Slate has an interesting article on a racist pit-bull. It's not surprising at all to me. My old little mutt didn't like little kids, but this girl down the street of dark Colombian heritage seemed to get it worst of all. Here's the hit quote:

Most dog owners and people of color will admit (bashfully or forcefully, depending) that dog racism exists. Many non-pet-owners (and Cartesians) will sniff disdainfully. Racism requires malice aforethought, they'll say. Dogs can't think, therefore they can't be racist.

Nonsense, says Dr. Nicholas Dodman, a professor at Tufts University School of Veterinary Medicine and author of several books on animal behavior, most recently If Only They Could Speak. "Any behavioralist knows that dogs don't like subsets of people," he says, and though the most common subsets are broad?strange men or little children?"sometimes it can be quite specific. It could be tall men, or men with beards. It might be men who are wearing big shoes, might be as subtle as men who smoke cigarettes?which can be hard to pick up on?but it can also be black guys."

I know a dog that becomes very upset when it's around a man in a ball cap. One would imagine that's related to a bad experience that she had with someone so attired, though not always. With minorities, it's often just lack of exposure. During those crucial months (mentioned in the article), what they are exposed to is likely what they will be comfortable with for the rest of their lives. If they spend that time in a pound, they are likely to be much tougher to train and acclamate to people of any sort, much less those that look "different."

So the lesson for minorities would mainly be to make sure they get puppies or dogs that are familiar with people that look like they do, or it could make it that much tougher.

Also, I should stress the importance of training your dog. Preferably with an interactive training system in which the instructor teaches you how to train your dog (instead of shipping them off somewhere and hoping that they come back a brand new pup). Even anti-social dogs behavior improves if you have trained them.

[This post originally written for the No-Lyfe Journal]

Maiwenn thinks that we here at No-Lyfe would know all about the difference between being a nerd and a geek. On our egroup, she asks:

Don't mean to go completely off topic, but I have a question that has REALLY been nagging me for the past month. And I'm pretty confident YOU guys are the ones who can clear it up for me. What (if any) is the difference between a Nerd and a Geek? And, has the status of the nerd/geek been raised in society lately?? I'm rather confused about the society one o_O;;. Last week I was walking around a very popular group of girls in my school and couldn't help to overhear that one called herself a "geek" because she liked LOTR and Harry Potter. On another occasion, I saw a football player in my class proclaim himself a "geek" because he was taking basic computer classes. Now you would think that they were mocking their hobbies when they said this, but surprisingly they were very proud to call themselves a nerd/geek. In fact, they repeated it several times in the course of that week. Call me old-fashioned, but back in my day a geek/nerd was shunned by society and mocked in the locker room for his/her obsessions with technology,knowledge,books, or all three. Once I tried to call myself a geek since I found out I spent most of my weekends either in band,on the internet,watching anime,in robotics,or doing homework.However, I had a friend who begged to differ since he
programmed in his spare time, played EverCrack(EverQuest),and read comic books;proclaiming himself the title of "L33T G33K". Has the status of the geek slightly raised itself in our community such that our children of the future will say, " Mommy, when I grow up I wanna be a geek!" Well, I'm probably laying it pretty thick with that reference, but please, enlighten me on this subject.

I thought I'd take this opportunity to extrapolate on the difference.

Though there is an overlap in usage, nerdism is basically related to intelligence and geekism is related to hobbies. I would say one qualifies as a nerd when their intelligence outweighs their social skills. Therefore the smarter you are, the more likely you are to be a nerd. If you're super-duper smart, you can actually be an affable nerd. In fact, the smarter you are the more likely you are because you're more likely to be able to retain an encyclopediec memory and also learn the people skills that may not come very naturally to you.

A geek, on the other hand, can be just as stupid as anyone else. What makes them a geek is their near-obsessive interest in the minutae of things that no one else cares very much about and the extent to which they let this intrude on their life. For instance, someone who answers a jury summons in a Star Trek uniform is a geek and probably not one of the smart variety. Anime fans have its share of geeks. Not those who go to conventions, mind you, but those who don't lead more ordinary lives once they leave the convention and turn off their TV.

Like I said, though, there is a strong overlap in usage and this is because there is a strong overlap in demographics. Both nerds and geeks are likely to have higher intelligence than the population at large. Thus many geeks are also nerds because their intelligence will FAR outweigh their social capabilities. Many nerds are geeks because their minds are more bogged down in academic pursuits.

Computer fanatics have been considered geeks in times past, but I've noticed that as computers become more commonplace and more people use them, that's become less the case. This especially becomes more true the older you get when almost everyone has a computer at work and/or home and your knowledge is appreciated by some of the most unlikely of sources (I get shophands asking me for computer advice all the time). So most computer technical people are, if anything, a nerd rather than a geek. If one programs, however, they specialize in the minutae and therefore are more likely to be geeks in other aspects of life (anyone uninterested in minutae is unlikely to become a programmer). Computer engineers (and engineers of other sorts) are also quite possibly geeks to whatever extent they let their interest in physics, chemicals, and electrical circuits dictate the rest of their day. The more narrow the interest, the more likely they are to be a geek.

For example, I'll take one of the main characters from a novel I recently wrote, Something So Perfect. Brad Carter is a computer networking consultant. He had a stellar academic career and is quite obviously intelligent and astute. Though he is known for being a little bit aloof and is not the most social person in the world, most people that know him enjoy his company and think he's friendly, if a bit private. If he wasn't as smart as he was, he'd escape the "nerd" label for being an introverted guy, but since his intelligence outstrips his charisma, he doesn't. Though he got a degree Physics, he found a niche working on a specific network server operating system. While this wouldn't make him a geek, but his apartment is laden with computers he's bought from people he's worked for and his elaborate set-up indicates that he takes his interest in the obsolete OS to geek levels. On the other hand, since he has a keen awareness of how little other people are interested in it, he doesn't talk endlessly about it, so he's a geek, though not as much a geek as a nerd.

Contrast this with Nick Clayton, a character from my second novel. Nick is a very private person, but not nearly as intelligent as Brad, so the fact that he's not very social does not inflict him with nerd status. He doesn't have many interests that are out of the norm, so he is not a geek. If Nick were an avid fan of Anime, had scrolls on his wall, and made inside Neon Genesis Evangelion jokes to anyone and everyone who would listen, he would be a geek without being a nerd.

So your jock friend is most likely misusing the term. He may be a "geek" according to the norms of his peer group (fellow jocks) if and only if he finds computers to be interesting (instead of taking it out of necessity), but most people wouldn't view him as such. If he excels in computers without much effort, though, he may be a nerd.

One is not a geek if they like LOTR and Harry Potter, as those were box office smashes. If she finds herself locked in debate as to the true underlying spiritual philosophy of the hobbits as compared to those of the halflings in D&D, well then she may qualify. Most likely not.

Has the status of nerd and geek elevated? It certainly has for me, but that's at least in part because I've gotten older. I refer to myself as a "computer nerd" without fearing what people will think. I would not have done that 10 years ago when I was entering high school. "Nerd" and "geek" were not exactly insults when I was in high school as much as they were descriptions. They carried a negative connotation (particularly "geek"). I'd say nerd was to smart people like redneck is to a southerner. More often than not a negative term, but some people wear the banner proudly. Has that changed? I think I'm too old to answer that question.

What's up with James Pinkerton lately? I was surfing through his columns and it was astonishing to read the former Reagan and Bush 41 official has, since December 2002, written approximately 0 pro-Republican columns. Did I miss something?

Now, to be sure, Pinkerton has always been a moderate Republican and that's one of the reasons that I've always liked him. People like Pinkerton and James Q. Wilson who've advocating using the market to bolster welfare without the reverse incentives and bloating that government welfare requires is actually one of the things that got me out of the libertarian/independent camp and into the libertarian-minded-Republican one. It's somewhat disheartening to see Pinkerton so far off the reservation.

Pinkerton is against the war in Iraq (nearly every other week, in fact). Fair enough.

He's also pro-Israeli-appeasement-with-Palestinians. That's a little harder for me to stomach, but this is assuredly a position that he's held for some time that I've just been unaware of.

He takes a number of swipes at Bush's budget which, frankly, is not a hard thing to have problems with.

With the exception of one column on Columbia and another on Matt Drudge, every one of them comes down against Republicans. Here's the count:
Total: 28
War+Iraq=bad: 15
Bush's economic policy stinks: 3
Israel should focus on peace: 2
GOP racists: 2
Columbia: 1
Matt Drudge: 1
Bush in trouble in 2004: 1
EU=noble enterprise: 1
Maureen Dowd impression: 1
Homeland Security: 1

I suspect that, at the end of the day, Pinkerton's views haven't changed much. So the question is why he's writing all these liberal columns in succession. The answer is likely a frustration with Bush's Iraq and fiscal policies and a feeling that the party is headed in the wrong direction. Part of me wants to say "C'mon, James, go-along-get-along" but then I know if the GOP were to go on a homophobic tear, I'd likely be its harshest critic. That wouldn't make me a Democrat anymore than the pending Iraq invasion makes Pinkerton one. It does alienate us from our party and there is nothing wrong with that as Pinkerton's criticism is the only way for anti-Iraq Republicanism to be heard. When people ask me how I can reconcile my pro-gay marriage views with pulling the lever for a party adamently opposed to it, part of my answer is that I want to change the party from within. I also see it as a less daunting task to oppose the GOP stance from within on gay marriage and the death penalty to being a pro-market, anti-regulation, anti-abortion, anti-tax, pro-gun, anti-welfare Democrat.

The biggest counterexample that comes to mind is Mickey Kaus, whom many liberals have accused of turning conservative or of being fundamentally unserious. Anyone who has read Kaus's End of Equality book would know that Kaus is by no means conservative. He's just a different kind of liberal and finds himself at odds with with the current liberal dogma. He comes off as a Republican because in many ways he holds them to a much lower standard. After all, he rarely agrees with them and views them as suspect, so it's not a difficult bar for them to rise above. Liberals, on the other hand, are much more frustrating because even if they do win, Kaus still won't get the sort of changes he's after. Pinkerton's frustration with the direction of the all-GOP government is similar. His team won, but is going in the opposite direction. He may still agree with the Republicans more often than the Democrats, but it wouldn't be as frustrating if it was the other team taking us in the wrong direction.

Kaus could write column after column explaining why he's liberal. He's written a novel on it, but his faith really should be reaffirmed somehow. It'd be nice if Pinkerton took a time out to remind himself why he's conservative. It'd probably do them both a world of good and give them quite a bit of perspective.

Friend of No-Lyfe Mike Ahlf, who has a mostly-but-not-entirely political blog delves into the world of comic books and comic book property movies to try to make the case for Marvel Comics over my preferred (when I collected) DC. He'd make a convincing argument... except that he gets DC soooooo wrong it's not even funny.

His points about continuity are more-or-less on mark. It's always been a problem at DC for reasons that are more-or-less beyond their control. DC superheroes were set up in a legacy format. The first Flash was Jay Garrick and the second Barry Allen. The first Green Lantern was Alan Scott and the second Hal Jordan. The reasons this happened were well documented and were a product of the marketplace more than anything else. In 1986 wherebouts, they made the controversial decision to take Jay Garrick and Barry Allen and put them in a linear timeline. While there were two Green Lanterns (Scott and Jordan) and two Flashes (Garrick and Allen), there were two Batmans named Bruce Wayne and two Supermans named Clark Kent (when they relaunched Flash and GL in the 60's, Batman and Superman were too popular to tamper with). this became increasingly confusing for readers and since they have always been the flagship characters, it was easier to change around the Flashes, GLs, and Atoms.

Had they left it there, it would have been controversial but it wouldn't have lead to the agitation that has occured with many fans. They rebooted Superman and changed around the history of Clark Kent from boy nerd to jock, which was disconcerting at best and an outright betrayal of the character at worst. They also rebooted Wonder Woman from scratch, taking everything that she had done beforehand and taking it out of continuity. Though Mike also mentions Zero Hour, the effect that had on DC continuity was minimal and overblown in a marketing effort.

His point about DC characters having a cheesy fatal flaw is half-right. Superman, Green Lantern, and Martian Manhunter have it, but they're about it for the big guys (and in MM's case, it's well explained and no more odd than Storm's aversion to enclosed spaces). Flash, Atom, and the plethora of powerless characters (Batman, Green Arrow) are without said limitations.

Then Mike really starts to just get it all wrong:

None of their villians are simply evil businessmen like the Kingpin. Nobody in their pantheon has shades of grey. They're evil, or they're not. Contrast this with Spidey, who used his powers for monetary gain until the death of Uncle Ben. Contrast with Magneto, whose true brilliance is that he truly BELIEVES what he is saying. Contrast with Doctor Doom, who of all things carries around a more powerful weapon than anything he can build, in the form of Diplomatic Immunity

None of their villains are evil businessmen? Ahem... Lex Luthor? Luthor was a diabolical madman pre-Crisis, but since has been more or less DC's own Kingpin. Poison Ivy and R'as al Ghoul just want to set the Earth free. Penguin wants to be admired and respected. Joker just wants to world to understand the joke. Luthor is trying to provide a financial empire for himself and legacy for his daughter. Shade was a superhero because it seemed like the thing to do, then he became bored of it and destroyed half of Opal City. His super-powers had simply made him bored. Neither hero nor villain, somewhere in between. As for heroes in shades of gray? That pretty much defines Batman these days, whose own struggle is provided in the dichotomy between Robin and Huntress, the one who wants to do good and the one who wants to hurt those that hurt her. Green Arrow is a womanizer and a cad whose irresponsibility lead his former sidekick, Roy Harper, into drug addiction. Not to mention Hal Jordan, who was a drunkard when he found salvation through his superpowered ring and became Green Lantern for many years. Then his home town was destroyed, and he became so driven to make things right that he was trying to disrupt the entire time-space continuum... just to make things right and bring Coast City back from the dead.

On the last point, it's not too tough to disagree with his assessment:

So, now we have X-Men, and Spidey. Daredevil is proving that even Marvel's second stringers have box office power. Why? Because Marvel is doing it right. They have writers and directors who respect the material. They bring in actors, not for name power, but who can play the parts. Contrast the casting of Tobey Maguire as Spider-Man with Ahnold as Mr. Freeze and you'll see what I mean. Contrast the director's work and writers' work from Spidey or Daredevil with "Joel the campy fruit" Schumacher's complete ruination of Batman, right down to the Bat-Nipples and Bat-Ass. Turning Mr. Freeze, the emotionless scientist, into a singing wierdo. Taking Bane, from the evil genius who studied Batman for a year, learned his moves, then broke his back, to a shameless Hulk-ripoff toady controlled by pheromones. Warner showed no respect for what Batman is, and it showed. The people working on Marvel's films have respect for the material that's giving them a job and a chance to shine, and it also shows.

One must remember, however, that both the Batman and Superman movie enterprises started off well and went downhill. Burton's Batman was a solid adaptation of Frank Miller's Return of the Dark Knight character and the original Superman will always be a classic. It is therefore quite possible that Super-Man and X-Men will end up little different. It all depends on how many movies their respective directors do and who replaces them. I sincerely hope it doesn't happen, and I don't think it will. Not because the characters are inherently superior as Mike suggests, but rather because DC suffered from properties protection overkill. When Burton left the Batman enterprise, it was in part because Warner Bros. didn't want the Batman mythos to become irretrievably dark. A couple years ago when there was talk of a Nic Cage Superman, it was (thankfully) squelched during a debate over how closely it should tie in with the Superman comic story at the time (Superman Blue). The Marvel movies, on the other hand, are produced independently of the comic books so there is no overlap. There is no need to showcase shoehorn the new comic villain (at the time) Bane where he clearly didn't belong. They did the same thing in the Batman Animated Series (which was stellar to the end, for the most part) with the same disastrous results. Coincidentally, DC's last successful foray into other media was Batman Tomorrow, which had no comic book precedent for the bigwigs at DC Comics to try to control. Since there is little Marvel Comic editorial control over the content of the movies, it frees the movies to more closely mirror the visions of the directors. Let's just hope they don't replace the Burton's with Shoemachers.

Computer emulators of game consoles is a legally tricky area. The generally accepted rule of thumb is that if you own the cartridge, you can play the game on your computer. When Connectix came out with a Sony Playstation emulator that required the Playstation CD, Sony challenged that and maintained that the game can be purchased and played with the implicit understanding that you own a console. A legal battle ensued and continued until Sony threw in the towel (while they were ahead, even) and entered an agreement with Connectix. Here's an article explaining the details of the Sony/Connectix battle.

For the last six months, the company I work for (which I will forevermore be designated UFC when I write about it) has been working tirelessly on a project. Sixty welders literally working 24 hours a day around the clock (in alternating 12-hour shifts, obviously). Four engineers taking their vague prints and turning them into specs. An entire office staff almost entirely dedicated to supporting everyone else working on the project. The office staff including me, of course. On two seperate occasions, I put in 25 consecutive hour shifts to keep the flow going and us all as close to budget as possible.

The Houston Chronicle just did a big write-up on the cover of the Sunday Business Section. So are we mentioned?

Why yes, actually, as an "Unidentified Fabrication Company."

We're tossing around the idea of printing up business cards next time the company we signed up for the contrat with come around.

R. Alex Whitlock
Computer Systems Analyst
UFC: Unidentified Fabrication Company.

Well, I guess virtue a cost-plus job is its own reward...

"Everybody's searching for the end of the rainbow
I'm just trying to smell the rain
and every joy seems to be wrapped up in sorrow
behind every pleasure, there's a touch of pain
I will remain." -Great Divide

Stellar Oklahoma band The Great Divide is not long for this world. At the end of March, lead singer Mike McClure is leaving the band to strike out on his own. They were supposed to play in Houston a week or so back, but unfortunately their bus broke down and they were unable to make it. Since it was there last show in Houston, it meant that my only hope of seeing them was to catch an out of town show, such as the one in Bryan on Friday. The only option was a show in Austin a day before I'd have to be back to catch Dead End Angels at the Mucky Duck.

I was already running late when I had to make a side trip in order to pick up directions that I thought I'd left at work. Except they weren't there. Nor were they in my apartment or my car. I'd obviously slipped them into the Pocket of Oblivion I'm known for putting things that disappear and never resurface. That meant that I had to print out another copy. The printer up at the office is a good one and reasonably fast as long as you're not trying to print out large pictures. The problem? When it goes into PowerSave mode, it wakes up and slowly and grumpily as a college student with an 8am class. I hit Print.

I go use the john and come back, it's powering the toners.

I get a Mountain Dew from the coke machine and come back, it's recalibrating.

I sit there and watch, step-by-step ("Warming Up" "Recalibrating" "Leave Me Alone" "Recalibrating" "Go to Hell" "Warming Up" [I was begining to feel like Ron Livingston in Office Space, if you get the reference] "Processing Job" "Priming Toners" "Processing Job" "Printing").

It finishes, I turn the alarm on, lock the door, race out to my car, drive down the street, drive back, turn the alarm off, unlock the door, take the directions off the printer, turn the alarm back on, lock the door, and head out again.

While I was waiting at the light off the freeway, I thought to myself "I can't wait to get on the freeway I can out of this nasty weather."

Now, what possessed me to think that once I got on the freeway the skies would clear and little angels would descend playing harps to keep the nasty weather at bay for my trip, I don't know. In any case, there were no angels, harps, blue skies, or distance beyond a 10-foot scope. Luckily, I travel that way often to go to Austin or Waco, but it's an entirely different experience when you are driving blind. A couple times I'd wandered if I'd passed Hempstead (where I get off The Freeway onto The Scrappy Little Highway Trying To Be a Freeway). I crossed my fingers and kept driving, figuring that if I drove all the way to Austin I'd miss the show, but the harped angels missing here would surely be up there.

In my CD player was The Great Divide's latest CD and when "Remain," it's title track played, the thunder and pounding rain accompaniment was more than appropriate. In fact, there were a lot of songs on the CD that seemed to fit a road trip, with the exception of a song about driving under an almost full moon. Of course, maybe the moon was full, but I couldn't see it. There was also a song that mentions a blue sky, leaving me cursing the noticeably absent good-weather angels.

While on The Scrappy Little Highway Trying To Be The Freeway, I was looking for some Farm Road. For those of you that don't live in Texas, Farm Roads, or FM's, are East-West roads that range from backroads to highways. Given what the map said, I assumed that it was the former. It was definitely the latter. I almost missed it when I blinked. No exit, no light, just an apologetic little sign saying "Hey, the FM you're looking for is right here."

I had to check the map a good three times just to make sure this two-lane road (one each way) was in fact the FM that seemed like a pretty big deal at the map. If it wasn't for the map, I would have assumed it to be a farm's driveway. Ordinarily, I love roads like this. The speed-limits are usually high, there is never traffic, and the cops are never on them. Ordinarily, though, the irrigation trenches beside the road don't look rivers and when I run through a puddle, my heart doesn't stop in fear that it'll pull my car into the aforementioned river. Instead of celebrating the 70MPH speed limit, I was cursing it. I couldn't go a bit past 50 and those damn signs were taunting me.

Taunting me, that is, until I couldn't see them anymore when the rain gave way to hale. I wouldn't have recognized the sound of it if we hadn't had some hale at work earlier in the day. Now I was going 40, but at least the signs weren't taunting me anymore. Of course, neither could I see the stop sign that they stuck in the middle of nowhere. I say "middle of nowhere" as though they put it some place specifically on the FM that should be unexpected. Rather, this was the FM Road Through Oblivion and just about anywhere they could have put it would have left me asking "Why in the world did they put it there?!" which I did constantly until I could breathe again, my car having skidded perpendicular to the road in my rapid attempt to stop.

Yahoo listed the drive as being two hours, which meant that I still had half an hour to make up to get there by 11, so I decided to forgo my heart attack and hit the road again. It wasn't hard to calm down, realizing that there is no one but me (with the aid of Yahoo Maps) would be driving the Road Through Oblivion at this time of night.

Driving on a bending, flooded road in storming rain, hale, makes you think about the things in life you don't always make time to, like "Have I written a will?" More seriously, though, the great thing about being young, single, and childless is that I can take trips like this. To the extent that the missed stop sign and subsequent skid-stop gave me a heart attack, at least I was the only one. I only had to worry about my safety and, because I am young, I am immortal. So what's to worry about? Besides, there was nothing, nothing that was going to stop me from making the show.

I reached civilization soon enough and God was smiling on College Station and Bryan. Well, maybe mildly grinning at the corner of His mouth. At least I was able to see the Hall of Fame when I got there. Somehow, I'd still made up the half-hour that I needed to and got there at 11 on the nose, just in time to hear the radio guy introduce the band.

The Hall of Fame is an amazing place. There were probably a couple thousand people there, but I was able to get a spot up front. That didn't turn out to be the greatest thing, as the TGD song "College Days" about getting drunk, stoned, and hung over takes on a whole new feel when you can smell the girl next to you vomiting into a plastic cup. I'll have to save that story for another time, but it didn't impede on the bittersweet experience of listening to every Great Divide song played for my last time.

I just spent $400 on shoes.

No joke.

I'm not generally a shoes-buying kind of person. I'm also notoriously thrifty when it comes to clothes. Thrift-store thrifty. So why did I just spend $400 on shoes?

[Voice: Director from Panzer] It all started ten years ago... [/voice]... okay, actually it was about 15 years ago. When Mom used to take me to the shoe store, she'd pick a cheap brand and say that I could have any pair of shoes there. I'd pick a color I liked or a design I thought was cool, and it was all good.

Then my feet started getting bigger. Once I hit size 13, my choice was narrowed to a black pair, a white pair, and maybe a purple pair (which is to say, as a self-respecting guy, I had two choices). When I hit size fourteen, we'd have to ask if they even had any, and if they did, those would be my new shoes (unless they were purple). Otherwise, go to the next store and ask that question. After I had worn 14s for a couple years, shoe stores started carrying bigger sizes so the variety wasn't so bad.

Then my feet grew another inch.

Even so, there were stores that I knew carried big shoes and I could generally find what something somewhere, and usually not in purple. A couple years ago, that started changing. Suddenly they were all capping out at 14. But have no fear because the Internet was here! I could still find the shoes I wanted at good prices at Payless's site. I got my current job where steel-toed boots are required so I got myself a pair of Stanley Steel-toed boots for roughly $40 a piece. Good deal, cause I was never in my life going to pay $50.

Well, with Stanley boots, you get what you pay for, which isn't much. They started falling apart pretty quickly and right now are barely presentable. My old CAT boots lasted about 4 years, these obviously weren't going to make it that long. So I went back to Payless to see if they had anything perhaps a little better. No luck. Worse than no luck, they didn't even have the Stanleys anymore. They'd discontinued almost their entire line above 13. So for the last three months, I haven't had a clue where to get steel-toed, size 15 boots. My self-important $50 was no longer such a barrier. I'd pay anything if I could just find them. Supply and demand is a bitch.

I thought I had a lead when my Aunt Martha told me that she sold cop supplies and she might have some big shoes with some steel toes. She had some SWAT boots that were pretty cool, but none in my size, of course. They would have been nice, but I'd like a dark brown pair like my old CATs and cop shoes just come in black. Then again, at this point, who was I to complain about color? My current boots are tan for chrissakes.

Then, as she often does, Mom came to my rescue. She sent me a link to Zappo.com. It was like being 10 years old again with size 10 shoes all over again. Dozens of kinds of boots. Heck, I could even get a new pair of tennis shoes! (my current pair was purchased in 1995). The more I looked, the more I wanted. Oooh, oooh, brown CATs!! Oooh, oooh, oooh, black CATs!! Wow! Harley Davidson boots! Badass!! Wait, do I really need them? I'd only get to wear them when I go to a club or something and am wearing black. Harrumph. I shall buy them. Why?

Because I can!!!!

Or, to put it more technically, any economist can tell you as the supply decreases and demand stays constant (increases, actually, since the average shoe size is getting larger), the gap between the two will be met with a corresponding rise in price. However, with each pair of shoes purchased, the utility of an additional pair dwindles. A second pair of shoes is not as valuable as having one, the third less valuable than the second, and so on. Therefore, what was going through my mind when I was ostensibly thinking "Dude! Harley Davidson boots!" was actually something along the lines of "After careful analysis, I have come to the conclusion that despite the rise in price to a previously considered obscene amount of money, and even considering the dwindling utility of yet another pair of shoes, the marginalized utility (and therefore decreased demand, on a micro level) is still greater than the increase in cost, and when utility is greater than cost, I'm getting Harley Davidson boots.

Because I can!!!!

Fellow blogger and novelist Oliver Willis has released the first two chapters of Valley Girl, his novel, for your perusal. I handed off Something So Perfect to an editor-for-hire. Not sure what I'm going to do with it when I get it back. In the meantime, you can still download it for free! Either from the site or ask me in email for the latest and greatest version.

Now, through Oliver and I are both politically minded and write novels, I should point out that there are a couple differences. First of all, my novels are about the inner soul and the nature of the human condition. I'm told that Oliver's novels, on the other hand, have lots of sex.

Now which would you rather read?

Oh. Fine. I see how it is...

I'm only a little bit bitter cause I spent time last night voice recording at Adam's, sneezing my head off because of all the cats for me to be allergic to (and to date there is only one), it's gotta be his otherwise cool kitty. I tracked this down for my friend Jamie, but thought that since I had it, I would post it here. Originally from an email sent to Jonah Goldberg, which Jonah edited and posted, which I am shamelessly posting here:

FROM A DOG'S DIARY
Day number 180
8:00 am - OH BOY! DOG FOOD! MY FAVORITE!
9:30 am - OH BOY! A CAR RIDE! MY FAVORITE!
9:40 am - OH BOY! A WALK! MY FAVORITE!
10:30 am - OH BOY! A CAR RIDE! MY FAVORITE!
11:30 am - OH BOY! DOG FOOD! MY FAVORITE!
12:00 noon - OH BOY! THE KIDS! MY FAVORITE!
1:00 PM - OH BOY! THE YARD! MY FAVORITE!
4:00 PM - OH BOY! THE KIDS! MY FAVORITE!
5:00 PM - OH BOY! DOG FOOD! MY FAVORITE!
5:30 PM - OH BOY! MOM! MY FAVORITE!

Day number 181
8:00 am - OH BOY! DOG FOOD! MY FAVORITE!
9:30 am - OH BOY! A CAR RIDE! MY FAVORITE!
9:40 am - OH BOY! A WALK! MY FAVORITE!
10:30 am - OH BOY! A CAR RIDE! MY FAVORITE!
11:30 am - OH BOY! DOG FOOD! MY FAVORITE!
12:00 noon - OH BOY! THE KIDS! MY FAVORITE!
1:00 PM - OH BOY! THE YARD! MY FAVORITE!
4:00 PM - OH BOY! THE KIDS! MY FAVORITE!
5:00 PM - OH BOY! DOG FOOD! MY FAVORITE!
5:30 PM - OH BOY! MOM! MY FAVORITE!

EXCERPTS FROM A CAT'S DIARY

DAY 752 - My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while I am forced to eat dry cereal. The only thing that keeps me going is the hope of escape, and the mild satisfaction I get from ruining the occasional piece of furniture. Tomorrow I may eat another houseplant.

DAY 761 - Today my attempt to kill my captors by weaving around their feet while they were walking almost succeeded, must try this at the top of the stairs. In an attempt to disgust and repulse these vile oppressors, I once again induced myself to vomit on their favorite chair...must try this on their bed.

DAY 765 - Decapitated a mouse and brought them the headless body, in attempt to make them aware of what I am capable of, and to try to strike fear into their hearts. They only cooed and condescended about what a good little cat I was...Hmmm. Not working according to plan.

DAY 768 - I am finally aware of how sadistic they are. For no good reason I was chosen for the water torture. This time however it included a burning foamy chemical called "shampoo." What sick minds could invent such a liquid. My only consolation is the piece of thumb still stuck between my teeth.

DAY 771 - There was some sort of gathering of their accomplices. I was placed in solitary throughout the event. However, I could hear the noise and smell the foul odor of the
glass tubes they call "beer.." More importantly I overheard that my confinement was due to MY power of "allergies." Must learn what this is and how to use it to my advantage.

DAY 774 - I am convinced the other captives are flunkies and maybe snitches. The dog is routinely released and seems more than happy to return. He is obviously a half-wit. The bird on the other hand has got to be an informant, and speaks with them regularly. I am certain he reports my every move. Due to his current placement in the metal room his safety is assured. But I can wait, it is only a matter of time.

Okay, so there's this guy in New Hampshire named Kenneth Stremsky who is running for president. Greg's Opinion blogged on Stremsky's blog a while back (and got a comment from the man himself). Want to find out what he stands for? Hope you're not going anywhere cause his "position papers" are some 250 pages long, printed out.

Here are some of his more interesting policies and bio information:
* - I am thinking about posing for nude adult portrait classes in the future in different decades of my life. I may also pose for nude photography classes. If I do pose for nude adult photo classes, I may ask that only black and white film be used because I like nudes done with black and white film a lot more than nudes done with color film. Someday, I hope there will be another Renaissance in the art world similar to the one that took place more than a hundred years. I also hope we will have more sculptors like Michelangelo and painters like Leonaro da Vinci. If Da Vinci is reincarnated in the United States of America in the future, he will probably be the most famous painter and richest inventor. I think our society is extremely, extremely stupid and suicidal when it cuts back on art programs, music programs, and libraries. We cut out our nation's heart when we cut back on art programs, music programs, and libraries. My recommended website page links to the Louvre Museum, the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, and the Currier Gallery of Art."

* - "I have a great sense."

* - "I can howl like a wolf."

* - "I highly recommend that people check out the glass flowers display at Harvard University."

* - He has written many, many, many letters to the author of The Green Papers, and you can read every last one of them on his site, if you like.

* - "I often ramble."

* - "I have blown some friendships."

* - "PEOPLE SHOULD NOT VOTE FOR ME FOR PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA IF THEY HAVE NOT READ MY COMMENTS IN PART 1 OF LOCKE."

and

* - He likes negative coverage and wants more of it.

Well, I'm only too happy to oblige.

But I haven't gotten to the really good part yet!

He dedicates an page two (two actually, though they say basically the same thing) on his site to the search for a wife so that he doesn't lose votes for being single! This page, saying basically the same thing, has a song he wrote!

Weirder still? It's working!!

The AP interviewed him and he's gotten a lot of letters from women across the country and one from Australia and one from Brazil!

Before NLJ, I worked on a site called RAWbservations for six months. It honestly never occured to me that I should pimp myself on the site. I figure between my eclectic views on politics and eccentric taste in music, it would have the opposite effect (and, in fact, I'm pretty sure it did, in one case). Using a presidential campaign to search for a bride? Genius! Puuuuuure genius!

Note: Hillzoo, Politics1, and Greg all beat me to the punch here.

Dear People Who Run The Diamond Shamrock Down The Street,

Let me first of all concede that this all could be a misunderstanding. I'm not always the sharpest tool in the shed, so I could be wrong. That being said, your "Open 24 Hours" sign is quite misleading.

When I see a sign that says "Open 24 Hours" at a convenience store, I assume that it means that it is open 24 consecutive hours, 7 days a week. Now, this assumption has been wrong before. The McDonald's right by the University of Houston says "Open 24 Hours" but implies "On weekdays cause UH is dead on weekends." However, in this case it is a Tuesday night and therefore even if that is what you mean (though I don't know why it would be, since UH is some distance from here), it does not apply to tonight when I showed up to satiate a tortured addiction to Reece's FastBreak candy bars and you weren't open.

As you weren't open, and I was looking through a glass window that says "Open 24 Hours," I must still assume that there must be some implication that I, in my late-night feeblemindedness, missed. Perhaps you meant 24 hours a week? That doesn't seem right, though, because you're always open when I'm on my way to and coming back from work, which would imply at least 14 hours a day. So would that be 14 hours on one day and 10 hours on the next, making you open 24 hours every other day? I'm pretty sure that you're always open every day when I come home from work, so it would have to be 14+14 hours and your sign doesn't state "Open 28 Hours." So, I thought, perhaps it means open in non-consecutive 24 hour incriments. Say, for instance, 24 hours on, 1 hour off, ad infinum. Were that the case though, approximately every 24 days you would not be open on my drive to work (if it's 24-1, 12 days if it's 24-2) and, to date, that has not been the case. Now, it's possible that you mean Open At Least 24 Hours In Non-consecutive Increments and that you are sure to be open when I'm on my way to and from work. If that is true, it's a bit silly claim to make without specifying when that 1 or 2 hours you are not open at all. Granted, that would be a little like a shift table ("We're off from 10-11 on Sunday, 11-12 on Monday, 12-1 on Tuesday, etc") and would be a little tedious, but the more information you could supply the better off we'd all be, I think.

Otherwise, you see, you end up with snarky letters like this one from a FastBreakless addict who want a fraggin' candy bar at 12:30 in the morning but can't cause you're sign fraggin' lies (or is otherwise not-entirely-accurate if there is some method to your FastBreak-denying madness... madness, I tell you... madness)

Sincerely,
One of the Authors of the Blog You Do Not Read

My results

-Sensitive- You're Sensitive, and you'd like to
stay that way. Sorry,listened to a bit too much
Jewel there. You're sweet and very emotionally
charged. You definitely love the person you're
with, and always want to know how they're
feeling so you can make sure they're happy.


What Kind of Girlfriend Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

I took this at the behest of my friend. As I am quite male, the results naturally mean nothing.

Except that my next novel is going to be about war, death, weightlifting, and trucks.

So says an email I recieved today. Since anyone at my office having a crush on me is counterintuitive, to say the least, I felt the need to investigate.

I work in the office of an oil drilling services company. Prior to a huge waves of layoffs (a contract ended), we had 68 employees. Now, theoretically it could have been a former coworker that "hired" the website to find me, so I will consider them in narrowing down our suspects.

Now, first of all, since the site is called "Work Place Crush" and not "Trabaje el Amor del Lugar" or its Vietnamese equivalent, I can eliminate those that do not speak English from the pool.

We're down to 48.

Of those forty-eight, I've talked to roughly 20 of them (as I am integral to our payroll system, I am aware of them, but they are not aware of me). So now we've got twenty left.

Sixteen of the remaining 20 are men. The ad only shows women, and since advertisements never lie, we're down to 4.

The suspects:

Aba - Cheif accountant, just shy of 60 years old, white, evangelical protestant. Likes: Jesus Christ, lots of details. Hates: Computers, mechanical calculators, any mathematical tool more complex than an abacus. Seeing as how I'm the IT guy -- not to mention that she's married to the company President -- I would have to say this one is unlikely.

Nancy - Office manager, pushing 70, white, evangelical protestant. Likes: Jesus Christ, being valued, and puppy dogs Hates: Mean people and jerks. Seeing as how I'm 15 years younger than her youngest son, and I am a jerk and a mean person, this is probably unlikely, too.

Edie - Receptionist, just under 50 years of age, white, evangelical protestant. Likes: Jesus Christ, Infuriating her colleagues with endless blather and explanations. Hates: Not being absolutely, positively, 100% certain of every... little... detail. Seeing as how I'm younger than her youngest child and she's married, I'd have to say this one is unlikely, too.

Aria - CAD Drafter, mid-thirties, Hispanic, Roman Catholic. Likes: Jesus Cristo, authentic Mexican food. Dislikes: American attempts at Mexican food, being so far away from her family. She is the most likely culprit, were it not for the fact that she regularly asks me how to get to a site her husband didn't bookmark for her, this is unlikely, too.

So... the obvious explanation... is that there is another woman employee for the company that I don't know about, yet thinks that I am super hot. I'll have to look around more closely. Maybe she has the superpower of invisibility. That'd be kinda cool... yeah... that's the ticket...

I'm actually not deaf, though I am hearing impaired and have been for as long as I can recall. I don't wear a hearing aid, but I have an armory full of different ways to ask "I'm sorry, could you say that again?" I'm not very good over the phone, but one nice thing about my cell phone is that I can turn the volume up pretty high. If you're talking to me and I'm looking at you, chances are I'll hear you just fine as often as not. Other times, I pick up context clues and try to guess what you're saying. I can't read lips, but the combination of facial expression, nature of the conversation, and the few words I do here will give me enough information to formulate a response. If it doesn't strike me as important, I'll just gauge what kind of question or statement it is and come up with an answer, like "yeah" or "sounds good."

I was at the supermarket today talking to the Vietnamese co-owner. and she asked me a question. She is a soft-spoken woman with an accent, and it's frequent that she's trying to make light conversation, but I can rarely hear her. She asked me a question and I said "Yeah," which was not the answer she was looking for. She just looked at me blankly.

I apologized and asker her to repeat the question, but I couldn't hear her again. I think she thought that her accent was too thick, so she start talking more slowly (good)... and more softly (very bad). She repeated it four or five times, each one more soft than the last, and we both became increasingly embarassed. Me because of my hearing and she because she was sure it was her accent. The worst part of all was that I knew it was just a question that she was asking just to be polite.

Sure enough, the guy behind me (whom she was serving while talking to me) translated: "What does your jacket say?"

"Oh, University of Houston"

She smiled, I smiled, and I went on my merry way.

I was in San Marcos on Saturday night for my second anti-Valentine's Day party is as many days. While I was passing through Martindale, I noticed that something really smelled. Now, I have almost no sense of smell, so if I can smell it, then it's pretty strong. "What in the world would make that smell so strong?"

The smell went away, and once I was comfortable with the fact that it wasn't something in my car, I just started singing along with the CD.

Two minutes later it really smelled again. "What is that smell?!" I asked myself.

It went away again, and again I sang along.

A couple minutes later, I noticed a familiar site in the middle of the road. "What is the deal?" I asked. "That must be the fourth roadkill skunk I've seen."

A few seconds later, I asked myself "Why does it keep sme... OH! Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Then, tired of asking myself questions, I decided to direct a more definite statement in my own direction: "Alex, you're an idiot."

A few days ago Jason posted about whether or not it's "sad and pathetic" to drink for the sake of getting drunk. The commenters uniformly came down against that silly notion, so I didn't have a whole lot to ad.

Just to make sure, though, I ran a field test on Saturday night at a party in San Marcos. Four ubershots of Tequila, 11 jello shots (out of syringes, no less!), and 7 plastic cups of Killian beer. Now I can unconditionally say that Jay is right and she is wrong. I have proof, as evidenced by today's hangover leaving me unswayed.

I am a generally thoughtful person. As a writer, I come up with a lot of ideas to write about and, as you'll read below, several times that many to not think about. Even apart from my creativity, though, I have been described affectionately and not-so-affectionately as a very analytical person. When faced with a problem, a percieved problem, or just a possibly percieved problem, my mind goes into overdrive to figure out what I'm going to do. If I meet a girl, I detect our compatibilities and incompatibilities instinctively. When I meet a guy, I do the same (using a different criteria of course) to determine whether or not this person would annoy me with prolonged exposure (My tolerance for people has dipped a little in recent years). If I have a problem with a friend, roommate, or girlfriend, chances are I've run through it a million times before I even bring it up.

I like that about me, though, because it fuels my creativity and helps me avoid problems before they start.

Sometimes, however, I want to turn it off. I want to have a good time without analyzing the people around me. I want to become uninhibited and just talk to people just to talk to them. Can I do that without the alcohol? It depends on my mood. With alcohol, though, it doesn't matter. I'm a happy drunk, so even if I've had a rough day, I can just turn off everything that went wrong and enjoy the moment. Alcohol is Viagra for the spirit. It's not so much (as the Bare Naked Ladies song quoted above puts it) to become someone else as it is to nurture aspects of my personality that get lost in the daily grind.

Besides, scientists agree, binge drinking is a blast.

One of the Sandman stories I read while in San Marcos (see post immediately below for details) was about a writer who held a muse hostage. As the plot progresses, his ideas start spinning out of control and he has more ideas than he knows what to do with and it drives him crazy.

I know the feeling, though my sanity has remained more or less in-tact. As soon as I finish the second novel of my Slaughter series, presumably later this year, I've decided to take a hiatus from novel writing. (See below again for one of the major reasons that I need a break). Of course, as I say this I've had more new ideas in a shorter period of time than I have at any other in my recollection. I literally have four novels that I have to do next. A couple of genre pieces that could actually get me published, some character pieces that would just be fascinating, and a prequel to my November Novel.

A few months ago, I had a midnight meal with an old acquaintence that I was marginally involved with over an 11-month span a couple years back. We'd gotten talking about rollplaying (I don't, she does) and I was explaining to her an intricate idea that I have for a fantasy novel. The backdrop for it is basically a fantasy world with elves, orcs, and so on that takes place on the heels of the industrial revolution. That's not the story, just where the story takes place. I don't think I ever got to explain the characters and the story because she kept asking me questions about the world itself. At one point I was explaining the racial political coalitions (dwarves, orcs, and most humans vs. some humans, elves, and halflings) in the largest land and how those realities are affected by the (non-democratic) regime in the neighboring rival nation and she gave me the strangest look.

She knew that I was a writer, but I predominantly write realistic character-driven morality tales. In our eleven months, the idea I would also have ideas for complex fantasy stories hadn't occured to her. I also have two science fiction story ideas that are in development in the back of my mind. For every one idea that gets put on paper, I fully develop ten that I can't make the time to do anything with. For every post you read here, I have 5 or so that I don't actually post because I simply don't have time to flesh out the wording.

And I wouldn't trade that for anything in the world. Except, perhaps, the whole thing about getting paid for my writing. Some time ago, it was pointed out that my college career (was wasn't in the past tense yet) could go more smoothly if I took some drugs to help me focus. Truth be told, I have the attention span of a gnat. I could never pay attention in school because my mind was always off in some magical or imaginary world of some sort. It may be a world just like ours with slightly different inhabitants or it might be one where the humans and elves are locked in an eternal struggle between human technology and elven magic. No matter how crappy my life is going, I've got a character that can help me get through it because his luck is better... or his luck is a lot worse so it puts everything in perspective.

If I had taken the focus drugs, my plans for law school may not have been scrapped and I could be well on my way there by now. Maybe I'd be married to a girl I dated a couple times that lost interest because my head always seemed to be in the clouds. Could be the perfect life, but it wouldn't be mine because the cost of being able to focus would come with such a cost that I wouldn't be me anymore.

"When I was a child I spoke as a child I understood as a child I thought as a child; but when I became a man I put away childish things." I Corinthians. xiii. 11.

"When I was a child, I spoke as a child. I wish I could remember what I said" -Todd Snider, "I Spoke As a Child"

While I was at the party, I got into a couple conversations about comic books.

I haven't collected comics in six months or so, I'd wager. For the year before that, I had a monthly pull list of comics that I never really read. I mostly purchased them because of my friendship with the owner of the store. Once he closed shop, that was it for me.

A few weeks back, I went to the Ushicon Anime convention. Were it not for No-Lyfe Productions, I may not have gone. Truth be told, I had seen a grand total of (1) anime show that I hadn't already seen. Needless to say, I felt a bit out of place. The other conventioneers dressed in costumes and talked anime shop while I wandered around before finally hanging out with someone almost entirely unfamiliar with Anime. I remember my first convention in 1999 and the sense of wonderment of it all. I could barely afford anything, but I took such great care of everything I could. I even made my own logos for the bootleg tapes that I had. Series by series, tapes that are loaned out haven't been returned and my collection has receded to a fraction of what it once was. Most of them are available in the US and I could just buy them again, but I'd watch them when exactly?

I get up at 6:30 for work to be out the door by 7. I work until about 7 in the evening, get home around 8, read political journals, chat to people online, and go to bed. There are a lot of serials that I want to watch, but I have to watch them all at once because so many things go through my head so quickly that I have to flush out what I watched the day before just to make room for SQL codes, transient tables, bills to pay, and so on. That's one of the main reasons I quit reading comics. I could never keep track of what was going on and I could never find the previous issue hidden away somewhere in my apartment or car.

This weekend I read comics again for the first time in the year and a half since I was able to regularly follow them. I bought Brian some Sandman comics for his birthday a couple years back and I read them in between other things to do. I've forgotten how much I miss it. When my now ex-girlfriend Lisa and I watched some anime (in my collection that I'd already seen) early this year and late last, it made me start to want to watch Anime again. My former roommate JJ had an impressive collection that I was always going to read "when I get around to it" and my current roommate Jason (not Paris) has some that I will probably read about the same time.

While this all probably sounds self-pitying, it's not. Despite my long hours (and despite a lot of other things), I love my job. I do have time when I get home from work, but I spend that time working on this novel or that. I also read a lot of political magazines (a copy of The New Republic is sitting in front of my keyboard, calling out to me, as I type this), which I find to be very interesting. While I haven't read comic books (or any fiction), I've taken to reading books on the personality type theory. I'm on my fifth right now, there are three more waiting for me on the bookshelf. If I didn't enjoy it, I wouldn't be doing it, and seeing as how I do enjoy it, I'm not complaining about it.

That being said, I do miss the frivolity of just being a media entertainment consumer. I miss seeing movies as they come out and reading comics. I also wonder if I'm boxing myself out by being so out of touch not only with popular culture, but with my geek-culture roots as well. Over the past two years, I've written two novels yet I didn't see Fellowship of the Ring until it was a week away from getting booted out of the theaters and I still haven't seen Star Wars: Episode II

But I'm sure I will. One of these days.

Brian sent me this from Slashdot:

Jason Scott writes "25 years ago today, Ward Christensen and Randy Suess officially announced the creation of a little project they threw together with a 300 baud Hayes modem, a Z-80 based S-100 computer, and a phone line. They called it "Chicago Bulletin Board System" (CBBS) and it was the first dial-up BBS. From this beginning, BBSes grew into the many thousands and became an entire industry, and when the Internet started to mature with the World Wide Web, the users who had cut their teeth on BBSes moved over to it. So raise a toast to these two fellows for a quarter century of great online times."

Had it not been for BBSes, the four forces behind No-Lyfe would never have met.

She had a beautiful smile. That was the first thing I thought when I saw it. She was also vaguely familiar looking. But hey, I figured, she was smiling at me. Cool stuff!

As I walked past her, she said, "Hello Alex. How're you?"

??

I looked closely at her, trying to place the face. She could see me struggling. "You don't remember me, do you?"

I was actually a little worried. The sense of ease and familiarity she exhibitted suggested that I did, in fact, know her. Did I date a friend of hers or something? Is she a friend of a friend?

Then she said something. I can't remember what precisely, and everything fell right in to place. She could see the Eureka on my face. "So do you remember me now?" she asked.

"I so remember you now!" I said. You're poison!, I thought to myself.

I'm not a real classical film buff, so I never heard this tale of golden age actor Rudolph Valentino:

For someone nicknamed "The Great Lover," Valentino struck out big time with his first wife, actress Jean Acker. Six hours after pledging to stay together in good times and in bad, they were putting their vows to the test. And failing. The bride locked Valentino out of their honeymoon suite. He knocked for 20 minutes before heading home. Acker claimed in divorce proceedings that the marriage was never consummated and that she'd dumped the sex symbol for another woman. Legend has it that Valentino, who died in 1926 at age 31, remembered his ex in his will, bequeathing her the sum of one dollar.

That's the best reason I've heard to steer clear of drama queens in a long time!

I think that any time I say that I intend to post something, I'm just jinxing myself. I'll post the followup to my below post on the approaching holiday as soon as I can. Probably tonight. In the meantime, for those of you looking for something humorous-yet-poignant, I present the Intellectual Whores' Relationship Ladder Theory.

I won't comment right now on how accurate I personally believe it is, though it does mirror a theory I mentioned in my first novel: Romantic Capitalism. Whether you agree or not, fun reading!

France, Germany, and Belgium reneg on an obligation to Turkey to spite Bush, and this petulence is Bush's fault. According to J.J. Marshall, anyway. Why do I suspect that if Bush were reneging on said obligation to spite the French, he would still be blaming Bush?

The NATO pact is essentially "I will support my fellow NATO nations in times of need," not "I will support my fellow NATO nations in times of need unless there is a Republican in the White House in which case we will not let them use our bases, air space, or lend them even cursory support as needed."

France and Germany are big boys. Cheating them like children will only allow them to continue to act like children.

Devra has some solid advice for guys trying to pick up women:

* - Find out what your strongest social skill is, and use it. If you're Mr. Funny, trust that. If you're Mr. Thoughtful, trust that. If you're Mr. Serious Deep Thinker, don't decide all of a sudden to try and be Mr. Funny because you think the funny guys get all the chicks. You are who you are. Use your strengths & rely upon them when you're in a tense social situation (like when first meeting a potentially date-worthy young lady). Stay in your element.

* - Make it easy on yourself - recognize what aspect of your personality comes out when you are in an uncomfortable social situation, and prepare for it.
Example: If you get clumsy when you're nervous, prepare yourself for it. Slow down, breathe, be careful when in the vicinity of red wine, and have a good one-liner ready for that inevitable embarrassing moment. You see that pretty girl laughing at you? Look her in the eye, smile and say "I'm a total spaz, aren't I?" She'll probably say yes, but at least it's conversation.

and

* - Except for Poor Hygiene (see the first tip, above), there's nothing a woman finds more repellant than Desperation. Remember this. It's part of our genetic makeup.
[Never, ever, ever confuse Nice with Desperate. We do like 'Nice Guys' - in fact, we love 'Nice Guys' - but we are genetically predisposed to reject 'Desperate, Bitter, Self-Loathing Guys'. It might seem unfair, but see the bullet point, above, about Attitude.]

I plan to post on the subject very soon, which is one reason I'm earmarking this one. In the meantime, I'll just point out a good retort from "Hard Pressed" in her comments section:

The comment about not confusing "nice" with "desperate" should be directed at women, not men. First of all, telling a man not to be desperate is like telling him not to be hungry if he hasn't eaten in, oh, several YEARS.
...
Before advising men not to act desperate, first, tell me exactly how I'm supposed to do that when I am, in fact, legitimately desperate. Then remind women that when you call a desperate man "nice," you're a) telling him you'd like him more if he were a callous jerk, and b) making a man who feels pretty bad about himself feel a whole lot worse.

I haven't been "desperate" since I was 16 or so, though the line between "nice" and "desperate" and "interested" can be a quite blurry one. I am, for most practical purposes, a "nice guy" and, truth be told being a nice guy isn't the hindrence it used to be. It is, like Hard Pressed says, generally a codeword for "It's not you, it's me" which is code for "I'd rather be consumed whole by water buffalo than date you."

Whatever the case, those that pull from that the idea that they should be a jerk or act embittered has wounds from high school that haven't healed.

That being said, there is a reason that the phrase "coming on too strong" has entered our collective vocabulary. Historically speaking, I've been at both ends of this one. I've come on too strong and paid the price and I've been scared witless by women I'd otherwise be interested in. I am a rather unusual individual in many respects. As such, it's rare that I find someone that I believe myself to be compatible with. I'd say that I've met no more than five such people in the last two years. So, of course, when I do, I run the risk of coming on too strong, which is of course the kiss of death. On the other hand, when I don't feel that way but I feel I might if we spend more time together, I have sent a couple girls into a tailspin as they try to figure out what my intentions are. So how does one walk the tightrope of interested, without being desperate? How much of a poker face does one put on and when did it all get reduced to a card game?

Lest anyone think I'm breaking Devra's Bitter Rule, this is more philosophical than it is personal. For those of you that mistake this for a LiveJournal, I almost never post my feelings as I am feeling them. I mostly do it apropos Valentine's Day and as a segue into a humorous post that's going up tonight or tomorrow about something that happened recently.

Daniel Drezner writes a thoughtful and thoroughly correct piece on why the argument that the French should fall in line cause we saved their ass in World War II:

Now, this boils down to the notion of indebtedness -- that because the U.S. sacrificed to liberate France during two World Wars, they owe us some gratitude now. The same could be said of Italy, the Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg, Germany, South Korea, the Philippines, Indonesia, Taiwan, etc.

Let's be blunt -- this is a bullshit argument. First of all, what's the statute of limitations on such gratitude? Surely we Americans owe a debt to France for their invaluable assistance during the Revolutionary War -- not to mention the Louisiana Purchase. How much does this place us in France's debt? [But that was more than 200 years ago--ed. World War Two was more than a half-century ago, and an overwhelming majority of Americans and French have no personal memory of that time period. History is history.]

On the other hand, if I completely ignore the point he's making, I can laugh at what The Majority Leader said:

DeLay is trying a more personal approach. "I was at a celebration of India's Independence Day," he told reporters, "and a Frenchman came walking up to me and started talking to me about Iraq, and it was obvious we were not going to agree. And I said, 'Wait a minute. Do you speak German?' And he looked at me kind of funny and said, 'No, I don't speak German.' And I said, 'You're welcome,' turned around and walked off."

Hehe.

I went to the dentist this morning (hold the applause, please) expecting the worst. Though I've gotten into the habit of brushing and flossing daily (again, hold the applause!) since my last four-cavity visit two years ago, my gums have been hurting and I knew that I had at least one cavity. I was preparing for a lecture of gargantuan proportions. Yet... that didn't happen. As the title of the entry suggests, this was a dentist visit truly unlike any other.

Usually: I go in with my teeth feeling fine and then learn that I have a cavity (or four)
Today: I go in certain that I have a cavity and find out I don't!

Usually: I want to get out of the dentist's office as quickly as humanly possible.
Today: I volunteered to have my teeth cleaned in addition to the X-ray (makes a difference when you have no dental insurance and have already paid admittence)

Usually: Dr. D. asks me something to the effect of "My heavens, do you even know what a toothbrush is?!"
Today: Dr. D. tells me that the reason my teeth hurt is that I am brushing too hard!

Usually: Dr. D tells me that if I don't start brushing and flossing more often, all my teeth are going to rot out.
Today: Dr. D tells me that if I don't start getting more vitamins, all my teeth are going to fall out because I won't have any gums left.

Usually: I leave fearing the the future health of my mouth.
Today: I left fearing for the future health of my mouth.

Okay, okay, the exception that proves the rule!

The first reason was pretty straightforward. I can't read my own handwriting. Well, I can, but it requires so much effort that I lose interest very quickly and go play on the Internet.

The second reason is that I write things in shorthand and then later have no idea what they mean. For instance, I am now looking at my ToDo list for work and there is an entry called "Photo thinger"

Photo Thinger

Anyone want to take guesses as to what the bloody heck I meant by that?!

Kevin Whited and I go to a lot of music shows at the Firehouse Saloon and Mucky Duck together. At the last few shows he's recorded the concerts with his spiffy dat recorder. The one I have is awesome and provides me with a great copy of Randy Rogers singing Bruce Robison's "Travelling Soldier," a song of which I can never have too many copies of (I may even buy the latest Dixie Chicks record because it has it on there). If you go to live music shows, there are very often cover tunes and unreleased tunes that are not available on their records. Matchbox Twenty has a version of Cyndi Lauper's "Time After Time" that you can only get in their Live in Australia video release and online. There's also a bootleg of Sinaed O'Conner's "Nothing Compares To You."

Personally, I'd love to have a copy of Phil Pritchett singing "Last Dance With Mary Jane."

Apparently, Great Satan Clear Channel Communications has talked about releasing copies of a live show after they do them. I think it's a spectacular idea, but one unlikely to reach fruition.

It's a great idea because I would gladly pay $15 for the recording of a show I attended. Getting unique copies of songs in which the musicians improvise is invaluable (anyone who has heard the Paris version of Counting Crows "Round Here" will know what I'm talking about). Not only that, but it wouldn't be all that difficult to do. The setup is already there, for the most part. The Firehouse records many of their shows and when the shows end, they'll often play select recordings of it as background music. I've often wondered why (a) more artists don't do their live recordings there (where the quality of the recording is phenomenal) and (b) why they don't talk to artists about doing what GSCCC is. Of course, it'd be much more difficult for a small place like the Firehouse to have them ready at the end of the show, but regardless there is definitely money to be made there.

A lot of it, though, comes down to the discretions of the artists. Alt-rock band Blue October announced some time ago that they frown down on bootlegs because they want to be able to control their artistic output. As a writer, I find that instinct understandable. If I mess up or try something new with a work and it flops, I don't want it to be all over the Internet and such (though I did run that risk with my realtime posting of my NaNoWriMo novel, Something So Perfect, last November). There is also something to be said for it devaluing their studio releases if you can get any given song from fifteen places with fifteen sounds. It also devalues the potential of concert CDs (as we know them now) to the point of being null. On the other hand, thinking of things in terms of "concert CDs" is a concept that I can't help but feel outdated. A product of a time when live recordings were harder and more expensive to make. I also believe that in the end, they'd make more money than they lose.

Except...

I don't see it happening on a large scale. The above mentioned cover tunes would cause a legal nightmare as the artists would have to get rights to any that they do before they do them, and if artists want to control their own output of their doing their own songs, I can barely imagine how anal many would get in regards to other people doing their songs. If an artist is known primarily for doing a single song, it would be annoying to say the least if the file-swapping engines become more flooded with that one time that big name band sang it. They'd lose some of their notoriety.

This is not something that couldn't be overcome. Put something in the contract where Big Name Singer has to say "Hey, this is a song by That Little Band You Are Only Vaguely Familiar With If At All" and I think both BNS and TLBYAOVFWIAA both come out winners. However, that's in the world where money is all that matters and the egos of artists and defensive nature in which many carry themselves would get in the way. While it's safe to say all that the record companies care about is money, that isn't so with many, if not most, artists.

They could cut the covers out of the CD, but that would make me a lot less inclined to buy it. Not just because I want as much as I can get, but rather because I would want the whole show, not select portions of it. I'd pay $25 for a whole show and not $15 for the whole show minus a few songs that would be really cool, save for the legal entanglements. I suspect that what they have in mind is going to be the latter, however. That's just not something I'm as interested in and the roads are capitalism are tattered with the discarded ideas that were lost only because they were handled so cautiously.

I have a friend named Starr that moved to Idaho. She now works in a potato manufacturing plant.

I'd laugh at the appropriateness of having a job at a potato processing plant in what I have always referred to as Taterland, but I work for an oil company in a town that named it's old football team The Oilers.

I have a rather elaborate set-up when it comes to email. Everything sent to my private email address goes to a Bigfoot Account that gets forwarded to about four places, including work, a web account, the apartment, and my cell phone. On the cell phone, only the first 200 or so characters would go through, but that was cool cause all I wanted to know was that I got it, who it was from, and what it was about. I could get the full message next time I was at a computer. No problem.

A little while back, Bigfoot changed their distribution policy so that every account forwarded to had to be validated. No problem, except for the cell phone. I couldn't click on the link because it was a phone. What I ended up doing was making an account on my raw360.com domain, confirmed through that, and then set it to forward to the phone.

Perfect, right?

Except that the raw360 email account can tell when only a part of the message goes through. So it sends it in packets. Now every time I get an email of decent length, my cell phone goes off 5-10 times for each section of the message.

Is there any way to politely tell electronics you don't want it to try so hard to serve you better? Judging by my experience trying to tell Microsoft Word AutoFormat to stop trying to read my friggin' mind and figure out what I'm trying to do, the answer is no...

1994: I got my first HD-based computer. Having only used Apple ][e's prior, I was a fish out of water. I didn't understand the concept of installing something to a HD. My best friend Jason (Paris, from this journal) came over to show me the ropes. We had a copy of the original Doom that he helped me to install. We ran PKUNZIP Jason started talking to me.

"Uhhh Jason!" I exclaimed.

"What?!" He replied, seeing the fear of god in my eyes.

"It says the files are exploding!"

Now, for those of you that don't know, what it means by "exploding" is "unzipping" or "unpacking." I have no idea why it didn't just say that and avoid the risk of giving me a heart attack at 14.

2003: The newest version of WinAmp (3.0) has changed a few things from it's previous version (2.86). One of the first times I was using it, I wanted to clear the playlist and listen to someone else. The buttons were all in the same place so I did it without thinking about it. Then, almost ten years after the Exploding Files Incident, I almost had another heart attack.

They replaced the word "remove all files" (from playlist) to "delete all files."

Those bastards.

The sound that the HP 4500 color lazer jet printer makes when I can hear that it's about to jam.

Again.

(This new feature is not meant to demonstrate that Liberals are inherently Intellectually Dishonest or Conservatives are inherently good guys. Rather I will use it poke fun at sillier liberal arguments by taking them to their most ludicrous extreme.)

There are a number of reasons that people oppose war with Iraq. There's the War Hurts Children And Other Living Things group, to whom I will not dignify a response. There are those that fear backlash or that we'll sustain a lot of casualties and that we may not win. I am sympathetic to those arguments, though I don't agree with them. Then there's the argument that a number of otherwise level-headed individuals make that strikes me more as a rhetorical ploy than anything else. The "Why Iraq? Why now?" question, as if they would support attacking Syria next year. That's not a legitimate argument, it's a question and one that isn't part of the aGGCegate question as to whether or not war in Iraq is a good thing or a bad one. What

So, today we join Intellectually Dishonest Liberal (IDL) and Good Guy Conservative (GGC) as they hang out in GGC's house. Suddenly, they hear a loud noise.

GGC: Oh cruddy-fingers, they're at it again.
IDL: Who are at it?
GGC: The neighborhood boys. Every Thursday night they get drunk and wrap all the houses on the street. They leave beer cans everywhere. That's it, I've warned them repeatedly. I'm going to file a complaint.
IDL: Why would you do that?!
GGC: Because I'm tired of it! I don't know how many times I have to warn them...
IDL: Exactly!
GGC: Huh?
IDL: You said that they always do this. Why call the police now? Perhaps you should try to reason with them...
GGC: Reason with them? They said after the last three times I've warned them that they wouldn't do it again.
IDL: Yes, and you still haven't called the police. This is quite suspicious.[1]
GGC: That's because I didn't want to call the police. Unfortunately, I don't have much of a choice.
IDL: But why these boys? Why now?
GGC: Cause these boys are wrapping my damn house!
IDL: And I can understand your agitation with that, but it's not like these are the only boys wrapping houses anywhere. Why don't you call the police on the people that are housewrapping across town? [2]
GGC: Because I don't see them doing it in the act?
IDL: But you know people do it, yet you do nothing about it. You could start up a neighborhood watch.
GGC: I don't need a neighborhood watch. I can just look out the front window.
IDL: I meant across town.
GGC: Across town?
IDL: Of course.
GGC: Just so I can justify calling the people who are wrapping my house and throwing junk all over my front lawn?
IDL: Right.
GGC: Okay, so you would support me calling the police on vandalism going on across town, but not here?
IDL: Well no, because then you would be neglecting the vandalism that's happening to your neighbors. [3]
GGC: So I have to get everybody at once just to get anybody?
IDL: Basically. Come to think of it, last time you were at my house, you left a little bit of toilet paper on the floor and you left an empty beer can on my coaster. Should I call the police on you? It doesn't seem to me that you're in a position to judge here. Quite hypocritical, if you ask me. [4]
GGC: And I'm sorry about that. You know me and my slopiness and short term memory...
IDL: And how do you know those boys don't have a bad short term memory and just accidentally misplaced several toilet paper rolls on your trees? [5]
GGC: Look for yourself...
[AD sees a kid throw up a toilet roll. The one next to him hi-fives him]
IDL: Isn't that the Thompson boy?
GGC: Yeah it is.
IDL: Uh huh, and didn't your store once sell his brother alcohol when you knew he would share with his little brother? Didn't you contribute to all of this? Quite the hypocrite, aren't we? [6]
GGC: There's a difference between selling his brother a six-pack and letting him run rampant on two quarts of vodka.
IDL: Only in degree. Admit it! You've contributed to this alcoholic mayhem!
GGC: This is the dumbest argument I have ever had.
IDL: Dumber than our one last week about how satellite TV is a civil right?
GGC: This is the second dumbest argument I have ever had.
IDL: Besides, It's not like this place is spotless. You can hardly complain about the beer bottles and toilet paper while there is still this thin layer of dust on your window blinds. Not to mention that you have been known to get food on the table when you go to restaurants...[7]
GGC: [starts heading towards the closet]
IDL: What are you looking for?
GGC: Somewhere in here, I have the object with which I exercise my second amendment rights.
IDL: You mean you're going to go out there brandishing your gun at those boys?!
GGC: Not at the boys outside...
IDL: Maybe I should be going now...
GGC: Good idea.

[1] - "That Iraq has been breaking the UN resolutions repeatedly is old news. What right do you have to go after them now? What's changed?"
[2] - "Saudi Arabia is sponsoring terrorism. Why aren't we going after them? North Korea has nukes, why aren't we going after them?"
[3] - Unsaid: "If you threatened war with Syria, we'd be asking why you aren't going after Saddam."
[4] - "Sure, Iraq has gassed it's civilians, but the US is turning into a totalitarian state with this whole USA Patriot Act, so who are we to judge?"
[5] - Unsaid: "Maybe he's building those weapons cause if he puts them under his pillow, the Weapons Fairie will give him a quarter."
[6] - "We gave Iraq weapons back in the eighties to fight a greater threat at the time, so we are now unable to act on its much more serious excesses now."
[7] - "Until we never have a Florida 2000 ever again and until Afghanistan is the epitome of the perfect free democracy, we can't even consider Iraq."

Next Week On Intellectually Dishonest Liberal and Good Guy Conservative, AD tries to convince GGC that it's morally impermissable to give a homeless man the change in his pocket.

[clip]
GGC: Let me get this straight, you're saying that until I give $.73 to every homeless man in this city, I can't give this man a dime?
IDL: That would be accurate...
GGC: [to Homeless Guy] Bet you'd like to show this guy a thing or two, huh?
HOMELESS GUY: [grunt]
IDL: [runs away]
[/clip]

I started the tour out in Denver Colorado
I made the first one but I did not make the second show
Cause I met a girl there that brought about quite a big change
Then I OD'd in Denver and I just can't remember her name

On Thursday night, roots country artist Jason Boland had done me the courtesy of playing "OD'd in Denver," a Hank Williams Jr. song that I'd only before heard Boland sing on a bootleg. I had it stuck in my head the entire drive up to the convention, even while other music was playing in my CD player.

Boland had always brought me luck, it seemed. A little over a year ago, the day after going to a show I met someone at a wedding and we dated. Things didn't work out, but it was the first time I had gone out with anyone after a serious heartbreak, so it was a success nonetheless. I had an interesting incident during a Boland show early last year and it was a show in December right before I met Camryn.

Friday was uneventful for the most part, save for a blast from the past meeting someone that I hadn't seen in years and almost hanging out with friends I haven't seen in over a year. I did notice all the couples, which was interesting because conventions are full of unique people and it's always nice to see unique people with atypical interests hooking up. I, of course, was only there with my guy friends, single as single can be.

I guess you could say that my love life was not up to par
Too many nights alone had left a permanent scar

I first saw Shawn outside while I was catching a breath of fresh air. I didn't think that much about her, really. Not until I saw her at the hotel bar. That meant that she was over twenty-one. At conventions, age can be a very deceptive thing.

I'm generally not good at picking up people in bars, and considering how often I go to them for musical acts, it's something I ought to get better at. So I decided that there was nothing to lose there (it was doubtful that she was from Houston since the convention was in Austin). I went up to the bar, propped myself right beside her, and said "Hello."

We talked about the shuttle accident that had happened in the morning. I talked about my relatives at NASA and she about her present stint in the Navy reserves. We talked about us and what we were like when we were younger, what we're like now. I talked about my career and she talked about college. I told her about No-Lyfe Productions and gave her my business card. We got to know each other at the bar for about two hours before we migrated to the balcony.

Out there, the conversation started drifting more towards relationships, where we established that we were both single. We'd both had a little to drink, so the conversation had flowed quite smoothly. Our inhibitions were gone. I kept thinking that if it wasn't for the distance between Austin, where she lived, and Houston, where I do, it could really turn in to something.

The night wore on and we never had a lack of things to talk about, from goofy inebriated small-talk to our station in life and what we're looking for in life and relationships.

I made a special point to look at the back of her admissions tag. She had my business card, I figured, so it was only fair that I know her full name, which is on the back of all the tags. "Shawn Fitch?" I thought to myself, remembering a girl I knew a long time ago with the last name. But that wasn't her name, that was just an assumption on my part because I saw the F and the top part of the T. I removed my thumb and corrected myself.

To the bar, to the balcony, the bar, the balcony, our talking continued. We started making more and more physical contact. I'd say something and place my hand on her shoulder. In the bar She'd chastise me for something and tap my hand, then leave it placed on top of mine. Outside, I put my arms around her and she put her hand on my leg.

Then there was a moment. That moment where the back of my head sends a message through my various synapses with the singular message: "Kiss her."

But I couldn't. My best friend was sitting across the way, talking to us. So a message followed shortly after with the message "Wait, not yet!"

My best friend went back inside, the couple other people left, and we were
alone. It didn't take long.

Once we'd broken that threshold, the evening began to speed up. We didn't really talk about it at first. In fact, prior to that we'd never even mentioned the prospect of an 'us' and, to be honest, I wasn't quite sure if I wanted one.

Shortly after, we were joined by a crowd of people enjoying the fresh air. A young man with a goatee and sunglasses in the dark began playing his guitar for his friends. As Shawn and I slow-danced to "Hotel California," I decided that I wanted this to be for real. I just had no idea how to tell her that.

She swore she loved me and I told her that I'd do the same
Then I OD'd in Denver and I just can't remember her name

After another trip to the bar and back out to the balcony, I was looking out at the state capital absorbing it all with her under my arm. My mind was awash in alcohol, but I was trying to wade through it when she asked, "So what happens when you go back to Houston?"

I told her that I wasn't good at or comfortable with flings. She backed off and asked what I meant by that. Our inebriation was immediately put on hold while we discussed it. Three hours. Not a deal-killer, really. We both really wanted to try. "What can I do not to mess this up?" she asked.

"We're doing fantastic so far," I answered.

Later she asked, "So if I ask you to call me, then you will?"

"Sure."

We went back inside for another drink. She couldn't recall what the R. in my name stood for and got out the business card I got her. She accidentally dropped it. I pulled out another card and put it on the bar in front of her. She said it was all right and she'd get the old on off the floor.

After finishing our drinks we decided to go out and grab a bite to eat. When I cranked the CD player on, she immediately started singing along with a confused look on her face. "Is this. you listen to Cross Canadian Ragweed?!"

Our excellent start had just gotten better.

We talked about Cross Canadian Ragweed, Jason Boland, and other Oklahoma musicians as we drove to Katz's on 6th Street. We talked more about ourselves at the restaurant, our families, our philosophies.

Generally, that was the point in talking to someone where I become uncomfortable. When a relationship is imminent, I start getting scared. I didn't let myself that night, even as I become more sober as the night wore on.

We kissed goodbye and said we'd see each other the next day.

I brought it on myself I guess that I shouldn't complain
Doc says son you can't do anymore of that cocaine

I had a knot in my stomach when I woke up. The hangover was in the head. The
knot in my stomach was something else entirely. The feeling that I had not covered all of my bases. The knowledge that I did not have her phone number. The knowledge that I'd told her I'd call her. The memory of seeing the card still sitting by the barstool when I left the hotel the night before. The belief that if I was hung over, she was probably in Hell (she'd drank more than I had). The prediction that she would not make it before 3pm when the con closes.

I stuck in the main area until 3:30 or so when I finally gave up and left. I thought about trying to find out her number, but any time I thought of her name, all I could think of was Shawn Fitch. But her name isn't Fitch, and I can't remember for the life of me what it is.

She treated me nice and I'd like to find her again
But I OD'd in Denver and I just can't remember her name
I kinda overdid it in Denver and I just can't remember her name

[Italicized lyrics by Hank Williams Jr., "OD'd in Denver"]