What's the Matter with America?

I’ve been thinking today about a book I read, called, What’s the Matter with Kansas? How Conservatives Won the Heart of America. Written by Thomas Frank, this book is an insightful look into why Republicans have managed to win the votes of the very people their policies screw so manifestly. It’s a great book I highly recommend.

Anyway, Frank coins a term he calls the plen-T-plaint. Unlike complaints, the plen-T-plaint is a gripe that has no fundamental basis, although it certainly has a target. There are all kinds of plen-T-plaints, usually seen in terms of political correctness. A child sues his school district because he was assigned homework for the summer. A woman cries sexual harassment because she is complimented on the color of her sweater. An artist dunks a picture of Jesus in a jar of urine and wants public funding for doing so. As you can no doubt see, these gripes have one thing in common: They’re all examples of liberal outrages. The point of the plen-T-plaint is not to engender discussion, but to get voters riled up and, hopefully, voting Republican.

Are there bona-fide examples of liberal silliness? Unquestionably. However, this silliness is presented not as ludicrous and ignorable, but as a pernicious example of the corrupting influence of liberal philosophy on American society. Liberals have very little influence over the national government, which is solidly controlled by Republicans, and yet to listen to Bill O’Reilly you’d think the US was under the iron Birkenstock of the Berkeley crowd. It’s dishonest and distracting, but it’s a great way to reap a harvest of votes for Republican candidates, isn’t it?

Let’s be honest about these outrages. They mean little, harm almost no one, and affect nothing. However, conservative outrages, which do more harm, receive no attention from the Anne Coulter set. Want to write anti-gay discrimination into the nation’s founding document? Sure! Want to ban the teaching of a scientific theory accepted by every reputable scientist everywhere in the world? No problem! Want to give taxpayer dollars to religious organizations to fund jobs from which many of the taxpayers will be banned? Sign me up! Personally, I find these little crusades much more disturbing than the occasional frivolous lawsuit or a baseless accusation of sexual harassment.

I tend to have a pretty solid faith in humanity, but the plen-T-plaint, and the way it has resonated in modern times, has given that faith a nice solid shake.

Neat test

I took an online grammar test, and these were my results:

English Genius You scored 100% Beginner, 100% Intermediate, 93% Advanced, and 83% Expert!

You did so extremely well, even I can't find a word to describe your excellence! You have the uncommon intelligence necessary to understand things that most people don't. You have an extensive vocabulary, and you're not afraid to use it properly! Way to go! Thank you so much for taking my test. I hope you enjoyed it! For the complete Answer Key, visit my blog: http://shortredhead78.blogspot.com/.

Advice

Most people don't know that, when reading a magazine or newspaper, I almost always read the advice columns. Not because I care about peoples' personal problems (unless I know you personally, I usually don't), but because I am curious to see if the advice I would have given matches that given by the columnist.

This is made more unusual by the fact that I very rarely give advice, even to people I know well and who ask for it. There are a number of reasons for this. First, I despise receiving unsolicited advice, and this has made me unfavorably disposed towards giving even solicited advice. Second, I think of advice as medicine: a foreign substance that, while possibly helpful, can be harmful if administered too early or in the wrong amount. Generally speaking, people know their lives better than I do, so how can I hope to provide reliable advice on those lives?

When I am called upon to give advice, I usually try not to provide answers, but to clarify the question and let the requestor come to his/her own conclusions. That is in my opinion a more helpful tactic, and it keeps me out of trouble in terms of giving advice that turns out badly. This sometimes aggravates those who know me. My brother once really had to verbally hammer at me to get me to provide specific advice on a matter he'd asked about. I wasn't intentionally being coy, but I've spent so many years avoiding advice-giving that reticence came naturally.

Non sequitor: For some reason my blog is not accepting hard returns so I can properly space paragraphs. Sorry!

You know what bugs me?

Elderly drivers. I'm sorry, but they're a menace. Even though the #1 killer of drivers aged 15-20 die is auto accidents I'd still rather have them on the road with me than the geriatric set. See, young drivers know what they're doing; they just don't care. That to me is infinitely more comforting than the sight of a blue-haired octogenarian behind the wheel of a multi-ton vehicle sitting in the middle of a busy intersection blinking in confusion. Besides, young drivers usually drive fast, so you can pretty much count on them outdistancing you quickly.

People with loud voices. I know this is petty, but when I'm talking to someone who's talking twice as loud as necessary I get annoyed. My typical tactic is to speak even more quietly, forcing the person to shut his yap to hear me. This tactic has a mixed record of success, but like George Bush I refuse to abandon it regardless of the facts.

Bugs. This category extends to any creature with more than four legs that isn't Odin's mighty steed. I know spiders aren't insects, but since both insects and spiders are bugs, they fit neatly here. Sorry, but no creature with eight eyes, eight legs and fur should exist in any rational universe. Fur...they have fur! That is creepy beyond description. And why do they need so many legs? So they can cause maximum wig-out when they scamper across our faces at night, that's why! Bastards.

I'm now realizing that my last three posts were in the same format, which is getting old. I'll stop now.

Super Powers I DO Want

Telekinesis: Now here's a handy power, and a marketable one. You can not only use it to fend off muggers and ruin high school proms, but you can also influence the movement of roulette wheels or those little balls inside the lottery machine. And you could finally change the toner in your laser printer without getting any of the black stuff on your hands.

Invisibility: I know that in the choice between flight and invisibility, invisibility's the one that means you're bad, but I don't care. I want to be able to move unseen, dammit! I'd use my powers in the cause of justice, exposing the corruption of sleazy politicians, getting crucial evidence to right-minded police officers, and shoving paper clips in every parking meter in Philadelphia.

Weather control: Rain would never, ever again happen on a Saturday afternoon when I would otherwise be playing Ultimate, nor would I be inconvenienced by snow. Now, you're asking yourself, "But where would you send all the bad weather?" To the Red States, duh. Republicans control the federal government; let them worry about out the fools who put them in office.

Regeneration: The ability to quickly heal nearly any injury is not only life-saving, but it makes a great practical joke ("Uh-oh...I've cut off my finger!). Come to think of it, regeneration's a quick way to earn extra money. Step in front of a moving vehicle and you've got yourself a quick lawsuit without all the fuss of an actual injury. Nice.

Super Powers I Don't Want

Telepathy: I don't want to speak with most of the people I meet on a daily basis, so I certainly don't want to know what they're thinking. Besides, no matter how disciplined and well-intentioned I was, inevitably I'd start reading the minds of those people I do care about, and knowing what your friends are thinking is way scarier than knowing what strangers are thinking.

Precognition: Like telepathy, precognition is simply a way to beg the universe to make you really unhappy. Do you really want to know when/how your parents or friends are going to die? Even if you foresee some avertable tragedy you'll probably just get stuck having to sacrifice yourself to stop it, ala The Dead Zone. No thanks...that kind of heroism I can live without.

Shapechanging: This is a really neat ability for Odo on DS9, but how much practical use will the average person get out of it? Sure, you can turn into a lion or eagle, but then what? Get tranquilized by Animal Control and stuck in the zoo? Wow...mix in a little rectal surgery and that's my best day ever. You're thinking, "But as an eagle I could fly!" Shut up. If you wanna fly, you'd do better with the power of, say, flight, instead of turning into an eagle and then having to learn to do what comes naturally to birds, not to mention the risk of getting sucked into a jet's engine. Yeah, you could turn into a mug on your boss' desk and eavesdrop, but then when he's thirsty you get to experience your boss' lips right on your naked, ceramic, shapechanged body. Maybe that's hot for some of you with cute bosses of the appropriate gender, but for me it's...less than hot.

X-ray vision: This was really one of Superman's second-tier powers, and I understand why. It has no use except ogling people on the bus, which I admit would be fun at first but would get old quickly. I guess you could sell your services providing gamma-ray-free x-rays, but if you don't want to be a radiologist you're pretty well reduced to checking out lots of naked people.

Super strength: In a world populated by vampires, evil supervillains and zombies, a person with this power would rule; in this world, however, super strength pretty much means you always get asked to help your friends move. Nobody needs that much free pizza.

My knee hurts and it's all my fault.

This weekend I was all set to play Ultimate with my we'll-play-anytime pickup team, on a beautiful day, and no one showed up. (Well, almost no one.) Anyway, I decided to turn that lemon into lemonade and, if the weather held for Sunday, do the walk I have been dying to do: the loop from the art museum, across the Falls Bridge, and back again. In case you didn't know, that's an 8.5-mile loop, which of course does not include the two-plus miles from my apartment to the museum. But did I let that daunt me? No! I may be queer but I am no pansy, so I gathered up my new sneakers and my backpack and set out at 11 am Sunday morning.

It was indeed a beautiful day, and Kelly Drive was full of people with the same idea as me, except they were sane and walked only a few miles. I was feeling pretty good, until I got across the bridge and about one mile along the drive, at which point my knee sent me a message:

"Let's take a break, OK?"

Did I listen? No! I'm no pansy, so I girded up my courage and pressed on, ashamed of my knee for suggesting such a thing. About another mile later, my big toe chimed in:

"Hey, blister developing here! Break time?"

I laughed at my toe's weak will and kept my pace, confident that as a healthy individual who walks four miles a day I was not daunted by a mere blister. After about another mile, my knee sent up a more pointed message:

"Dude, you are thirty-five. That's 3-5. Ten years ago you could have dashed one way and trotted the other, but today you'd better take a break."

Break? Breaks are for wussies, I thought, disgusted with my traitorous knee. However, for the remainder of the walk my toe and my knee vied for first place in the "I Really Hurt" contest. The knee was more persistent, but the toe was more wince-worthy. Back and forth they went, and by the time I was on Chestnut Street Toe was way in front. However, when I was limping along Pine at 11th Knee made the comeback of a career, racing past Toe to claim the "Hurty Hurty Ow Ow" gold medal, which it still wears proudly today. Stupid knee!

The moral of the story: Don't walk from my apartment to the Falls Bridge. It's just as bad an idea as it seems.

Rant, rant, rant

This is going to be a long one, so hang on to your hats.

I’m angry and frightened at the turn this nation has taken, both socially and fiscally. I'll start with the fiscal. Our government is saddling us with an enormous debt while spending billions of dollars getting Iraq in shape, and yet George Bush wants to make permanent his tax giveaways to the rich. Yeah, yeah…instead of raising taxes to fund a war, let’s cut taxes and go into unprecedented amount of debt. Aren’t Republicans supposed to be fiscally conservative?

Now Bush is talking about “saving” Social Security from a crisis that doesn’t really exist. His numbers, while not wrong, are used, uh, selectively to support the dubious notion that the entire Social Security system is about to collapse. His solution? Put our Social Security taxes into the stock market, which as we know functions oh so equitably, and always pays out. Bush says we can’t trust the government, whose members we elect, but we can trust the likes of Ken Lay, who’s selected by a bunch of rich people we don’t know. Even worse, he wants to borrow one trillion dollars to make the switch to a privatized system. When I think of what we could do with one trillion dollars I could just cry. Who’s going to pay for all this? Sure, Bush says he wants to protect future generations from Social Security collapse by saddling those generations with a crushing debt. Does that make sense to anyone who’s not a Republican? Hell, does it even make sense to all Republicans?

Let’s move on to the social. The Republicans have done an admirable job of riling up voters with cultural wedge issues while furiously screwing them on fiscal issues. The percentage of low-income voters who side with the GOP is staggering. Why the hell would anyone who’s poor vote Republican? Because they’ll protect you from the gay couple next door who might get married? What the hell does that matter if you don’t have health insurance? If every state in the union banned gay marriage, and a federal gay marriage amendment passed Congress and sailed through the ratification process today, no one is going to make more money tomorrow. No children are going to be better fed. No Iraqi insurgents are going to stay their hands. Can’t these low-income GOP voters see this?

I think I can answer all these questions. I’ve learned that, at least in today’s politics, the only thing you have to do to promote an agenda is to keep repeating it. It doesn’t matter if what you’re saying is true or even likely, as long as it’s superficially plausible. When countervailing evidence arises, you simply attack the source of the evidence and raise your voice. Sooner or later, people will start to believe what you’re saying, I think because they figure that you wouldn’t be saying it if it weren’t true. Look at the fantasy WMD’s that we didn’t find in Iraq. Bush said they were there when the evidence was shaky at best, and did his best to link Saddam Hussein to al-Qaeda, but when he was later forced to admit that neither of these things was true, a majority of Americans still believed it. Some of them still do. So you see that all you have to do is keep repeating yourself and a lie can become true. The same strategy is in play in the Social Security debate. Bush is already backpedaling on the crisis claim, yet the seed has already been planted. It no longer matters if a crisis exists in reality, because it now exists in the minds of Americans. If I had to guess, I’d say Bush is going to win on Social Security, at least partly, because many Americans are too foolish to distinguish between reality and an oft-repeated lie.

What can we do about this? I honestly don’t know. A lie often makes a better slogan than the truth, which makes it easier to repeat. Although I truly believe that truth is the resonant frequency of the mind, in these days truth is an endangered species, and many minds are closed to anything but the latest tripe spewed by Sean Hannity or Bill O’Reilly or some other conservative liar. The guy in the White House claims to be a uniter, and yet he has divided us with anti-gay amendments and anti-abortion bills that affect a tiny, tiny percentage of Americans. When running for president, John Kennedy had to prove he wouldn’t take marching orders from the pope, but John Kerry had to prove he would. Christians prove their piety not by feeding the hungry or housing the homeless, but by voting against gay marriage and stem-cell research. Up is down, black is white, and nothing is true anymore.

We as a society are increasingly distanced from reality, and I fear that a sharp lesson is in store. I can’t say what form that lesson will take: a dramatic jump in the death-toll of our troops in Iraq, or perhaps a draft. I do know that we’ve sown a pretty foul crop these last four years, and if we reap a bitter harvest it will be no more than we deserve.

Job-hunt Blues

Poppy's journal got me thinking about the suckitude of job hunting, so I'll say my say.

I was at an interview last week, but don't ask me why I went. The company is located in Concordville, which is not only the middle of nowhere but is also a 30-mile drive from my home. True, I currently work in Nowhereville, but at least I drive only 10 miles to it. Anyway, during the interview, the interviewer admitted that it's a conservative environment in which employee advancement is based more on the number of hours worked than on the quality of the work produced in all that time.

Now, obviously I don't want to work in a place that rewards attendance over performance, but the question that was foremost on my mind was this: Why would she tell me that? Does she think I'm going to say to myself, "Now THERE'S the work ethic for me!" And this chick was the boss's daughter! Honey, don't take a job in advertising, because you sure did a crap job selling your dad's company. I'm grateful for this ineptness, believe me (saves me a bad employment experience), but it makes you wonder how she recruits anyone besides people who are naive, desperate, or foolish.

Another thing that pisses me off in terms of job hunting is when employees ask you to submit a salary history with your initial letter and resume. That's pretty personal information if you ask me, and although I'll reveal it on a job application, I point-blank refuse to do it in a letter to a person whom I may never meet. Besides, there is exactly one reason why an employer wants to know this: So they can screw you. They want to get an idea just how little you'll accept, and then aim a bit lower than that. Bastards.

Still, job-seekers gather 'round, for there's revenge to be had. You know all those on-the-spot questions interviewers pose you? Well, two can play at that game, and I always grab the dice and throw. I believe firmly in asking the same kind of questions, which make interviewers squirm and give me a happy. Here's a sample of the kind of stuff I ask:

- When I was a legal administrator, my supervisory philosophy was to empower people to do their jobs and then get out of their way. What's your philosophy?

- Obviously, you're recruiting not just a set of technical skills, but a person with qualities and mannerisms, etc. What kind of person best fits into this corporate culture?

- Can you tell me about the last time you had to reprimand an employee, and how you handled it?

I guarantee that these questions, and others like 'em, are guaranteed to make interviewers squirm, and that's always fun. Given that you're not likely to get the job, you may as well enjoy yourself at the interview, right?

Open letter to pedestrians

Before I get started, let me point out that I am a a Center City dweller who walks at least four miles a day, so I qualify as a frequent pedestrian. With that being said...

Dear pedestrians:

In case you weren't aware, when wet snow is falling on frozen streets, it is difficult for my small, light car to get traction on those streets. That means that, no matter how slowly and safely I drive, quick stopping is problematical. Therefore, when you dart out in front of my car you are risking both your health and my driving record. If you do so and I hit you, I will phone the ambulance and see to your immediate needs but be otherwise blithely unconcerned with anything but said driving record, which to this date is flawless.

Isn't that snotty of me? Too bad! I drove like a grandma yesterday, never exceeding 20 mph on the city streets, staying alert and ultra-safe, and the damned jaywalkers still nearly gave me a heart attack. I like walking and support those who do it, but I really, really wish they'd not take such obviously foolish risks. Blech.

Yummy food

Fettucini Alfredo: Dan made some of this last night, and not by adding milk to the yellow powder, as I would. He used an egg and cream and cheese and other stuff. It was munchalicious.

Tacos: I'm not a fan of Mexican food, but I can eat tacos like, well, something you can eat alot of.

Chicken: The nice thing about chicken is that it can be prepared in so many ways. It can be fried, baked, sauteed, cutleted, and much, much more, and all of it tasty. (Yes, I said "cutleted." Shut up.)

Pizza: Unlike most, I don't buy that when pizza is bad, it's good. When it's bad it's pretty fucking terrible in my opinion, but when it's right...oh yes. Dan and I had some in Boston last September than was to die for. We didn't, though. Die. Just in case you were worried.

Vegetables: These are usually best steamed, but raw is good too. Nothing like a fresh salad of green leaf lettuce with cauliflower, broccoli, tomatoes, cucumbers and carrots, with perhaps a bit of chicken thrown in for good measure. Just a bit, though; no club salads for me, thanks.

Bread: Much to Dr. Atkins' horror, I am a big fan of bread, and I can even make a decent loaf from scratch. Not with a namby-pamby breadmaker, either, but with my own, non-namby hands. I've been in known to bake a loaf just in time for dinner and have bread and butter only. That's enough.

It's that time again.

Since we've gotten our first snow warning of the season, people are engaging in snow-talk, which as I have said before annoys me way more than it should.

First, let's talk about the inane comments like "Ready for snow?" How does one respond to this? For that matter, how does one really prepare for snow? Run out and buy canned goods so that when six inches falls you'll have something to eat until the rescue squad doesn't come and dig you out of nothing? We live in a major metropolitan area in the most powerful country in the world, which means that the vast majority of us have little to fear from a half-foot of snow. I know that, no matter what happens, I'll be able to face the horror of snowy boots so that I can get to Acme to pick up my Lucky Charms. Really.

Now, there are the amateur forecasts, which get increasingly dire as the day draws near. In the morning you'll hear 2-4 inches, which by lunch will have become 6-8 inches, and by closing time will be the worst winter weather since the Ice Age. Very little of it is backed by any meteorological evidence, but it's repeated with an almost breathless excitement. I don't get it. Snow will fall or it won't, and we'll get what we get. Therefore, people, talking about snow does nothing except piss me off, and unlike snow, I might actually kill you. And all the milk and bread in the world won't protect you.

A nun teaches me about faith.

Sister Helen Prejean, as you may know, is the author of Dead Man Walking, and was played by Susan Sarandon in the movie of the same name. I heard her interviewed on NPR yesterday, and thought, “Hmm…I’ll have to read her new book.” When I heard she was speaking at the Free Library of Philadelphia that very evening, I decided to go hear her speak. I’m glad I did.

Like me, she’s ardently against the death penalty, but unlike me, she has lots of first-hand experience with the way the death penalty is meted out and how it works. However, that’s not what so impressed me about her. During the hour she spoke, I was transfixed by her eloquence, her warmth, and her tart Louisiana wit. She’s a Catholic nun, but the words she spoke rang true in this atheist’s heart. You can read a PBS interview with her, if you like.

I have lots of Catholic friends, some of whom are quite devout, but until last night I never really understood why they believed as they do. When I left the library I thought, “So this is why people are Catholic!” What I heard from Sister Prejean was not the tired old vote-against-gay-marriage-and-ban-abortion nonsense you get from this or that bishop, but a real, substantive message of hope and community redemption. I also thought, “Why is this woman speaking at a library on a Tuesday night, and not from her seat on the floor of the Senate?”

Anyway, the evening was a real eye-opener for me on the power of true faith. Truth be told, if there were more Sister Prejeans and fewer Cardinal O’Connors, both the Catholic Church and the world would be better served. I’m tempted to say that she makes me want to convert, but I’m still not on board with the God thing, and I understand that’s kind of an impediment to being Catholic.

Fun things I have done

Visiting the CN Tower. This sucker's in Toronto, and it's tall. Near the top you can stand on this glass floor and look directly down to the street way, way below. I don't care for heights, and it took me a long time to walk out on that glass so that the ceiling camera could get a picture of me and my traveling companions. The sign proclaiming that the glass could support the weight of fourteen hippos did not reassure me in the least, but it did get me wondering how the signmakers know that.

HersheyPark. Yeah, I know it's commercial and all that, but it was a place with rides and chocolate. I confess that I'm not the world's best roller-coaster rider; for me, the fun-terror ratio is nearly 1-1, so my appetite for such experiences is limited. However, I rode three that day, which for me is about ten years' worth.

Ultimate Tournament. Some years back, the gay Ultimate group to which I used to belong entered in a charity tournament out in Oaks, PA, that benefitted Siloam. It was ridiculous as we knew nothing, I mean nothing, about the game, so we were promptly and unceremoniously trounced in three separate games. Still, we were voted Spirit Winners of the division, probably because a) everyone else felt sorry for us; and b) we suffered three crushing defeats and never stopped smiling. We never stopped smiling because we had a great time.

Visiting the Beach on Christmas. I don't care much for Florida, but tromping around a beach in shorts and bare feet on December 25 is pretty darn cool. Dan and I chased the surf down the beach, and then were chased back up by the returning surf, and we dug holes that the sea smoothed away. I can't say it was a great weekend, but it was a great trip to the beach.

Chinese Food in Canada. During the aforementioned Toronto trip, my traveling companions and I found a wonderful Chinese restaurant in, of all places, a strip mall. The food was great, and so was the company. We got laughing over something that wouldn't seem funny if I repeated it here, but it kept us in stitches for ages, and can still break us up to this day.

I've done more fun things than this, but my fingers are getting tired.

It's just the system

Last night Dan and I were talking about lawsuits, and I said that, should I ever file one, I want to do it under the guidance of a lawyer who is bitter, angry, and crooked. This sent Dan into gales of laughter, and I guess it is funny, but I'm serious about it.

You see, I don't buy all this nonsense about tort reform and how much it will lower insurance premiums. I worked at a law firm that specialized in insurance defense, and I can tell you that insurance companies make money hand over fist. They care nothing about their customers, nor do the premiums they charge reflect the actual reality of the risks they take. If you want a good indicator as to when premiums will rise, keep an eye on how these companies' investments perform. If they perform well, premiums stay relatively flat; if not, premiums rise. The notion that "frivolous lawsuits" have the biggest impact on premiums is pure propaganda generated by the insurance industry and parrotted by their Republican lapdogs in government. Oh, there's an impact, but it's not the "A causes B" relationship they'd have you believe.

With this in mind, you'll not be surprised to hear that I oppose tort reform. Big business has used its purchased politicians to draft laws to benefit itself, and the lawsuit is the common man's way to level the playing field. Lawsuits are the way that those of us who lack lobbyists make certain that corporate scum don't go unfettered along their exploitative way. The insurance industries work the system to their benefit, and so does the common man. The system is not about morality or fairness, and although you may think your refusal to work that system is noble, it's a nobility I assure you big business does not share. Therefore, when I have to play the game, I play to win. That's the system.

Eighty degrees and palm trees!

Nothing says "Christmas" like warm, humid weather and palm trees, as I discovered last weekend in Boca Raton. We visited Dan's parents there, in a place Dan calls, quite aptly, "God's Waiting Room." It was dead, but it was warm, and I spent Christmas on a beach in bare feet, so I can't complain. It was bizarre to be sitting out on the patio in shorts drinking egg nog on Christmas, but I could get used to that kind of bizarre.

Dan's parents can cook like nobody's business. Mother of all creatures great and small, but did I eat! Dan's mom even made us lunches for the plane ride, so while the other passengers were paying five bucks for crappy Italian hoagies, we were chowing down on chicken cutlet sandwiches with lettuce, accompanied by low-fat potato chips and followed by pizzelles. Oh, and we watched Babylon 5 movies on Dan's new portable DVD player all the while. Sweet, sweet technology.

Sacrifice? Who, us?

I've been following the flap about the upcoming inauguration, and calls that Bush should opt for something more frugal given there's a war on. I disagree. I think a lavish event is actually quite appropriate, given how consistent it would be with current events.

During WWII Americans rationed sugar, rubber and metal. They paid higher taxes. Women went to the factories to replace the husbands, fathers and sons who were called off to war. Nowadays, things have changed. No draft has been called, and no materials have been rationed. Instead, Americans (well, the wealthy ones, anyway) get plump tax cuts, and the rest of us are exhorted to go to the mall and shop to fuel the economy. Aside from the relatively few Americans who have family serving in Iraq, this conflict touches the lives of very few Americans, especially since the Bush crowd is bending over backwards to make sure we think everything in Fallujah's just ducky. Therefore, I say that if the commoners aren't called upon to sacrifice, why should George Bush? Let's all party, particularly because I suspect that before too long we won't feel much like celebrating.

Great moments

I'm going to relive (and relate) a great moment I had playing Ultimate, for no reason other than I feel like reliving (and relating) it.

It was Fall League 2004, and in semi-finals my team was locked in battle against a team far superior to us in terms of skill. Still, we hung in there, and we turned a 10-4 game into 12-10. (For the uninitiated, most games of Ultimate end when one team reaches 13.) The other team was now sweating, realizing their cakewalk had turned into a real struggle, and my team smelled blood. On offense I was matched up against a guy taller, faster and younger than I, which meant my odds of getting open for a pass were slim. We needed every opening we could get, so I decided to get creative. I was facing the person with the disk, and my defender was facing me, so I looked up over his left shoulder, eyes wide as if tracking a thrown disc. He completely fell for it and took off, spinning to the left while looking for a disc that wasn't there. Stunned that this simple ploy had actually worked, I nevertheless darted to the right...just in the path of the thrown disc. My team captain was a savvy player, and guessing that I was somehow going to cut right, anticipated my maneuver with a neat little sidearm.

In case you're thinking my deviousness carried the day, think again; we lost the game on the next point and never made it to finals. Still, I was proud of myself as I accompanied my team off the field in defeat.

Battlestar Galactica

Before I get started, let me warn you that the title of this post will not turn out to be some clever, jokey reference later on. I just feel like blathering about "Battlestar Galactica", the new version of which begins January 14.

I am a big fan of the old series, but the new one (at least in the pilot) addressed some issues that the original just sort of roughed over. For example, if the Colonial fleet was traveling at sub-light speeds, how the hell did it get anywhere? My goodness, but it would take months or years just to get out of our own solar system at that rate, which means that those people weren't escaping anyone unless the Cylons were riding unicycles. Also, I was never satisfied with the they-caught-us-by-surprise explanation for the destruction of the Colonies. No matter how clever the ambush, or how strong the Cylons, there's just no way the Colonies would be defeated in a day or two. And if the Cylons were powerful enough to effect that kind of destruction, why the heck did they bother with the "peace plan" ruse in the first place? Finally, why the heck would Baltar ally himself with a race bent on destroying humanity, given that he is, well, human? Yeah, yeah, I know the Imperious Leader promised to spare Baltar's colony, but I cannot believe a secret quisling clever enough to ascend to the Council of Twelve would fall for a ploy that transparent.

The new series, on the other hand, answers these questions. The Colonies' defense network and ships were infected by an advanced computer virus, which was unwittingly This virus was introduced into their network by Baltar, who was only unwittingly betraying humanity. This makes Baltar a much more believable and sympathetic character.

January 14...I'm there.

"Intelligent" design

By now you've heard that the ACLU, bless their liberal hearts, are going after Dover, PA, which has judiciously required that intelligent design (ID) theory be taught in 9th-grade biology classes. For those of you who might be unfamiliar with intelligent design, don't worry; it's just creationism in a cheap suit.

Proponents of ID are fond of pointing out that evolution is "just a theory", which signals a complete misunderstanding of the difference between the lay uses and the scientific uses of the word "theory." To the layman, a theory is an educated guess; to the scientist, it is an explanation, backed by empirical evidence, of a natural phenomenon. See the difference?

It's telling that ID proponents don't want to teach alternatives to other scientific theories, like gravity or atomic theory. Why, perhaps high school chemistry courses should give time to the notion that matter is composed not of atoms, but of the four elements! After all, atomic theory is "just a theory."

Hey, ID advocates! You are at best intellectually dishonest, and at worst small-minded fools who have been blinded by a religious view of the world you insist upon foisting on the rest of the world. Fuck you.

No babies!

Someone brought her baby into work today, and I was thinking, "Man, I feel so uncomfortable about that. I wish I could bitch about it." Then I remembered I have a blog that hasn't been updated in quite some time, so you get to hear about it.

It's no secret that I am not into babies. I understand they're necessary to the continuation of the species, so I don't agitate to outlaw them, yet in general I don't really want any part of them. They're loud, demanding, often smelly, totally non-self-sufficient, and, contrary to popular opinion, not always cute. When someone brings a baby to work, I find myself unsure how to proceed. The options that present themselves are:

Tell the truth: "Wow. A baby. Like I've never seen one of those before. Take it away, please."
Tell a lie: "Aww...look how cute! and he has little booties!"
Be untruthful without actually lying: "Congratulations! You must be very proud." (I say this in the same voice as option #2, so as to imply cuteness without indicating that I actually think so. Which I usually don't.)
Flee: This one's self-explanatory.

The real kicker is that I don't blame new parents for being proud. After all, they've brought into being a completely new being who, in about twenty years, could become a totally interesting person I'd love to have around. That's no mean feat. I'll be happy about it in twenty years.

P.S. I was attacked by a small dog Sunday while on 23rd Street near Locust. The little fucker broke off its leash and lunged at me repeatedly, and, being the humanitarian I am, I didn't drop kick it towards Spruce. Its owner chased it ineffectually, telling me, "Oh, she just barks." Uh-huh. If she ever comes after me again she'll spend the rest of her days drinking her Alpo through a straw.

Games! Books!

I'll make my contribution to the Game Day blogging. Game Day was loads of fun, although since I joined long games I did not play as many as I would have liked. Still, I enjoyed everything I did play. Highlights of the day included a continuation of my undefeated streak in Modern Art, and a mind-boggling suicide move by Yagathai in Game of Thrones.

-->I'm still staggered by this. When I play strategy games I play 100% to win. I hold no grudges and I settle no scores; I just do what I have to do to win. I can't comprehend why anyone would act differently.<--

I discovered, however, that I don't like Trivial Pursuit, and here's why. One, no matter which version I play (80's, Star Wars, etc.), I know virtually none of the answers. Either those questions are too hard or I'm too stupid, but either way I don't have many answers. Two, the game goes on for hours, and you don't spend much time actually playing it. You try in vain to answer a question, then you wait fifteen minutes to try vainly to answer another. I think I'll skip the next game.

Now, to justify Word Two of my heading, I received some books today from Amazon. I tried to get them at Borders on Chestnut, but, as usual, they had none of the six books on my list, three of which are less than one year old. (That's why I no longer search for books at bookstores. When I want a book I get it from Amazon, and reserve my time in actual bookstores for browsing.) I got "Under the Banner of Heaven" as my serious reading, and three Babylon 5 books for mind-candy. Now that my class is winding down I have time to read...at least until my next class starts. Ugh. Save me.

P.S. There are alot of parenthetical phrases in this post, which is not really recommended in terms of good writing. Too bad! My blog, my rules.

The Stepford Wives (or I Wish I Had One for Just One Day)

I saw the remake of "The Stepford Wives" the other day, and it was...interesting. For those of you who don't know, I judge remakes by two criteria:

1) Does the remake say something the original doesn't?
2) Does the world need this remake?

If you, the producer, answer "no" to either of these questions, don't make the movie.

"Wives" certainly meets criterion #1, because it's a black comedy or even a farce, whereas the original was horror. Also, I think that where the original asked, "What is woman?", the remake asks, "What is man?" A relevant question, I suppose, but the movie doesn't do very much to answer it. In addition, there is one crucial point in which the story contradicts itself, and while I'm not expecting that kind of movie to be 100% believable, I don't expect it to be self-contradictory. Be that as it may, yes, the remake does make a different statement than the original.

As to criterion #2....well, one of the reasons the original movie was so compelling was the time in which it was released, and when you watch it you have to think of it in that context. The new movie obviously can't be retroactively released in the 70's, but I felt that it was fairly context-neutral, and that in my opinion makes it less interesting. Therefore, I think that I can say that, no, the world really did not need a remake of "The Stepford Wives."

More Election Madness

In considering the disaster that befell us November 2, let's take a look at the massive but sparsely populated state of Alaska. As you may know, Republican incumbent Lisa Murkowski was running against Democratic challenger Tony Knowles. Let's review each candidate's respective qualifications:

Tony Knowles: BA from Yale in 1968. Served on the Anchorage Assembly (1975-1979), was Mayor of Anchorage (1981-1987), and was then Governor of Alaska (1994-2002).

Lisa Murkowski: BA from Georgetown U in 1980, JD from Williamette College. Served in the Alaska House (1998-2002).

Now, if asked which candidate is more likely to serve well in the US Senate, which would you choose? If you said, "Lisa Murkowski", you're as big a fool as the 121,000 who kept her in office. Lisa Murkowski did serve in the Alaska House, yes, but she was elected to her second term by 57 votes. Yep. That means if Wal-Mart had had a sale that day, she'd have been out of luck. She became a senator only because her father, Frank Murkowski, was elected governor and appointed her to fill the seat. Apparently, out of the hundreds of thousands of people in the state, there was no one more qualified to represent Alaska in Washington than Murkowski's daughter. Uh-huh. Nepotism is evidently spelled A-L-A-S-K-A.

The point I'm making with this odd couple is that some people vote along party lines regardless of reason, wisdom, or, apparently, sanity. How can you possibly change that?

The new Civil War

Before you get started, read this, for laughs and to contextualize this post.

Have you contextualized? Good. Now, the author of the above screed gets some of his facts wrong, but I understand and sympathize with his sentiment. Blue staters are supposedly less moral, less down-home, less realistic, less useful, and more full of smarty-pants elitism than red staters. The fact that some of those red-staters voted for Kerry, and some blue staters for Bush, doesn't even register with the hysterical right-wing media.

I cannot stand this red state-blue state divide that's being sold by conservatives in an attempt to woo low-income voters with cultural warfare instead of solid economic policies. Let me give you an idea of just how fundamentally cracked the far right-wing view of reality is. I heard Rush Limbaugh on the radio pre-election, and he was saying that the Democrats actually wanted Kerry to lose. Why? So they could impeach George Bush and put Hilary Clinton in his place. Let's review exactly what's wrong with that assertion:

1) Nobody in Congress really wants to impeach Bush.
2) The Republicans control Congress, so even if every single Democrat actually wanted to impeach the Republicans could squash it.
3) If all of reality shifted and Congress actually did impeach Bush, Dick Cheney would assume the White House, not the junior senator from New York, aka Hilary Clinton.

You see, it's part of the conservative agenda to wail that liberals exercise a jackbooted control over America, even though Republicans control all three branches of the federal government. This gives conservatives a handy scapegoat for their failure to achieve anything of substance, such as getting health care coverage to the poor or enabling Americans to find living-wage jobs. The real pity of the situation is that Americans fall for it year after year.

Winston Churchill said that, in a democracy, people generally get the government they deserve. Well, you asked for it, America. Here it comes.

My turn!

OK...I'm ready to make my own commentary regarding the election.

I took a good long time thinking about this election, and one of the first things I did was ask myself, "Am I getting it wrong?" Was invading Iraq really a wise and moral use of national resources? Can the United States honestly hope to bring about a Middle East democracy at a price (in dollars and lives) we can afford? Is my opposition rooted in knee-jerk loathing for the socially conservative agenda Bush pushes? I turned these questions over in my mind very honestly and carefully, and all I can say is that my former position remains unchanged. Maybe I'm a fool or too liberal and elite, but at the very least I'm honest with myself on this issue.

With those questions answered, I had to turn to a larger question: "What do I do now?" I've decided that, from now on, I will no longer speak against the Iraq invasion and occupation, nor will I debate its values. The American people have endorsed Bush's actions of the past three years, and further debate at this juncture is pointless. I'd hoped that the majority of my countrymen would come around on their own and take the path of reason, but instead they have chosen blood. So be it. Perhaps the only way for us to remember the lessons of Vietnam is to relearn them.

If America wants war, perhaps it's best that America gets it.

Yawn of the Dead

I was home yesterday, resting my poor foot, and I decided to rent a few movies. It killed me to drive to a video store only about a mile away, but my foot and I had a showdown and I lost. Anyway, I got the remake of "Dawn of the Dead" and "Ginger Snaps Back."

Dawn of the Dead: Like the Romera original, this features a group of humans who take shelter in a mall from hordes of ravening zombies. The similarities pretty much end there. As could be expected, this version has zombies that are faster and more hyped, and more explosions, and prettier actors, none of which improved things in my opinion. Naturally the social commentary is gone, as are the in-your-face gore scenes. Still, since I love me some zombie movie, I enjoyed the remake for what it was, although it in no way displaces the original. Grade: C+

Ginger Snaps Back: I'm a big fan of the "Ginger" oeuvre, so it's no surprise that I should like this movie. It takes place back in the 18th century, but Ginger and Bridget are no less entertaining than they were in the new millenium. I'll say no more, except, "Rent this." Grade: B+

My kinda god

Whilst talking with a friend about the election, I said I'd convert to Christianity were Kerry to win the electoral vote whilst losing the popular vote. That would prove that a) there is a God; and b) He is a funny god. That got me thinking about what kind of god I'd worship if I believed in that kind of thing, and I decided that a funny god would get my obeisance.

All-knowing? Pah! There are already ten million people in my life who think they know better than I do; how's one more going to make a difference? Merciful? Given the current state of the world, evidently divine mercy is, uh, different from what you and I think of as merciful. Just? This one's tempting, because there certainly are some people in this world who having in coming in spades, but then again I think humanity can handle that part. A funny god...well, that's something we don't have, can't simulate, and desperately need.

I want to see evil dictators dispatched not by angry mobs or foolish world leaders who misuse intelligence and mislead their own people (hint, hint), but by giant cream pies hurled from space. I want world hunger solved by the spontaneous transformation of socially conservative Republicans into tasty bread. I'd like to see corporate scum polluters turned into giant pinatas and set free on a planet of people with an unsatiable hunger for candy and whose arms are sharp wooden sticks. Now that's a miracle!

Watership Down...the answers!

Due to overwhelming demand, I will post the answers to my Watership Down quiz here. Actually, "overwhelming" in this instance means "zero", as to the best of my knowledge no one took the quiz. Feh...I'll post answers anyway.

1) What was the name of the warren Hazel and Fiver fled at the beginning of the story?
a) Sandleford

2) Name the rabbits who left the warren with Hazel and Fiver.
a) Bigwig, Silver, Buckthorn, Dandelion, Hawkbit, Acorn, Speedwell, Blackberry, and Pipkin.

3) Who is Thlayli?
a) Since this is Lapine for "Fur head", it translates roughly to "Bigwig."

4) What was Silverweed's poem about?
a) The wire the farmer used to set to catch the rabbits. Creepy.

5) What creature did Hazel help save from a kestrel?
a) A mouse.

6) What was the name of the gull that helped the rabbits?
a) Kehaar.

7) Who is the trusted companion of El-ahrairah?
a) Rabscuttle.

8) What does "fu Inle" mean?
a) This is Lapine for "after moonrise."

9) What was the name of the farm Hazel and Company raided to free the hutch rabbits?
a) Nuthanger Farm.

10) How did Holly escape from Efrafa?
a) He ran across train tracks, and his pursuers were either run down by the train or they fled.

11) How did the Efrafan council punish Blackavar?
a) They tore up his ears.

12) How did Hazel hurt his leg?
a) He was shot my men whilst rescuing the hutch rabbits from Nuthanger Farm.

13) What was Blackberry's plan to escape from the Efrafan Wide Patrols?
a) They got aboard a small boat in a river near Efrafa, chewed through the rope that anchored it to shore, and floated away.

14) What is a hrududu?
a) An automobile.

15) At the trial of El-ahrairah, the jury was composed entirely of what?
a) Elil.

Let's grade the quiz no one took.

- 1-3 correct: You are a Hlessi, wandering homeless, and sure to fall prey to elil before ni-Frith.
- 4-6 correct: You are an Outskirter, who belongs to a warren but is often sat upon by your elders.
- 7-10 correct: You are in the Owsla, bold and powerful, and you never go tharn.
- 11-13 correct: You are in the Owslafa, and you get all the flayrah you can stomach.
- 14-15 correct: You are a Chief Rabbit, and can tell even General Woundwort to silflay hraka.

One more note. One of you readers is from England, and since Richard Adams himself was English, I say shame on you for not taking this quiz!

Watership Down...the quiz!

It's no secret that Watership Down is one of my all-time favorite books, and now it's also a quiz. Take the quiz yourself, email me your answers, and I'll grade it. Or take it and don't email me. Or don't take the quiz at all. It's that kind of quiz.

1) What was the name of the warren Hazel and Fiver fled at the beginning of the story?
2) Name the rabbits who left the warren with Hazel and Fiver.
3) Who is Thlayli?
4) What was Silverweed's poem about?
5) What creature did Hazel help save from a kestrel?
6) What was the name of the gull that helped the rabbits?
7) Who is the trusted companion of El-ahrairah?
8) What does "fu Inle" mean?
9) What was the name of the farm Hazel and Company raided to free the hutch rabbits?
10) How did Holly escape from Efrafa?
11) How did the Efrafan council punish Blackavar?
12) How did Hazel hurt his leg?
13) What was Blackberry's plan to escape from the Efrafan Wide Patrols?
14) What is a hrududu?
15) At the trial of El-ahrairah, the jury was composed entirely of what?

These are tough, I admit. Live with it!

Villain Mania!

In recent years, I'm coming to enjoy the villains of fiction far more than the heroes. Villains get to have real character flaws, and they don't have to spend time apologizing for them, or trying to hug and cry and learn and grow. Villains are flawed, but they want to rule the world/enslave humanity nonetheless, and I admire their moxie. Let's examine some villains and why I like them.

Stripe: He's the lead critter from "Gremlins", and he rocks. Why? Because he thinks that wrecking stuff, killing people, and working on the side of chaos is funny. He doesn't apologize for thinking so, either, and he remains constantly "in the moment" and is at peace with his destructive tendencies. There's something almost Zen-like about his malice, and who among us doesn't want to be Zen-like?

Drusilla: In case you don't know, she's the insane clairvoyant vampire from the second season of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer." If she were a good guy, her insanity would only make her annoying, but because she's evil it makes her cool. You don't know from moment to moment whether she's going to like the flowers you gave her, collapse into a weeping puddle because they're yellow, or tear off your head because there's a bug on it. Best of all, she doesn't know either. Every day with Dru is the spin of a roulette wheel, with strangely accurate foretellings on one side and purposeless mayhem on the other.

Zim: He's the alien from "Invader Zim", who, like Darth Vader, nurtures the dream of intergalactic conquest. However cool Darth may have been, you got the feeling (vindicated in "Return of the Jedi") that he never really liked being a bad guy. Oh, he went through the motions, choking this officer, destoying that rebel base, but deep down you knew he'd really rather be playing volleyball. Zim, however, truly enjoys his work. He goes at his inventions and schemes with a zeal most of us summon only when planning how we're going to pig down that package of Tandy Takes. Admittedly, he's grossly incompetent and deeply foolish, but he has passion and a maniacal laugh. Be honest; if you could trade all your competence for total delight in your work and a maniacal laugh, wouldn't you do it and count yourself lucky? I rest my case.

One more thing: Villains get to take cheap shots at the heroes and not feel bad about it. Sign me up.

My right to party!

I actually never claimed a right to party, but I got a party nonetheless! It was a totally tubular 80's party, with actual 80's music and outfits, down to pink taffeta underskits and crimped hair. There was tasty cake (chocolate, naturally), cheezium, and an awesome 80's "Name That Tune" game which my team won only narrowly. Curse Amy and her encyclopedia mind! We also got to identify 80's songs from written lyrics, kindly provided by Tim, an activity at which Sam proved frighteningly adept. Curse Sam and his hip British father! I got many delightful presents, such as a plush "Alien" face-hugger, a mini Lite Brite game, and the entire run of "V - The Series" on DVD. Curse Sean and his knowledge of my V-obsession!

This party was well timed, as my life recently has been work, class, and league. I've been getting rather twitchy from the pace, and Dan's been really patient about dealing with me, but this party was a handy steam valve. With cake.

P.S. I wondered out loud if a plush facehugger would spawn a plush Alien, and if said plush Alien would be unable to burst from one's stomach in a hideous fashion. Star then pointed out that, even if they could, plush Aliens could never take on Predator. I concur.

Fear of a Dumb Nation

Is it just me, or is there a rising tide of anti-intellectualism in this nation? Nah...it's not just me. You can see this in the presidential campaigns, in which Bush presents himself as a regular guy and Kerry as a smarter-than-thou elite. There are two things wrong with that assertion. First, nobody named "Bush" is a regular guy. GWB's father was a president, and his family is rich as hell. That doesn't make anyone a regular guy in my book. Second, so what if Kerry is really smart? Isn't that what we want in a president? I don't propose that high intelligence is the only quality a good president should possess, but for Pete's sake, it's at least one of them.

I guess it's an outgrowth of the media society in which we live. News is hollowed out, re-packaged, and re-shaped to be short, simple, and easy to remember, and that in turn has shaped the way we view our political candidates. We prefer slogans to sophisticated strategy, which IMO explains by George Bush is in the Oval Office and not running the pumps at an Amoco. There's a difference between a simple approach and a simplistic approach, folks. One includes reason and forethought; the other does not.

B-B-Boston!

I am long back from Beantown (or the Hub, as I understand we're supposed to call it), and I can report that it's a neat city. It's small, admittedly (population: 600,000), but it's certainly more visually attractive than Philadelphia. It's also got that old-city look and feel, which means it's walkable. Well, it would be walkable if the "walk" lights actually came on more than once every fifteen minutes. A travel guide Dan bought advised vistors to jaywalk, and it was good advice; otherwise, you get nowhere.

We had so-so Chinese food, great Thai food, and lots of yummy ice cream. Our hotel was nice, although the airconditioner was noisy and super-powered, resulting in waking up lots at night to a frigid room. The convention was fun, too, particularly because I got an eyeful of geeks who make even me feel mainstream and manly. And that's not an easy thing to do.

Fearful Thoughts

Ugh...I've been trying to give some thought to what will happen should His Fraudulency retain the White House after November, and I find myself unable to do so. Just incapable of imagining another four years under the wandering, blustery, incompetent guidance of this fool.

Iraq, on which we have spent tens of billions of dollars (at least) invading and subduing and rebuilding, is now sliding towards something that is certainly not democracy. We're cutting deals with religious fanatics who most certainly do not support American ideals to keep the peace in a nation we invaded based on questionable, stovepiped evidence. Even worse, given the paucity of evidence that links Iraq to the al-Qaeda terrorists, by invading Iraq we have struck a blow in the war on...nothing. Finally, in a fever of reckless endangerment, Bush has removed the necessity of terrorists traveling across thousands of miles of oceans to kill Americans, but instead has served them up an all-you-can-kill smorgasbard in the form of 150,000 US soldiers.

Once upon a time, it was said that Republicans supported fiscal prudence, but His Fraudulency has managed to send that myth by the wayside with giant tax cuts for the wealthy while expanding spending on the Iraq boondoggle referenced above. Speaking of myth-shattering, there's a story that Republicans support the military, but we see that "the military" refers not to soldiers and their families, but rather the giant corporations that manufacture weapons and other military accoutrement.

Finally, Bush, who promised to be "a uniter, not a divider", has managed to polarize this nation over social issues in a way I have never before seen. He's talking about amending the constitution to illegalize something that's legal almost nowhere. He's opposing funding for stem-cell research, even though a number of Republicans, including the widow of conservative icon Ronald Reagan support it.

This is probably very unkind of me, but I cannot imagine why anyone who's not rich, white, straight, and Christian would vote for this man. Just can't. If we keep this barking idiot around for another four years...well, we're getting exactly what we deserve.

Favorite lyrics

Ever have a lyric you really liked? I do, and here are some of 'em:

"You're like a winter without the flu.
You're the best exhibit in the boyfriend zoo.
In a Hardy Boy's mystery you're the greatest clue
Though I've always been partial to Nancy Drew."
- Bootlickers, "Sure of You"

"You're unforgiven, so go on living
Knowing that I've unforgiven you.
And my Thanksgiving came the day I saw it was OK to unforgive you."
- Go-Go's, "Unforgiven"

"If I had a dollar for every single time I fought her I'd buy a handgun,
But that couldn't shoot away the bullseye that she made on my heart."
- Jellyfish, "Baby's Coming Back"

"Everyone can see what's going on
They laugh 'cause they know they're untouchable,
And not because what I said was wrong."
- Sinead O'Connor, "The Emperor's New Clothes"

"Now I'm leaving, you can find out how much better things can get
And if it helps, I'd say I feel a little worse than I did when we met."
- Dar Williams, "As Cool As I Am"

You're thinking right now, "Wow...I could have vomited a more interesting post than this." Mission accomplished.

Cell out

That's what I feel like, because I recently got a cell phone.

Yes, it's true. Dan pointed out that such a device will be incredibly useful when we're in Boston in September, particularly because we may not be together all the time. We picked it out last week, and I've been carrying it around, feeling like the most trend-following, sellout corporate tool imaginable. I've also been manic about making sure the ringer is off during inappropriate periods (movies, at restaurants). I may not keep the damned thing, but I've got it. However, I pledge to follow these rules of cell phone etiquette:

- The person in front of me is more important than the person on the phone. When out with a friend, I will answer my cell phone only if the need is pressing, and after excusing myself for doing so. When I go out with friends it's because I want their company, not to answer the damned phone.

- Keep it quiet. Nobody wants to hear my phone ring, nor do they want to hear the intimacies of my conversations on it. I will make certain the ringer is just loud enough for me to hear it, and I will only conduct conversations in the most private nook or corner available.

- The phone is my slave, not the other way around. Just because I sometimes carry a phone with me does not mean I must always heed its call, and I will not bend to the expectations of others who feel differently. I got through 34 years of life without being on call 24-7, thank you very much, and that qualifies me to ignore the phone whenever I damn well please.

I still feel trendy, but in a principled way.

My Message to Our Leaders

I've been thinking about politics lately, and I've come up with a new philosophy. To those politicians who would like to represent me: Don't stand up for my values. My values are fine, and if they aren't, I'll take care of them myself. All I want you to do is to make government equitable, effective, and efficient. So, my specific advice to you is...

Stop reinforcing traditional values (or any values, for that matter), because you'll wind up doing nothing except wasting alot of time and tax dollars. Don't fight for God, please, because I think an omnipotent being is more than capable of fighting for himself without relying upon the democratic process. Don't strengthen families, because you'll just wind up misdefining them and alienating half the nation. Just collect fair taxes, spend them wisely, and don't blow up anything or anyone unless you really need to. That's all.

No longer "no class"

I am starting a class in a few weeks, the first step in obtaining a graduate certificate in technical writing. Technical writing isn't an easy field to break into, but it pays pretty well if you do it right. Hopefully, I will fall into that category, and thus earn much money with which to keep the gold brocade coming.

The whole thing's gotten me thinking about the dumb things I hated about college, the foremost of which were instructors who required attendance and yet didn't give you positive credit for it. I had a history class in which you got only three excused absences; after that, you lost one letter grade for every three absences that followed. Showing up 100% got you nothing, of course. Well, I complained about this to a then-coworker (I worked part-time as a foot messenger), and she suggested that in retaliation I steal the class sign-in sheet.

Could I really do that? Sure, she said. When the sheet comes around to you, she told me, just stick it in your textbook and go on with class. When class is over, she advised, just leave immediately before you have to answer awkward questions. Now, you have to remember that I used to be very quiet and shy (a long time ago), so the idea of being this "rebellious" was pretty radical to me. However, I was so angry at the attendance policy that I decided to do it. Next class, I slipped the sign-in sheet quietly into my textbook, and then trembled for 50 minutes, waiting for someone to decry me in stentorian tones. It was like "The Telltale Heart", if the heart had been a piece of paper and the protaganist a lame-ass, nervous, petty thief.

As soon as class ended, I fled the room, and on my way out I heard the professor ask if anyone had the sign-in sheet. I immediately panicked and began formulating my strategy. I knew I couldn't safely leave the sheet in my backpack, lest he search it, so I folded up the sheet and stuffed it in my shoe. Of course, that wouldn't do, because he might order me to remove my shoes. (College professors often strip-search students, you see.) So I stuffed the folded-up sheet into my underwear, craftily deciding that if he checked my shoe he was OK, but if he checked my underwear it qualified as molestation. All this folding and stuffing was going on in a crowded hallway, mind you.

Needless to say, the professor did not track me down, so I endured a morning-full of that crotch-scratching sign-in sheet for nothing. He did, however, keep a tight eye on the sheet from then on out, which validated my view of the entire matter as some kind of Indiana Jones adventure. The point of this story is...well, I don't really know what it is, except that the next time I plan to steal a sign-in sheet, I am wearing boxers.

(BTW, when I said I was a foot messenger, I didn't mean that I delivered feet. I just walked on feet. My own.)

Artists to whom you should listen

Before I get started, let me say that I've lately become very averse to ending sentences with prepositions. I realize that, in the scheme of things, a post-sentence preposition ranks just above pink lint on the Things to Eradicate list, but for some reason it matters to me.

Anyway, I've decided to list a few of my favorite artists. Have at it.

Jill Sobule: If I were a singer-songwriter, I'd write songs just like Jill's. They tell these neat little stories that don't mean very much, but then it's been said that although the things we do don't matter very much, it's so very important that we do them. I glad Jill Sobule does them. Jill's downside is that her Web site is kind of annoying, but I guess no one's perfect.

Dar Williams: She's this I-majored-in-tofu-at-Vassar kind of lady, but her songs aren't the least bit froofy. Her lyrics are intelligent, and they make you think about the songs long after the CD has ended.

Jane Wiedlin: Former Go-Go's guitarist, I have always had a soft spot for Jane, who works so hard for so little. Her last album, Kissproof World, sold only about 1,000 copies, which means that after buying one CD, I own a significant portion of the print run. Ouch. JW's not everyone's cup of tea (she has a very pixie-ish voice), but I find her a quirky delight. Given the low circulation of her albums, I also find her a secret delight.

(In case you didn't get it from context, "froofy" can be defined as snobbish, artsy, or otherwise high-falutin'.)

The Dreaded Political Rant

What the fuck is wrong with this country?!? A man with a questionable military record, a history of failing upwards in business, and a well-documented alcohol problem is actually sitting in the Oval Office and acting like he won 50 states when he needed the help of the Supreme Court to squeak into office. It's a credit to the Republican spin machine that a long-time U.S. senator who won three Purple Hearts in active combat duty is actually on the defensive in the military service debate against this man, who leapfrogged over thousands of applicants to get into the Texas Air National Guard, and whose service to that organization has yet to be satisfactorily proven.

I could go on and on, but I'll cut to the point, which is that it's all our fault. That's right. Bush may have sleazed into office via the Supreme Court, but if the voters hadn't had their heads up their asses he wouldn't even have gotten past the GOP primaries by shamelessly slandering John McCain. Bush couldn't have won Florida if every poor, black, female, and gay Floridian had realized that the GOP hates them and registered that realization at the polls. Sure, the politicians suck, but let's keep in mind who votes for them. We do. I'm not sure if that's really subtle masochism or really obvious foolishness, but there you have it.

Viva la Montreal!

It's 11:30 and I am eating biscuits in my room whilst blogging. One of the nice things about being an adult is that there's no one to tell me I can't eat biscuits a) late at night; and b) in my bedroom.

But I digress. Montreal rocks! It's very walkable (always a hit with me), its sun sets in the north, and it's filled with openminded, friendly people who become even friendlier when you make an attempt at communicating in French. I relied on a few stock phrases to get me through:

Quel est le prix? (What is the price?)
Si vou plait donne moi... (Please give me...)
Je me suis perdu. (I am lost.)

When all else failed:
Je ne comprends pas. (I don't understand)

People there are better dressed than those in the States, particularly the men. Apparently, male Montrealers understand that straight men are not emasculated by clothes that are a) well-fitted and not three times too baggy; and b) dyed colors other than black, gray, or dark blue. I saw men in pants that were pink, red, peach and even bright blue. Of course, this fashion adeptness threw off my gaydar, but I am sure that after a few weeks or months I could reset to the Montreal frequency.

The only downside to this vacation was the fact that I forgot things on a regular basis. So remarkable was this memory shutdown that I thought I'd memorialize it in song as follows. (Sing to the tune of "My Favorite Things.")

A novel for passing the time on the airplane
One brush for taming my hair when it's insane
An email reminding me what I should bring
These are a few of my forgotten things

One map of Montreal marked with hot places
Two terry washcloths for cleaning our faces
Lastly, my MAC card, left in the machine
These are a few of my forgotten things

Fortunately, I did not forget my passport, so I was at least able to get into and out of the country without too much hassle. Note to self: Next time, make a list and tape it to your forehead a week before getting on the plane.

BTW, I did indeed find a pair of leather pants that will look great with the maroon Londo-Mollari vest I got last month. Yay me!

Headin' North

Yep, that's right. Tomorrow morning I fly to Montreal, home of cheap Canadian money and (hopefully) cheap, cool clothes. I intend to shop like mad on this vacation; I've been jonesing for a pair of leather pants and Philadelphia ain't the place to get 'em.

I found out that the plane in which Ed and I will ride is a double- prop. That's a first for me, and I'm wondering if I need to settle any philosophical questions before I board. Just in case I don't come back, I want my books to go to Dan, my furniture to Sean, and I want everyone to fight over what little money I'll leave behind. Considering the paltry amount that is, I expect the conflict will be as titanic as, say, a red bolster pillow doing battle against a toaster.

If I Were A God...

Believe it or not, this came up during pickup Saturday, and it's stayed on my mind long enough to make it to the blog. Now you must suffer it! The question: If you were a god, of what would you be the god? My answer: near-successes.
 
I know that sounds odd, but think about it. How many near-successes do you encounter in your daily life? A train just missed, a lottery ticket one digit off a winner, a dropped cup of coffee almost caught...there are too many to list. Each time one of those things happened to someone, he/she would think of me, thus ensuring that My divine name would ne'er be forgotten. That's certainly a better deal than you'd get being, say, the god of space shuttle launches that happen on odd-numbered days.
 
Also, after watching my brother play Black & White, I've learned that being a deity can be a real hassle. This one wants a good job, that one wants his leprosy healed...there's no end to the demands people place upon the divine. However, as the god of near-successes, no one would appeal for My attention; in fact, they'd beg for My neglect. Think about that: Millions of people offer Me rich sacrifice on a daily basis to do absolutely nothing but ignore them. I ignore lots of people in my life, but as a god I'd get paid for it. People send Me all kinds of cool stuff just so that I'll look the other way when they're interviewing for a job or bidding on a house or what have you. No work and sacrifice? That's a deal I can get behind.
 
Being the god of near-success would not be all sloth and avarice, however; there'd be a healthy amount of whimsical sadism as well. "Hey Mr. Sleazebag Lawyer, you almost managed to blow that stop sign without incident, but here comes that truck just a wee bit early." Mortals would never know when I would exercise My divine right to bitch-slap them, thus ensuring a steady flow of rich sacrifice. See? Even sadism has its uses.

Profile of an Interviewer

I've been thinking of changing employers, and to that end I registered today with an employment agency. I don't find agencies particularly useful, but this one was free (for job-seekers) so I figured I'd give it a shot. The experience got me thinking about job interviews, and about the different kinds of interviewers I have met. I'll list 'em, and the ways to deal with them.

The Sphinx: This interviewer asks you a question, and then stares at you expressionlessly even after you've finished your answer and the silence spins out. Don't be fooled into filling that silence with more information, because that's just what she wants. By maintaining a stony silence, the Sphinx is hoping you'll volunteer something you shouldn't. Therefore, when you've sufficiently answered her question, simply return her stare and live with the silence, and let her speak first. Trust me...it works.

The Bumbler: This interviewer really doesn't know how to conduct an interview, and he sort of blunders his way along, sometimes asking you questions, sometimes talking of irrelevant things. Beware losing your focus, which is easy to do when the Bumbler has the stage. Since the Bumbler has zero control over the interview, you can use his ineptness to your advantage by politely taking control yourself.

The Chatterbox: Similar to the Bumbler, the Chatterbox isn't the best interviewer. She talks on and on about everything and anything even tangentially related to the job, whether or not you need to hear it. However, since the Chatterbox's loquacity knows no bounds, you can sometimes find out more about the job and the company than she meant to reveal. Ask leading questions and she'll give you ten times the answer. Since more information means you can make a better choice, the Chatterbox is definitely a boon to the skilled interviewee.

The Adversary: Since this is the most dangerous interviewer of all, I'll spend more time on this one. The Adversary regards you as a potential enemy, and he will do everything in his power to trip you up or twist your words into something negative. If you say you are skilled at working independently, he'll ask if that means you have a problem with authority. If you point out your extensive experience, he'll wonder if that means you're too set in your ways and open to new ideas and methods. In short, the Adversary is out to get you.

There are ways to deal with the Adversary, however, and none of them involve telling him to kiss your ass. Try these:

1) Your words belong to you. You know what you said and what you meant, and if he tries to twist either one, politely and firmly correct him. If he persists, keep politely correcting him, as many times as it takes.

2) Don't get riled up. The Adversary wants to rattle you into making a mistake, but you can cheat his hope by staying cool and collected. Take a deep breath between his question and your answer, and speak slowly and carefully. It's hard to argue with someone who's upbeat and confident, and if you are both of those it will be hard for the Adversary to provoke you.

3) Shut your pie-hole. The Adversary is ready to pounce upon any misstep, so if you keep your answers short and your comments spare, he'll have less room to prowl. Once you answer a question, shut your mouth, and if he wants to know more, he'll ask.

Hopefully, this has been instructive. If not, too bad!

Out and NOT proud

As you may have heard, there are persistent rumors that the Washington Blade intends to out gay Congressmen (and their gay staffers) who support the Federal Marriage Amendment. If it's true, I say, "Faster, pussycat...kill! Kill!"

I normally disdain involuntary outing, since it can devastate our own community, but this situation is a bit different. We're not talking about gays who vote for Bush, or who are members of the Log Cabin Republicans. We are talking about gay people in positions of power who by day strike a direct blow for the forces of bigotry, and by night expect to play in the gay scene with anonymity. Sorry, but people like that have forfeited the courtesy the community normally affords to individuals of coming out at their own time. Therefore, those gay publishers who choose to show these people for the hypocrites they are fall solidly in the "justified" column in my scorebook. Those gay politicians choose to stand behind the FMA are the enemies of the gay community, and they should be treated accordingly. I have zero sympathy for them. None.

Dear Universe,

I am dissatisfied with the current state of affairs, and I thought I'd write you a letter pointing out some improvements you may not have considered.

- Broccoli is my favorite vegetable, yet it seems designed to get in between my teeth. Please correct that, and not by making my teeth fall out.

- Littering bugs me. I recommend altering the laws of physics so that whatever refuse (of any kind) a person deposits anywhere but in the proper receptacle will immediately appear in that person's bed.

- I know that spiders protect us from an overrun of insects, but I think it's possible to design an animal that can serve the same purpose without being eight-legged, hairy, and with more eyes than any creature has a right to.

- Although I really appreciate your chocolate, it would be much better if it contained no calories. Really.

- Cinema is cool. Way to go on that one.

- Swimming in the ocean would be much more appealing if seawater tasted more like milk and less like something unspeakably horrible.

- Straight people are nice, they are, and we need them for species propagation, but do they have to outnumber us so dramatically? A 50-50 split be more equitable, and would take care of the overpopulation problem quite handily.

- Milkshakes are also cool. Yay universe!

I know you're busy, so I'll leave it at that. Thanks for reading.

Apropos of Nothing

While listening to the weather forecast on the radio, I heard, "Friday: partly cloudy. Saturday: partly sunny." What's the difference? Did the meteorologist making the forecast just feel more optimistic about Saturday?

I Am a Liberal

During the last twenty years, the word “liberal” has become an insult and a source of shame. Bah, I say! Bah! I am a flaming liberal, and unrepentantly so. I like it. As a liberal, I believe that…

- Government should stay out of private and moral matters. Private citizens should be free to marry, have sex, seek or avoid medical treatment, and otherwise conduct their personal lives without undue official interference.
- There should be a strict wall of separation between church and state. Religion has in my opinion flourished at least in part because it operates independently of the government, and government has become more evenhanded for the same reason. Keeping religion and government well clear of each other has contributed to the wonderful diversity of our society.
- Government regulation is not the source of all evil, but has been and can continue to be a beneficial influence upon our society. Child labor laws, health and safety standards, and clean air and other pro-environment regulations have without question contributed to the health and well being of our society.
- The primary goal of the criminal justice system is not to wreak vengeance, but to protect society from those members who choose to make themselves dangerous, and to rehabilitate those who choose to be rehabilitated. This view does not preclude society from taking a strong stance against crime, but should temper the laws we make and the punishments we levy.
- Equality under the law, regardless of race, sex, religion, ability and sexual orientation should be sacrosanct, and honored by government on local, state, and national levels.
- Although personal responsibility is the primary determinant in the success of each individual, government can and should implement programs like public education and universal health care that benefit us all, directly or indirectly, and make success easier to achieve.
- Taxation should be progressive, with those of greater means sharing a greater part of the burden.
- Elections are the mechanism that make our democracy work, and one of our top priorities should be ensuring that elections are fair, accessible, and reflective of public opinion.

There. That’s not so bad, is it?

Is it just me?

Has anyone ever heard the saying, "Once you pay Dane-geld, you never get rid of the Dane?" I used that one on my brother and he looked at me as if I'd suddenly sprouted a second head. In case you're wondering, it's (paraphrased) from a Rudyard Kipling poem, the name of which I don't recall. This ignorance kind of ruins my righteousness, I realize. Argh.

Anyway, in olden times it seems that Danish raiders who preyed on England could be bought off...but only for a time. Once they knew you'd pay them to stay their hand, they'd make you pay again and again. Better to resist them, even at the cost of lives, then let them shake you down. I agree with this policy, both in my personal life and in world politics, although I've never personally been attacked by any Danes. Hmm. That lack of experience kind of ruins the relevance I'm attempting to create. Argh again.

A Little Bit o'Trust

I'm not much into sharing, as is well known, but I've decided in a fit of uncharacteristic chattiness to share a few things about me you may not know. Here goes...

- I used to be quiet and shy, about 40 pounds heavier, with terrible taste in clothes. Everything I wore was too big, too wrong, and too badly coordinated.

- When I was 14 years old I got my orange belt in Tang Soo Do, which was my first-ever athletic activity and my first-ever award. During the test I had to spar a guy more than twice my age, and I put him against the wall so he couldn't do anything but defend. The heady rush of pride at this accomplishment was also first-ever.

- I have an extremely nasty temper when provoked. Fortunately, it takes alot to drive me over the edge, but once it happens I become demanding, uncompromising and harsh, with a knife-sharp tongue.

- The last fistfight I was in happened when I was about eleven. My cousin (whom I considered at the time to be ultra-cool) entrusted me with the coveted honor of guarding his jacket whilst he was smoking, and this kid threw it into a puddle. I was not and am not a fighter, but I distinctly recall putting the blocks to that kid but good. Ouch for him.

- The thought of getting old really frightens me.

Ugh...that last one was as personal as I get.

B-b-b-bad Movies!

Many people don't realize this, but despite my hoity-toitiness about movies, I occasionally willingly see bad ones. I don't mean Ed Wood bad; I mean big-ass Hollywood bad. Maybe it's that my id gets hold of me once in a while and drives me to the worst dreck Hollywood can offer. Who knows? I accept it as part of the miracle of being.

I left the office early Tuesday as I wasn't feeling well, and on the way home I stopped by the video store to appease my id. Here's what I got:

Deep Impact: Who knew a disaster movie could be so boring? Plot: Big-ass comet is heading straight towards Earth. Now, I'm not going to criticize the questionable science of "Deep Impact", because I am not a, uh, cometologist, but I will criticize the fact that the movie does nothing and goes nowhere. The characters' personal problems are annoying, the excitement isn't very exciting, and by the end I was rooting for the comet.

Jeepers Creepers 2: I rented the first one and found it surprisingly enjoyable on an intellectual level, but the sequel is idaliciously empty. Lots of cute shirtless guys under stress from a demon that wanted to eat them. Not too bad in a lobotomy sort of way.

Freddy vs. Jason: The Holy Grail of mind-candy, this was disappointingly dull. Apparently, the filmmakers forgot the lesson of the first movie, which is, "Bringing Freddy into this world doesn't kill him." This one didn't even have very many cute guys to redeem it, either, nor did it involve a bunch of cute one-liners from Freddy. ("What's the matter...feeling tongue-tied?") Also, watching Freddy fight Jason has all the tension of a Jesus-Prometheus death match. Prometheus can't die and and Jesus will keep rising three days after his death, so really what's the point? Feh, I say. Feh.

This weekend I plan to immerse myself in indie films, to cleanse the stain of Hollywood from my mind.

Advice...you ain't gettin' it!

Those who know me know that I rarely offer advice. In fact, Emmett has said on several occasions that my reservation is near Minbari levels, which I suppose is true. I am comfortable with telling people only what I think they need to know, and little else.

But back to advice. People offer advice in the same way they exhale: constantly and without thinking. Sure, they usually - but not always - mean well, but just as usually that advice is neither required nor desired, and it's often pretty damned foolish, and uninformed to boot. Sometimes people just like to hear themselves talk, and to feel important because they think they know better than you. And who takes even 10% of even the best advice? Do you know these people? I don't.

My experience is that the hardest thing about approaching a life problem is not finding the answer, but discovering the question. After that, the answer usually attends to itself. Therefore, on the rare occasions where I consent to advise, I restrict myself to helping the listener define the question, and then letting her discover her own answers. IMO that's a much more helpful approach then telling someone he should do this or that, as if I know his situation better than he does. Also, that method keeps me from sounding as if I have some direct path to the wisdom of the ages.

Let's review...

BAD ADVICE: That guy doesn't treat you right and you should just leave him.
GOOD ADVICE: It sounds as though you're not happy with the treatment you're receiving. Maybe you should think about just what treatment you'd like to receive, and then decide if you are likely to get that treatment from him.

As you can see, the BAD ADVICE assumes that the adviser knows the situation and can accurately direct the listener's action based on that knowledge. This approach can leave the listener feeling pressured and resentful. The GOOD ADVICE avoids making judgements on the listener's life, but instead tries to get the listener to reexamine the situation from a different perspective. This approach encourages the listener to rely upon his own judgement, leavened with a bit of objectivity.

I don't have a witty or inspiring way to end this post, so I will stop trying to think of one and just sign off.

If you had to do it again...

Now, don't think I'm expressing regret here, because I'm not. My life is what it is, and I'm not sure I'd have it any other way. Hell, given the way things were, I don't think it could have come out another way. Still, sometimes I wonder what I'd do were I catapulted back into my just-out-of-college self, knowing everything I know now.

I think I'd have saved up as much money as I could in six months or so, and then moved out of the area to someplace I'd never been and where I knew no one. Scary, yes, but it's a scare I could have used at the time. I would also have dyed my hair a freaky color, since at that point I could afford to work retail or for some strange publishing collective that would appreciate cobalt hair. I would definitely have come out earlier than I did, and explored the sides of my personality that at that time lay hidden.

I just realized that this post is edging close to personal revelations, so I'm going to cut it short. You'll get no true confessions from me.

A Promised Rant

You know what I don't like? SUVs. They suck, and those who purchase them should be ashamed. Here's why.

They're not all that safe. SUVs, which are built higher than other cars, have a higher center of gravity. This makes them especially prone to rollovers, which account for the plurality of the really serious injuries sustained in auto accidents. Some people think that rollovers only occur rarely or in extreme conditions, but the fact is that most rollovers occur when a vehicle is tripped. SUVs can (and do) trip over obstacles even as low as curbs, which are found on just about every street on which most people drive. Pretty dangerous, huh? Auto companies have touted four-wheel (FWD) drive, which most SUVs have, as some enormous safety feature, when in actuality four-wheel drive doesn't enhance safety. FWD doesn't help in stopping a vehicle (all four-wheel vehicles have "four-wheel stop"), but those to whom SUVs have been sold drive as if it does. That's a dangerous illusion, and one which the auto industry has been happy to promote. In addition, most SUVs lack crumple zones, which transfer the force of a collision as much as possible to the vehicle, and not the driver. Therefore, if you get into a collision with your SUV, your SUV might be fine, but you probably won't be. I don't know about you, but I like the fact that my car sacrifices itself to save me. I'm funny that way.

They are a danger to others. As I've already noted, SUVs are much higher than sedans, which means in a head-on collision, an SUV can easily climb right over the hood of a sedan to strike the windshield and the driver behind it. Same for a side collision, but replace "windshield" with "smaller, weaker side window." In addition, SUVs are built on steel frames and often lack crumple zones, which in a collision makes them big, heavy battering rams. They obscure your line of sight in traffic, since you can't see around them to notice traffic backing up ahead of you, or the changing of a traffic light. Who needs advance warning of traffic conditions, anyway?

They make the environment worse. SUVs suck down gas as if it's limitless, which it most certainly is not. Combine that with the fact that gasoline comes from oil, alot of which is held in the Middle East by people who hate Americans and you've got the perfect blend of foolishness and avarice.

They're status symbols. SUVs are touted as off-road vehicles, but how many people actually drive them off-road? (Driveways do NOT count as off-road.) Would anyone in his right mind really take the Cadillac Escalade or the Lincoln Navigator off-road? As to their hauling capacity, most of what I see hauled by SUVs are children and groceries, and these can be handled most satisfactorily by minivans. However, Americans like to feel rough and tough, so they buy vehicles they think are rough and tough. SUVs are purchased because of their cachet, nothing more. Anyone who says differently is lying or naive.

For those of you who own SUVs and are offended, too bad. I won't lecture to you in real life, but on my blog, my rules. And on my blog, SUVs are dangerous, gas-sucking, attention-getting monstrosities, and anyone who buys them should be slapped several times.

Shock and Awe

You know about the beheading video, and if you don't, crawl out from under the rock and tune into CNN. Oh, and get ready for a rant.

This administration, headed by His Fraudulency George W. Bush, has been the most destructive in my lifespan. Arrogance mixed with ignorance, with a healthy dash of political canniness, is a dangerous mixture, and that's what the Supreme Court gave us in 2000. Bush's White House makes me long for the days of Ronald Reagan, and I never thought I'd say that. We have to get George Bush out of office. If you are as brassed off as I am about the damage Bush has done to our nation, please, please, please register to vote in November and help send that bastard right back to Texas, where he can only damage a state that likes him anyway. If you don't know how to register, email me and I will help you in whatever way I can. That's a promise.

Missed it and don't care

I missed Poetry on Your Blog Day and I don't care. I don't like poetry very much, if truth be told. Poetry sometimes makes me feel superficial, as if I'm just too stupid to get the point. Take the poem Sarcasmo posted, about the damn plums in the refrigerator. I have never been able to imagine why that poem is better than any other. Is there something I'm missing, or is that poem basically a wordier version what I might scrawl on a Post-It note? I'm not faulting anyone who likes the poem, but I just don't get it.

Ironically, while I was in college I experimented with writing poetry, and I actually enjoyed it, surprise surprise. Of course, most of what I wrote was jokey, like this:

I think that I shall never see a poem fair as my ID
You point me out when I am strange
A beacon true if I should range
And if, by chance, I car should squash these outer bones and inner mush
Your firmness then in plastic tones proclaims to whom this jelly owns
Oh photo ID! Oh photo ID!
Oh grasshopper and katydid!
May nature never craft by touch a credit card I love so much

I actually turned in that poem in a college course, and to my utter shock the instructor loved it. He went on and on about the meter and blah blah, and I'm thinking, "Umm, I was just making fun of poetry." See? I didn't get poetry then, and I don't get it now.

You know what I like?

- Sweet Tarts. These are sweet, sweet, evil. They come in a variety of colors and flavors, they're packed in a handy little roll, and they have this cool chalky consistency that makes them even neater to grind between your teeth. Or my teeth, anyway.

- Jill Sobule. Her songs are simple and yet interesting, and she doesn't set out to prove how smart she is. She doesn't have to. Were I a singer-songwriter, and female, I'd be Jill Sobule.

- Chicken. Fry it, bread it, bake it, barbecue it. Put it on bread, under cheese, beside rice, or stuff it with ham. Serve it hot or cold, in a plate or directly into my grubby little hands, I don't care. I'll eat it and like it.

- Franka Potente. The star of "Run Lola Run", "Anatomie", and "The Princess and the Warrior", Potente is sexy, smart, and driven. In "Lola" she had bright red hair, too. Yes.

- Ultimate Frisbee. My one and only sport, I just can't get enough of Ultimate. It doesn't take much skill to join, the rules are easy to learn, and it's self-refereed, which helps reduce on-field tension. I've been playing for seven years, and I find it as enticing now as I did then. There's nothing quite like the feeling of a well-timed flick that skims a foot above the ground to thwack satisfyingly into your teammate's hands just inside the zone.