Of idle cats and ironic writers

So, avid readers, your favorite feline got laid off this week. This is the first time in my professional career that I’ve gone under the axe, and so far…I’ve kind of enjoyed it. I’ve been sleeping late, getting housework done, and playing with the kids. It’s felt like a vacation up to this point. Of course, the part of me that likes having insurance and living indoors is a nervous pile of twitching goo, but it’s the smaller part right now.

I knew it was coming – the signs were there – so I was prepared. I’d spent the previous day cleaning out my desk, copying personal files onto a disc, and writing notes so my outstanding responsibilities could be taken care of.

Part of me is relieved. The company I worked for never seemed interested in meeting its full potential. Consequently, we employees couldn’t, either. At least now I have the time to work on getting my own business off the ground.

I joined an online group that brings freelancers and clients together. It’s sort of an eBay-esque arrangement, where businesses post the jobs that they need done, and the members bid on doing them. It’s a good arrangement.

I was looking through the bids on an editing job, and stumbled across one that seemed kind of low. Out of curiosity (you know how we cats are with curiosity), I went to the bidder’s home page.

This is what I found:

Eunikimagination
A writing camileon
Minimum Hourly Rate: $25/hr
Summary
The effective use of words and grammer are my criteria in captivating the mind and complete interest of the targeted readers. As an avid reader, am very critical and strive for perfection. i posses a wealth of knowledge, vocabulary, wild and creative imagination that allows me to customize my writing to your specifications.

I started to send this fellow a note listing all of the mistakes in his profile, but then I thought: “This is my competition. Fuck ‘im.” In the interest of getting a chuckle at his expense, though, I’ll list all of the problems here.

First off – don’t be clever with your name. This isn’t MySpace or some Yahoo chat room, this is a business. If you absolutely cannot resist being cutesy, don’t pick a name where the first bit can be pronounced to infer that you have no genitalia.

You misspelled ‘chameleon’, Mr. Writer.

You misspelled ‘grammar’, Mr. Writer.

You have a subject/verb disagreement right off the bat. “The effective use” is, not “are”. And when you change that, make sure to change "criteria" to 'criterion'. Moron.

You use ‘reader’ twice very close together; it’s awkward.

You dropped the ‘I’ before “am very critical and strive for perfection.” Love irony, don’t you?

You failed to capitalize the first word in the final sentence which, given that it’s the pronoun “I”, is a double party-foul.

You shouldn’t rely on Word’s spell-check to catch your mistakes. ‘Possess’ means to own something. “Posses” is the plural of ‘posse’.

The last sentence is incomplete.

I think $25 an hour is a little too much to be asking, Slick. I wouldn’t hire you to write a fucking grocery list. But by all means, please continue to market yourself amongst the rest of us. You make us look even better.

Seven Windows of my Soul

Found this post over at Oh, The Joys, one of the blogs I try to read daily. That should have been a link, but I can't remember the HTML and I'm feeling lazy. It's already linked over there to the right, so forgive the lack of redundancy.

I liked the idea, so I jumped on board. I intentionally refused to read any other participants' posts until I had done this one, because I didn't want to be influenced by their interpretation. That's the way cool thing with the blogging shenanigans - these little ideas take off and grow a thousand different ways. It's like kudzu, but it doesn't swallow telephone poles.

Any of my four readers are welcome to participate. You just have to add the links below to the bottom of your post and let us know to add yours to the list.


As they occurred to me:


Seven Windows of My Soul



1. Gothic - the dark things in my psyche. Rather than letting them plague my nights, I've made friends with them.



2. Porthole - the murky glimpses I get of future potential. (Yes, that is the Nautilus; the coolest submarine ever.)



3. Bay - watching my children grow and learn, and enjoying finding out who they are.



4. Stained Glass - appreciating created beauty, be it architecture, music, or art.


5. Ticket - travel, and the renewal of the spirit it brings.



6. Clerestory – the trust that Life’s not random, even though I can’t see through to the other side.




7. Bricked - the parts of my personality I don't like.

Other windows participants:

jen with seven windows of my soul

Jessica with Eleven Windows

Tracy from Tiny Mantras

Defiant Muse from Musings...

LSM with Windows

Mrs. Prufrock

Sugarplum's Mom

jakelliesmom

Oh, boy.

So Kentucky rep Geoff Davis said about Obama, "That boy's finger does not need to be on the button." And of course, the congregation of Our Lady of the Perpetually Offended got their panties in a twist over this supposed insult.

Look, folks, I’m from the South, and I can tell you unequivocally that Rep. Davis was not being racist. If you’re going to use “boy” as a racist term, it’s used as a proper noun, as in “What y’all lookin’ at, Boy?” By putting the adjective “that” in front of it, he changed the context from a potentially racist one to a general term Southerners use to refer to anyone with a Y-chromosome, regardless of age. Sometimes, you can drop the adjective, and your listener still knows it’s there, as in “Boy’s as dumb as a stump.”

This reminds me of the incident where one of Obama’s staff told three boys to quit climbing a nearby tree “like a bunch of monkeys.” Seems harmless, right? She was concerned for the boys’ safety. Those boys just happened to be black, so their mother blew it all out of proportion, crying “Racist!” as soon as the cameras showed up. I think the only thing that kept this woman from being lynched on the spot was the fact that she’s of Mexican descent, and the Liberals couldn’t decide which minority would be more oppressed. Even so, she received a $75 fine from her Homeowner’s Association. That’s fucking scary all by itself.

I wonder what the reaction would’ve been if Rep. Davis had said Obama was just “a good ol’ boy.” That’s generally understood to be a compliment, and has the same “offensive” word in it.

Words are neutral, people. It’s the intent behind them that frames their meaning, and intent’s a pretty difficult thing to establish sometimes. If I use the word “faggot,” am I denigrating a homosexual, or am I using an obscure term for a bundle of kindling? If I say “bitch,” is that an insult to women, or a reference to my pregnant dog? If I type “nigger” in my blog, am I being racist, or quoting a randomly-chosen rap star? It’s all about the context, and despite the fact it was a Republican from Kentucky saying it, “that boy” ain’t racist in this context.

Boy, oh boy.

Change the world? Nah. Change the station.

He sits down in the comfortable chair behind the microphone, flips a switch to coax the “ON AIR” sign to life, takes a breath…

Hey there, guys and gals; dudes and dudettes; kids of all ages! It’s time once again for the Electric Tower Power Hour! Playing the tracks from the stack of wax! Spinning the platters that matter! Off of the charts and into your hearts! From seven-thirty ‘til your clothes are dirty! I’m the cat that’ll take you back! So grab a glass of something that’ll make you feel like dancing as we jump into the Wayback Machine and boogie!

~ahem~

Let’s talk about music, shall we? It tames the savage beast, they say. It’s also one of the three aspirations of the “good life” (the other two being wine and women). Seems that we’re hardwired to create and respond to music – from lofty liturgical pieces to dirty dancing and block-rocking bass beats. Full orchestras to one guy pushing a slide guitar. A capella doo-wop quartets to talk box-driven arena rock.

Do you feel like I do?

I have a theory that’s been consistently borne out whenever I remember to pay attention. I believe that everybody has one song that they slip into whenever their brain goes into neutral. It keeps the neurons running hot so you can do a quick boot when you have to rejoin the world. Doesn’t matter if you even like the song, there’s just something about that particular arrangement of notes that fits snugly into the grooves of your mind. This is different from an earworm, though it operates on similar principles. The difference is that you’re usually very much aware of (and annoyed by) earworms. The phenomenon I’m referring to is one where you aren’t even aware that you’re singing, humming, whistling, or tapping out the song that is apparently track #1 on the soundtrack of your life. Mine is usually Pachelbel’s “Canon in D”. Not trying to be pretentious or anything; that’s just the one I catch myself humming. On occasion, my wife will burst out with the chorus to “Margaritaville,” much to her annoyance, because she hates Jimmy Buffet. A coworker of mine whistles that tune you usually hear associated with circuses. If it has a name, I don’t know it, though Three Dog Night used it as the opening to “The Show Must Go On.”

I think it’s fair to say that music in general has made society better. It provides a cultural mirror to observe ourselves in, sets the appropriate tone for certain occasions, or just gives us something to listen to while we fold laundry to help tolerate the drudgery. The reason this has been on my mind lately is that I saw recently where Neil Young has given up on any music changing the world.

“I think that the time when music could change the world is past," he told reporters. ”I think it would be very naive to think that in this day and age."

I think Neil’s just being pissy because it wasn’t any of his songs. I hope he’ll remember a Southern Man don’t need him around anyhow. (Since he’s Canadian, that means everyone in the States.)

Personally, I’ve always thought Mr. Young was too damned whiny. I always get the feeling that he’s wagging his finger at his listeners (until he chopped one of them off, anyway). It’s not the genre; I can groove on the folk rock style. I like Jim Croce, James Taylor, Gordon Lightfoot, etc. I don’t even mind the pie-in-the-sky idealism of the 60s groups (that cultural mirror I mentioned earlier). Neil - and by extension, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young - just always sounds shrill to me. I’ll admit that Young is a good lyricist. I like Cinnamon Girl, (and just to note, if you haven’t heard Type O Negative’s cover of that, you’re missing out), I’d just rather read his stuff than listen to him bloviate at me.

The problem is that no two people have the exact same taste in music. Even if you both like a song, you’re going to get different things out of it, so how can music change anything towards a common goal when it changes people in different ways?

I think this is why remaking songs is more accepted than remaking movies. Movies are successful because the director gets the audience to buy in to his realization of the material. When that many people agree on something, remaking it is very tricky. There’s an agreed-upon template for how that story should be presented – from the wardrobe and lighting to the mannerisms of the characters. Even the subtle things like the types of lenses used can affect the presentation. Think about it – would 300 have been as successful if it had been rotoscoped, like A Scanner Darkly? Probably not.

Songs, by contrast, are open to interpretation. Artists can play with scales and keys, rhythm and tempo – in effect, creating a song that is at once familiar and brand new. A lot of successful bands got their start doing covers, introducing their own material once the audience agreed that they were worth listening to. I have a lot of covers in my collection: Alanis’ cover of Seal’s Crazy, the requisite versions of Tainted Love, and various Weird Al polka remixes. I have a version of Pour Some Sugar on Me by Emm Gryner that’s presented as a ballad, and a version of Mad World that was rewritten as a dark, emo-type song. The aforementioned Cinnamon Girl is in heavy rotation right now. They also cover Summer Breeze and Hit Me Baby One More Time. It’s worth a listen. Anytime you have a 6’6 ½” guy from Brooklyn with a voice than can blow out your subwoofer covering a Pop Tart hit, fun ensues.

Even though song covers are generally accepted, you still have to be careful. When Limp Bizkit covered Behind Blue Eyes, I enjoyed it right up to the point that he dropped the bridge of the song. Don’t edit, people. There are certain parts we expect to hear. It’s especially annoying when radio stations edit songs for length. I know you have to cover over “You’re such a fucking hypocrite” when you air Seether’s Fake It, but cutting Zakk Wylde’s solo from No More Tears really pisses me off. The whole song builds to that one fretburn, and I’m primed to headbang. When you cut it, I use that built-up adrenaline to punch the Scan button.

Another reason music won’t change the world is that there are too many categories. Rock, Classic Rock, Southern Rock, Oldies, Contemporary, Jazz, Swing, Marimba, Big Band, Zydeco, Classical, Techno, Trance, House, Rave, Trip Hop, Hip Hop, Rap, Gangsta Rap, Old School, Beat Box, Grunge, Alternative, Emo, Metal, Speed Metal, Thrash Metal, NuMetal, Death Metal, Goth Metal, Goth, Grave, Pop, Punk, Rockabilly, Psychobilly, Roadhouse, Country, New Country, Latin, Gospel, Disco, Folk, Bluegrass…and that’s just off the top of my head. If I had more than four readers, I’d be getting e-mails listing dozens that I forgot.

I seriously doubt Green Day is going to start a movement when people don’t even agree on which category they belong in.

Again, I just think Neil Young is jealous. If anyone’s music was going to change the world, Cliff Richard had the best chance. He holds the record for most singles sold (21 million), and has been credited on the most Top 40 hits (122). On the other hand, Elvis Presley holds the record for most continuous weeks on the Top 40 (1060), the longest span of hits (51 ½ years), longest continuous run on the Top 40 (135 weeks), most simultaneous Top 40 hits (7), most Top 10 hits (76) [Cliff Richard is second with 66], and the most new Top 40 hits in one year (12). I like Heartbreak Hotel as much as the next person, but it’s hardly a call to action like Do You Hear the People Sing from Les Miserables.

Even songs that deliberately attempt to change the world usually fall far short. We are the World only raised $63 million. Artists that participated were famously told to “check your egos at the door.” If they, by contrast, had just written a check for $1.5 million each, it would have made the same amount of money, and we wouldn’t have had to sit through ad nauseum airings. Ironically, Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young declined to participate. They also failed to participate in any of the three Band Aid efforts.

So much for changing the world, Neil.

Something Doesn't Add Up

Twice today, I had to deal with folks in a retailer position that couldn't do basic math.

Twice.

Now, I already know that writing is an endangered skill (lol!!!1! U gots no skillz, WTF!!?), but it seems that arithmetic isn't too far behind. I called an office supply store to price out business cards.

"How much for 200?"

"Well, it's $0.16 a sheet, and there are ten per sheet. Uhh...let me get a calculator."

"So...$3.20."

(Tapping in background) "That's right. And we charge $6.00 to cut them, so that'll be..." (more tapping)

She offered to design the cards for me. I declined.

On the way home, I stopped at the minimart to pick up some ice cream cones for the family. The cashier scanned them and told me my total was $3.98. I handed her a twenty. Somehow, in between ringing my total and taking my money, she managed to add another $1.05 to the cost. The register told her to give me $14.97 in change, and she started counting it out.

"Uhhh...that's the wrong change."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"My total was $3.98. You're counting out $14.97."

"Right."

"So I gave you a twenty."

"Right."

"Uhhh...no."

"Hold on. Let me find a calculator."

"It's $16.02."

"Huh?"

"$16.02. $3.98 from twenty is $16.02."

"But the register says $14.97."

"But $14.97 and $3.98 are only $18.95."

"Well I don't know. I've only worked here a week."

"..."

At that point, I was willing to take the $14.97, just to be able to leave, but I was rescued by her coworker, who apparently was the designated "math whiz."

In the spirit if not the letter of the post title:

My wife has this odd habit of randomly taking out boxes of mix - like bread, cake, or muffins - and leaving them on the counter. For days at a time, mind you. I leave them there at first, because I always think she's going to be baking the next day, but it never happens, and I eventually end up putting them back into the pantry. I've amused myself by coming up with wacky explanations for this behavior. My current favorite is that it's some sort of yeast-based feng shui.

Cloverfield - or Why JJ Abrams Owes Me 75 Minutes of My Life Back

I originally posted this elsewhere right after Cloverfield came out. It's been getting good reviews, so I thought I'd drag it over here.

SPOILERS AHEAD

Cloverfield tried to build up some buzz with their teaser trailers: first by not revealing the name of the movie, then the one scene of the head of the Statue of Liberty crashing into the middle of the street. All well and good.
Unfortunately, that one scene is the best scene in the movie. That one scene has it all: action, explosions, tension, drama, shock – everything you might expect from a big budget “creature feature.”

Just don’t expect it in the rest of the movie.

And to those who think this is a monster movie, think again. This is a relationship movie set against the backdrop of a monster attacking New York. It should have been titled Love in the Time of Camera.

Oh yeah…that fucking handheld video camera. To all you aspiring directors out there…STEADICAMS EXIST FOR A REASON! It worked once, okay? But your budget is a tad larger than The Blair Witch gang’s. Hell…even a lack of a budget is no excuse. Peter Jackson once built his own steadicam for $15, and now he owns New Zealand, so make the investment, huh? But if you absolutely crave the cinéma vérité style, and feel your “artistic vision” would be compromised without it, use it as filler footage in the credits, or only in certain scenes for added impact. If you’re not making a porno, forcing an audience to sit through seventy-five minutes of “amateur” camera work is irresponsible.

Point #1: it’s illogical. If I’m in a survival situation, I’m going to be carrying a Smith & Wesson, not a Sanyo.
Point #2: it’s ridiculous to expect us to believe that this character dodged falling debris, avoided getting shot or run over by the military, fought mutant insects in a subway tunnel, crawled from one roof to another fifty-plus stories above the street, and survived a helicopter crash – all the while keeping the other characters (mostly) in frame – with a camera stuck to his face.
Point #3: the audience would occasionally like some deliberate focus on an event from start to finish. Breaking away in the middle only adds mystery up to a certain point. After that, we wonder what you’re hiding. Incomplete sets? Bad special effects? Lack of a script?

Speaking of the script…Look, I know that a certain amount of backstory has to be established if you want the audience to care about your protagonists, but twenty minutes is too much. That’s better than a quarter of your “action” movie where there’s NO ACTION! Guy 1 still has feelings for old girlfriend; guy 2 likes girl 2 who doesn’t like him; supportive friend. Six minutes, tops. We’re hip moviewatchers, okay? We’ve intuited that these five people will be together for most of the movie, so you don’t need to explore all of the social dynamics between them right up front. Let it come out naturally as determined by the events around them. By completely defining them right away, there’s no room for interesting growth or development, and if we don’t like your definition, we won’t care what happens to them.

Ironically, your tendency to indulge in over-explaining stopped after those first twenty minutes. Nothing else was explained in the movie. Nothing! Where did the creatures come from? Was Manhattan completely abandoned in the end? Was girl 2 shot, or did her head explode? What, exactly, does the title have to do with anything in the movie?

You need better writers.

Another question: Since all of these characters died, how is it that we’re seeing this video? Has anyone else noticed the trend lately to kill off the main characters in the movie? We spend between seventy-five and ninety minutes following their exploits, rooting for them, sharing their story…and then they die. I don’t know about you, but I want a little victory in my escapist fantasies, thank you. And if you absolutely cannot deliver a live protagonist at the end of the movie, make their death mean something, dammit. Give us some sort of resolution; don’t just turn the camera off. And DON’T try to be cute by putting the final scene after the credits. You’ve pissed me off by now, and as soon as I get a fade to black, I’m at home blogging about how awful your movie is. I just sat through an hour-plus of your dreck, I’m damn sure not sitting there another ten minutes in the hope that you knew what you were doing all along.

Here’s another tip: show the critter. You’ve made a monster movie. Great! Show it to us. A few shadowy shots and “corner-of-the-eye” scenes are fine. We like to be teased. But at some point, you’re going to have to go all the way and show us what your CG/FX department dreamed up. Not some five second shot from a “terrified” camera holder, but a real, honest-to-god, full-circle pan in technocolorific stereoscope and THX sound. Preferably, this will be before the creature wipes out all of the characters and the movie ends.

I sure hope this wasn’t supposed to be the beginning of a series, J.J., because you just squandered all of my goodwill and suspension of disbelief. I probably won’t even go see that space thing you’re putting together.

Stop Smoking Your Cell Phones!

Mobile phones 'more dangerous than smoking'

http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/health-and-wellbeing/health-news/mobile-phones-more-dangerous-than-smoking-or-asbestos-802602.html?r=RSS

Mobile phones could kill far more people than smoking or asbestos, a study by an award-winning cancer expert has concluded.

“Could.” Not “will.” This is the same slippery phrasing that brought you Anthropogenetic Global Warming and Death by Secondhand Smoke. Prepare for your local bar to become “No Cell” zones.

He says people should avoid using them wherever possible and that governments and the mobile phone industry must take "immediate steps" to reduce exposure to their radiation.

What the hell can a government do other than enact cumbersome, ineffective laws that do nothing but drive up the costs through higher taxes and insurance premiums?

[The study] draws on growing evidence…that using handsets for 10 years or more can double the risk of brain cancer.

What about hand cancers? A lot of people text as much or more than they call.

He believes this will be "definitively proven" in the next decade.

Just like that Global Warming film from Al Gore? The one he’s been showing for fifteen years?

Noting that malignant brain tumours represent "a life-ending diagnosis", he adds: "We are currently experiencing a reactively unchecked and dangerous situation."

Guess what? Life is a life-ending diagnosis, and it’s unchecked and dangerous.

He fears that "unless the industry and governments take immediate and decisive steps", the incidence of malignant brain tumours and associated death rate will be observed to rise globally within a decade from now, by which time it may be far too late to intervene medically.

Just replace “malignant brain tumours” with “global warming”. It’s the exact same panic-inducing jargon. There’s a “problem” that can’t be quantified, but needs to have lots of money thrown at it right now, because in ten years it will be TOO LATE!!! AIIIEEEEEEEE!!!

"It is anticipated that this danger has far broader public health ramifications than asbestos and smoking," says Professor Khurana, who told the IoS his assessment is partly based on the fact that three billion people now use the phones worldwide, three times as many as smoke.

I bet more people use cotton balls than drink sulfuric acid. Therefore, cotton balls are evidently more dangerous than ingesting H2SO4. Do they not teach correlation vs. causation anymore?

Look, cell phones use RF (radio frequency) waves, which are relatively long waves of radiation. Your microwave oven uses shorter waves (that’s why we call them microwaves), the visible spectrum of light is even shorter, and X-rays and Gamma rays still shorter. We know that the shorter the wave, the more likely it is to do Bad Things to your body, hence the lead apron you wear at the dentist (not to mention David Banner’s issues). That black light you used at your last Halloween party did more damage to you than your cell phone.

It’s just more fear-mongering from junk science adherents hoping to get more control over our lives, and making us pay for it, to boot. It’s the same formula used to sue the tobacco industry, and now the fast food industry.

1. Identify a popular, profitable business.
2. Demonize it.
3. Milk it with punitive taxes and lawsuits until it collapses.
4. Identify a popular, profitable business.

I’d call ‘em on it, but I’m afraid to use my phone now.

Come on, Baby...

Maine bans sales of novelty lighters
http://www.bostonherald.com/news/national/northeast/view.bg?articleid=1082583

AUGUSTA, Maine - While in a small southern Maine grocery store with his mother last June 12 to buy sandwiches, Shane St. Pierre picked up a miniature baseball bat and flicked the switch to see what would happen.

A flame shot out, singeing the 6-year-old’s eyebrow and burning part of his face. His parents called the state fire marshal’s office and were surprised to learn that Maine had no law banning so-called novelty lighters.

That’s no longer the case.

Thank God! It’s nice to know that the Maine legislature is protecting the children of inattentive parents who call the fire marshal instead of a fucking doctor.

[Gov. John] Baldacci said…more than 5,000 household fires are caused each year by children under 5, and "anything we can do to prevent children from playing with lighters will serve to save lives and homes."

The list I found from the National Fire Prevention Association listed 8,200 annual house fires caused by “Playing with heat source.” That’s #9 on a list of the top ten causes, by the way. Forget lighters, let’s ban cooking (#1) and heating our homes (#2). That’s 180,000 fires we could prevent annually, saving $902,000,000 worth of property.

Novelty lighters without child-resistant devices are banned in European Union countries, and several American states have considered similar bans. They include Arkansas, where two children died in a fire last year blamed on a lighter shaped like a tiny motorcycle.

Really? Blamed on the lighter? Not any “responsible” adults? I did some digging on this story. Here are a couple of relevant quotes:

Though the smoke alarm had been disconnected, the toddlers' mother and four-year-old brother, Preston, were able to escape the fire, which started in a back bedroom.

If we’re going to blame inanimate objects for this, let’s blame the disconnected smoke alarm.

Friend and neighbor Amber Counts says she alerted officials Tuesday night, when four-year-old Preston told her he had been playing with a “toy motorcycle.” "I said, 'Oh, what motorcycle was it?' And he said, the one that had fire come out the end.

So either she didn’t tell the boys’ mother that her kids were playing with the lighter, or she did, and the mother did nothing. How, exactly, is this the lighter’s fault?

The Lighter Association, a national trade group, supports laws to ban novelty lighters. But a California-based distributor of the lighters, John Gibson, said in many cases the novelty lighters are safer than regular ones and that complaints stem from "overzealous fire marshals."

Well, I seriously doubt that’s the case here in Livermore, Maine, John.

When Shane St. Pierre was burned in Livermore, Maine, he mistook the baseball-bat lighter for a flashlight, said his father, Norm St. Pierre, fire chief in West Paris.

Or maybe it is. So this kid’s dad – the fire chief - never explained the dangers of playing with fire to his own son? Thanks a lot, Norm. Thanks for depriving collectors of their hobby, and manufacturers and retailers of the income, all because you, your wife, or your son is an idiot. Thanks for running to the Governor instead of admitting that maybe you shouldn’t be a parent. Is anyone surprised that the Governor is a Democrat? Ironically, he describes himself as “pro-choice”, unless you choose to sell novelty lighters, that is.

Let’s just stop this slow erosion of personal responsibility, huh? Let’s go for broke and just outlaw the whole fucking concept. Let’s not just absolve people of it, let’s criminalize it! That way, the Socialists in our Government will have every self-justification they need to completely control our lives. I imagine that the right Minister of Propaganda could put the perfect spin on it.

“Don’t think for yourself. Follow the crowd.”
“Relax! We’ll handle it. Just give us your money.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“It’s for your own good.”
“Think of the children.”

Any of this sounding familiar?

We now return to your regularly-scheduled blog, already in progress.

…and that’s how I ended up naked in the faculty swimming pool.

In other news, Life’s been burbling happily along in the ol’ Cat household. I’d like to apologize to all four of my readers for the extended absence, but I’ll try and make it up to y’all.

So what has your favorite feline been up to these last seven months? Lessee…

My division was recently purchased by our largest competitor. It’s been interesting to see which things got better, which remained static, and which got worse. I won’t go into details, because you never know who’s looking over your shoulder, but suffice it to say that it has reaffirmed my belief that anything done through a committee (or Management, or Congress, or…) is going to be self-contradicting, four times as expensive, and half as effective.

To that end, I’ve hung out a shingle for a freelance writing business. If I have to deal with asinine and random decisions anyway, I’d rather be the only one making them. So far, so good; I’ve gotten two paying jobs with just one e-mail conversation, and I anticipate a lot more when I really start pushing. Given the state of writing/editing these days, someone with a firm command of the English language should be able to find plenty of work. I thought about including links between this blog and my new website once it’s up, but I’d have to delete every post where I used the word ‘fuck’ (including this one, now), as that tends to put off serious inquiries.

I’ve also been working on a book. Yeah yeah – there’s not a self-styled writer alive that isn’t working on a book, but there you go. I’ve written slightly more than eighteen chapters out of an anticipated thirty, and gotten pretty good feedback on them. It’s approximately 36,000 words so far, and will probably end up being around 60,000, which just squeaks into novel-length. It’s fun, and it keeps my brain hot.

That’s why I’m resurrecting the blog. If you’re not writing, you can’t really claim to be a writer, and I’m always thinking of so many impossible things before breakfast that I need three or four outlets. Work lets me contribute ideas to support grand strategies; doing the freelance thing allows me to seek out stuff I’d really like to try; the book is my happy place; this blog is my pressure valve/catch-all.

So what can you, Faithful Reader, expect in the near future? I dunno. Whatever happens to flit across my brain, just like always. I’ve got some notes on various things pushed into dusty corners on my hard drive: why music won’t change the world, lolcat memes, what I’d do with a Powerball win, the deep-seated cultural significance of my hat, and why anyone holding an elected position can kiss my furry ass.

You know…Life.

Leader of the Banned

Push to restrict, ban fireworks fizzles in North Charleston

http://www.charleston.net/news/2007/aug/17/push_restrict_ban_fireworks_fizzles_nort13246/

City Council decided Wednesday not to ban or restrict the sale or use of fireworks. Two residents from different parts of the city had complained recently that they couldn't leave their homes during the Fourth of July because they were afraid their homes might catch fire from neighbors' fireworks.

State law allows the sale of fireworks in South Carolina and the city cannot pre-empt state law, Mayor Keith Summey said. "If we allow people to sell them, we have to allow people to use them," he said. [emphasis mine]

State law allows someone to erect a sign in his yard declaring it a fireworks-free zone…

So where the fuck was the mayor when this was going down:

Smoking ban starts today
Monday, Jul 23, 2007

http://www.wcbd.com/midatlantic/cbd/news.apx.-content-articles-CBD-2007-07-23-0004.html

The smoking ban applies to all indoor workplaces and that includes bars and restaurants…The ban prevents smoking inside, but allows smokers to smoke outside of the buildings, as long as the smoke doesn’t drift inside.

Isn’t that interesting? South Carolina state law allows people to sell cigarettes, but Charleston isn’t allowing people to use them. And why can’t a bar or restaurant owner erect a sign declaring their business a smoke-free or smoke-friendly zone? And what the hell is that about “as long as the smoke doesn’t drift inside”? Kiss my ass. When I smoke, I take care not to blow smoke in anyone’s face. Anything beyond that is not my problem. I’ve heard people complain that they had to walk past the smokers on the sidewalks outside of these businesses. I’m sorry that the outdoors isn’t big enough for both my smoke and your comfort. Who’s taking more than their fair share of the parts per million, here?

I was in Minneapolis recently, and they are quite anti-smoking there. Not as rabid about it as California, but getting there. You can’t smoke within fifty feet of entrances to public buildings. My flight had a layover in O’Hare, and there also isn’t any smoking area inside those buildings. If you want to smoke, you have to go outside, and then back through Security. How ridiculous. Even our teeny little airport at home has a smoking lounge.

IT’S A LEGAL PRODUCT, YOU BUSYBODY FUCKHEADS!

One of my favorite things to do in places like that is to walk around with an unlit cigarette in my mouth. It’s amusing to watch the faces of the nanny-staters as they realize that they are approaching one of the most lethal, inconsiderate, and smelliest weapons ever devised by man. Doesn’t matter that it isn’t lit, all that means is that it’s poised to unleash enough second-hand smoke to pollute the entire O’Hare airport, afflicting the happy, shiny travelers with all manner of disfiguring cancers and bulbous tumors, and turning each of the five terminals into superfund sites, as useless for commercial travel as your average leper colony. (That’s why I continue to smoke – it’s the power trip that gets me off.) You’d think I was walking around with an open canister of malaria or something. Actually, I’m pretty certain that the science-ignorant antis would be more comfortable with malaria than Marlboros. At least, they seem to equate smokers with that TB-infected douchebag that flew from Italy to Canada to the US.

I think that next time someone accosts me for smoking, I’ll just tell them that it’s a firecracker.

Current mood: Confused

Ever notice how freaky Dumbo’s drunk sequence is? Same with Pooh’s heffalumps and woozles number.

So I went to Hot Topic’s Sounds of the Underground tour this past weekend. It was the last day of the tour, and was being held at Waverly Hills Sanatarium. (Look it up if you don’t already know the history.) Thirty death-metal bands for thirty dollars. That ain’t bad. The thing that tickled me was when the lead singer would get up and address the audience: “Hey, guys! We really appreciate all of you coming out and standing around in the 95-degree heat just to see us. We do this because your support means a lot to us, and we want to thank all of you. We’re going to do a song off our new album. It hasn’t been released yet, but you’re going to hear it first because without you, we wouldn’t have come this far. Hope you like it. It’s called Rrrogrrlllwrrr!” If you’re familiar with death-metal, you’re probably L-ing your AO right now. If you aren’t, I just can’t explain it. One thing that I thought was really cool was when the groups would whip the crowd into doing circles, they’d always be sure to say some variation of “And if someone falls down, rescue ‘em!” Good times.

Out of the mouths of babes: My daughter was asking if I enjoyed the concert, and what kind of instruments the bands were playing. “Electric guitar, electric bass, some keyboards, and drums.” She digested this and then asked: “No accordions?”

If you write a book on how to be a failure, and it doesn’t sell any copies, are you?

I asked my wife to say those three little words that make me dance on air. She said “Go hang yourself.”

I think there’s a lot of unnecessary overcommunication these days, in that a lot of my day is spent giving different people the same information. Don’t they talk to each other? I dislike repeating myself.

I think there’s a lot of unnecessary overcommunication these days, in that a lot of my day is spent giving different people the same information. Don’t they talk to each other? I dislike repeating myself.

I don’t think you can fully appreciate Alice in Wonderland until you’ve made a serious study of logic – mathematical, grammatical, and philosophical.

I watch a lot of old movies – from the 30s and 40s kids, not the 80s – and a couple of things that I really have come to appreciate about them is the fact that there are usually only about three screens’ worth of credits, and no “secret scenes” at the end. When the first bonus scenes were introduced after the credits, it was kind of cool; a little “thanks for staying” to the audience. Any more, directors are doing it deliberately to try and force the crowd to sit through fifteen minutes of credits. I don’t give a fuck who the 2nd 2nd assistant director’s assistant was, or the set nurse. Why are these names in front of me? I’m sure that if you’re a good caterer, you’ll get recommendations from within the industry. It’s not bloody likely that an audience member is going to choose you because they really really liked Bring It on Again.

Rrrogrrlllwrrr.

Use Your Own Judgement

Judge rules it's too hot to play

http://www.commercialappeal.com/mca/desoto/article/0,1426,MCA_451_5666728,00.html

In a move with wide-ranging implications, a North Mississippi judge Thursday banned outdoor school activities in DeSoto and five other counties in his district because of the searing heat.

And the pussification of America continues.

The order by Chancellor Mitchell Lundy of Grenada County -- a decision that a legal expert called unusual -- halted outdoor football practices as schools gear up for the start of the prep season the end of this month.

Also affected until the heat relents are volleyball and band practice, recesses for elementary school students and outdoor activities for community college students.

Some legal expert. “Unusual?” Try unconstitutional, you moron. Three branches, remember? It’s the Legislative branch that writes laws, and the Judicial branch interprets them. Now, I wonder if a Judge belongs to the Legislative branch or the Judicial branch.

"It is our duty to protect the minors from harm when at all possible," Lundy said in his two-page order banning outdoor activities between 9 a.m. and 7 p.m. "We protect them from others as well as from themselves."

Anybody else get the chills over that last quote?

Lundy gave no other reason for the order, which was not requested, but some area educators surmised he might be reacting to the recent deaths of two Mississippi high school football players.

So he didn’t explain it, and it wasn’t requested by anyone. This power-mad black-robed asshole just starts issuing writs on his own, and everyone cowers and scrapes?

Here’s the order (with my comments):

"It is well settled in the State of Mississippi that the Chancery Court is the guardian, custodian and caretaker of all minors in the state (did you ask everyone?). It is our duty to protect the minors from harm when at all possible. (Socially, yes. Not Judicially.) We protect them from others as well as from themselves. (You do not enforce the laws, idiot.)

"It has come to the attention of this Chancellor ... that the National Weather Service has issued a heat advisory for Mississippi (and) that advisory states that strenuous outdoor activities are dangerous the next several days as temperatures climb above 100 degrees. (Everybody Panic! Al Gore was right!)The dangerous times are between 9 a.m. and 7 p.m. (In a world where daylight brings danger, one judge stands alone.)

"It has also come to the attention of this Court that school (both public and private) activities are being held during these dangerous times. (It’s like he blinked suddenly and said “Hey…”) It is therefore this Chancellor's opinion that participation of these school-sponsored activities by minors is not in their best interest and is, in fact, dangerous to their health and welfare. (Your opinion does not a law make. Once you hook it onto “best interests’, there will be no stopping you.)

"Therefore, this Court hereby issues an immediate Temporary Restraining Order in the counties of DeSoto, Tate, Panola, Yalobusha. Montgomery and Grenada against any and all school-sponsored (i.e. sports-related activities) which include physical exertion and which are conducted outside between the hours of 9 a.m. and 7 p.m. (I wonder what name is on the TRO. “Everybody”?)

"This injunction is to take place immediately and be in full force and effect until further orders of this court." (Or so help me, I’ll turn this Constitution around!)

Does this s'more taste like a ficus to you?

Scouts banned from eating burgers and bangers - because of religious beliefs
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/articles/news/news.html?in_article_id=472655&in_page_id=1770&in_page_id=1770&expand=true#StartComments

[A]t a jamboree to mark the centenary…there is no singing around the glowing embers of the camp fire - because there is no fire.

And you can't find a singed sausage for love nor money. However, there are veggie burgers aplenty.

And a large potted plant, around which the Scouts of 2007 can gather and write down thoughts on how to achieve world peace.

The location is Brownsea Island in Dorset, the starting point of Scouting where Lord Baden-Powell led the first expedition.

Why did they even bother? Is there now a merit badge in “Political Correctness”?

Some 300 modern-day Scouts (the word Boy was dropped in the 1960s) settled down to a meal prepared in a 'kitchen marquee' and consisting entirely of vegetarian food - so as not to offend any religious faiths.

Clare Haines, a spokesman for the Scout Association, said: "It was really to do with religion that we were not able to provide sausages and burgers and all that kind of food.

No, it was to do with the fact that you decided that only one type of food was going to be served; that there would be no choices offered.

"We have been very careful to make sure food is provided to everybody's tastes and beliefs, so no one feels left out.”

Except for those people whose tastes run to hot dogs and hamburgers. I’m pretty sure they felt left out. You weren’t careful, you were inept cowards.

She added that campfires had been banned on the National Trust-owned island after a massive woodland blaze 30 years ago.

Oh for God’s sake. Who was in charge of this disaster? If you’re not going to let the scouts cook hot dogs over a campfire, don’t have the damn jamboree. A fucking potted plant…

All they did at this “celebration” was show how far they’ve progressed in neutering Lord Baden-Powell’s organization. It’s taken them a hundred years, but they’ve managed to turn them into Girl Scouts.

Signs, signs, everywhere signs

Alorton sign is fine by town — but maybe not by ACLU
http://www.stltoday.com/stltoday/news/stories.nsf/illinoisnews/story/C7767D918C4CE3268625732B00147B87?OpenDocument

ALORTON — The churches seem to turn up here often and randomly. In this town of 3,000 residents, there are at least 15 churches. Maybe 20…So you don't need to travel far to find the good Lord, as they say. In fact, visitors can't drive into town without a holy hello."Welcome to The Village of Alorton," say two green-and-white billboards with lights shining on them. "Where Jesus is Lord. Randy McCallum Mayor."

By all accounts, the longtime, city-owned signs have never seemed to stir anyone. As it turns out, though, they could be a problem.Attorneys with the Illinois office of the American Civil Liberties Union, the national civil rights group, said the signs might be unconstitutional.

So it’s a problem for those iconoclasts at the ACLU.

"If it's been put up by the city, then it definitely raises a constitutional issue," said Wendy Park, a staff attorney with the group. A city-funded sign with a specific religious message appears to violate the religious liberty guarantee of the Constitution, she said. That guarantee says no religion should be promoted over any other by a government.

“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof;…”

Number one: the Alorton city council is not Congress.
Number two: these signs have no prohibitions against differing belief systems.

Number three: that Amendment refers specifically to the institution of a national church, with compulsory financial support and/or attendance. Interestingly, the individual states were allowed to create state churches, and some did.

And don’t give me that “wall of separation” bullshit, either. That’s from a letter by Thomas Jefferson, who was not an author of either the Constitution or the Bill of Rights. He was a smart man, but his opinions – presidential as they may have been – do not have the force of law.

The U.S. Supreme Court has ruled in the past that a government cannot endorse religion or express a message that endorses religion because "it basically leads nonbelievers to feel that they are outside the political community and are not participants in the political community," she said.

The Constitution of the State of Illinois
Preamble:We, the People of the State of Illinois - grateful to Almighty God for the civil, political and religious liberty which He has permitted us to enjoy and seeking His blessing upon our endeavors…

I swear, you’d think the ACLU was staffed entirely by vampires, given their reactions to holy items. It’s all about the fucking feelings, isn’t it? Cry me a river. Nobody is precluded from participating in the political process based on belief or nonbelief. I thought that question was settled when Keith Ellison was elected to Congress.

The city erected and maintains the signs, Mayor Randy McCallum said…"They've been there at least 13 years. Maybe 14. They were put up before I was mayor."… "If the community didn't want that Jesus there, I'd take the signs down immediately," the mayor said.But the ACLU said it doesn't matter whether residents approve of the signs.

It doesn’t matter how long the signs have been there. It doesn’t matter if there have never been any complaints. Now the ACLU has noticed them, so they’re a problem, and who cares what you rubes in the sticks think?

"Even if the whole community is Christian, if someone is non-Christian and driving by Alorton or coming there to visit and sees that sign, they are led to think they are not full participants, or they are outsiders and don't belong in that community," Park said.

Guess what, chickie? If someone is just driving by, or coming to visit, they are outsiders; they aren’t full participants! We don’t allow visitors to our towns a say in the local council matters. They’re visitors! Are you really that stupid? Or do you think the rest of us are?

The ACLU hasn't determined what, if any, action it will pursue, she said.

I have a suggested action you can pursue: Go fuck yourselves. All in the spirit of Christian love and brotherhood, of course.

Better Living Through Animal Cruelty

Scientists breed world’s first mentally ill mouse

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/uk/science/article2159295.ece

SCIENTISTS have created the world’s first schizophrenic mice in an attempt to gain a better understanding of the illness.

This reminds me of a joke:
“So, Mr. Mouse, you’re seeking a divorce from your wife, Minnie, because you claim she is insane?”
“I didn’t say she was insane. I said she’s fucking Goofy!”

It is believed to be the first time an animal has been genetically engineered to have a mental illness.

Apparently, this reporter has never seen the membership rolls of PETA.

It will allow researchers to study the disease and develop treatments using a limitless supply of laboratory animals.

I love the dig at the activists, here. “A limitless supply.” LOL

Animal rights campaigners have condemned the research, saying that it is morally repugnant to create an animal doomed to mental suffering.

But you don’t see the activists lining up to volunteer for testing, do you? You could also turn their argument against them, by stating that by blocking the treatment possibilities in the research, the activists will have doomed any future people born with schizophrenia to a lifetime of mental suffering. These are mice, you idiots, bred specifically for research purposes. It’s not like the scientists are kidnapping them off the street, tearing them away from their little mouse families in the dead of night in some Gattaca-inspired frenzy of Gestapo-like tactics.

I like animals, but if I had to put a bullet in my dog to make my family’s life better? Goodbye, Sparky. We’re at the top of the food chain, and it doesn’t matter if you take the religious view (we were given dominion over the animals), or the scientific one (survival of the fittest), animals are not equal to humans.

Animal Aid, a campaign group, said rodents were not a reliable way of modelling human disease.

How do they know? These are the world’s first schizoid mice, remember? Evidently, the scientists think that there is some use in doing this, and I’m guessing they probably know a little more about it than the activists. If this doesn’t pan out, they’ll move on to something more profitable. Remember, science is a business, too. They run on profit/loss statements instead of just their feelings.

I wrote that last sentence before I actually checked out Animal Aid’s website. The biggest page on there is their Shopping page. Seems there is pretty good money in the activist stance. One of their catchier bits is their “Animals Don’t” campaign. It states:

Animals don’t smoke
Animals don’t drive
Animals don’t wear make up
Animals don’t use paint
Animals don’t drink alcohol
Animals don’t drop bombs

Because we do, why should they suffer?

I put together my own much shorter list:

Animals don’t actively contribute to the forwarding of societal goals, nor do they have the potential to do so on their own

Because we do, why should we extend to them moral equivalence?

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y...Random!

Some of my favorite 80s tunes:
Don’t You (Forget About Me) – Simple Minds
Lay Your Hands on Me – Thompson Twins
One Night in Bangkok – Murray Head
How Soon is Now – The Smiths
The Promise – When in Rome
No More Words – Berlin
The Politics of Dancing – Re-Flex
Kids in America – Kim Wilde
Always Something There to Remind Me – Naked Eyes
Cry Little Sister – Lost Boys Soundtrack

I have this theory that every person has a song lodged in their brain that comes out when they’re not actively thinking of something. It doesn’t even matter if they hate the song. My wife is no Buffet fan, but hums or sings “Margaritaville” without realizing it. Similarly, when my mind shifts into neutral, I tend to whistle “Ode to Joy.” I’m not sure what purpose it serves. Maybe a mental screensaver to keep your brain booted up when it’s not otherwise engaged.

Favorite Video Game
Dragon’s Lair

Favorite Video Game quote
“Elf is about to die.”

Favorite Pinball Machine
Black Knight

I’d like to start a line of suede clothing, just so I could call it “Easily.”

Some of my favorite punchlines
Nice shot, Dad.
I didn’t know your father was a Pharmacist.
It’s the sound they make when they hit the bottom.
And as anyone with any sense could tell you, it also blew the Hell out of the meter.

A random picture from my collection


Last book I read
Harry Potter and the Deadly Hallows. God, I’m such a sheep.

Last movie I watched
The Wicker Man with Nicholas Cage

Did it suck?
Why, yes. Yes it did.

Useless Eaters

HUD extends disaster vouchers nine more months
http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/front/4990750.html

The federal government will extend for 10 months its rental payments for about 11,400 families who lived in public housing or received federal housing vouchers before hurricanes Katrina and Rita, the U.S. housing secretary announced today.

Quick question: When did hurricanes Rita and Katrina hit?

A: August and September, 2005.

Yep, almost two full years ago. Think some of these folks might’ve been able to find jobs in two years? Especially given that unemployment currently is around 4.5%?

Another quick question: Why do you say 9 months in the headline, and 10 months in the lede?

HUD Secretary Alphonso Jackson said he and President Bush have determined that many displaced residents still need help, and that ending the program now would be "absolutely horrendous."

Horrendous: syn. alarming, appalling, atrocious, deplorable, depressing, disgusting, distressing, dreadful, frightful, ghastly, gruesome, harrowing, hideous, horrible, horrific, horrifying, offensive, raunchy, repulsive

Maybe that’s a bit strong, Alphonso. Some of us find it “horrendous” that we’re still paying for this.

About 3,500 Houston-area households will be covered by the extension… The nine-month extension will cost about $105 million

So they’re paying each family $30,000 over these 9 months? That’s a $40,000/year salary. And they’re only paying for housing. By way of comparison, my housing costs are right at $10,000/year, including water and power.

Not to be outdone, FEMA is extending benefits through March 2009.

http://houstonhurricanerecovery.org/show_content_article.asp?id=4262007-10502&category=housing

Officials of HUD and FEMA said the extension of housing benefits will help insure that all evacuees will receive the kind of assistance that will enable them to make a successful transition back into the community.

I’m guessing if they haven’t “transitioned” within 3 ½ years, they ain’t gonna. What’s the official point where “transition” becomes “permanence”?

While there were no specific references to it in the conference, there also is expected to be regular recertification requirements for evacuees. These will make sure that the housing benefits are only going to those evacuees who genuinely need the aid.

I looked up the recertification form:
http://houstonhurricanerecovery.org/multimedia/2007_fema_recertification_form.pdf

One page. One. Fucking. Page. Tell me, faithful readers, how many pages are in your 1040?

Another new provision announced would enable evacuees now housed in FEMA travel trailers and mobile homes to buy those housing units at fair market value.

The trailers you’re being sued over? Why not just give them the damned things and be done with it? Quit dragging it out. You’re never going to get the value of those trailers, anyway. If they haven’t bothered to scrape up the cash to get a place of their own by now, what makes you think for one second that they’ll have the wherewithal to buy these trailers?

Officials estimated that the overall housing extension will cost more than $1 billion, to be paid for with FEMA funds.

How come it “only” costs $105 million for 9 months, but more than $1,000,000,000 for 17 months? That’s government math, that is. Well thank God FEMA is using its own money for this. Wait a minute...

Go here, read this:

http://members.cox.net/polincorr1/pol1.htm
Davy Crockett’s "Not Yours to Give" speech in Congress

Friday Night Randomness

Current Mood: Sedate

Current Musical Obsession: The Foiled album by Blue October, particularly Congratulations and Overweight

Current Current: 120 volts

Currant: the small, edible, acid, round fruit or berry of certain wild or cultivated shrubs of the genus Ribes

I have a lot of characters that I have developed for some writing groups I belong to. Most of them are female. It doesn't matter if they're a human assassin, a ghoul, a jilted lover, or a werewolf, they're all incredible badasses, able to take care of themselves and others with grace, style, and inner strength. This probably reflects how I feel about women in general. Then again, maybe I'm a heroine addict.

Ran across this picture online:

This is what I wrote:

Sometimes the perfect person to confess your innermost desires and fears to is a stranger on a train. No commitments, no judgments - just an ear in which to pour your dreams and fantasies. The night outside the coach window reaches in and cloaks you, and the rumble of the steel wheels masks your fevered murmurings.

We were heading for the same place. A city once built on dreams. But as happens so often with dreams, the joy had leaked out little by little, leaving only hollow shells behind. Gaping façades of blasted fulfillment stood mocking those that had dared to reach for the light. It was a place where you whispered your hopes, keeping them small and unnoticeable, hoping they would find a sheltered spot to grow.

Our rendezvous point: the old clocktower. Pole star for every desperate person anxious to create a small, sweaty pocket of connection with someone else. Rising high into the smoky skies, a phallic monument to the clumsy fumblings of cold numb hands desperately trying to maneuver past belt buckles and buttons. Sooty fingers staining delicate white satin and lace, driving towards the heat they hide away from the world.

The face of the clock mocks me. “You fool!” it chimes. “You believed her? The promise of a stranger on a train?”

“yes,” I whisper.

And I did believe her. I wanted so much to believe her. Her yearning was a great beacon in this grey world. Not just for satisfying lust, though that was a part of it. By design, that is always a part of it. She had spoken of the sound of boots dancing on cobblestones, and of spreading quicksilver wings of defiance, and flying away!…the two of us…flying…
together.

So I waited.

She had to come! She had to! She was a stranger on a train yes, but…

I looked at my watch, and the steam of my sigh was swallowed up by the dirty yellow tatters of fog that roamed the streets.

I couldn’t wait any longer. Soon the sun would rise, sweeping the protective shadows away into a corner, and illuminating the pain of false hope on my face. I crept away on my numbed feet, leaving behind the unfulfilled promise: a pile of broken breadcrumbs and a pool of shadow rapidly running down a nearby drain. This was my body, this was my blood.

I would have shared it with you.

The edge of the city is already awash with a cruelly delicate sunrise. A soft pink that only serves to emphasize the desolation it faces. A number of piers jut outwards, giant fingers grasping for a bit of the peace and beauty that surely is present just over the horizon. Surely all places can’t be like this, whistle stops for strangers on trains, rotting carcasses pretending to life. Surely somewhere people still dance on cobblestones. It can’t all be this…hopeless.

The call of a train whistle pierces me, and I turn to the sea to allow the wind to dry my tears. It is then that I notice. I still, not daring to believe, bracing against the culmination of a last cruel jest. But no. Her arms grasp the railing of the pier, holding herself down against the pull of the sky. And as I walk towards her, I can see quicksilver.

The World Needs More Loofs

A coworker described me as “quiet and aloof” the other day. I’m not sure what to do about it. Should I be noisy and chatter constantly? Then she’ll complain that I’m a distraction and am negatively impacting production.

I sit in a room with a group of people that I do not work directly with. I provide minor services to them on occasion, but our primary jobs do not intersect. Secondly, I am older than most of them by at least a decade, and there’s only one other that’s married with children.

Don’t get me wrong, I do like them. I’ve been social – going to lunches, movies and housewarming parties, getting the occasional drink after work, goofing around at breaks. On the whole, though, I have nothing to add, nor take away from, the majority of their conversations. I’m not involved in their work, so I can’t advise or offer opinions, and their social chatter revolves around subjects I have no stake in: movies I won’t see, music I don’t like, arguments with their boy/girlfriends that only hold historical interest for me. Conversely, they have no concern about the things that hook my mind. For example, one of them was recently talking about her favorite contestant on American Idol. At the same time, I was e-mailing a friend a link to a scholarly article about Aristophanes’ use of satire and meta in “The Clouds”.

Not a whole lot of middle ground, there.

I’m also quiet because I’m thinking. This runs counter to most office work, where if you aren’t striking the keyboard or on the phone, you are considered to be goofing off. I can easily sit with my eyes closed, listening to my headphones, and with all distractions thus blocked out, come up with enough material to allow me to complete two weeks’ worth of projects. What do you think the reaction is of any manager that comes across an employee sitting like that? Allow me to don my “misunderstood artist” hat for a moment, and submit the standard complaint that the “corporate stiffs just don’t get us creative types”. We need headspace, man, cuz, like, conceptualization has to evolve, you know?

Similarly, I jump from subject to subject like Pitfall Harry crossing crocodile-infested waters. I’ll latch on to some random trivia and run it to the ground, or I’ll go off on what seem to be unrelated tangents. It’s just how my mind works. It’s how I acquire background, context, and foundational information, which serves as a reservoir of knowledge. It may look like I’m digging up song lyrics, but I might just be trying to find a way to express a certain concept, and that song came to mind. If it hit the top 40 or got a Grammy, the songwriter obviously tapped into some universal feeling, and I want that kind of response. (To be fair, I might have just been curious as to what the singer was actually saying in the second verse, but it all goes into the same box. I’ll use it at some point.)

That’s the other reason I come across as aloof, I think. My job is mentally stimulating. I basically get to daydream, and codify the results into marketing materials. I don’t usually get bored, so I don’t feel any pressure to chat with my coworkers, who are trying to break the monotony or wake themselves up. More often than not, the inanity of their subjects is a distraction rather than an escape. Why would I participate in a process that keeps me from performing at my best? If that makes me aloof, so be it. I’m satisfied with the quality of the work I’m turning out, and isn’t that the true business measurement?

Not a Fan

Shortly after Father’s Day, my wife told me that it was always difficult to pick out a card for me. “You don’t play golf, you don’t fish or hunt, you don’t tinker with the cars or the yard, you don’t watch sports. All you do is read and write, and they don’t have any ‘To a well-read Dad’ cards.” Fortunately, I like goofy humor, so it’s not a total wash for her.

She’s right, though, I don’t do any of those things. I never got into hunting, I think fishing is the second most boring thing on the planet – after golf – and I never saw the point in watching other people play sports. If you like football, fine. Go play it. Spending a whole weekend watching one game after another is a pointless waste of time.

I really don’t understand the fascination with pre-game shows, either. Now you’re watching someone else talk about other people playing the game before it’s even been played. They’re not going to be revealing any secrets about the game, showing sneak previews or spoilers. They’re just offering their best guesses about how the players will perform. They’re doing exactly the same thing every sports fan does, only it’s being televised, and they get paid way too much money for it. It’s excruciating to watch them drag out maybe fifteen minutes’ worth of information over a two-hour show. And the interviews are so generic, they may as well be left out.

“Coach, you just hired Bobbie Chowder. How do you think he’s gonna do for you this season?”

What’s the coach going to say? That he thinks Bobbie is going to severely handicap the team and cost them the shot at the title? Of course not. He hired him because he thought Bobbie’d be an asset. Why else? Then they turn to the player.

“Bobbie, what are you going to do now that you’re here in Podunk?”

“Well, I’m just using the Podunk Ponies as a stepping stone to the better franchises. I needed some pro experience, and I figure I can run circles around everyone else here, so I stand a better chance at pumping up my stats without getting injured. Once I’ve moved up, I’ll use my popularity to land a couple of sneaker endorsements, release a rap album and try my hand at acting. Six years, tops, and I’m out.”

Wouldn’t that be refreshing? But no, we get the same “I’m just here to do my best for the team.” pabulum.

Maybe I’m overanalyzing this, but I’ve never understood the slavish dedication to one particular team. If it’s your Alma Mater, sure, I can appreciate that, but other than that, there’s no rationality behind it. People say they like the coach, but they don’t change teams to follow the coach’s career. Or they like particular players, but again, they’re still rooting for that team even after the entire roster has changed several times. I just don’t get it.

And the feuds. Good lord. The “traditional” enmity between teams is ridiculous. People pump it up to the level of clan warfare, particularly at the college level. When I lived in South Carolina, you were either a Clemson Tigers fan, or a Gamecocks fan. I was apathetic to both, but whenever I saw some Southern Belle wearing an “I Like the Cocks” shirt, it was sort of compelling. People insist that they “hate” the Pioneers, or the Fighting Cephalopods, or whomever it is that they take turns with in winning the Big Games, and the Pioneers say that they hate them right back, but the fact that both schools are still standing leads me to doubt everyone’s sincerity. “But it’s just a game,” you reply. Exactly my point, folks. Settle down.

I know people who have entire rooms in their homes dedicated to a particular team. Everything in the room has the team logo on it, and all the furnishings are in the team colors. That’s a bit obsessive, I think. I know one family that puts up a Christmas tree decorated solely with team ornaments. That’s more than a bit frightening.

I’m in a college town now, and every so often, we’ll have a Game Day in the office. People are encouraged to wear the school colors. Those few that don’t support the locals will show up in the opposing team’s colors, and there is much hearty ribbing amongst them. Meanwhile, I’m hoping that I don’t accidentally dress in the other team’s colors (I don’t keep track. Surprise.), because if I’m accosted by someone wearing an “I BLEED PURPLE” shirt, I’m likely to stab them to ascertain. Playoffs are the worst, because if “we” win, everybody is insufferably smug, and if “we” lose, everyone bitches the rest of the day.

I’ve thought about keeping up with some obscure (to the average American sports fan, anyway) sport like petanque, just so when people ask me if I saw the game on Saturday, I can inundate them with unfamiliar names, complaints about perplexing infractions of incomprehensible rules, overexcitement about narrow wins, or soul-crushing grievances about narrow losses. If they try to tell me that it’s not worth all of the drama, I’ll at least have them on record next time they want to try and attack me with player stats or Instant Replay glory days.

Then I’ll give them a carreau.