Put 'em on a roll and slap some provolone cheese on there, and I'm a happy man.
Ebay: Even if you're not buying, you can make every browse to this auction a trip down Nostalgia Lane. There's neat stuff to buy, too.
The Green Party: These folks stand for all the right things, and I support them strongly. I suggest you do the same.
Meatball sandwiches: I use turkey for my meatballs, but once they've stewed in the marinara it makes no difference. Put 'em on a roll and slap some provolone cheese on there, and I'm a happy man.
Ebay: Even if you're not buying, you can make every browse to this auction a trip down Nostalgia Lane. There's neat stuff to buy, too.
Wednesday, December 17, 2003
Making January look good...
I hate Christmas.
The commercialism. I'm not a very acquisitive person, and in fact I've developed a dislike of the practice of buying stuff that one really doesn't need. This partly accounts for my contempt for SUV's, which are vehicles that are purchased simply as fashion statements, not to answer a need. Needless to say, I'm less than wild about a holiday that centers on buying things.
The overdose of religion. Everyone goes on about what Christmas is really all about, at they same time they jam stores and go into debt to fund it. They run to church, even if they rarely go any other time of year, and act all pious. They also bitch about how they can't put Nativity scenes in public places any more, as if Christians were somehow oppressed in that nation.
The "music." Christmas music is always bland, boring, and full of canned sentiment. The songs center on the same damn things: snow, holly, mistletoe, Santa, Jesus, and stuff that's merry. Inexplicably, everyone feels like the world needs one more cover of "I'll Be Home for Christmas", so they inflict their version upon a world that's really seen enough retreads of that piece of crap.
Christmas is the only time of year I actually look forward to January.
The commercialism. I'm not a very acquisitive person, and in fact I've developed a dislike of the practice of buying stuff that one really doesn't need. This partly accounts for my contempt for SUV's, which are vehicles that are purchased simply as fashion statements, not to answer a need. Needless to say, I'm less than wild about a holiday that centers on buying things.
The overdose of religion. Everyone goes on about what Christmas is really all about, at they same time they jam stores and go into debt to fund it. They run to church, even if they rarely go any other time of year, and act all pious. They also bitch about how they can't put Nativity scenes in public places any more, as if Christians were somehow oppressed in that nation.
The "music." Christmas music is always bland, boring, and full of canned sentiment. The songs center on the same damn things: snow, holly, mistletoe, Santa, Jesus, and stuff that's merry. Inexplicably, everyone feels like the world needs one more cover of "I'll Be Home for Christmas", so they inflict their version upon a world that's really seen enough retreads of that piece of crap.
Christmas is the only time of year I actually look forward to January.
Monday, December 15, 2003
The Greatest Gift of All
No, it's not childbirth; that happens all the time to just about anyone. And it's not a realization of self-worth, either; that's the greatest love of all. One of the rarest qualities in the world is the ability to admit when you're wrong.
Think about it. How many people do you know who can actually admit when they've been wrong about...well, anything? Most people, when confronted with something they've done wrong, simply rearrange the facts of the situation to make wrong right. We all want to think we're the heroes of the story, and some people would rather reimagine reality than admit, even if only to themselves, that they've perhaps played the villain. I don't understand it and never have.
Part of the foundation of my atheism is my belief that my goof-ups really don't matter all that much in terms of the universe, and I like that. It takes the pressure off, and helps me keep my blunders in perspective. So what if I spoke harshly to someone the other day? The earth will still orbit the sun, water continues to flow downhill, and matter has maintained its basic integrity. That means I can apologize to that person without feeling that an apology will destroy my world. It's a good feeling.
Think about it. How many people do you know who can actually admit when they've been wrong about...well, anything? Most people, when confronted with something they've done wrong, simply rearrange the facts of the situation to make wrong right. We all want to think we're the heroes of the story, and some people would rather reimagine reality than admit, even if only to themselves, that they've perhaps played the villain. I don't understand it and never have.
Part of the foundation of my atheism is my belief that my goof-ups really don't matter all that much in terms of the universe, and I like that. It takes the pressure off, and helps me keep my blunders in perspective. So what if I spoke harshly to someone the other day? The earth will still orbit the sun, water continues to flow downhill, and matter has maintained its basic integrity. That means I can apologize to that person without feeling that an apology will destroy my world. It's a good feeling.
Friday, December 12, 2003
Kill that driver!
I was reading Tuesday in the Philadelphia Inquirer about a woman in New Jersey who hit two boys in her car. She said she didn't see them because she was driving with ice on her windshield, but the kids were at a crosswalk and being tended by a crossing guard. Now, those of you who read my blog regularly know this gets my hair up right off just because the authority of a crossing guard was disregarded. The main question is this: How much ice was on that blasted windshield if this woman saw neither the crosswalk, the crossing guard, nor the boys? Hasn't she ever heard of using an ice scraper to clear off car windows before driving?
I'm a driver and I love my car, but I have zero sympathy for those who drive irresponsibly. I'm a Nazi on this issue, I admit it. I believe that if you're found driving drunk, you should lose your license forever. If you're found driving a car that's unsafe (for example, one whose windshield is covered with ice), you lose your license for a really long time. Driving is a privilege, not a right, and if you can't handle that privilege responsibly, you don't deserve to drive. Period.
(Wow...I feel positively conservative.)
I'm a driver and I love my car, but I have zero sympathy for those who drive irresponsibly. I'm a Nazi on this issue, I admit it. I believe that if you're found driving drunk, you should lose your license forever. If you're found driving a car that's unsafe (for example, one whose windshield is covered with ice), you lose your license for a really long time. Driving is a privilege, not a right, and if you can't handle that privilege responsibly, you don't deserve to drive. Period.
(Wow...I feel positively conservative.)
Thursday, December 11, 2003
Things I Never Again Want to See in Movies
In no particular order...
1) Courtroom scenes: Done to death.
2) Hostage situations: Done to undeath.
3) Explosions: Villains are only truly dead when something has exploded.
4) Car/Plane/Boat/Carriage/Spaceship chases: Chases in any other damned vehicle also count.
Funny thing is that some older movies did any or all of these, and well. "And Justice For All" did #1, "Dog Day Afternoon" did #2, and "Star Wars" does both 3 and 4, and yet they don't suck. Would that I could say the same of more modern flicks.
1) Courtroom scenes: Done to death.
2) Hostage situations: Done to undeath.
3) Explosions: Villains are only truly dead when something has exploded.
4) Car/Plane/Boat/Carriage/Spaceship chases: Chases in any other damned vehicle also count.
Funny thing is that some older movies did any or all of these, and well. "And Justice For All" did #1, "Dog Day Afternoon" did #2, and "Star Wars" does both 3 and 4, and yet they don't suck. Would that I could say the same of more modern flicks.
Wednesday, December 10, 2003
Pacino - Hot or Not?
I watched "Dog Day Afternoon" last night, and the aforementioned burning question presented itself. (The movie was pretty good, BTW.) I've seen Pacino in a variety of flicks, and I just can't decide if he was cute when he was younger. He definitely didn't have a good body, and he often appeared really haggard. However, sometimes you get a camera angle that shows those dark, intense eyes looking smokily out from a mop of untamed black hair...oh my goodness. Save me.
Tuesday, December 09, 2003
A shining planet known as Earth...
I went over Ed's last night to watch the new "Battlestar Galactica", and I was pleasantly surprised. The thing wasn't an award-winner, mind you, but I thought it worked pretty well as a reinvention. Perhaps my expectations were low because I'd heard such dreadful things, but I think there was some real quality.
Here's what I liked. First, the Cylon attack was much more plausible than in the original, which was pretty much, "The Cylons kicked our heads off." In the redux, the Cylons first infiltrated the defense network and set some cyber-traps that gave their attack fleet an enormous boost. Second, the characters were a bit more gray, as opposed to the original, in which good and evil were plain to see. For example, the new Baltar did not betray the colonies out of malice, but was manipulated into doing so. He was really just foolish and conceited, not eeeevil. He even shows a teensy bit of nobility towards the end of Part I, and that's a nice touch. He also looked great in a suit. :-)
Here's what I didn't like. The human-looking Cylons suck. The redesigned Galactica is too sleek, and resembles a child's toy. The old Galactica was much more how I thought an actual battlestar would appear: clunky and rather awkward-appearing. (Remember: In space you don't have to build ships that are aerodynamic, because there's no aero.) Also, I miss the male Boomer, who was cool, calm, and was the secret backbone of the fighter squad. Sure, Apollo and Starbuck got the spotlight, but they'd have been meat if Boomer hadn't been there to make sure things were squared away. Go Boomer!
All in all, I enjoyed the new Galactica for what it was. Hopefully Ed will make good on his promise to tape Part II, or else I will be sad.
Here's what I liked. First, the Cylon attack was much more plausible than in the original, which was pretty much, "The Cylons kicked our heads off." In the redux, the Cylons first infiltrated the defense network and set some cyber-traps that gave their attack fleet an enormous boost. Second, the characters were a bit more gray, as opposed to the original, in which good and evil were plain to see. For example, the new Baltar did not betray the colonies out of malice, but was manipulated into doing so. He was really just foolish and conceited, not eeeevil. He even shows a teensy bit of nobility towards the end of Part I, and that's a nice touch. He also looked great in a suit. :-)
Here's what I didn't like. The human-looking Cylons suck. The redesigned Galactica is too sleek, and resembles a child's toy. The old Galactica was much more how I thought an actual battlestar would appear: clunky and rather awkward-appearing. (Remember: In space you don't have to build ships that are aerodynamic, because there's no aero.) Also, I miss the male Boomer, who was cool, calm, and was the secret backbone of the fighter squad. Sure, Apollo and Starbuck got the spotlight, but they'd have been meat if Boomer hadn't been there to make sure things were squared away. Go Boomer!
All in all, I enjoyed the new Galactica for what it was. Hopefully Ed will make good on his promise to tape Part II, or else I will be sad.
Monday, December 08, 2003
(Not) Snowbound!
Thinking I'd be stuck inside all weekend, I rented a bunch of movies Friday, which I have not done in a while. Turns out I was not stuck inside all weekend, which is lucky for me because I was getting weird after just 24 hours in my house. Here's what I got:
Black River: A Dean Koontz story turned into a terrible movie, but I was in the mood for something cheap, and Jay Mohr, who stars, is tasty. Mucho tasty.
Girl Fight: This was a film I'd meant to see when it was at the Ritz, so I was glad to see it now. Not bad. I like the way a major source of conflict goes unresolved, which is much like real life.
Sleepy Hollow: This stars Johnny Depp, who is also tasty and such a bad boy in real life...if only I could tame him. Sigh. Anyway, this was a story that could have been more interesting had they chosen not to include a bunch of Hollywood action scenes, such as fighting on top of a stagecoach or leaping backwards into the saddle. I hate that crud.
Dog Day Afternoon: I actually haven't watched this one yet, but I thought I'd best mention it, since three movies really doesn't qualify as "a bunch."
BTW, I really was getting weird by Saturday evening. I'm pretty good at being by my onesome (that's what nearly three years of single life will do for you), but in this case I couldn't even get out for a good long walk, something I'm accustomed to doing every day. I get rammy when I don't get exercise, and shoveling snow is no substitute for a brisk, refreshing walk. Neither is a handful of Hershey's Nuggets crammed into my mouth whilst I play Warcraft II.
Black River: A Dean Koontz story turned into a terrible movie, but I was in the mood for something cheap, and Jay Mohr, who stars, is tasty. Mucho tasty.
Girl Fight: This was a film I'd meant to see when it was at the Ritz, so I was glad to see it now. Not bad. I like the way a major source of conflict goes unresolved, which is much like real life.
Sleepy Hollow: This stars Johnny Depp, who is also tasty and such a bad boy in real life...if only I could tame him. Sigh. Anyway, this was a story that could have been more interesting had they chosen not to include a bunch of Hollywood action scenes, such as fighting on top of a stagecoach or leaping backwards into the saddle. I hate that crud.
Dog Day Afternoon: I actually haven't watched this one yet, but I thought I'd best mention it, since three movies really doesn't qualify as "a bunch."
BTW, I really was getting weird by Saturday evening. I'm pretty good at being by my onesome (that's what nearly three years of single life will do for you), but in this case I couldn't even get out for a good long walk, something I'm accustomed to doing every day. I get rammy when I don't get exercise, and shoveling snow is no substitute for a brisk, refreshing walk. Neither is a handful of Hershey's Nuggets crammed into my mouth whilst I play Warcraft II.
Friday, December 05, 2003
With the white comes my hate
You know what I hate more than snow? Discussion about snow. Everyone in work thinks he/she has the final word on how much will fall, if it will stick, how long it will last, what it will do to traffic, etc., and it pisses me off in a tremendous manner. Couple that with the rush to grocery stores for bread and milk and I'm cocking my rifle and climbing the steps to the bell tower.
Why on earth would a person living in the fifth-largest city in the United States, a first-world country, feel the need to stock up his larder for four inches of snow? Does anyone really think he/she will be cut off entirely from the world, with all phone service gone? Will anyone really starve to death a quarter mile from a Wawa? Do you know that people hoard the bottled water too? Folks, that white stuff that's falling from the sky is frozen water. It is! Therefore, in the unlikely event that the water lines break all over the Philadelphia metropolitan area, and all other sources of liquid refreshment are exhausted, you can simply put a pot under that falling white stuff, boil it, and then drink it. That should stave off dehydration long enough for someone to shovel a path through the four inches of snow so you can walk your fat ass to the grocery store and buy a Jolt or something.
Ugh. I've way abused the use of italics in this post, so it's time to make an end.
Why on earth would a person living in the fifth-largest city in the United States, a first-world country, feel the need to stock up his larder for four inches of snow? Does anyone really think he/she will be cut off entirely from the world, with all phone service gone? Will anyone really starve to death a quarter mile from a Wawa? Do you know that people hoard the bottled water too? Folks, that white stuff that's falling from the sky is frozen water. It is! Therefore, in the unlikely event that the water lines break all over the Philadelphia metropolitan area, and all other sources of liquid refreshment are exhausted, you can simply put a pot under that falling white stuff, boil it, and then drink it. That should stave off dehydration long enough for someone to shovel a path through the four inches of snow so you can walk your fat ass to the grocery store and buy a Jolt or something.
Ugh. I've way abused the use of italics in this post, so it's time to make an end.
Thursday, December 04, 2003
Curses!
Yesterday I encountered a dilemma the likes of which...well, I had never before encountered. I was at 12th & Walnut, and there I saw a Philadelphia Parking Authority (PPA) truck preparing to tow an illegally parked SUV. My natural loathing of the PPA instantly asserted itself, yet was rivaled by my equal contempt for SUV's. I didn't know what to feel. I hate the thought that the PPA was making more money, but at the same time I danced an internal jig of glee that some SUV owner was going to find himself sans vehicle, and thus temporarily unable to further degrade our environment and clog our streets with his behemoth, dangerous, conspicuously consumptive death machine. When I realized that the PPA was the cause of my glee, I was sent spinning through a hole in the fabric of time and space.
I've given it some thought, and I've decided that the enemy of my enemy is my friend, at least for now. By towing that SUV, the PPA is not only preventing for a day or two more damage and degradation, but is taking money from the owner to add to the city coffers, thus (indirectly) enriching me. Furthermore, as much as it galls me to admit it, the PPA does serve a useful purpose, at least in theory, by making sure that people don't hog parking spots all day. That SUV does nothing except suck up gasoline, make the highways less safe, and puff up the egos of those who drive them. Therefore, if the PPA wants to tow those suckers, I say, "Faster pussycat! Kill, kill!
I've given it some thought, and I've decided that the enemy of my enemy is my friend, at least for now. By towing that SUV, the PPA is not only preventing for a day or two more damage and degradation, but is taking money from the owner to add to the city coffers, thus (indirectly) enriching me. Furthermore, as much as it galls me to admit it, the PPA does serve a useful purpose, at least in theory, by making sure that people don't hog parking spots all day. That SUV does nothing except suck up gasoline, make the highways less safe, and puff up the egos of those who drive them. Therefore, if the PPA wants to tow those suckers, I say, "Faster pussycat! Kill, kill!
Wednesday, December 03, 2003
Evolutionary Revolutionary
You know who rocks? Eugenie Scott.
I've heard her speak out against "intelligent design" (the new package in which creationism is delivered) and she is intelligent, cogent, well-spoken and one hundred percent correct.
I'm sorry...it's not creationism; it's intelligent design (ID). That's the Trojan Horse in which creationism now arrives, given a pseudo-scientific veneer by religious wack-jobs who have been balked in their efforts to insert blatant proselytizing into the public schools. What's worse is the traction this has given them with a public who only reluctantly accept the theory of evolution. Their new approach is even more insidious than ID theory; now they want to force schools to teach "the scientific controversy about evolution", and to stress that evolution is "just a theory." Input from the Voice of Reason:
1) The layman's definition of a theory differs sharply from that of the scientist. To laymen, a theory is mere speculation. To scientists, a theory is an entire chain of reason, backed by empirical evidence, that explains natural phenomena. Therefore, the second law of physics is also "just a theory", but you don't see creationists trying to add disclaimers to that.
2) There is no scientific controversy about evolution. The vast majority of scientists accept it, and the ID crowd has not been able to sway them. Scientists don't ask if evolution occurred (they know it did); they ask how it occurred. The only controversy is among religious folks, not among scientists.
Bunch of nonsense, really, but it's disheartening how much public sentiment has been swayed by it. Proves that the American people will buy anything if it's properly packaged.
I've heard her speak out against "intelligent design" (the new package in which creationism is delivered) and she is intelligent, cogent, well-spoken and one hundred percent correct.
I'm sorry...it's not creationism; it's intelligent design (ID). That's the Trojan Horse in which creationism now arrives, given a pseudo-scientific veneer by religious wack-jobs who have been balked in their efforts to insert blatant proselytizing into the public schools. What's worse is the traction this has given them with a public who only reluctantly accept the theory of evolution. Their new approach is even more insidious than ID theory; now they want to force schools to teach "the scientific controversy about evolution", and to stress that evolution is "just a theory." Input from the Voice of Reason:
1) The layman's definition of a theory differs sharply from that of the scientist. To laymen, a theory is mere speculation. To scientists, a theory is an entire chain of reason, backed by empirical evidence, that explains natural phenomena. Therefore, the second law of physics is also "just a theory", but you don't see creationists trying to add disclaimers to that.
2) There is no scientific controversy about evolution. The vast majority of scientists accept it, and the ID crowd has not been able to sway them. Scientists don't ask if evolution occurred (they know it did); they ask how it occurred. The only controversy is among religious folks, not among scientists.
Bunch of nonsense, really, but it's disheartening how much public sentiment has been swayed by it. Proves that the American people will buy anything if it's properly packaged.
Monday, December 01, 2003
Another political post
Let me preface this post by saying that I voted for Ed Rendell, both in the Democratic primaries and in the general election. I'm very glad he won, because I think he can do the good job for Pennsylvania that he did for Philadelphia.
And Pennsylvania needs it, let me tell you. Right now that chowderheads in the legislature are balking at Governor Rendell's plan to increase state funding for education. I guess the honorable representatives and senators feel that Pennsylvania's place as 47th in terms of state contribution to education is a mark of honor, or that as long as Mississippi remains in the union we don't look so bad. That sucks for a number of reasons. First, the inequalities bred by the current funding of public schools (i.e. through property tax) are just unacceptable. Why should a kid in Lower Merion have access to far superior facilities and smaller class sizes than a kid from North Philadelphia? Hell, the kid from the city arguably needs the extra attention much more than his suburban counterpart. Second, if we want to make Pennsylvania an attractive place for people to live (and I'm assuming we do), then we have to make our educational system as strong as possible. People with children who are looking to relocate are strongly influenced by the quality of the schools in the area, and we're fools not to recognize that.
Evidently, the legislature likes the current inequality and stagnancy of the property-tax-funded system. Bully for them. However, I don't want to hear them complaining that Pennsylvania is an area in decline, because they are directly to blame. If you do what you've always done, you'll get what you always got.
And Pennsylvania needs it, let me tell you. Right now that chowderheads in the legislature are balking at Governor Rendell's plan to increase state funding for education. I guess the honorable representatives and senators feel that Pennsylvania's place as 47th in terms of state contribution to education is a mark of honor, or that as long as Mississippi remains in the union we don't look so bad. That sucks for a number of reasons. First, the inequalities bred by the current funding of public schools (i.e. through property tax) are just unacceptable. Why should a kid in Lower Merion have access to far superior facilities and smaller class sizes than a kid from North Philadelphia? Hell, the kid from the city arguably needs the extra attention much more than his suburban counterpart. Second, if we want to make Pennsylvania an attractive place for people to live (and I'm assuming we do), then we have to make our educational system as strong as possible. People with children who are looking to relocate are strongly influenced by the quality of the schools in the area, and we're fools not to recognize that.
Evidently, the legislature likes the current inequality and stagnancy of the property-tax-funded system. Bully for them. However, I don't want to hear them complaining that Pennsylvania is an area in decline, because they are directly to blame. If you do what you've always done, you'll get what you always got.
Wednesday, November 26, 2003
Kidney stones
I was thinking the other day about the time I had a kidney stone, but instead of a boring narrative, I will relate the story through song! (Just what you needed.)
Kidney Rock (sung to the tune of "Jailhouse Rock")
It happened early morning around two a.m.
A pain that made me nauseous, gave my head a spin
I had to wake my brother and get in the car
And rush on down to Frankford Hospital E.R.
It was a rock, oh yeah it was a rock
Everybody in the E.R. stopped to take care of my kidney rock
I staggered in the door and went up to the nurse
I thought by then that I was ready for a hearse
They said I was the worst that they had ever seen
But soon I was in bed with my friend morphine
Oh rock, oh yeah it was a rock
I was tripping 'til the morphine stopped and thinking 'bout my kidney rock
So now I have to drink a river every day
And strain it all before I can throw it away
I hope that someday soon this kidney stone will pass
'Cause peeing in a bottle is a real pain in the ass
Oh rock, come on pass now rock
Leave the door to the bathroom unlocked until I get rid of this rock
Kidney Rock (sung to the tune of "Jailhouse Rock")
It happened early morning around two a.m.
A pain that made me nauseous, gave my head a spin
I had to wake my brother and get in the car
And rush on down to Frankford Hospital E.R.
It was a rock, oh yeah it was a rock
Everybody in the E.R. stopped to take care of my kidney rock
I staggered in the door and went up to the nurse
I thought by then that I was ready for a hearse
They said I was the worst that they had ever seen
But soon I was in bed with my friend morphine
Oh rock, oh yeah it was a rock
I was tripping 'til the morphine stopped and thinking 'bout my kidney rock
So now I have to drink a river every day
And strain it all before I can throw it away
I hope that someday soon this kidney stone will pass
'Cause peeing in a bottle is a real pain in the ass
Oh rock, come on pass now rock
Leave the door to the bathroom unlocked until I get rid of this rock
Tuesday, November 25, 2003
Lord of the Crossing
Those who are reading A Song of Ice and Fire are thinking of Lord Frey, which is neat but not what this post is about. I'm talking about crossing guards, who are usually female, which pretty much blows the title. Sue me.
I took the train into town yesterday, and that means walking 1.5 miles through Mayfair to get to the station. On the way home, the schools were emptying, so I got to see crossing guards in action. I have a strange admiration for these women and (more rarely) men. I like the idea of people who make the crosswalks safe for children, which is really odd considering I don't care much for children. I always respect the authority of the crossing guard, waiting until she signals the children to cross even though I am technically outside her authority. If the job actually paid something, and if I liked children better, I'd consider it. If the city created adult crossing guards I would sign up, and perhaps be lucky enough to get posted at 5th & South. That means I'd get to be outside and people-watch whilst making sure no boneheads block the box.
I took the train into town yesterday, and that means walking 1.5 miles through Mayfair to get to the station. On the way home, the schools were emptying, so I got to see crossing guards in action. I have a strange admiration for these women and (more rarely) men. I like the idea of people who make the crosswalks safe for children, which is really odd considering I don't care much for children. I always respect the authority of the crossing guard, waiting until she signals the children to cross even though I am technically outside her authority. If the job actually paid something, and if I liked children better, I'd consider it. If the city created adult crossing guards I would sign up, and perhaps be lucky enough to get posted at 5th & South. That means I'd get to be outside and people-watch whilst making sure no boneheads block the box.
Friday, November 21, 2003
Cloning
I saw on Cyn's blog some reflections about having a clone. I most definitely do not want a clone, Daddy. Reasons why:
1) I don't like sharing my clothes.
2) A bad hair day is hard enough to live with when you only have to see the results in a mirror. To see them on another person...too horrible.
3) I keep enough chocolate around the house for one of me. That's all.
4) He'd probably decide to get red highlights, too. Bitch.
5) He might hold a rival Halloween party, and on the same night as mine.
6) His blog would no doubt be titled, "You Only Turned Thirty Once, Fool!"
1) I don't like sharing my clothes.
2) A bad hair day is hard enough to live with when you only have to see the results in a mirror. To see them on another person...too horrible.
3) I keep enough chocolate around the house for one of me. That's all.
4) He'd probably decide to get red highlights, too. Bitch.
5) He might hold a rival Halloween party, and on the same night as mine.
6) His blog would no doubt be titled, "You Only Turned Thirty Once, Fool!"
Thursday, November 20, 2003
I have the extended Two Towers!
Picked it up Tuesday and watched it Tuesday, ha-cha! I'm not crazy about the movie in general, if truth be told; the fights are too Hollywood, what with Legolas and his shield-skiing, and with Gimli and Aragorn fighting off about one hundred orcs by themselves. Besides, the movie takes considerable liberties with the storyline as set down by Tolkien, and unnecessary ones at that. However, here's my run-down of what I like and what I don't.
Magic-rope scene: Like, although it doesn't add a great deal to the story.
Denethor/Boromir scene: Dislike, and in a strong way. It paints Denethor as a grasping, scheming old buzzard, which is just not how he appeared in the books. Denethor was strong-willed and stubborn, yes, but he was also perceptive and clever, with a strong sense of duty.
Additional Uruk-hai footage: Like, because it demonstrates that Saruman, a traitor to the White Council, had betrayed Sauron as well.
Gollum going hungry: Like big-time. Frodo's reaction is a mix of loathing, pity and disgust, which to my mind is the only way one can react to Gollum. He's truly wretched.
Hurons: Like. They were a crucial part of the Battle of the Hornburg, and it was nice to see Peter Jackson knows it.
See it for yourself, but be warned: You ain't getting my copy for awhile.
Magic-rope scene: Like, although it doesn't add a great deal to the story.
Denethor/Boromir scene: Dislike, and in a strong way. It paints Denethor as a grasping, scheming old buzzard, which is just not how he appeared in the books. Denethor was strong-willed and stubborn, yes, but he was also perceptive and clever, with a strong sense of duty.
Additional Uruk-hai footage: Like, because it demonstrates that Saruman, a traitor to the White Council, had betrayed Sauron as well.
Gollum going hungry: Like big-time. Frodo's reaction is a mix of loathing, pity and disgust, which to my mind is the only way one can react to Gollum. He's truly wretched.
Hurons: Like. They were a crucial part of the Battle of the Hornburg, and it was nice to see Peter Jackson knows it.
See it for yourself, but be warned: You ain't getting my copy for awhile.
Wednesday, November 19, 2003
Amendment-mania
The next time some chowderhead proposes amending the U.S. Constitution, I swear I am going hari-kari in alphabetical order. Every time there's a happening that someone doesn't like, the amendment idea gets floated. In 220+ years, this nation has enacted fifteen amendments, one of which (Prohibition) was motivated by chowderheads, and another of which (anti-Prohibition) was motivated by those who realized they'd given the chowderheads the wheel. That leaves thirteen substantive amendments, and most of them concern things that mean a lot: extending equal protection of the law to all citizens, banning slavery, guaranteeing women the right to vote, etc. That's what an amendment is about: Making a sea-change that is fundamental to a free society.
In the wake of the Massachusetts Supreme Court ruling, the "I'm a primitive bigot" crowd has renewed its bleating for a same-sex-marriage amendment. Folks, folks...is this an issue that is fundamental to a free society? Does making sure Tom and Ivan never marry really protect our liberty? However, I welcome the chance to fight this out in the open. Bring on the amendment, chowderheads. We will fight you in the House, the Senate, and then in fifty state legislatures, making you argue in favor of bigotry every step of the way. In the end, if the people of this nation genuinely feel that same-sex marriages are something the union simply cannot endure, then I'll know the United States is a place where equality and justice are labeled, "straight only." I'll give Canada a try; they'll soon allow gay marriage, and they believe in universal healthcare too.
In the wake of the Massachusetts Supreme Court ruling, the "I'm a primitive bigot" crowd has renewed its bleating for a same-sex-marriage amendment. Folks, folks...is this an issue that is fundamental to a free society? Does making sure Tom and Ivan never marry really protect our liberty? However, I welcome the chance to fight this out in the open. Bring on the amendment, chowderheads. We will fight you in the House, the Senate, and then in fifty state legislatures, making you argue in favor of bigotry every step of the way. In the end, if the people of this nation genuinely feel that same-sex marriages are something the union simply cannot endure, then I'll know the United States is a place where equality and justice are labeled, "straight only." I'll give Canada a try; they'll soon allow gay marriage, and they believe in universal healthcare too.
Tuesday, November 18, 2003
The times they are a-changing...
...and they're turning pink, as you can see.
There's alot of talk about backlash, particularly in light of the recent anti-sodomy law ruling, but I don't think it will amount to much. Once people calm down and realize that this neither breaks their legs nor picks their pockets (a Jefferson paraphrase), they'll move on to some reality show or something. I think most people tend to vote based on what affects their lives, and civil unions really don't affect that many people. Of course, the God Squad will go bananas, but in my opinion that's a good thing. And fun!
NOTE: The term "God Squad" does not refer to any old Christian, but rather Pat Robertson, Jerry Falwell, Timothy LaHaye and the people who support them.
There's alot of talk about backlash, particularly in light of the recent anti-sodomy law ruling, but I don't think it will amount to much. Once people calm down and realize that this neither breaks their legs nor picks their pockets (a Jefferson paraphrase), they'll move on to some reality show or something. I think most people tend to vote based on what affects their lives, and civil unions really don't affect that many people. Of course, the God Squad will go bananas, but in my opinion that's a good thing. And fun!
NOTE: The term "God Squad" does not refer to any old Christian, but rather Pat Robertson, Jerry Falwell, Timothy LaHaye and the people who support them.
A shining planet known as Earth...
If the title of this post reminds you of something, you rock! It's part of the montage dialogue of "Battlestar Galactica", which is now available on DVD. Yay!
BG is pretty cheesy at times (OK, it's cheesy most of the time), but I thought it was a fairly interesting story nonetheless. What I found particularly interesting was, in the course of its one season, the way the writers took the story away from the humans-vs.-Cylons conflict and explored some new territory. Most television shows stick to the tried and true, for fear of losing even a sliver of their audience. That kind of lowest-common-denominator approach to storytelling is what drove me away from television in the first place. Anyway, my mother is bugging me about what she can give me for Xmas, so I think I'll tell her that BG is the way to be. Oh yes.
BG is pretty cheesy at times (OK, it's cheesy most of the time), but I thought it was a fairly interesting story nonetheless. What I found particularly interesting was, in the course of its one season, the way the writers took the story away from the humans-vs.-Cylons conflict and explored some new territory. Most television shows stick to the tried and true, for fear of losing even a sliver of their audience. That kind of lowest-common-denominator approach to storytelling is what drove me away from television in the first place. Anyway, my mother is bugging me about what she can give me for Xmas, so I think I'll tell her that BG is the way to be. Oh yes.
Monday, November 17, 2003
The Worst Date I Ever Had
I thought I'd relate this story because I feel masochistic or something. I'll relate the lessons I learned along the way as well, except you'll get them in order and at the time I should have learned them. See how nice I am?
I met this guy who was an R.N. Fool that I was, I thought, "Hmm...that profession requires a high level of trust and responsibility. That must show in his personal life."
Lesson #1: A man's profession has zero to do with the quality of person he is. A doctor of impeccable repute can still be a lying sack of dirt marked "Danger!" in pink flashing neon letters.
We did a lunch date first, and then proceeded to an evening date. He proposed the Cartwheel, a club in New Hope, and I agreed.
Lesson #2: Stay away from clubs until at least the fourth date.
He said if I drove to his place, he'd drive us the rest of the way to New Hope. I agreed.
Lesson #3: Until the fourth date, always have your own transportation.
When we arrived, he asked me repeatedly if I knew this song or that song, and I told him repeatedly that I did not listen regularly to dance music, club music, or popular music.
Lesson #4: If a man asks you the same question twice on one date, and you've answered twice, he's not listening and flee.
He rarely spoke to me for our time at the Cartwheel, and spent a good deal of our time checking out other guys.
Lesson #5: When a man checks out other guys at a time he's supposed to be checking out you, he's wasting your time and flee.
He got completely hammered and thus I was forced to drive us back in his car. He handed me the keys and went off for a last bathroom visit before we left. I weighed his car keys in my hand as I weighed the choice before me: Do the honorable thing and wait for him to return, or get in the car and leave that rat bastard in the dust. I chose the honorable path and waited.
Lesson #6: Honor sucks.
If you've ever taken River Road, you'll know it's dark, narrow and twisty, and full of deer. Given that I was driving an unfamiliar car that wasn't mine, I elected to drive conservatively. Naturally, he felt free to complain about my driving, which made my hands clench knuckle-whiteningly.
Lesson #7: You can drive home an unconscious man just as easily as one who is awake.
Two geological ages later, I pulled into the parking lot at his apartment complex, turned off the car, and just about broke my legs getting back to my car. Scientists would have us believe it is impossible to attain infinite speed, but my 1993 Toyota Corolla proved them all wrong. I was taking no chances on him trying to kiss me or something.
I hope you've learned something from this post, because I sure did. I learned that date is more fun to talk about than to actually have endured.
I met this guy who was an R.N. Fool that I was, I thought, "Hmm...that profession requires a high level of trust and responsibility. That must show in his personal life."
Lesson #1: A man's profession has zero to do with the quality of person he is. A doctor of impeccable repute can still be a lying sack of dirt marked "Danger!" in pink flashing neon letters.
We did a lunch date first, and then proceeded to an evening date. He proposed the Cartwheel, a club in New Hope, and I agreed.
Lesson #2: Stay away from clubs until at least the fourth date.
He said if I drove to his place, he'd drive us the rest of the way to New Hope. I agreed.
Lesson #3: Until the fourth date, always have your own transportation.
When we arrived, he asked me repeatedly if I knew this song or that song, and I told him repeatedly that I did not listen regularly to dance music, club music, or popular music.
Lesson #4: If a man asks you the same question twice on one date, and you've answered twice, he's not listening and flee.
He rarely spoke to me for our time at the Cartwheel, and spent a good deal of our time checking out other guys.
Lesson #5: When a man checks out other guys at a time he's supposed to be checking out you, he's wasting your time and flee.
He got completely hammered and thus I was forced to drive us back in his car. He handed me the keys and went off for a last bathroom visit before we left. I weighed his car keys in my hand as I weighed the choice before me: Do the honorable thing and wait for him to return, or get in the car and leave that rat bastard in the dust. I chose the honorable path and waited.
Lesson #6: Honor sucks.
If you've ever taken River Road, you'll know it's dark, narrow and twisty, and full of deer. Given that I was driving an unfamiliar car that wasn't mine, I elected to drive conservatively. Naturally, he felt free to complain about my driving, which made my hands clench knuckle-whiteningly.
Lesson #7: You can drive home an unconscious man just as easily as one who is awake.
Two geological ages later, I pulled into the parking lot at his apartment complex, turned off the car, and just about broke my legs getting back to my car. Scientists would have us believe it is impossible to attain infinite speed, but my 1993 Toyota Corolla proved them all wrong. I was taking no chances on him trying to kiss me or something.
I hope you've learned something from this post, because I sure did. I learned that date is more fun to talk about than to actually have endured.
Friday, November 14, 2003
Volunteer Blues
I went to the William Way Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgendered Community Center (otherwise known as the Way Gay Center) last night to volunteer for a planning committee, and - surprise, surprise - almost no one showed up. Three of us hung out for 35 minutes before throwing in the towel and moving on. This committee, BTW, is supposed to work on new programming to draw people to the Center, so it's ominous that the chairperson never even bothered to attend.
I used to do loads of volunteer work: the gay Ultimate group, Team Philadelphia, the Philadelphia Gay Men's Chorus, Q'zine. I dropped out of all of it over a period of two years because I developed the dreaded Volunteer Burn-Out (VBO). VBO happens for many reasons, but typical causes are:
- When 2% of the members do 98% of the work
- When 98% of the non-working members don't even bother to attend the events put together by the 2%
- When 98% of the non-working members feel free to criticize - but not assist - the work of the 2%
I soldiered along for as long as I could, but eventually I got to the point where volunteering was no longer enjoyable. My attitude towards volunteering is thus: If it's not fun, I'm not doing it. Well, it became really not fun, so I dropped out. Somewhat rejuvenated, I'm looking to re-enter the world of volunteering, and last night was an inauspicious start.
I used to do loads of volunteer work: the gay Ultimate group, Team Philadelphia, the Philadelphia Gay Men's Chorus, Q'zine. I dropped out of all of it over a period of two years because I developed the dreaded Volunteer Burn-Out (VBO). VBO happens for many reasons, but typical causes are:
- When 2% of the members do 98% of the work
- When 98% of the non-working members don't even bother to attend the events put together by the 2%
- When 98% of the non-working members feel free to criticize - but not assist - the work of the 2%
I soldiered along for as long as I could, but eventually I got to the point where volunteering was no longer enjoyable. My attitude towards volunteering is thus: If it's not fun, I'm not doing it. Well, it became really not fun, so I dropped out. Somewhat rejuvenated, I'm looking to re-enter the world of volunteering, and last night was an inauspicious start.
Thursday, November 13, 2003
I dance a jig of glee!
These feet are a-tapping, because Roy Moore is history. Looks like someone down there understands that the chief justice of a state supreme court cannot openly defy a court order. Of course, this nut will probably run for governor, but if the people of Alabama are foolish enough to elect a nut, that's their problem.
It's funny. The Religious Right often contends that excluding mention of the Christian deity from the classroom endorses "humanism" (one wonders if they know what they mean by that), but including mention of that deity does not promote Christianity. Huh? So exclusion promotes but promotion does not promote. In a nation where only the bare majority of citizens accept evolutionary theory, this should come as no surpise. Little wonder the Europeans see us as a bunch of pudgy, lazy, religion-obsessed little prudes with itchy trigger-fingers.
It's funny. The Religious Right often contends that excluding mention of the Christian deity from the classroom endorses "humanism" (one wonders if they know what they mean by that), but including mention of that deity does not promote Christianity. Huh? So exclusion promotes but promotion does not promote. In a nation where only the bare majority of citizens accept evolutionary theory, this should come as no surpise. Little wonder the Europeans see us as a bunch of pudgy, lazy, religion-obsessed little prudes with itchy trigger-fingers.
My take on the media
Oftentimes we hear politicians say, "The media is liberal," or "The media is irresponsible." Here's my opinion: "media" is plural! It is! "Media" is the plural of "medium"; therefore, one should say, "The media are liberal." I even looked it upon in Merriam-Webster, which, although it acknowledges the use of "media" as a singular, still maintains it's plural. And so do I.
Now, to comment on the media, I think this stuff about the liberal media is just hooey. Sure, journalists as a group may be more liberal than the average American, but what about the folks who own the means of communication? They're nearly all rich, male, white, heterosexual and over forty. Class, to which party do most rich, male, white, heterosexual, over-forty people belong? If you said "Green" or "Democrat", you are fucking stupid. If you said "Republican" take a seat at the head of the class. No matter how liberal the journalist, if the editors and publishers are conservative, so is the publication/broadcast.
Now, to comment on the media, I think this stuff about the liberal media is just hooey. Sure, journalists as a group may be more liberal than the average American, but what about the folks who own the means of communication? They're nearly all rich, male, white, heterosexual and over forty. Class, to which party do most rich, male, white, heterosexual, over-forty people belong? If you said "Green" or "Democrat", you are fucking stupid. If you said "Republican" take a seat at the head of the class. No matter how liberal the journalist, if the editors and publishers are conservative, so is the publication/broadcast.
Wednesday, November 12, 2003
Stupid or just foolish?
You'll often hear, "People are stupid," a statement with which I just do not agree. People are, generally, not stupid. People invented the internal combustion engine, the Internet, antibiotics, vaccinations...these are not the works of morons. When folks say that, I think they really mean, "People are foolish," a kettle of a different color.
Stupidity is an actual lack of intelligence. Stupid people learn slowly, process information clumsily, and show a general deficiency in terms of memory or knowledge. I have met very few genuinely stupid people in my life. Foolishness, however, has little to do with the way one learns, stores, and processes information. There are many well educated people with degrees in this and doctorates in that, who are indisputably intelligent, but who show an amazing lack of intuition and enlightenment, and who consistently make bad decisions. I have met many foolish people. I often think of it in AD&D terms: intelligence and wisdom.
Example: Two women approach a weatherbeaten rope-and-plank bridge over a deep chasm. One woman is all intelligence and no wisdom, and her companion is all wisdom and no intelligence. Ms. Intellignce draws upon what she knows of rope, wood, weather and physics, and calculates that there is an 80% chance the bridge will bear the women's weight. Therefore, she recommends crossing. Ms. Wisdom, who knows nothing about physics, looks at the deep gorge, considers what will happen if the bridge gives way, and weighs that against the importance of crossing. She recommends either finding another, safer, way across the chasm, or abandoning the trip altogether.
See the difference? Ms. Intelligence has an amazing ability to calculate the odds, relying on her mental prowess, but Ms. Wisdom keeps a long view of the situation, relying on perspective and common sense. Obviously, you can tell which I favor. Nearly anyone can be taught facts and theories, but it's harder to teach wisdom and good judgement. Given the state of the world, I suggest we should concentrate less on the former and more on the latter.
Stupidity is an actual lack of intelligence. Stupid people learn slowly, process information clumsily, and show a general deficiency in terms of memory or knowledge. I have met very few genuinely stupid people in my life. Foolishness, however, has little to do with the way one learns, stores, and processes information. There are many well educated people with degrees in this and doctorates in that, who are indisputably intelligent, but who show an amazing lack of intuition and enlightenment, and who consistently make bad decisions. I have met many foolish people. I often think of it in AD&D terms: intelligence and wisdom.
Example: Two women approach a weatherbeaten rope-and-plank bridge over a deep chasm. One woman is all intelligence and no wisdom, and her companion is all wisdom and no intelligence. Ms. Intellignce draws upon what she knows of rope, wood, weather and physics, and calculates that there is an 80% chance the bridge will bear the women's weight. Therefore, she recommends crossing. Ms. Wisdom, who knows nothing about physics, looks at the deep gorge, considers what will happen if the bridge gives way, and weighs that against the importance of crossing. She recommends either finding another, safer, way across the chasm, or abandoning the trip altogether.
See the difference? Ms. Intelligence has an amazing ability to calculate the odds, relying on her mental prowess, but Ms. Wisdom keeps a long view of the situation, relying on perspective and common sense. Obviously, you can tell which I favor. Nearly anyone can be taught facts and theories, but it's harder to teach wisdom and good judgement. Given the state of the world, I suggest we should concentrate less on the former and more on the latter.
Tuesday, November 11, 2003
The problem with Star Trek is...
Since becoming a raving Babylon 5 fan, I've gotten some perspective on Star Trek and what's wrong with it. Don't get me wrong; I very much enjoyed TNG, and I fully realize that B5 owes a great debt to the entire franchise. However, Star Trek has some failings, and I'm blogging 'em.
Too much technology: Transporters and replicators, which are essentially the same technology, really make it difficult to carry off a story, because they solve perhaps too many problems. There was a TNG episode in which the crew cured someone of a disease by transporting her back to the ship with everything but the disease. Couldn't they do that with any disease? Doesn't that in effect mean that the Federation can cure any disease? Besides, that transporter was mighty selective in who it could or couldn't affect. I remember an episode in which they located Picard's son (who at this point was a stranger to all of them) on a planet where he was mountain-climbing and beamed him right up lickety-split. This is the same transporter Wesley Crusher was able to foil by taking off his communicator. Sorry...if the damn thing can find a stranger on a planet, it can find some snot-nosed little brainiac on the very same ship. (Note: Picard's son was pretty cute, and when they beamed him up he was wearing a tight little athletic outfit, and he had his back to the camera. Oooh-lala.)
Too perfect: I agree that, should humanity survive until the 23rd century, we shall undoubtedly have shed much of the pettiness that currently bedevils us, but that doesn't mean we'll be anywhere near as perfect as the TNG crew. My goodness...just once I'd like to see Geordhi get annoyed with Data, or remark that Riker just rubs him the wrong way. Vastly enlightened people are still people, and that means they'll have bad days, annoying habits, and personal agendas that differ from Starfleet's. B5 had a labor strike, for Pete's sake, whereas Captain Sisko's worst at-home problem was the replicator not getting his coffee exactly right.
Money is obsolete?!?!? No, no, no! I don't care how wonderful Earth is, or how advanced its people...you still have to have currency. You must. Must. If not, how do you determine where/how people live? Can a Federation citizen demand a castle and get it? Or a starship? Doesn't work, wouldn't happen.
Too many mega-beings: Let's see...there's the Dowd, the Q, Nagilum, and of course those folks who live in the center of the galaxy and holo-project their heads onto the bridge for fun. Mother of all creatures...you can't swing a dead cat in the Star Trek world without hitting something that's omnipotent. Even the Vorlon and the Shadows from the B5 world aren't omnipotent; they're just really, really scary.
BTW, I have to wait until early January for the fourth season of B5, about which I am not happy. I have zero patience with this sort of thing.
Too much technology: Transporters and replicators, which are essentially the same technology, really make it difficult to carry off a story, because they solve perhaps too many problems. There was a TNG episode in which the crew cured someone of a disease by transporting her back to the ship with everything but the disease. Couldn't they do that with any disease? Doesn't that in effect mean that the Federation can cure any disease? Besides, that transporter was mighty selective in who it could or couldn't affect. I remember an episode in which they located Picard's son (who at this point was a stranger to all of them) on a planet where he was mountain-climbing and beamed him right up lickety-split. This is the same transporter Wesley Crusher was able to foil by taking off his communicator. Sorry...if the damn thing can find a stranger on a planet, it can find some snot-nosed little brainiac on the very same ship. (Note: Picard's son was pretty cute, and when they beamed him up he was wearing a tight little athletic outfit, and he had his back to the camera. Oooh-lala.)
Too perfect: I agree that, should humanity survive until the 23rd century, we shall undoubtedly have shed much of the pettiness that currently bedevils us, but that doesn't mean we'll be anywhere near as perfect as the TNG crew. My goodness...just once I'd like to see Geordhi get annoyed with Data, or remark that Riker just rubs him the wrong way. Vastly enlightened people are still people, and that means they'll have bad days, annoying habits, and personal agendas that differ from Starfleet's. B5 had a labor strike, for Pete's sake, whereas Captain Sisko's worst at-home problem was the replicator not getting his coffee exactly right.
Money is obsolete?!?!? No, no, no! I don't care how wonderful Earth is, or how advanced its people...you still have to have currency. You must. Must. If not, how do you determine where/how people live? Can a Federation citizen demand a castle and get it? Or a starship? Doesn't work, wouldn't happen.
Too many mega-beings: Let's see...there's the Dowd, the Q, Nagilum, and of course those folks who live in the center of the galaxy and holo-project their heads onto the bridge for fun. Mother of all creatures...you can't swing a dead cat in the Star Trek world without hitting something that's omnipotent. Even the Vorlon and the Shadows from the B5 world aren't omnipotent; they're just really, really scary.
BTW, I have to wait until early January for the fourth season of B5, about which I am not happy. I have zero patience with this sort of thing.
Monday, November 10, 2003
More songs
I was again thinking about the days of Cathy and I and joke songs, and another came to me. This was written when Jack-o was simultaneously turning into a gray elf and dodging child molestation charges. Enjoy!
Black or White (sung to the tune of Michael Jackson's "Black or White")
I used to be a human now I'm not sure
And children used to love me not anymore
That was when I was the King of Pop, when moonwalking was still at its height
But now I'm just a has-been and I don't know if I'm black or white
The NAACP just won't let me in
Because they say they don't know where I have been
My nose has been sculptured and now they say my skin is too light
And the Ku Klux Klan won't take me 'cause they don't know if I'm black or white
I ain't afraid of no D.A., I ain't afraid of TV
I got lots of money to buy off testimony
I live in a giant playhouse, America's weirdest child
Compared to what I look like, even LaToya seems mild
Even Elvis Presley's daughter wasn't weird enough to take my spotlight
She ran with $15 million 'cause she don't care if I'm black or white
The bridge needs some work, but otherwise I like it. Joke songs also make good blogging material, so no one can accuse me of neglecting The First Time I Turned Thirty.
Black or White (sung to the tune of Michael Jackson's "Black or White")
I used to be a human now I'm not sure
And children used to love me not anymore
That was when I was the King of Pop, when moonwalking was still at its height
But now I'm just a has-been and I don't know if I'm black or white
The NAACP just won't let me in
Because they say they don't know where I have been
My nose has been sculptured and now they say my skin is too light
And the Ku Klux Klan won't take me 'cause they don't know if I'm black or white
I ain't afraid of no D.A., I ain't afraid of TV
I got lots of money to buy off testimony
I live in a giant playhouse, America's weirdest child
Compared to what I look like, even LaToya seems mild
Even Elvis Presley's daughter wasn't weird enough to take my spotlight
She ran with $15 million 'cause she don't care if I'm black or white
The bridge needs some work, but otherwise I like it. Joke songs also make good blogging material, so no one can accuse me of neglecting The First Time I Turned Thirty.
Friday, November 07, 2003
Weird Al? Bah!
My friend Cathy and I (when we were coworkers) used to rewrite popular songs ala Weird Al to suit whatever was going on in the office or at the world at large, and one I did came back to me the other day, word for word. I inscribe it here, for the ages. It's based on the Paula Abdul hit, "Promise of a New Day." If you don't remember it, you are a lucky, lucky person.
(A little background: Back in the 90's, the state of Colorado amended its constitution to forbid localities to ban discrimination based on sexual orientation. A few years later, the Supreme Court of the United States overturned Amendment 2, saying that Colorado did not have the authority to allow certain kinds of discrimination but to forbid others. Hence this song.)
Promise of Some New Gays
Colorado's gonna have to adjust, 'cause Amendment 2 just bit the dust
What did the high court say?
Promise of some new gays
Homophobia it just took a fall, and though Scalia wants to kill us all
Looks like we'll have our day
Promise of some new gays
And so small-minded laws won't change the world, oh no
So the only promise is that gays in Denver will live and marry one another
See the lesbians all skiing the slopes? The Consitution crushed the bigots' hopes.
What did the high court say?
Promise of some new gays
And so small-minded laws won't change the world, oh no
So the only promise is that gays in Denver will live and marry one another
Now the drag-queens have the freedom to roam into Boulder and then call it home
I think they're going to stay
Promise of some new gays
(A little background: Back in the 90's, the state of Colorado amended its constitution to forbid localities to ban discrimination based on sexual orientation. A few years later, the Supreme Court of the United States overturned Amendment 2, saying that Colorado did not have the authority to allow certain kinds of discrimination but to forbid others. Hence this song.)
Promise of Some New Gays
Colorado's gonna have to adjust, 'cause Amendment 2 just bit the dust
What did the high court say?
Promise of some new gays
Homophobia it just took a fall, and though Scalia wants to kill us all
Looks like we'll have our day
Promise of some new gays
And so small-minded laws won't change the world, oh no
So the only promise is that gays in Denver will live and marry one another
See the lesbians all skiing the slopes? The Consitution crushed the bigots' hopes.
What did the high court say?
Promise of some new gays
And so small-minded laws won't change the world, oh no
So the only promise is that gays in Denver will live and marry one another
Now the drag-queens have the freedom to roam into Boulder and then call it home
I think they're going to stay
Promise of some new gays
Wednesday, November 05, 2003
Alien! Alien! Alien!
As you might have guessed from the title, which is marvelously subtle, I'm seeing the director's cut of "Alien" tonight. Okay, it's at the Riverview, which is less good, but I can overlook that in favor of the movie. This is one of my all-time favorite movies, and one I've seen countless times. I've seen a few of the deleted scenes, but never in sequence, so needless to say I am most excited.
I played some pool Saturday night, and performed erratically as always. In this way I am like Presto from the Dungeons & Dragons cartoon: Sometimes he got the most amazing, encounter-winning shit from that hat, and other times he got purple crepe paper, which, while attractive, isn't much help against Venger.
I played some pool Saturday night, and performed erratically as always. In this way I am like Presto from the Dungeons & Dragons cartoon: Sometimes he got the most amazing, encounter-winning shit from that hat, and other times he got purple crepe paper, which, while attractive, isn't much help against Venger.
Tuesday, November 04, 2003
I feel so dirty!
I went to the polls today, and I voted for John Street. Ugh. As I reached for the button, my hand jerked back spasmodically, and I had to repeat my Election-Day mantra, "Must keep Republicans out of power." Only then was I able to cast my vote for Street.
I thought long and hard about my vote, and in the end I decided to vote Democrat because a Republican mayor would certainly do his damnedest to impede Ed Rendell's reelection, and to support boneheads like Santorum and His Fraudulency. Katz may be pro-gay and socially liberal and all that, but when the Republican Party blows its trumpets, he'll respond, even if it means betraying every voter in this city. Therefore, I voted my fears instead of my hopes, something I always advise people not to do. And that's why I feel dirty.
I thought long and hard about my vote, and in the end I decided to vote Democrat because a Republican mayor would certainly do his damnedest to impede Ed Rendell's reelection, and to support boneheads like Santorum and His Fraudulency. Katz may be pro-gay and socially liberal and all that, but when the Republican Party blows its trumpets, he'll respond, even if it means betraying every voter in this city. Therefore, I voted my fears instead of my hopes, something I always advise people not to do. And that's why I feel dirty.
Monday, November 03, 2003
Voting
I used to refuse to vote on the grounds that it didn't change anything, but I admit I've reached the opposite conclusion. These days I vote as often as they'll let me, although not because I think this candidate is truly superior to that one; in truth, very few politicians stand head and shoulder above the rest. However, in my reading on election reform, I've come to realize that voting is very important, but not for the reasons most people think.
Politicians ultimately care about votes more than money, because votes are what get counted on Election Day. Sure, money helps you get votes, but you can't actually trade in dollars for votes. (Neat idea, though.) Now, one might say, "Well that proves that politicians listen to their constituency", an assertion that is not quite correct. Politicians care about the opinions of their voting constituency, which do not always equate to the entirety of their disticts or states. It's well known that certain demographics vote more consistently than others, and that the whiter, older and richer you are, the more likely you are to vote. It therefore should come as no surprise that rich white folks wield an inordinate amount of power in this country. Don't believe me? Consider the third rail of US politics otherwise known as Social Security. Since old people vote in droves, if you touch it, you die, at least politically. Therefore, if you are a politician, you worry about the desires not of your entire constituency, but of the constituency most likely to vote. Who cares what people who sit home on Election Day think?
That being said, if poor folks voted in the same or greater numbers as rich folks, I guarantee we'd see a dramatic shift in national priorities. I predict that the minimum wage would rise, public transportation would see increased funding, and universal healthcare would become a topic of serious debate, instead of merely a pipe-dream. I'm not pounding the drums of patriotism here either; this is pure self-interest. My college philosophy professor once said that if everyone were merely smart egoists the world would be a better place, and I believe it. However, even for those of us who believe in altruism, voting matters.
That's why I vote.
Politicians ultimately care about votes more than money, because votes are what get counted on Election Day. Sure, money helps you get votes, but you can't actually trade in dollars for votes. (Neat idea, though.) Now, one might say, "Well that proves that politicians listen to their constituency", an assertion that is not quite correct. Politicians care about the opinions of their voting constituency, which do not always equate to the entirety of their disticts or states. It's well known that certain demographics vote more consistently than others, and that the whiter, older and richer you are, the more likely you are to vote. It therefore should come as no surprise that rich white folks wield an inordinate amount of power in this country. Don't believe me? Consider the third rail of US politics otherwise known as Social Security. Since old people vote in droves, if you touch it, you die, at least politically. Therefore, if you are a politician, you worry about the desires not of your entire constituency, but of the constituency most likely to vote. Who cares what people who sit home on Election Day think?
That being said, if poor folks voted in the same or greater numbers as rich folks, I guarantee we'd see a dramatic shift in national priorities. I predict that the minimum wage would rise, public transportation would see increased funding, and universal healthcare would become a topic of serious debate, instead of merely a pipe-dream. I'm not pounding the drums of patriotism here either; this is pure self-interest. My college philosophy professor once said that if everyone were merely smart egoists the world would be a better place, and I believe it. However, even for those of us who believe in altruism, voting matters.
That's why I vote.
Sunday, November 02, 2003
Halloween!
Yes, I am posting about Halloween two days after it's over. Live with it.
Sean, Ed and I went to NYC to see the parade, and I of course stole some time to visit not one but two Daffy's. The visits were disappointing as the clothing there was much more conservative than that of the store in Philadelphia. One location was in Herald Square, which I suppose explains it, but I was left unfulfilled all the same.
Anyway, the parade was the coolest, and the weather was perfect for perching on a construction scaffold to watch the costumes go by. My personal favorite was the drag-queen combo of Blanche and Baby Jane Hudson. When they passed by I yelled, "But ya are, Blanche! Ya are in that chair!" We also chatted up some British guys, one of whom was to die for. (Rule of physics: All cute guys are made even cuter by the presence of a British accent.) The Village, of course, was a madhouse, but that's when it's most fun. I got home around 1am, tired but satisfied that my Halloween had been well enjoyed.
I'm not sure I could live in New York, as much as I like to visit. Even if it weren't almighty expensive, it's awfully frenetic, even for a city boy like me. Personally, I like that Philadelphia keeps a certain serenity despite the fact that it's the fifth-largest city in the US. That of course raises the question of why I'm looking to leave it, the answer to which is a blog in itself. And I'm not starting another blog.
Sean, Ed and I went to NYC to see the parade, and I of course stole some time to visit not one but two Daffy's. The visits were disappointing as the clothing there was much more conservative than that of the store in Philadelphia. One location was in Herald Square, which I suppose explains it, but I was left unfulfilled all the same.
Anyway, the parade was the coolest, and the weather was perfect for perching on a construction scaffold to watch the costumes go by. My personal favorite was the drag-queen combo of Blanche and Baby Jane Hudson. When they passed by I yelled, "But ya are, Blanche! Ya are in that chair!" We also chatted up some British guys, one of whom was to die for. (Rule of physics: All cute guys are made even cuter by the presence of a British accent.) The Village, of course, was a madhouse, but that's when it's most fun. I got home around 1am, tired but satisfied that my Halloween had been well enjoyed.
I'm not sure I could live in New York, as much as I like to visit. Even if it weren't almighty expensive, it's awfully frenetic, even for a city boy like me. Personally, I like that Philadelphia keeps a certain serenity despite the fact that it's the fifth-largest city in the US. That of course raises the question of why I'm looking to leave it, the answer to which is a blog in itself. And I'm not starting another blog.
Thursday, October 30, 2003
Witness
I left Movie Night early yesterday so I could get an early start on throwing out a mountain of trash that's been sitting around far too long. More fool I. As I was on that little street near the Ben Franklin Parkway that connects to 676, the driver in front of me hit a pedestrian who was dressed all in black and jaywalking to boot. To be fair, the driver probably wasn't paying the attention he should, and of course pedestrians do have the right of way. I pulled over, turned on my hazards and went to lend what meager assistance was mine to lend.
The driver (who was kinda cute) was jumping-out-of-his-skin scared, and the pedestrian was insisting upon trying to get up, despite my admonitions to stay still and wait for the rescue squad. I thought about slugging him into unconsciousness but decided that the police would likely frown upon that course of action, well intentioned though it might be. The police and ambulance got there within five minutes (who says city services are bad?), and only then did I notice that one of my hazards wasn't, uh, hazarding. While officialdom took control, I sneaked over to my car and shut off the lights, hoping the officers were too focused on the matter at hand to notice (and write me a ticket for) my non-functioning light. I think the fact that I totally kept my personal interests in mind even during this crisis shows not selfishness but rather a cool head and a rapt attention to detail, don't you?
To make a long story short (too late), the pedestrian was not grievously injured, and I gave the officer my contact information so I can serve as a witness. However, my official story may vary, depending on the following:
The driver is the favored son of a mobster: "Your Honor, this pedestrian was hiding in the lack of bushes, dressed in concealing, non-reflective dark clothing, and he leapt suicidally in front of the car driven by this fine, upstanding young man. The fine, upstanding young man was so distraught by this turn of events that he wept and cried out, 'Why couldn't it have been me?'"
The pedestrian is a millionaire: "Your Honor, the driver was moving at six times the legal speed limit, and was driving with one hand on a bottle of Jack Daniel's and the other on the left breast of the skankiest Broad-Street hooker you can imagine. She fled after the accident, taking the booze with her and stepping with her six-inch spike heels right on the victim, who remarked only, 'I hope I didn't delay this young man's trip, or stain that young lady's shoe.'"
Chances are it's neither one of these, so I will wind up telling the truth.
The driver (who was kinda cute) was jumping-out-of-his-skin scared, and the pedestrian was insisting upon trying to get up, despite my admonitions to stay still and wait for the rescue squad. I thought about slugging him into unconsciousness but decided that the police would likely frown upon that course of action, well intentioned though it might be. The police and ambulance got there within five minutes (who says city services are bad?), and only then did I notice that one of my hazards wasn't, uh, hazarding. While officialdom took control, I sneaked over to my car and shut off the lights, hoping the officers were too focused on the matter at hand to notice (and write me a ticket for) my non-functioning light. I think the fact that I totally kept my personal interests in mind even during this crisis shows not selfishness but rather a cool head and a rapt attention to detail, don't you?
To make a long story short (too late), the pedestrian was not grievously injured, and I gave the officer my contact information so I can serve as a witness. However, my official story may vary, depending on the following:
The driver is the favored son of a mobster: "Your Honor, this pedestrian was hiding in the lack of bushes, dressed in concealing, non-reflective dark clothing, and he leapt suicidally in front of the car driven by this fine, upstanding young man. The fine, upstanding young man was so distraught by this turn of events that he wept and cried out, 'Why couldn't it have been me?'"
The pedestrian is a millionaire: "Your Honor, the driver was moving at six times the legal speed limit, and was driving with one hand on a bottle of Jack Daniel's and the other on the left breast of the skankiest Broad-Street hooker you can imagine. She fled after the accident, taking the booze with her and stepping with her six-inch spike heels right on the victim, who remarked only, 'I hope I didn't delay this young man's trip, or stain that young lady's shoe.'"
Chances are it's neither one of these, so I will wind up telling the truth.
Wednesday, October 29, 2003
Health Care Hatred
My company is switching health care plans, which means the employees get less and pay more. This reinforces my firm belief that this nation needs some sort of universal health care system. I cannot and do not believe that there is no way to provide each and every citizen with some sort of bare bones health insurance, even if it's only catastrophic coverage. This nation designed a bomb that blew up a city (two, actually) and landed people on the frickin' moon, so I think it's capable of designing a system of universal health care that is not a total disaster.
This has got me thinking about taxes. You will never hear me complain about the amount of taxes I pay. Why? Because I am less concerned with the amount that I pay than with the use to which that amount is put. In my personal life, I am concerned less with saving money than I am with getting full value for the money I spend; therefore, I don't mind spending a dollar on X as long as I get a dollar's worth of value from X. I don't understand people who just want lower taxes, probably because these are many of the same people who complain when services are lacking. I recall a referendum in Cherry Hill earlier this year in which the school board asked to raise taxes, a request the voters predictably refused. The board then began proposing cuts to various services (like busing) and the voters went bonkers. How do they think these buses are maintained? The Bus Fairy? Tax revenue pays for these buses, and when there is a lack of revenue there will be a lack of buses. Not hard to understand, right?
I'm aware that the government is hardly tops when it comes to trimming fat and preventing waste, but at the same time people need to understand that you don't get a high level of service without higher taxes. I also notice (and this will no doubt get me into trouble) that it's often those on the higher end of the income scale who bitch the loudest. That dovetails into another observation of mine, but since this post is already too damned long I will hold off for another time.
This has got me thinking about taxes. You will never hear me complain about the amount of taxes I pay. Why? Because I am less concerned with the amount that I pay than with the use to which that amount is put. In my personal life, I am concerned less with saving money than I am with getting full value for the money I spend; therefore, I don't mind spending a dollar on X as long as I get a dollar's worth of value from X. I don't understand people who just want lower taxes, probably because these are many of the same people who complain when services are lacking. I recall a referendum in Cherry Hill earlier this year in which the school board asked to raise taxes, a request the voters predictably refused. The board then began proposing cuts to various services (like busing) and the voters went bonkers. How do they think these buses are maintained? The Bus Fairy? Tax revenue pays for these buses, and when there is a lack of revenue there will be a lack of buses. Not hard to understand, right?
I'm aware that the government is hardly tops when it comes to trimming fat and preventing waste, but at the same time people need to understand that you don't get a high level of service without higher taxes. I also notice (and this will no doubt get me into trouble) that it's often those on the higher end of the income scale who bitch the loudest. That dovetails into another observation of mine, but since this post is already too damned long I will hold off for another time.
Tuesday, October 28, 2003
The Best Boyfriend
As is widely known, I love "Carrie", just love it. One of the reasons for my affection is Tommy Ross (played by William Katt), who was the awesomest boyfriend ever. He was good-looking, funny, smart, athletic, and was willing to do the right thing even though he really didn't want to. He was also tres romantic, as he demonstrated during that spin-around dance with Carrie at the prom. Ugh. Save me.
Anyway, a few years back I wrote these song lyrics (which are still looking for music) about Tommy Ross. They are entitled, appropriately, "Be My Tommy Ross." For the ages, here they are:
That shower scene was worth it 'cause it made your girlfriend all guilty
She made you take me to the prom, a kind of adolescent apology
But she never thought the night would end up with we two crowned as king and queen
While Betty Buckley threw her out we danced around the gym and you kissed me
Just because the vote was fixed doesn't mean the crowns don't fit
If you will be my Tommy Ross I'll be your Carrie oh
Believe me when I say I'm not afraid of Nancy Allen and her beau
And I'm sorry if I freaked out when the pig's blood splattered down to drench me oh
I hope they didn't take the bulging eyes, the fires, too seriously
So okay, I'm a show-off, but I know you'd do the same to impress me
The fire hoses in mid-air, just pretend that they're not there
If you will be my Tommy Ross I'll let the seniors go
We were destined to be lovers, to be a godly pair like Mars and Venus
And think of what a girlfriend I would make, changing tires with telekinesis
I won't listen to my mother when she says that you would make a bad boyfriend
When she tells me you're a sinner I say, "Do I have to throw knives at you again?"
Tommy, I won't kill my mom, I won't destroy another prom
If you will be my Tommy Ross I'll be your Carrie oh
I know some of you will say this song is stupid and the details aren't right
'Cause life isn't a horror movie, I'm not female, and my name's not Carrie White
But I still say Tommy was the greatest boyfriend, forever, now and 'til the end
And I had been DePalma that stupid bucket would never have hit him on the head
Tommy, don't take Carrie White, dump the skirt for me tonight
If you will be my Tommy Ross you'll forget Carrie oh
Note creative placement of oh's. Now all I need is to learn an instrument, develop the ability to sing well, and land a record deal.
Anyway, a few years back I wrote these song lyrics (which are still looking for music) about Tommy Ross. They are entitled, appropriately, "Be My Tommy Ross." For the ages, here they are:
That shower scene was worth it 'cause it made your girlfriend all guilty
She made you take me to the prom, a kind of adolescent apology
But she never thought the night would end up with we two crowned as king and queen
While Betty Buckley threw her out we danced around the gym and you kissed me
Just because the vote was fixed doesn't mean the crowns don't fit
If you will be my Tommy Ross I'll be your Carrie oh
Believe me when I say I'm not afraid of Nancy Allen and her beau
And I'm sorry if I freaked out when the pig's blood splattered down to drench me oh
I hope they didn't take the bulging eyes, the fires, too seriously
So okay, I'm a show-off, but I know you'd do the same to impress me
The fire hoses in mid-air, just pretend that they're not there
If you will be my Tommy Ross I'll let the seniors go
We were destined to be lovers, to be a godly pair like Mars and Venus
And think of what a girlfriend I would make, changing tires with telekinesis
I won't listen to my mother when she says that you would make a bad boyfriend
When she tells me you're a sinner I say, "Do I have to throw knives at you again?"
Tommy, I won't kill my mom, I won't destroy another prom
If you will be my Tommy Ross I'll be your Carrie oh
I know some of you will say this song is stupid and the details aren't right
'Cause life isn't a horror movie, I'm not female, and my name's not Carrie White
But I still say Tommy was the greatest boyfriend, forever, now and 'til the end
And I had been DePalma that stupid bucket would never have hit him on the head
Tommy, don't take Carrie White, dump the skirt for me tonight
If you will be my Tommy Ross you'll forget Carrie oh
Note creative placement of oh's. Now all I need is to learn an instrument, develop the ability to sing well, and land a record deal.
Monday, October 27, 2003
Pan Man
I was just looking at pics from my Halloween party, and I question the wisdom of dressing up as Pan, god of fields, meadows and shepherds. Oh, the fur pants were fun, and who doesn't like wearing tiny horns, but going shirtless...well, let's just say my chest is not my best feature. That knowledge was drilled deep into my brain at the sight of another guest who looked one billion times better in his torso-bareing outfit. Ugh. But then again, I had horns and he didn't.
Ninja Bacon played "Our Lips Are Sealed", which I was delighted to hear, and I did my darnest to make a non-ear-shattering harmony. No one heard it, which made it even better. Mike B. made an awesome Edward Scissorhands, and Star looked positively fabulous as Norma Desmond. I would have voted for her, but I was banned from voting. Unlike Florida elections, mine are fair. Well, maybe they're not, but at least I am upfront about them being unfair. As I assured Sean, everybody knew he was Nick Fury...another benefit of lots of geek friends is that your costume can be as obscure as you want and they still know who you are.
However, the highlight of the evening for me was Deirdre, who came dressed as poor Michael from "Sidney's Gift." Now that my work has been turned into a costume, I know I have truly arrived.
Ninja Bacon played "Our Lips Are Sealed", which I was delighted to hear, and I did my darnest to make a non-ear-shattering harmony. No one heard it, which made it even better. Mike B. made an awesome Edward Scissorhands, and Star looked positively fabulous as Norma Desmond. I would have voted for her, but I was banned from voting. Unlike Florida elections, mine are fair. Well, maybe they're not, but at least I am upfront about them being unfair. As I assured Sean, everybody knew he was Nick Fury...another benefit of lots of geek friends is that your costume can be as obscure as you want and they still know who you are.
However, the highlight of the evening for me was Deirdre, who came dressed as poor Michael from "Sidney's Gift." Now that my work has been turned into a costume, I know I have truly arrived.
Friday, October 24, 2003
Dream (another) little dream.
I had another strange dream Wednesday night, but I forgot to post about it with all the SEPTA nonsense. The dream was extremely vivid, as evidenced by the fact that I still remember it two days later. Here goes.
My Center City office building was evacuated because of a false fire alarm, and we were being allowed back in en masse. Naturally, the elevators were clogged, so I decided to climb the stairs to the 21st floor, where I work. (Inconsistency #1: I actually work in an eight-floor piece of crap in Bala Cynwyd.) A bunch of people followed me, and they slowed up the progress I would have made on my own. At the seventh floor, a security guard caught us and told us to go back to the lobby, but I hid in the shadows of the fire stair and evaded her. (Inconsistency #2: Most fire stairs are narrow and lacking in any hiding spaces that would realistically accommodate me.)
Phase two of the dream involved me trying to get to the 21st Floor against all odds, and having adventures along the way. This was the weirdest office building in the world, as it contained a nightclub accessible only via the fire stairs. (Inconsistency #3: One would think that a nightclub that's prohibitively difficult to reach wouldn't stay in business long, but this one seemed solvent.) The stairs led directly through the nightclub, and the staff wouldn't let me pass, but I found this secret staircase that led to a luxurious penthouse. I even remember dream-thinking, "Who would have thought an office building would have a nightclub and a penthouse." Anyway, I was trying to creep though the penthouse without alerting the woman living there when I woke up.
I'm not very good at interpreting dreams, nor do I have much desire to do so, but with this one I felt compelled. I've come up with two theories:
1) Right now I am attempting something in my life that is much more complex than I imagined and is only bringing me trouble. Although I tend to strike out on my own, in this case it's wiser to return to basics and act more conventionally, even if I dislike doing what I feel is expected of me.
2) I definitely should not eat a Wawa-purchased cheese danish one hour before bed.
My Center City office building was evacuated because of a false fire alarm, and we were being allowed back in en masse. Naturally, the elevators were clogged, so I decided to climb the stairs to the 21st floor, where I work. (Inconsistency #1: I actually work in an eight-floor piece of crap in Bala Cynwyd.) A bunch of people followed me, and they slowed up the progress I would have made on my own. At the seventh floor, a security guard caught us and told us to go back to the lobby, but I hid in the shadows of the fire stair and evaded her. (Inconsistency #2: Most fire stairs are narrow and lacking in any hiding spaces that would realistically accommodate me.)
Phase two of the dream involved me trying to get to the 21st Floor against all odds, and having adventures along the way. This was the weirdest office building in the world, as it contained a nightclub accessible only via the fire stairs. (Inconsistency #3: One would think that a nightclub that's prohibitively difficult to reach wouldn't stay in business long, but this one seemed solvent.) The stairs led directly through the nightclub, and the staff wouldn't let me pass, but I found this secret staircase that led to a luxurious penthouse. I even remember dream-thinking, "Who would have thought an office building would have a nightclub and a penthouse." Anyway, I was trying to creep though the penthouse without alerting the woman living there when I woke up.
I'm not very good at interpreting dreams, nor do I have much desire to do so, but with this one I felt compelled. I've come up with two theories:
1) Right now I am attempting something in my life that is much more complex than I imagined and is only bringing me trouble. Although I tend to strike out on my own, in this case it's wiser to return to basics and act more conventionally, even if I dislike doing what I feel is expected of me.
2) I definitely should not eat a Wawa-purchased cheese danish one hour before bed.
Thursday, October 23, 2003
Faster than a really slow bus!
Yep...I outran a bus today. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
I called off work today so I could get my hair done by Maria the Fabulous, who works on Penn campus. Today being a weekday, when parking is difficult and traffic more intense, I thought, "Why don't I take the train? That will save gasoline and therefore prevent some air pollution, and will also save me from having to hunt for parking." Big mistake. The El stopped at Spring Garden because of a roof collapse at 8th Street, so I had to transfer to a shuttle bus.
For those of you who aren't familiar with SEPTA, the term "shuttle bus" in their lexicon translates roughly to "big, loud, crowded, slow-moving waste of time." So it proved today. I thought about getting a cab for the remainder of the trip, but I'd have rotted away to dust before I'd find a cab at 2nd & Spring Garden. Anyway, off we went, and at about 10th & Market I said to the bus driver, "Can I have a transfer? I know I can beat this bus to 15th Street." Agreeably, he handed it over, and I took off. I'm not sure it's a great mark of distinction to know you outran a SEPTA bus (most cripples could probably say the same), but at 34 years of age I felt proud nonetheless. I was even more proud that I was able to run 4 blocks without pausing to rest mid-way or dropping into a heap at the end. My shins only complained mildly, too.
Anyway, I got my hair cut and highlighted (Maria did her usual great job) then I walked to the bank to cash a check. On the way I stopped to buy a hot dog from a vendor. Let me warn you that I have a simple rule about hot dogs: I don't want to know anything more about them than that they taste good with mustard and relish. You don't need to tell me how bad they are; I already know. I hadn't had a hot dog in years, and I enjoyed this one.
Summary: Hair looks great, hot dog was enjoyed, SEPTA sucks and next time I'm driving.
I called off work today so I could get my hair done by Maria the Fabulous, who works on Penn campus. Today being a weekday, when parking is difficult and traffic more intense, I thought, "Why don't I take the train? That will save gasoline and therefore prevent some air pollution, and will also save me from having to hunt for parking." Big mistake. The El stopped at Spring Garden because of a roof collapse at 8th Street, so I had to transfer to a shuttle bus.
For those of you who aren't familiar with SEPTA, the term "shuttle bus" in their lexicon translates roughly to "big, loud, crowded, slow-moving waste of time." So it proved today. I thought about getting a cab for the remainder of the trip, but I'd have rotted away to dust before I'd find a cab at 2nd & Spring Garden. Anyway, off we went, and at about 10th & Market I said to the bus driver, "Can I have a transfer? I know I can beat this bus to 15th Street." Agreeably, he handed it over, and I took off. I'm not sure it's a great mark of distinction to know you outran a SEPTA bus (most cripples could probably say the same), but at 34 years of age I felt proud nonetheless. I was even more proud that I was able to run 4 blocks without pausing to rest mid-way or dropping into a heap at the end. My shins only complained mildly, too.
Anyway, I got my hair cut and highlighted (Maria did her usual great job) then I walked to the bank to cash a check. On the way I stopped to buy a hot dog from a vendor. Let me warn you that I have a simple rule about hot dogs: I don't want to know anything more about them than that they taste good with mustard and relish. You don't need to tell me how bad they are; I already know. I hadn't had a hot dog in years, and I enjoyed this one.
Summary: Hair looks great, hot dog was enjoyed, SEPTA sucks and next time I'm driving.
Wednesday, October 22, 2003
Things That Delight Me
I thought the previous post needed a balance, so here we are. By the way, anyone who dares think of Julie Andrews singing about her favorite things should give him/herself a really hard pinch. Go ahead. I'll wait.
Now that pinching is over, on to the delightful things.
Fresh-baked bread: Nothing like a fresh loaf, warm from the oven and served up with plenty of butter. I can easily make a meal of this alone. Staff of life, indeed. I have been known to bake a mean loaf of bread in my time, which isn't exactly convenient but well worth the effort. My flour-stained "Little Chef's Bake-a-Bread" book is a close friend.
English accents: Nobody, but nobody speaks English like the English. When I was in England, I felt like a great oaf every time I spoke to one of the natives. Sometimes I wish I were British, but not if I had to eat bubble and squeak.
The Go-Go's: Vastly underrated, these gals were my first love in terms of music. I have most of their stuff, except for a few obscure things, some of it on CD, cassette and vinyl. Too bad they can't seem to either work out their problems or just get over them.
Chocolate: Easy one. Next.
Ultimate Frisbee: I can't get enough of this game, and turning down a chance to play is something I do only with great reluctance, even when my shins complain loudly.
Watership Down: Who'd have thought a book about rabbits could be so enthralling? Richard Adams, that's who, and right he was! I first read this book in high school, and I have come back to it zillions of times since. I still cheer when Keehar attacks General Woundwort during the thunderstorm.
There are more things that I really, really like, but I feel this post has reached the upper limits of positivity. More later.
Now that pinching is over, on to the delightful things.
Fresh-baked bread: Nothing like a fresh loaf, warm from the oven and served up with plenty of butter. I can easily make a meal of this alone. Staff of life, indeed. I have been known to bake a mean loaf of bread in my time, which isn't exactly convenient but well worth the effort. My flour-stained "Little Chef's Bake-a-Bread" book is a close friend.
English accents: Nobody, but nobody speaks English like the English. When I was in England, I felt like a great oaf every time I spoke to one of the natives. Sometimes I wish I were British, but not if I had to eat bubble and squeak.
The Go-Go's: Vastly underrated, these gals were my first love in terms of music. I have most of their stuff, except for a few obscure things, some of it on CD, cassette and vinyl. Too bad they can't seem to either work out their problems or just get over them.
Chocolate: Easy one. Next.
Ultimate Frisbee: I can't get enough of this game, and turning down a chance to play is something I do only with great reluctance, even when my shins complain loudly.
Watership Down: Who'd have thought a book about rabbits could be so enthralling? Richard Adams, that's who, and right he was! I first read this book in high school, and I have come back to it zillions of times since. I still cheer when Keehar attacks General Woundwort during the thunderstorm.
There are more things that I really, really like, but I feel this post has reached the upper limits of positivity. More later.
Things That Annoy Me
I'd like to relate some of my pet peeves, just because I feel like it. My blog, my rules, and these are my peeves.
Hyphenated surnames: Ladies (or gentlemen), when you marry, pick a name and live with it. Hyphenation doesn't make you look feminist and independent; it makes you look pretentious.
Not signalling turns: Drivers who make signal-less turns need their own special place in hell, right beside those freaks who discard the creme and eat the rest of the Oreo.
Corporate-speak: This is a favorite peeve of mine. "Transition" is not a verb, nor is "incentivize" , and using "out of pocket" to mean "out of the office" is just plain retarded. People use these (and other) words to sound intelligent, but they wind up sounding even more retarded then they already do.
Work small talk: This category includes all those pat responses you get to the "how are you?" question including (but not limited to): "It's only Monday", "Not bad for nine o'clock", or "Is it five o'clock yet?"
Trendy-speak: Those terms that come from movie titles that everyone then feels suddenly compelled to use in conversation. "Lost in translation" is a current example of this, and another from a few years back is "waiting to exhale." Cliches are bad enough, but when they're the latest thing on top of that...well, they just suck.
Littering: Whenever I see some jerk dropping a cigarette box or cupcake wrapping on the sidewalk I have to restrain myself from transforming into a great, hideous, flaming purple wolf and tearing out his/her ignorant throat. When I become a deity, I intend to change the laws of physics so that anyone who drops refuse in an inappropriate place will find said refuse in his/her bed. And I mean all kinds of refuse. Yes.
That's all for now. To balance the slate, later I will post some of my favorite things.
Hyphenated surnames: Ladies (or gentlemen), when you marry, pick a name and live with it. Hyphenation doesn't make you look feminist and independent; it makes you look pretentious.
Not signalling turns: Drivers who make signal-less turns need their own special place in hell, right beside those freaks who discard the creme and eat the rest of the Oreo.
Corporate-speak: This is a favorite peeve of mine. "Transition" is not a verb, nor is "incentivize" , and using "out of pocket" to mean "out of the office" is just plain retarded. People use these (and other) words to sound intelligent, but they wind up sounding even more retarded then they already do.
Work small talk: This category includes all those pat responses you get to the "how are you?" question including (but not limited to): "It's only Monday", "Not bad for nine o'clock", or "Is it five o'clock yet?"
Trendy-speak: Those terms that come from movie titles that everyone then feels suddenly compelled to use in conversation. "Lost in translation" is a current example of this, and another from a few years back is "waiting to exhale." Cliches are bad enough, but when they're the latest thing on top of that...well, they just suck.
Littering: Whenever I see some jerk dropping a cigarette box or cupcake wrapping on the sidewalk I have to restrain myself from transforming into a great, hideous, flaming purple wolf and tearing out his/her ignorant throat. When I become a deity, I intend to change the laws of physics so that anyone who drops refuse in an inappropriate place will find said refuse in his/her bed. And I mean all kinds of refuse. Yes.
That's all for now. To balance the slate, later I will post some of my favorite things.
Saturday, October 18, 2003
Straight guys puzzle me
Although I'm well aware of the dangers of overgeneralizing here, I'm doing it anyway. My blog, my rules. Straight guys can be both completely frustrating and yet completely faith-restoring. Let's take it one at a time.
Frustrating: They've got this whole must-be-tough-and-bluff-at-all-times air that really drives me up the frickin' wall. How do straight women stand it?!? You can see it in their eyes too; my friend Ed pointed out that gay men have a certain softness around their eyes that straight men often lack, and he was dead-on. There's also this near-paranoid fear of clothes that are tighter than ridiculously baggy. NOTE TO STRAIGHT MEN: If you think oversized clothing discouraged homos from checking you out, you could not be more wrong. It only entices us to look more closely.
Faith-restoring: When straight guys are completely comfortable with their sexuality (and those of others) they are the coolest people on the whole damn planet. My brother is one of these, and so is Emmett. They don't spend a whole lot of time worrying about men making it with other men, which is the very reason why they are straight. Just like the fact that I don't spend much time worrying about the rarity of certain coins makes me a non-coin-collecting person. (Note to self: Must google proper word for those who collect coins.)
By the way, in the first sentence of the faith-restoring section, I am paraphrasing Deirdre Flint, a totally awesome folk-singer from right here in Philadelphia. Check out her Web site at www.deirdreflint.com and listen to some of her free stuff. Then buy some of her non-free stuff and support a wonderful local artist who's not backed by a major label. Do it. Now.
Frustrating: They've got this whole must-be-tough-and-bluff-at-all-times air that really drives me up the frickin' wall. How do straight women stand it?!? You can see it in their eyes too; my friend Ed pointed out that gay men have a certain softness around their eyes that straight men often lack, and he was dead-on. There's also this near-paranoid fear of clothes that are tighter than ridiculously baggy. NOTE TO STRAIGHT MEN: If you think oversized clothing discouraged homos from checking you out, you could not be more wrong. It only entices us to look more closely.
Faith-restoring: When straight guys are completely comfortable with their sexuality (and those of others) they are the coolest people on the whole damn planet. My brother is one of these, and so is Emmett. They don't spend a whole lot of time worrying about men making it with other men, which is the very reason why they are straight. Just like the fact that I don't spend much time worrying about the rarity of certain coins makes me a non-coin-collecting person. (Note to self: Must google proper word for those who collect coins.)
By the way, in the first sentence of the faith-restoring section, I am paraphrasing Deirdre Flint, a totally awesome folk-singer from right here in Philadelphia. Check out her Web site at www.deirdreflint.com and listen to some of her free stuff. Then buy some of her non-free stuff and support a wonderful local artist who's not backed by a major label. Do it. Now.
Tuesday, October 14, 2003
Parents: Can't live with 'em, can't trust 'em to name their kids.
I read today about a couple who used the following naming scheme for their four sons: James Michael, Michael James, Jason Matthew, and Matthew Jason. What the fuck is wrong with those people?!? Do they really think their sons are going to come back to them one day and say, "Mom, Dad, I really appreciate you using two boring combinations of four utterly common names for all of your sons"? Gee, why didn't they really get creative and name their kinds 1, 2, 3 and 4?
Something brain-damagey happens to people when they procreate, I swear it. They get this crazy idea that everyone thinks their kids are as cute as they do. They conclude that it's perfectly appropriate to bring their children to nice restaurants and movie theatres, where they can cause maximum disruption. They think that cutesy-cute names that aren't even good when the kids are babies will still be acceptable when they're twenty. Ever hang around a group of parents in a social situation? Mother of all creatures great and small, but the conversation is boring! I never thought a group of adults could actually find interesting a conversation that centers on diapers and what you might find in them. Keep in mind that many of these people are college graduates.
I'm a little over the edge on this topic, I admit it. Since I will almost certainly never have children of my own, I guess I just can't relate to the concerns of those who do. Once your married friends start reproducing, they become unavailable for most social functions/events, you rarely see them apart from child events; in short, their lives become child-oriented. That's as it should be, I suppose, and yet it doesn't make things easier for those of us who remain childless. It puts a wedge in your friendships, and I don't know how you get past it. I really don't.
Something brain-damagey happens to people when they procreate, I swear it. They get this crazy idea that everyone thinks their kids are as cute as they do. They conclude that it's perfectly appropriate to bring their children to nice restaurants and movie theatres, where they can cause maximum disruption. They think that cutesy-cute names that aren't even good when the kids are babies will still be acceptable when they're twenty. Ever hang around a group of parents in a social situation? Mother of all creatures great and small, but the conversation is boring! I never thought a group of adults could actually find interesting a conversation that centers on diapers and what you might find in them. Keep in mind that many of these people are college graduates.
I'm a little over the edge on this topic, I admit it. Since I will almost certainly never have children of my own, I guess I just can't relate to the concerns of those who do. Once your married friends start reproducing, they become unavailable for most social functions/events, you rarely see them apart from child events; in short, their lives become child-oriented. That's as it should be, I suppose, and yet it doesn't make things easier for those of us who remain childless. It puts a wedge in your friendships, and I don't know how you get past it. I really don't.
Tuesday, October 07, 2003
Save me from the suburbs!
I work in Bala Cynwyd, an oddly titled little place whose name was most likely invented by the same annoying people who insist upon spellings like "Smyth" and "Jon" and the other assorted variants intended to make a boring name seem exciting. (I once worked with a woman who spelled her name "Sandi Whyte." Grrr.) Anyway, Bala Cynwyd is basically a giant office park with a few overpriced stores and traffic from the fifth layer of Hell. That's it. The surrounding area, however, has the same traffic problems even without the office parks. There are just too many cars on roads never designed to handle the volume.
I thought the idea behind getting out of the city was to leave the "hustle and bustle" behind, yet Ardmore, Bryn Mawr, Wynnewood and Bala Cynwyd seem pretty hustly and bustly to me. Same with Blue Bell, Plymouth Meeting, and King of Prussia. Country living I understand, even if I don't desire it, but suburban life I don't get. All the traffic congestion of the city with none of the vitality. Worse, there's something unutterably bland about most suburbs, as if you barely have to squint to see the hand of the developer who made a mint demolishing farmland and replacing it with cheaply built houses for yuppies who didn't want to live near black folks. Some of those houses are cheap, too, and they all look the same.
(No, Michael Moore has not hacked into this blog. It's me. Hopefully you aren't offended by any of this, but on my blog I'm allowed to make unapologetic social commentary as desired.)
I thought the idea behind getting out of the city was to leave the "hustle and bustle" behind, yet Ardmore, Bryn Mawr, Wynnewood and Bala Cynwyd seem pretty hustly and bustly to me. Same with Blue Bell, Plymouth Meeting, and King of Prussia. Country living I understand, even if I don't desire it, but suburban life I don't get. All the traffic congestion of the city with none of the vitality. Worse, there's something unutterably bland about most suburbs, as if you barely have to squint to see the hand of the developer who made a mint demolishing farmland and replacing it with cheaply built houses for yuppies who didn't want to live near black folks. Some of those houses are cheap, too, and they all look the same.
(No, Michael Moore has not hacked into this blog. It's me. Hopefully you aren't offended by any of this, but on my blog I'm allowed to make unapologetic social commentary as desired.)
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