Friend of RAW360 Daniel Goldberg has discontinued his Trivial Pursuits blog. Thankfully he left his archives up and he's still paying us regular visits as I've always appreciated his views.

I'm on a leave of absense until we can get it moved off Blogger, but Adam has been posting on the No-Lyfe Journal.

Meanwhile Michael Ahlf, a fellow former columnist with the Daily Cougar and a voice actor with No-Lyfe, has a blog and has been posting up a storm on Texas redistricting.

Oh, and No-Lyfe creative talent Brian, who posted on the Journal a long, long time ago but generally hates blogs so was a lost cause, sent me an interesting article on redistricting and food formations.

Check'em out.

Michael Duff has a good review of Friendster.

This is the first Internet group I've encountered where the baseline recruit is actually cooler than me. I've seen at least 60 people with outrageous piercings, dirty hair, and an interest list full of industrial music.

Two main types dominate friendster: Semi-literate party animals who post pretty pictures and describe themselves in sentence fragments, and pretentious hipster geeks who list authors they read in English class and write screeds about how much they hate TV.

I have lost count of people who use their profile space to denounce television. My favorite specimen is the type who lists six favorite television programs and says, "But I only watch them on DVD." Like it's cool to be three seasons behind.

I've actually signed on to Friendster to see what the fuss is about, but alas, I have no friends so I can't actually see anything. There is no six degrees of zero friends.

I suddenly feel so lonely.

In our apartment complex, a lesbian couple has moved next door. Not much to say about them really, I've only greeted them once or twice without any actual conversation.

One cool thing is that one of them has the following bumper stickers on the back of her car:

A pink triangle (lesbian pride)
A rainbow flag (gay pride)
A Union bumper sticker saying "Precinct so-and-so supports the troops!"
A US flag with the words "These colors don't run"

God bless Texas.

Austin American-Statesman:

WASHINGTON — President Bush will spend most of August at his Crawford ranch, but frequent trips will take him to key electoral states in the Midwest and on the West Coast.

...

"This August, the president looks forward to traveling throughout the heartland to highlight his initiatives to preserve our natural resources and protect American jobs," White House spokesman Scott McClellan said Tuesday.

Weather Underground, Crawford, TX:

Temperature 79 °F / 26 °C
Humidity 78%
Dew Point 72 °F / 22 °C
Wind SSW at 6 mph / 9.7 km/h
Wind Gust -
Pressure 29.96 in / 1014 hPa (Steady)
Conditions Clear
Visibility 10 miles / 16 kilometers
Clouds
(Above Ground Level) Clear (CLR) : -

Yesterday's Maximum 100 °F / 38 °C approx.
Yesterday's Minimum 73 °F / 23 °C approx.
Yesterday's Cooling Degree Days 21 approx.
Yesterday's Growing Degree Days 26 (base 60°F) approx.

Not one to comment on movies that often, I actually commented on Gigli when they were doing post-post-oh-my-goodness-this-movie-is-pure-awfulness-post-post-production.

I'd say some more mean things about it, but I said my piece in the post and in the comments section of it. Besides, The Onion's article had me laughing hysterically.

It reminds me of a couple things, such as when I smiled when a main character died in one of my ex-girlfriend Anna's chick flicks and I smiled because that was the only way to salvage the mediocre story.

It specifically reminds me of an experience watching a Freddy Prinze Jr. movie. Anna loved Prinz movies so I got to see all of his romantic dramadies while we were together. I chided her about it, but in all honesty she'd agree that I was a pretty good sport about it.

One weekend we saw Boys and Girls, which actually might have been his best movie had it not been for their futile efforts to pretend that in any life someone who looks like Prinze could ever be an unpopular nerd (note to filmmakers: don't even try).

Anyhow, so we were watching the movie about two friends who gradually drift towards romantic intent when, after a series of events I cannot recall, they ended up in bed together.

I looked at my watch (as all guys do during Prinze movies. Repeatedly) and saw that we were fifty-five minutes and thirteen seconds into the film. Much to my dismay and Prinze's, she wasn't there when he woke up in the morning, which Portended Drama (bad for Prinze cause drama requires acting, bad for me cause I had to watch).

He tracked her down in the rain and she blew him off (1:01:41). Suddenly I started laughing. Not like a chuckle, but a actual laughter. I mean, I was trying to suppress it, but it came out muffled all the same. Anna asked me if I was feeling okay. Once I stopped biting my lip she could see that I was laughing and not coughing. She shook her head and kept watching and I looked at my watch again, still chuckling (1:03:08).

She elbowed me, asked me what was going on. "I'll tell you later," I said as Prinze and Forlani sadly walked away from one another (1:04:23). When that happened, I knew I had to get my act together, so I took a couple deep breaths, lost the laughter, but not the mischevous smile.

When we finally left, she asked me what the hell had been going on.

"I came up with a movie idea," I explained.

"Another one?"

"Yup. It's about this guy and this girl. He's a nerd, except he looks like Freddie Prinze Jr. so he can't really be a nerd, but he's a nerd in the way that Hollywood tries to put glasses and braces on a supermodel to make them a nerd. Anyway, so he meets this girl, right? And they keep meeting in all these odd places. They become good friends, but of course he wants more and she doesn't realize it, but she does, too..."

"Alex, that's the movie we just saw."

"I'm not done yet."

She sighed, "okay, continue."

"So then they both get a little drunk or he's really sad or she's really sad or whatever. they sleep together. But when he wakes up, she's gone..."

"Alex..."

"I'm not done yet!"

"Okay, okay."

"So she's gone when he wakes up. he tracks her down and talks to her. She says that she's not ready for a relationship and he gets all mad. Then one hour, four minutes, and twenty-three seconds into the movie, the credits roll."

"Huh?"

"That's it. All this build-up and then nothing actually works out. No climax. No feelings resolved. He's miserable. She's miserable. It's great!"

"No, that's not great, that's a big waste of time."

"Maybe, but it's a waste of one hour, four minutes, and twenty-three seconds instead of one hour, forty-two minutes, and forty-six seconds."

She was not amused.

"Besides, it actually has a different ending than the rest. So it's not really a waste at all. It's different, so it's art."

"You should be glad the movie didn't end like that, Alex."

"Why is that?"

"Because you would have had to dealt with me crying and you said you hate to see me cry."

I always hated it when she was right.

There is a liberal saying that you can't legislate morality. It's both true from a practical standpoint and a moral one. Of course certain moral behaviors, such as murder and theft, are undeniably necessary for the public benefit. But when it comes to private morality, it's difficult to rigorously enforce any law that has no victim (except, arguably, its perpetrator).

The flipside of that, in my mind, is that you can't legislate tolerance. To be sure, you can dull the effects of intolerance by financially compelling companies to hire minorities and punishing those that blatantly refuse to. But when all that's said and done, it's as difficult for the government to change the hearts and minds of people to make them more tolerant as it is to make them more moral.

Both laws against immorality and bigotry can only succeed with the consent of the public. Enough people outside the South cared enough about Jim Crow that laws were forceably consented to and once that happened, the South had no choice but to acquiesce.

Gay rights uniquely touches on both tolerance and morality and nowhere is the occasional conflict between the two more apparent in this struggle. Those that fight against gay marriage and the like do so in the name of morality. Those that fight for it do so in the name of tolerance.

Along with capital punishment, my position on gay rights is among my most liberal ones. I not only believe that "sodomy" laws ought to be repealed, but I believe gay couples that so choose ought to be afforded the same rights and given the same obligations as heterosexual married couples.

So I am not the least bit sorry to see the sodomy laws go. I am, however, disturbed as to how it came about.

A while back, Jane Galt pointed out an article in The Economist as to why the abortion debate rages on in the US long after it has been settled in Europe. Surprisingly, it has less to do with different views of morality as it does how each came to allow abortion in the first place:

Why does abortion remain so much more controversial in America than in the other countries that have legalised it? The fundamental reason is the way the Americans went about legalisation. European countries did so through legislation and, occasionally, referenda. This allowed abortion opponents to vent their objections and legislators to adjust the rules to local tastes. Above all, it gave legalisation the legitimacy of majority support.

Most European countries provide abortion free. But they have also hedged the practice with all sorts of qualifications. They justify abortion on the basis of health rather than rights. Many European countries impose a 12-week limit (America, by contrast, allows abortion up to about 24 weeks and beyond, and many abortion-rights advocates seem to oppose any restrictions.) Frances Kissling, head of Catholics for a Free Choice, also points out that the Europeans have been careful to preserve a patina of disapproval. Even in England, the country with the most liberal abortion laws in Europe, women have to get permission from two doctors.

America went down the alternative route of declaring abortion a constitutional right. (The only other country that has done anything comparable is South Africa.) . . . It would be hard to design a way of legalising abortion that could be better calculated to stir up controversy. Abortion opponents were furious about being denied their say. Abortion supporters had to rely on the precarious balance of power on the Supreme Court. Legalisation did not have the legitimacy of majority support. Instead, it rested on a highly controversial interpretation of the constitution (abortion rights are clearly not enshrined in the constitution in the same plain way that free speech is). By going down the legislative road, the Europeans managed to neutralise the debate; by relying on the hammer-blow of a Supreme Court decision, the Americans institutionalised it.

A Constitutional amendment freed the slaves and a ruling on the Constitution striking down "Seperate But Equal" was instrumental in desegregation. However, the democratic legitimacy was ushered in by a series of law passed. As opposed to being dictated by nine people in the high court, it was a direction our country moved and, despite our imperfections on the matter, we've never looked back.

Pro-choice forces became impatient with the liberalization of abortion laws and instead found their salvation in a single court ruling (followed by various concurrences). Because of this, people were left out of the debate and when that happens, it becomes extremely polarizing and energizing for the opposition.

So what does this have to do with homosexuality and sodomy laws? A whole lot.

The rationale the courts used for both cases was the so-called "Right to privacy."

It sounds like such a benign concept, doesn't it? Everyone likes privacy. Who could object to that? I personally disagree with certain applications of it (abortion, specifically), but I certainly like the concept. A vague "right to privacy" is my rationale behind my opposition to a number of laws against things I consider morally wrong, such as adultery.

The problem is that the courts made the vague notion absolute and came to the absurd conclusion that the "liberty" in "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness" is translated to a right specifically applied to sex (and maturnity) law.

Well, another word in the above phrase is "life," so does that mean that the Supreme Court ought to be pro-life? It's less of a stretch, but if the Court declared such, regardless of my views on abortion, the death penalty, and euthanasia, I would be equally appalled.

Any point in the constitution can be construed to mean what it clearly doesn't say. If you accept it when it supports your policy positions, then you have to accept it when it flies contrary to them.

I find the cheers coming from liberals to be predictable, but those coming from libertarians are particularly disturbing. It appears that even the idealistic strict-constitutionalist libertarians support a different sort of elastic clause.

This is my first time to comment on the ruling, mostly because I couldn't cheer the ruling (because I disagreed with the means) nor could I muster much outrage (because I am happy with the ends).

Unfortunately, via Nathan I found out that USA Today reports that like the abortion ruling, cutting corners judicially comes at a cost:

Advocates for gay men and lesbians called the poll disappointing. "Clearly, the debate (over recent developments) has had an effect," says David Smith of the Human Rights Campaign. But over time, he says, "The country always ends up on the side of fairness, and I think they will here, too."

Those making the biggest shifts included African-Americans. On whether homosexual relations should be legal, their support fell from 58% in May to 36% in July. Among people who attend church almost every week, support fell from 61% to 49%.

The survey also found rising opposition to civil unions that would give gay couples some of the rights of married heterosexuals. They were opposed 57%-40%, the most opposition since the question was first asked in 2000.

By 49%-46%, those polled said homosexuality should not be considered "an acceptable alternative lifestyle." It was the first time since 1997 that more people expressed opposition than support.

I wish I had Mr. Smith's confidence, but seeing as how their movements next mission is to force gay marriage through the courts, I believe that we're headed down the path to prolonged conflict.

I spoke earlier of my utter frustration in regards to the record industry's ability to local genuine talent. I was thinking about my favorite artists to go national with a big-label contract and they are the following:

Blue October
Bob Schneider
Cross Canadian Ragweed
Pat Green

All signed by Universal Records. So while I bash the industry as a whole, I feel obligated to at least give props where props are due. They have their hand on the pulse of Texas. Good for them.

First 50 by Stephen Green.
Second 50 by Michael Totten.

I will not comment as to how many of these words I have, in fact, used on any of my first dates.

If all the major record labels were to declare bankruptcy tomorrow, I'm not sure it would mean a thing to me. If all the radio stations no longer had their latest and greatest things to use to fill their time, I'd probably consider it an improvement. I haven't listened to the radio in quite some time and the last four big label CDs I've purchased were artists I'd been following since before they were signed.

If all the file-swapping engines were to cease functioning, it would be equally unimportant. The only mp3s I download are off of eMusic and they are bought and paid for. Every now and then I'll get some unreleased song from a band, but I generally get those from friends.

I figure I am probably about as impartial to the file-swapping debate as anyone. I don't really care who wins.

So I am neither the choir nor the unrepentant in one of John LeBlanc's earliest posts on file-swapping (note: no permalinks, so do a search for "ears without faces").

I am pretty much without any sympathy for either side of the debate.

I'm not sure what I can say about the record labels that hasn't been said already. My basic belief towards them is that they largely made this bed. There was a void in the market place that instead of trying to fill it, they wanted to pummell it with concrete.

From a simple business standpoint, the fact that there are precious few ways for MP3s of signed artists to be legally obtained and those that do exist have taken this long to get into place is a prime example of their resistence to change, which dates back to their attempts to ban used music stores and I'm sure before that.

It took them over four years to recognize that MP3s were more than just a method of distributing music, but rather a new medium that many use even if they own the CDs. The first thing I do when I purchase any CD, in fact, is to rip it.

Their paranoia has blinded their vision to the point that they uncomfortably put consumers in the position where it was easier (I mean easier, not cheaper) to obtain each of the songs on the top 40 countdown illegally than properly. They failed - and still fail - to recognize the marketing tool that MP3s could have provided. Marketing tools that, incidentally, would have circumvented by diluging their databases with raw copies of files making it prohibitively difficult for someone to try to track down a good recording. When I did use file-swapping programs, the most difficult files to find were the ones where the artists had released MP3 clips or poor audio releases for public consumption.

They have ignored the tremendous outlet this provides for helping to find new acts. While music video television stations are having listener vote top 20 countdowns, the record companies are scrambling for acts just like the last greatest hit because that's the only thing they know we might like. Instead of simply releasing two or three songs of a new artist for the public to try out, they have resorted to suing their consumers.

If so desired, I could produce a chart that demonstrates my CD purchases that would show a strong linear corrolation between easy file-swapping and how many CDs I buy. I would list all the artists I found via Napster usercatalogs and Audio Galaxy artist pages, but it would be far too long.

Not that it matters, you see, cause I'm the enemy. You see, I was downloading files without permission and so on. I was a thief. If I downloaded ten Matthew Ryan songs and then turned around and bought his three CDs, I'm not a customer who wants to have a clue as to what he's buying, but rather a common cook.

Of course, one might argue that I'm not the problem, but it's those that download without buying. The question is whether or not they would be buying anyway. I'd be willing to bet that if they were around ten years ago, they were the ones copying their friends CDs to tape. That's what I used to do when I didn't have money or a proper connection. That's also where file-swapping is most prevalent: college campuses, high school kids, and among those that don't have money. So how many sales are getting lost here?

But the record companies are losing money. They blame that on file-swapping, but the truth is they were still in the black back in the Napster days, when swapping was considerably easier than it is now. So why are they losing money? The fact that there hasn't really been a new flavor of music since the grunge/alternative/punk outburst a decade ago might have something to do with it. Much easier to blame file-sharing, though.

Now let's talk about the file-swappers. Please understand that I'm not referring to all of you, but a not insignificant portion that is making everyone look bad.

Repeat after me: Music. Is. Not. Free.

It is not free to make, it is not free to produce, it is not free to promote, and it is not free to be put on the airwaves for your enjoyment. This idiotic notion has justified theft for way too long.

You can argue that the artists make their money from their shows, which is largely true, but their shows wouldn't be garnering the attention they get if they hadn't been signed and promoted by a record label. So effectively, you're biting the hand that feeds them. How considerate.

Which brings me to the animosity between swappers and the record companies. I'd like to think that they, like me, disdain the record companies because they tend to promote crap. There is more evidence to the contrary, however, that you actually like their crap.

Can you name me a single artist that rose virally through the ranks of free downloads? Maybe I've been out of the loop long enough that I'm missing a huge act, here, but I certainly can't think of any. The most downloaded artists are the ones that were brought to you via the radio via those evil record execs.

Music is easier to produce and release than ever before. Not that most of you know it because as the airwaves consolidate and the same artists (and their clones) get more and more attention, your downloads mirror the trend. The record companies spend thousands upon thousands of dollars locating, signing, and promoting "quality" talent and when you run across it you simply say "golly gee, I like that song" and proceed to download it.

Perhaps if you like an artist enough, you purchase their CDs. Good. But what about the three or four radio tracks you have downloaded of Hot New Band that are just enough. Well, you wouldn't have bought the CD anyway, right? Except when you download such from fifteen bazillion bands, you have enough music that you really don't need to buy anything, don't you?

I don't care if you don't like the record companies. I don't, either. But don't turn your minor theft into some moral crusade. The fact of the matter is that if you're getting your favorite hits from the radio (note: it still counts if it's "word of mouth" from what your friend heard on the radio), you are utilizing the tremendous filtering service that the record companies provide. All of the bitching and moaning about them in the world does not constitute payment for their services.

Have you ever gone to mp3.com or IUMA? There are tons of good artists there. Of course, there are a lot of crappy ones there, too. Don't feel like waiding through the bad stuff to get to the good? Well, that's what record companies do professionally. You can thank them for their service now. Or at least quit being indignant about leaching off them.

If the record companies ever succeed in making Kazaa unusable, I'm going to laugh as you bitch and moan. I'll miss the occasional unreleased bootleg, but you're going to have to start shelling out $15 for a CD cause you like one song on it all over again while I know where to look for good music. I know of more good music than I could buy in a lifetime.

Lastly, if you're as serious about enjoying the format, rather than just the convenience of not having to pay for anything, check out eMusic, MusicMatch, and other services that allow you to download MP3s for $10 a month. If you're shrieking at the prospect of paying for an MP3, you're proving the record companies' case.

[Coming soon... how we can get out of this jam]

Kevin delivers a sincere indictment of those that responded to the Venomous Kate post in the manner that I did.

So, no retarded "advice" or "solutions" from me, no pithy lists, no reading recommendations, none of that. Just go read and think. Those of us who are a little older and in relationships (even if we don't have kids) can sympathize, and maybe we can even take some of it and put it to use.

When I was plowing through it, I was increasingly sympathetic to her plight. Like Kevin, I realize that it's difficult for someone that hasn't been there. But at some point during it, my mind turned and realized that there wasn't anything in here I could put to use. It's a healthy thing to communicate stress and exhaustion, but she takes it a couple steps further.

I suppose I am hopelessly male in the belief that misery cannot be a perpetual state. When a woman is throwing heavy objects at her dumbfounded husband, that qualifies.

Yet then she says that there isn't much that can be done because "that's just the way it is."

Well, no.

Certainly, there are things that she has no control over. She can't dictate what's in the women's magazines or what the trumped up "ideal" parents would do. At first she seems to (properly) rebut these notions, but the more I read the more she seems held hostage by them. More specifically, she seems held hostage by her own sense of perfection. Unless everything is perfect, it's a failure.

By all appearences, Kate is a good mother. I greatly admire her (and people like her) for putting their career aside to devote their time and energy towards the kids. She goes far above and beyond the call of duty. Too far and simultaneously regrets that she cannot go farther and resents the toll that it's taken to go as far as she has.

I think that's what turned my mind. People that do that often touch a raw nerve with me. In part because I've been there. While I've never been a mother, I have worked 50 hours a week, worked two minor part-time jobs, taken a 15-hour courseload, worked on my college thesis, and had a full-time girlfriend all at once.

It took a major automobile accident before I finally due almost entirely to exhaustion before it finally got the attention it deserved. Before I was able to give myself the attention I deserved.

Kate glosses over that part and goes into asking her husband (and men in general) to do more. Instead of lowering her own expectations to a reasonable level, she seems to be suggesting that the other half raise his to help meet her unreasonable one.

There is a service in all of this in reminding men that most single mothers don't just spend their time around the house watching soaps. Unfortunately, the sheer ferocity of it is enough for me to believe that their are other issues involved.

"I'm not old
but I'm getting a whole lot older every day
It's too late from keeping crazy
I've got to get away
The reasons that I can't stay
don't have a thing to do with being in love
I understand that loving a man
shouldn't have to be this rough
You ain't the only one who feels
like this world left you far behind
I don't know why you got to be
angry all the time"
-Bruce Robison, "Angry All The Time"

This article by Fred Reed is flippant, rude, applies to some women, but not most in my experience.

Of course, it's in response to a Susan Reimer article (unfortunately not available on the web) about how "Other than a 29-inch waist and a full head of hair, there isn't much to recommend the twentysomething male... He is living an extended adolescence -- an adult-olescence -- and every immature, irresponsible, self-absorbed thing he does is reinforced by the latest issue of his favorite men's magazine."

Still, Reimer's attitude is not prevalent among the women that I know. Nor is Reed's, except when he reads an article like Reimer's.

That's the rationale I am trying to use to understand Venomous Kate's take on the Reed article. Except that they're really not talking about the same thing. Not in fact (Reed's speaking more of professional women, Kate runs the household) and not in tone (Reed is half-sarcastic, folksy and Kate is a raging tempest).

It strikes me as the equivalent of someone responding to a sarcastic joke by pulling out a sawed-off shotgun.

Well, it's quite obvious that Kate is overwhelmed:

It's not that I resent meeting the needs of my loved ones. Far from it: I feel good when I do. It's not even that I resent putting my own needs second to the needs of my children at times: that's what mom's do. But what it comes down to is that no matter what I am doing - having coffee on the lanai, listening to my daughter talk about something that amused her, taking a shit, whatever - there is always something else that I'm supposed to be doing at the same time. There's always more, something that's not done, something that I forgot, something that someone else needs, or wants, or is thinking of, or can't locate without asking me for directions. There's a never-ending stream of this ... and I can't find time to take a leisurely shit but still feel guilty for trying.

As a wife, I am tired of feeling that my attention is pulled in so many different directions while also knowing that my husband gets the short-end of the stick. This is the man that I chose to be with, the one I pledged to spend the rest of my life with, who made a similar pledge to me. Yet day in and day out we find it hard to squeeze in thirty minutes here, fifteen minutes there, just to hold hands and talk and laugh together like we used to back when we fell in love. Those days add up into weeks, months - then suddenly the man sharing my bed feels like a stranger and, at times, a burden because he, too, needs something from me.

I am rarely left as speechless as I was after reading this. One part sympathy, one part anger, all parts of me knowing that anything said to her by her husband could and would be used against him.

It's things like this that make me never want to get married. To which I'm sure Ms. Reimer would say "See what I mean?"

I am fully aware of the axiom that when a woman complains, a man is generally not supposed to try to solve the problem. But if this isn't a problem that needs solving, I really don't know what is. If this is her version of "venting" then she is quite frankly a very likely candidate to become my ex-wife.

The situation going on there is between Kate and her husband, so I'll try to keep it applied more generally, with my supposition of Kate as a case-and-point.

From what I read, Kate strikes me as the person who has difficulty saying "no" or her family has difficulty hearing the word. In any case, it's apparent that she sets too high a standard for herself. Of course she wants to do everything for her family, but there are obvious limitations and it's not clear to me that, except in the case of sex, her husband is incapable of recognizing that. Maybe he is and she didn't say, or maybe he hasn't yet been given the chance.

I have a series of rules that may keep me unmarried the rest of my life, but I'd rather be so than married to someone who doesn't understand them.

1) If you haven't told me about something I'm doing wrong, you can't expect me to fix it.

2) You cannot insinuate that I am strongly contributing to making you unhappy (as Kate does) and then say that there isn't anything that can be done and I should accept that I am doing so.

3) If you want something from me, be specific.

4) Except for the most obvious cases (birthday, anniversary, etc) if you didn't ask for something, you can't expect me to give it to you.

5) If they're my standards, we'll talk, but if you set the standards for yourself too high, it's not my fault that you can't live up to them. I'll be happy to listen to you as you share and vent, but leave me out of it unless there is something you want me to do about it. Once you involve me, I will involve solutions.

6) If you don't say no, I don't know that the answer is no. Particularly if you do it anyway.

7) It is no more my job to live around you as it is your job to live around mine. Cooperation and communication.

8) Yelling automatically invites solution proposals.

9) Crying doesn't automatically invite solution proposals, but sobbing uncontrollably does.

10) No sentence begins "If you love me..." If I didn't love you, I wouldn't be with you.* Now tell me what you want.

* - May not apply in the first six months of the relationship.

Yep, if I were female, I'd be going to the pound to pick up a cat or ten, I think...

I heard this song a few times last week as I was preparing for the Mark David Manders show and came up with the concept on it. A dear friend told me that she misses my more drama-drenched writing, so here's a bit of that.

It takes place earlier this year during the My Little Identity Crisis Melodrama series.

Growing up and growing older
don’t always go hand in hand
And it’s not the weight on your shoulders
that makes you a man
Is this world we know
spinning out of control
Or is it just me?

Matthew was one of the most charismatic people that I knew way back when. He had a soft voice, an unassuming demeanor, and a way of communicating that made you want to like him, however much reason you privately had not to. Matthew was bisexual and it was his crusade to prove that everyone else was, too. He won over at least four converts that I know about, though I'm quite positive there were more.

I didn't know Jonathan all that well, mostly through his brother. He was always a good kid. Kind of shy, but very smart and studious. I'm not sure when he became Matthew's mark, though he was proudly bisexual by the time he was fourteen and widely regarded as Matthew's sidekick. I wasn't sure what happened between them, but at some point they had an argument. I actually read the letter that Jonathan sent to his mentor. He called Matthew something to the effect of an "empty human being without a clue of who you are except by the people you use and the heads you screw with."

Jonathan wasn't bisexual anymore after that. Nor was he the same smart kid that he had been before. Well, I suppose he was still smart, but not as book-smart or studious. I didn't think that much more about him until he'd single-handedly torpedoed two relationships by sweeping the girls off their feet. He left a third in pieces that her friend Jamie had to pick up. Nearly every girl I knew at the time had been taken by him, strung along, and unceremoniously dropped as soon as they became a drag.

I suppose Jonathan was studious all along. He just stopped studying the books and started studying his mentor, the master.

I went to church when I was younger
and they taught me to believe
Now I can’t help but wonder
what’s been happening to me
Has God lost all faith
in the human race
Or is it just me?

Alan is the son of a fundamentalist Christian minister. When he first met Sally, he didn't know if things were going to work out because his father strenuously objected to his dating a Catholic. After about a month of flirting, he finally took the plunge and they ended up dating for about a year and a half.

I never cared much for him. Well, I might have at one point, but then he hurt one of my best friends. Out of the blue, he dumped her refusing to explain why and left her in an emotional wreck. It wasn't until a couple months later that the rumors started surfacing. He'd been cheating on her. We never got the details as to what happened, all we knew was that it was with another guy named Chris.

Alan had fought off rumors of homosexuality before getting together with Sally. But no one could argue that they were a cute couple and seemed right for one another. There was always something a little off about them, though. An emotional distance from an otherwise engaging person. She commented on a couple of occasions that they seemed closer when they were just friends. No one quite understood when they broke up. Not until his involvement with Chris started becoming public knowledge.

At first he denied it, then when a witness and the credible originator of the rumor stepped forward, he said that he was drunk. When Chris said that it had actually happened repeatedly, he called Chris a liar. He got another girlfriend within weeks, but it didn't last very long. Nor did the next one. In fact, in all the time since, he hasn't been able to maintain anything close to a lasting relationship. He couldn't even blame it on the rumors because he was always the one that dumped them because it "didn't feel right."

I wonder if he wonders why. I wonder if he's just convinced himself that he hasn't met the right girl. I wonder if he's allowed himself to even consider the alternative and if the fear of being disowned by his family, laughed at by his friends, and shunned by his conservative classmates at his conservative university has driven the questions out of the conscious arena and driven him into the arms of one girl after the next.

Swing low, swing low Swing low
swing low for me tonight

I wonder if he knew Matthew.

I started drinking much too early
and it led me astray
It doesn’t matter if I was thirteen
or it was ten o’clock today
It’s just the same old song;
Man is there something wrong
Or is it just me?

When my friend Jamie and I were in high school, she had a boyfriend named Terry. There was a party at our friend Eddie's house and Terry didn't want to drive so far out of his way to get his girlfriend, so she wasn't able to go. When she talked to me about it, I volunteered to swing out of my way and get her so that she could go. Terry was livid that another guy was going to be his girlfriend's ride and forbade her, and me, to do it.

We did so anyway and Terry was cold to us both all night long. He conspicuously flirted with another girl. I suspected it was to "teach Jamie a lesson" but Jamie thought that's why he didn't want her to go. It's difficult to say who is right. In order to avoid the shadow of Terry hanging over us, we had a drinking contest. The more she drank, a different side of her started coming out. She didn't just think that Terry was cheating on her, she knew it.

When we found her head bleeding from pounding it on the gravelly pavement, we didn't know exactly what to do. She kept asking for Terry, but he was too busy flirting with the other girl. When we pulled him aside to talk about it, he said that after the fool she's made of herself, there was no way in hell he was talking to her again that night, if ever. Finally, our friend Shawn took her to bandage her up and I went to get some food to put in her. Terry, getting upset and feeling upstaged because everyone was taking care of his girlfriend but him, ended up going with me.

On the way there, Terry was verbally reaming Jamie for making a fool out of herself. "Didn't she know how to control her booze?" he asked.

I wanted to point out that no fourteen year old can control their booze and it wasn't "Budweiser" she was calling out as she bashed her head against the concrete, but while the drinking contest was her idea, I did partake, so I bit my tongue. When we got back, he took the burger from my hands and coldly gave it to her.

Her face lit up. Her man was taking care of her. She apologized profusely for embarassing him. He said that he didn't know if he was going to be able to forgive her. She didn't care, though, her man was taking care of her. They broke up a month later, but got together again a month after that. He finally dumped her for good a few months after that when she got cancer and was unable to go out anymore.

She's recovered from the cancer and Terry is a distant memory. We still talk a lot and I'm one of her closer friends. She's still not quite legal, but that doesn't stop her from throwing down the alcohol. It was a particular problem when she was with Jack, her ex-boyfriend who was truly dangerous. Since she finally left him for good, she goes out a lot, drinks a lot, and regularly wakes up with strangers by her side.

She beat the cancer, but she never stopped pounding her head on the pavement.

Now I’m not drinking to ward off demons,
no, I’ve learned to live with them
And I’ve learned to live with questions,
but there’s one thing I can’t stand
And in the back of my mind I’m afraid I’ll find
It’s just me...

I'd clearly lost my mind. I was sitting there working on my sixth glass of whiskey, watching people dance. Well, not everyone, just one person in particular. Red is dancing with a dufus who is probably five years my senior. I have no right to be angry about it because I brushed her off. I told her that she was too young, that I was too far away, and just about everything except for the fact that I had a girlfriend. I don't know why I omitted that particular detail. It certainly would have taken me a lot less time to get her to move on, which I told her to do the second I realized that she was attracted to me. Well, she's moved on, dancing with Dufus, and watching me watch her. My eyes didn't leave her when I bought my seventh glass and slowly stumbled my way to my chair. Why was I upset? It's not anger. It couldn't be jealousy because I told her I didn't want anything from her. And besides, I was in a relationship. A happy relationship. Right?

Swing low, swing low
Swing low, swing low
Swing low, swing low
For me tonight

Red was always a hard case. When she was a todler, her father left home. He mother was a fierce alcoholic so, by the time she was thirteen or so, she was practically taking care of herself. One summer she was sent to her grandmother's house and her mother never came to pick her up. The mother had moved out of her apartment and no one knew exactly where she was. Red lived with her grandmother for her remaining couple of years of high school and scored a scholarship to Arkansas.

She met a fellow named Blain there and they hit it off. By the time she accepted that he was an unrecoverable alcoholic and philanderer, her grades had fallen and she lost her scholarship. She's now in the armed forces.

You know, I've been putting myself on trial
I guess if I'm conviced
it'll only prove that the deepest wounds
are the ones that are self-inflicted

Presh was a Christian. I don't know what denomination, or whether she attended church at all, but her relationship with God caused her consternation in her relationship with Michael. One night, when we were eating at a Mexican restaurant, we were talking about her relationship and whether or not she should stay in it and she asked me, "Would anyone even date me? I'm not a virgin."

As long as I'd known her, she'd been with Michael. She was utterly devoted to him and I assumed that she was happy with him until she forcefully assured me otherwise. Presh was a big girl and, despite her unhappiness, she wasn't sure if she could handle being single and alone. While she weathered the storm, his verbal and physical abuse was more than I could handle. I devoted all my energy to getting her to leave him.

The more time we spent together, the more we brightened one another's day. We went out to the theater, saw movies indoors, ate. Some days we felt like a couple. Of course we weren't. I'd like to say that it was just because of Michael, but the more she talked and wavered, the more I knew that she simply couldn't handle the thought of being single and that if I'd simply let her know that she wouldn't be, she'd do it.

One night we'd been staying out later than usual and when we got back, Michael was at her house waiting. Presh told me to go. I honestly didn't know how safe it was, but her parents were there so I reasoned that everything would be okay.

He ended up breaking things off that night. Presh and I would go out afterwards, but we'd never cross that threshold. I don't know if I wasn't physically attracted to her or if I was just afraid I would let her down, both, or something else entirely.

Within a month, Michael forgave her and they were back together. I haven't spoken to her in three or four years, but I assume that they're married by now.

And God, what am I supposed to do
Nothing seems to make any sense
You know, I think I have faith in You
I just need a little more evidence
So swing low, swing low
Swing low, swing low
Swing low, swing low
For me tonight

I never fit in very well at the upper-middle class high school that I went to. The biggest problems they seemed to have were broken nails and broke-down Camaros. If I could do it all over again, I'd do a number of things differently and perhaps after the second go-around, I'd have a different perspective on it all. But I didn't know then what I know now, and around my sophomore year, I found Acme and it didn't matter anymore.

I first logged on to Acme peers, but the people there are often the same black-vested kids that I would have logged on to Acme in yesteryear had they been more than five years old. As I get older, I go to the chat rooms less and less as the age difference between me and everyone else becomes more pronounced. I don't have much in common with them anymore. But periodically I go just to see, reminisce, and observe.

As I watch, I naturally assume that the people I see talking will eventually grow beyond the nihilistic dribble they mistake for intellectual conversation. But when I think about my fellow Acme alums, I often wonder. Many of them are in the same place that they were, just in an updated young adult version. Every bit as macabre and dour. The sense of alienation from society that I move past seems to be largely embraced by a good number of them. Maybe they never tried to acclamate themselves to society or maybe they did and failed.

There is an old saying that birds of a feather flock together. Contrawise, there is a saying that opposites attract. I don't know which one applies to me more. Throughout my life, I've been surrounded by emotionally turbulent people. Whether they were Acme people or not, they're the same kind of folk. I often find myself wondering if they are attracted to me (and vice-versa) because we are kindred spirits or because in me they see a pillar of strength. Am I drawn to them because I see something oddly familiar and in need of growing up or because of some hidden desire on my part to regress.

I talk to them, I counsel them, and I listen to them. They tell me about their problems and I prescribe solutions. I tell them to go along and get along, don't seek out conflict, concentrate on the important things and let everything else go. I also tell them that they need to figure out what they want from life. They listen, they nod, they ignore my advice, and then come back for more.

It's a shame, really, because unless they figure out what they want and stop taking what's either easy or immediately enticing, they'll simply spend the rest of their lives aimlessly drifting into the wilderness.

Or is it just me?

[Song lyrics from Mark David Manders's "Just Me"]

I took my boat for a car
I took that car for a ride
I was trying to get somewhere
but now I'm following
the traces of your fingernails
that run along the windshield
on the Boat of Car
-They Might Be Giants, Boat of Car

Many of you have doubtlessly heard of this one. If so, skip this paragraph. Some cubans turned their car into a boat so that they could take the 90 miles to freedom. Unfortunately, the Coast Guard sent them back to Cuba and sank the Boat of Car.

This is tragic for a number of reasons, not least of which is the fate of the would-be Americans. From a policy standpoint, I am pro-immigration pretty much across the board. For Cuba, however, it's less a policy position than a moral one. Anyone willing to risk their lives to the degree that the Cubans are to get over here not only deserve to leave their tyrannical homeland behind, but also have earned the right to obtain citizenship (note: that's different from blanket citizenship) far more than someone who happens to have been born of an American mother.

Despite believing they are good for the country, I'm reluctant to grant a moral halo around Mexican immigrants and whatnot. Cuban and Haitian immigrants are a completely different matter and should be welcomed with open arms.

The gun debate has always been a tricky one, in my mind. I'm not a Second Amendment absolutist in that I believe it is within the individual state's rights to 'regulate' the militia, so if Massachusetts or New York want to limit gun ownership, that's their prerogative.

Unfortunately, if New York can't enforce its own laws, it may just sue states that don't have the same level of restrictions. As noted, this is the logical extention of the drive to sue gun-makers for the acts of its customers. This, further, is an extention of the practice of holding bars liable if they monitor the drinking of everyone in the establishment so that no one drives drunk.

It reminds me a bit of my business law professor in college, Dr. Wade. The subject of credit card companies came up. At the time, their was legislation going through that would make filing for bankrupcy tougher. Wade immediately started going into a diatribe about "taking responsibility."

I nodded in agreement until he clarified who he thought was failing to take responsibility. Not the people filing for bankrupcy (an official abdication of financial responsibilities), but rather the banks that gave them the money in the first place.

While not caustic, sneering, and disrespectful like a number of his colleagues, Dr. Wade was as liberal a professor as I had.

Which speaks in part of the rhetorical and ideological divide between liberal and conservative. Liberals see responsibility as what one has for someone else which conservatives argue that one's responsibility is foremost to oneself and one's family.

Well, that's one way of going about it.

Adam was kind enough to send me a link to a phenomenon that I'd apparently completely missed out on.

Batman: Dead End

It's an 8-minute, $30,000 fan-fiction project hailed by notable writer Kevin Smith and artist Alex Ross as the best Batman ever put to film.

I beg to differ. Not that it wasn't entertaining and well done, mind you, but it's not entirely possible to put together any 8-minute film that is better than 1989 Batman movie or Mask of the Phantasm.

Now, that being said, it managed to do certain things spectacularly. The actors for both Batman and Joker were spectacular. For my money, Andrew Koenig (known most for being "Boner" on the TV show "Growing Pains") beats out Jack Nicholson. Koenig gave the Animated Series feel of the Joker in a way that I did not know could be accomplished by a live actor.

My only complaint for Batman was that his script read a bit dry for me. Batman's supposed to be dry, of course, but it was regular dry, not batdry.

Unfortunately, the film makes a break about half-way through analogous to that in the movie From Dusk Till Dawn where the movie is turned on its head in a way that feels disjointed. Having only eight minutes of air time, there really wasn't time to make the switch like they did. They should have chosen either Joker or the twist, not both.

Of course, I'd rather they have picked Joker, but the twist was necessary for what they were trying to accomplish. It was as much a graphic design demo for writer/director Sandy Collora as anything else (and reminded me more of the Onstar commercials with Batman than any of the films). On that mark it was a smashing success as the directing didn't leave much to be desired and the special effects were decent on the budget they were given.

If you have a super-duper high speed connection or a few days to download it, check it out.

I have more to say on the subject, but I don't care to spoil anything, so I'll put it in the "read more" section.
[Read More!]

Bear with me on this long post. It's a bit rambling, but on a subject that I've been thinking about a lot lately.

Back in 1996, or even as recently as 1999 or 2000, I would have read this City Journal piece by Theodore Dalrymple and scoffed. I would have carefully explained that the culture wars are where I never see eye-to-eye with conservatives and why I was more of a liberal or later libertarian.
[Read More!]

I was knocking around the 'sphere this morning, looking for something to write about or link to. Back and forth, link to link, liberal to conservative to advice on gardening. I ran across a conservative site that had a remarkable 8 button links to various movements. I followed a couple of them to their source, where I was told that if I'm a friend to Israel, I need this button on my site. Do I support Iranian Democracy? Well, there are two buttons for that. First Iraq, then France? Got one for that, too.

As it happens, I consider myself a "friend of Israel" and sure, I support democracy in Iran. Who doesn't? Except Bush-hating liberals and leftists, of course, who saw that Bush supports it to and suddenly it's part of an insidious plot by the war machine. Or something like that.

So am I less a "friend of Israel" if I don't have a button and link on my site to an Israeli pro-active defense site? I'm not inclined to sign a petition telling Israel what they ought to be doing nor am I inclined to button up my site with fifteen pieces of flair for a movement just about everyone in their right mind supports.

But, of course, it's the 'in' thing. Right now we're talking about the death of Hussein's kids, which I haven't really commented on. Good news, of course. But John Hawkins has links to the Democratic Underground that suggests that not everyone thinks so. Joe Katzman wants links to liberal sites that can "bring themselves" to celebrate the good news. He got some, but not many, which suggests to thousands of nodding conservative readers that liberals can't bear to congratulate our military when they succeed. Some, of course, can't, and the rest get tainted by association lest they wear a flag button on their lapel and comment on it, saying what everyone else is saying. Another piece of flair.

It reminds me of the fall of Trent Lott, where all conservatives everywhere were expected to denounce Lott for his stupid comments, lest they be racists. As it happens, I had some harsh words early on. Oh, but wait, I didn't also denounce every other racist thing said, which proves that I am either a racist or as blind to it as liberals without their congratulations of the military are anti-American.

All of this leading... to what, exactly? Points for our team or points for theirs, I suppose. It's reminding me less and less of a political debate sometimes as it is alumni college football fans seperated by orange and maroon, taunting each other on how their alma mater is gonna whup the other's.

Did Bush lie about Hussein's attempts to gain uranium from Niger? Depends on if you conflate exaggeration with a lie and you think Bush exaggerated. Or maybe it's not that, if you're on the center-left, but rather that Bush's credibility is in doubt and "some people" can't believe him anymore. Except that the "some people" never really believed him in the first place and coincidentally are the same some people that are listening to the some people that are concerned about the some people losing faith in the president they never really had it with to begin with.

After a while, the situation gets so removed from the factually-accurate-but-possibly-deceptive statement that the statement, Bush's intent, and what he knew and when he knew it no longer matter.

Oh wait, did I say "possibly-not-deceptive"? I probably shouldn't have, cause I can see the blog posts on it now: "Even Republican agrees that Bush was possibly deceptive."

But then, I'll get instant credibility with Democrats, I suppose. President Clinton has been cited by the same people who tried to drive him out of office as an authoritative source on national security. Present and former military personnel are in turn cited by liberals when they have something negative to say about goings on. Gotcha. Gotcha! Gotcha!!

At the end of the day, though, liberals still detest Bush, conservatives still support him, his poll numbers fall a bit, and the Democratic nominees continue to look less and less electable.

What I found striking as I went down my blogroll and my blogroll's blogrolls was the same sources cited, over and over again, to make the same point that the authors have been making, over and over and over again. In the absense of news, I guess, we're simply left to find someone new who agrees with us, fisk someone who doesn't, and reiterate our positions in an endless cycle.

My calender says July, but it feels like August. The month where there isn't much happening, so everything that does is suddenly super important.

In the run-up to the war, the yelled, argued, and debated. When the troops hit the ground, the debate simply shifted to proving that they were right. With each taking of Basra, each side was vindicated. Then Baghdad fell, but oh wait, what happened to the furniture? Turns out most of the furniture was fine, but now we're debating on the justification to a war we've already fought in which everyone long made up their minds (sixteen words or no sixteen words) in which we won and are now dealing with the consequences of.

I'm going to check my calender again. It must be August.

Poor Man:

So I was in the Chipotle the other day, as is my lunchtime custom, preparing to order my half a chicken fajita burrito. And there were two teenagers in front of me a little way, with matching black oversized tee-shirts, baggy black combat shorts and orthopedic boots. The tee-shirts were from some devil rock band of recent vintage, and they had gothic upside-down crosses on them, and a gothic-font legend which read "I vomit remains at Christian filth." I don't know what band it was, and the phrase appears no where on Google, except here, I guess. And I'm standing in line with my friend, who is really quite extraordinarily Christian, and we're both sort of pretending we aren't trying to read what the tee-shirts say, and it's very awkward. And then I spend the next few minutes trying to figure out what that mysterious phrase could possibly mean. Remains? Human remains? Whose remains? If you eat human remains, why are you on line with me at Chipotle? And then I start staring at the steaming bucket of carnitas, and start feeling a bit queasy, and by the time we sit down to eat my appetite is gone.

He goes on to question society's tolerance of anti-Christian paraphinalia. It's an odd thing, but I can't muster as much anger as I would if it had been directed at Muslims or whatnot. Of course, unlike Andrew, I wasn't put in such an uncomfortable position because of it.

As the commenters point out, it's likely simply the oh-so-serious social critique of a bored kid whose dissatisfaction with his fascistic curfew gets aimed at society-at-large, specifically Christian. The same sort of thing can be seen in anti-American "statements" that are devoid of any thoughtful critique. Since 9-11 (and before, probably) Christianity proves an easier target than does our nation.

I suppose that the reason I can't muster much outrage is that pro-Christianity symbols are pretty much everywhere. For every bumper sticker that says "Christianity Preys On Children" there's ten that say "Jesus Saves" and for every Darwinian fish with legs there's three of the genuine article.

It's hard, and even feels a bit unfair, to get all huffy about someone so proudly in the minority.

On a side note, though, anyone who goes to a fantasy/sci-fi/anime/comics convention ought to take the time to check out the stand selling bumper stickers (if there is one). Every year at A-kon, I spend an hour or two just walking around the parking lot looking at all the funny, punny, and interesting bumper decorations.

From following some link to some other link, I found a really interesting website on US History (more generally on former presidents). For instance:

Presidential Fun Fact of the Day

John Quincy Adams, President 1825-1829.
President Adams enjoyed swimming in the nude in the Potomac River until he was 79 years old. One day a female journalist, Anne Royall, surprised him. She sat on his clothes until he agreed to an interview. She was the first female to interview a president.

Check it out.

For those of you that missed the mayoral debates, I have an abridged version, ahem, transcribed below. Be forewarned, it's 6 in the morning, I'm sleepy, and some of the quotes may be, errrm, technically inaccurate.

Moderator: Hello, I'm the uniquitous moderator whose job is going to get out of the way, so let's get started. Gentlemen and lady, please introduce yourself and explain why you should be mayor. We'll start with people of little relevence and build up from there.

Laverne Crump-Smith: Why is everyone looking at me?

Moderator: [blink]

Laverne Crump-Smith: Oh well, I'm Laverne Crump-Smith and I'm a mother of four and a grandmother of two. And I'd like to say... hey, which camera is on? That one? Hi kids! Momma's on TV!! Anyway, I am running for mayor for the children cause the children need to know that the children are important to more than just the children, but children think children are important to...

Moderator: Did you have a point? Err, I mean, is there anything you want to add to that?

Laverne Crump-Smith: No, I mean yes. The children. That is all.

Moderator: Okay, Mr. Rodriguez?

Raymond Hans Rodriguez: I'm Raymond Hans Rodriguez and I'm The Other Cuban in the race. When I'm [snicker] ele [chuckle] [clears throat] and when I'm elected mayor, I will bring with me a new set of values. The unelectable kind, actually. Heck, Google me and only seven sites will pop up. No one knows actually who I am or what I do. I've got to have the lowest negatives in the race. Hate negative campaigning? Vote for the guy with no negatives cause no one has ever heard of him.

Moderator: Mr. Berry?

Michael Berry: [turns to camera] Did anyone watch the July 4th fireworks shows? They were great, weren't they? Well, that's part of why I'm running for mayor. You see, I'm a young city councilman with a promising future. A Republican with considerable support in the black community. So pull up a lawn chair, sit in the front yard, and watch my formerly bright career burst into sudden flames as I alienate the black support by running against Mr. Turner when I promised I wouldn't, diluting my Republican support by running against Orlando Sanchez, all for a mayoral race that I have no hope of winning. I'm here to entertain you, the people. Thank you for your support. Anyone got a lighter?

Moderator: Mr. White?

Bill White: I'm Bill White, and you, ehm, should vote for, mmh, me because I'm the greatest man who ever lived. [blinkblink] Oh, and because I'm smarter than all the men up here and probably smarter than you, the audience, as well.

Moderator: Mr. Sanchez?

Orlando Sanchez: I'm Orlando Sanchez, and you should vote for me because I ran against Mayor Brown and you all seemed to vote for him last time and we can all see what a mistake that was. Our roads are in ruin, our mayor is a joke, and you should vote for me because I told you so! Oh yeah, you should also vote for me because I am Hispanic. In fact, if I knew Spanish I'd say "I told you so" in Spanish so that all the Mexican Americans who voted for me because of my name despite having no idea what I stand for could hear.

Moderator: And Mr. Turner?

Sylvester Turner: Well now, I'm Sylvester Turner and I was born and raised here and I'm gonna be this town's next mayor. Maybe no one outside of this town likes, but despite my law bar reprimand, bitter divorce, and insurance fraud, I'm inevitable. You see, I have the support of my people to get me into the runoff with Mr. Sanchez over there, and when the good folks of Houston elected Mayor Brown despite his repeated exhibitions of incompetence, they demonstrated that they'd elect damn near anyone over a Republican.

-

Moderator: Thank you for your introductions, gentlemen, and lady. My first question is about your campaign. Do you intend to be a meanie-poo and run negative ads or are you going to run positive ads that will make little kiddies smile? Since Ms. Smith and Mr. Rodriguez won't actually be running any ads, let's start with those whose answers actually matter. Mr. Berry?

Michael Berry: In order to salvage any dignity after this enormously stupid run for mayor, I'd probably be best off not airing any negative ads against any of these gentlemen since I will be able to get my last grasp at media attention ever when I brood over which one of them to endorse for the run-off after I get creamed in the general election, and it will disincline them to shower me with bribes if I've said nasty things about them.

Bill White: I have more money than God to put in to this race. I hardly need to say anything negative about anyone. After all, I'm practically the Second Coming of Christ, so it would be rather unbefitting for me to talk negatively about anyone. In fact, I think we should all take a pledge right now to not say anything negative, so I can keep this bright, shining halo above my head perfectly in tact and gleaming.

Orlando Sanchez: I'm a Republican running in a town that has never elected a Republican mayor. You think I'm going to get elected on my ideas? I didn't get nearly elected last time by failing to point out Mayor Brown's numerous inadequacies. Besides, when I'm in the runoff against Turner, c'mon. It's Sylvester Turner. The guy's shirt has a giant negative ad bulls-eye pasted on it.

Sylvester Turner: Now, now, there's no reason for anyone to get negative here. There's no real reason to get into nasty details about delinquent loans and insurance fraud. That's all so 1991. In fact, if Mr. Sanchez and the others are willing, I'd be willing to sign a binding contract so that we can't go negative, and I'll pay $10,000 dollars in unmarked bills to anyone else that'll sign it...

-

Moderator: Thank you, gentlemen. Next question, what event or aspect in your life most compelled you to dedicate your life to public service?

Laverne Crump-Smith: I'm an unemployed former Metro worker. I need a job! Bad!!

Raymond Hans Rodriguez: The Houston Chronicle did a write-up on one of my art pieces once. It was then I realized how much I like seeing my name in print.

Michael Berry: When I graduated from law school, I worked as a lawyer for a while when suddenly I realized I was an entrepreneur [ed. he actually said "realized"]. So I took a pay cut and did that for a while and I realized I was still making too much money, so I went in to public service. When I realized I was making money from both my business and city council, my wife and I decided that I would turn down my annual salary. I don't want to make too much money, you see, because I hate myself, as evidenced by this extraordinarily stupid run for mayor that is going to ruin my once-promising career.

Bill White: Oh, I don't know. Some time ago I was elected president of the rotary club. I did such a good job there, I figured that mayor seemed to be the next logical step.

Orlando Sanchez: When my parents came from COMMUNIST CUBA, they wanted a better life for me than we had in COMMUNIST CUBA. So I grew up in Houston and served in the AIR FORCE where I would have fought the COMMUNISTS if they'd asked me to, but they didn't and I realized that I should work to make Houston a better place than my parents were living in COMMUNIST CUBA.

Sylvester Turner: Well, heh heh, I realized I wanted to be mayor when I was I realized that I'd promised to serve only six years on the legislature and my six years were about up. So I ran and lost, but it turned out that once you're accused of insurance fraud, no one cares so much about reneging on a pledge not to run, so I been hangin' around, quietly plotting my return when it looked like an accused felon might be able to get elected mayor. Lee Brown made me realize anyone can get elected in this town as long as he's running against a Republican, so I ran. Heh heh.

-

Moderator: Do you believe that a mayor is elected in order to serve the will of the public or do you believe that the public elects the mayor to do what they think is right?

Laverne Crump-Smith: Blah blah blah blah blah

Raymond Hans Rodriguez: The way I see it, since no one actually supports me, if I get elected I will be beholden to no one. Neat how that works, isn't it?

Michael Berry: As I've mentioned, I returned my salary as a city councilman because of our recent financial troubles. That's obviously the actions of a man who is serving the people, yeah?

Bill White: I've got so much money coming at me from so many directions to keep Sylvester Turner from being election, that I'll owe everyone once I'm elected, so I'll naturally be serving all the people. It all works out. Peace, violins, and butterflies if I'm elected.

Orlando Sanchez: I'll cut taxes and learn Spanish. What more can you ask for?

Sylvester Turner: Well, the way I see it, getting elected will be like serving as the CEO. Now, as a state legislator and lawyer, I got no actual experience being a legislator, but just by saying "CEO" people will think I know what I'm talking about.

-

Moderator: Okay, one last question. What experience do you believe that you have that uniquely qualifies you to be mayor?

Laverne Crump-Smith: I got four children and two grandchildren.

Raymond Hans Rodriguez: Before I became an artist, I was an architect once. So I did actually have a real job, once upon a time...

Michael Berry: When I left my law practice and realized I was an entrepreneur, I started MICHAEL BERRY REAL ESTATE where I SELL HOUSES really, really CHEAP. I also BUY houses, even if they're REALLY UGLY! Oh, and I should also point out that I forwent my pay as councilman so my wife and I are reduced to one car. So I meet all kinds of Houstonians when my wife and I are at the soup kitchen getting our daily meals. One car... two people... soup... everyday... [looks at camera] My name is Michael Berry and I buy and sell houses! Vote for me or give me business. We need money! Two people, one car, a hopeless mayoral bid [starts sobbing].

Bill White: Well, I did mention that I was president of the rotary club, right? Oh, and I'm a businessmen. Republicans, know that if I get elected I won't have as much money to give to candidates opposing you. Democrats, I'm one of you. The one of you that can actually get elected. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go walk on water now...

Orlando Sanchez: I ran against Lee Brown and lost. Yet I'm actually running again. That alone should get me a Purple Heart.

Sylvester Turner: If I helped a man fake his own death and take in a fraudlent insurance claim, just imagine what corners I can cut for you, the people. My name is Sylvester Turner, and I am inevitably the next mayor of our fair city.

Moderator: Thank you and good night.

[Thanks to Greg for the assist in some areas. For those interested in a more factual recap of events, I'd trust him on it more than me]

Hey cool kids, I'm shocked {Shocked!} to see that some dork came up with some sort of list that bloggers tend to use that literally blows my gasket. Even idiotarians will see through his poor attempts at [sarcasm]oh so original [/sarcasm] humor. Does anyone find this list the least bit funny?

Crickets chirping (tm).

Heh. Indeed.

As they said when they first coined the phrase and it became a meme, read the whole thing.

No, no, not hiatus (I've proven Greg wrong, Ha!)

I spent a lot of time and effort getting things moved out of Blogger, and yet problems seem to persist. At least for me. Anyone else having trouble accessing my site? If so, please describe what it's doing.

Thanks.

While I'm not a minimalist by any stretch of the imagination, I am a generally thrifty fellow who tries to live well below my means. When I was working my last job, I was quite frankly making more money than I knew what to do with I started spending more money, but was nonetheless saving up for a rainy day (like today, pay no attention to the Sun outside).

My parents rolled their eyes at the various things I bought and had shipped to their house (I keep my billing address there so I don't have to change it every time I move). I own three decent desktops, a laptop, a five-piece set of speakers, a handful of DVDs, more than a handful of CDs, a CD player in my car, and a ton of other goodies.

Why? Because they made my life easier. When I was working 70 hours a week, I liked coming home and listening to music in top quality. I love the fact that if one of my computer tanks, I have redundancy so there's no downtime while I fix whatever is wrong.

In general, though, while I spent a lot of money, I saved a lot as well. I don't have a giant checklist of things I'll get "when I can afford it" and a waiting list for goodies in the future. I don't want enough to justify that. My apartment is nice, but not too nice (and I have a roommate). I don't tend to dress expensively (except shoes, try finding a good price on size 15s. Nuff said). I have a particular disdain for things that cost money and don't have much utility. I don't want to live in the nicest part of the town and I'd rather have a home than a property value investment.

Via Babylonian Musings, I ran across a fellow named Fred Clark, who apparently takes disdain for niceties to an all new level:

A $350,000 pool [with] three waterfalls -- one of them emptying into a raised spa -- complete stonework decking, custom lighting, fencing and landscaping. The barbecue area alone cost $45,000.

That's one version of the American Dream. It's a narrow, individualistic and selfish vision that sees America as the land of the opportunity to acquire lots of stuff for me and mine. It's also a winner-take-all vision, a nightmare of community as a war of all against all. Life in this Hobbesian jungle may be nasty, brutish and short for most, but not for the winners. The winners get to cool off in
their private, backyard resorts."

Well yeah, that's how capitalism works. Slacktivist wants to know why anyone would want this sort of thing. More than that, he expands that question into a grand statement as to what kind of world you want to live in. If you want a fountain to yourself, you see, you are opposed to public fountains. It's the difference between Old Man Potter and George Bailey from It's a Wonderful Life.

In It's a Wonderful Life Frank Capra rejects this version of the American Dream. He embodies this stunted selfishness in the person of Old Man Potter, the crusty banker and oligarch portrayed by Lionel Barrymore. Capra's own version of the American Dream -- of what America could and should be all about -- is embodied in Jimmy Stewart's George Bailey.

Old Man Potter, you can be sure, would buy himself a top-of-the-line landscaped pool for his back yard (even though he'd probably never use it). George Bailey, on the other hand, would be happier installing a less-ostentatious, but more accessible, pool in a park near the homes he was helping to build for the working people of Bedford Falls. Bailey's pool would be for the entire community -- publicly funded, publicly owned, publicly enjoyed.

In one sense, I can understand what he's getting at. In fact, my memories at the old neighborhood pool where I grew up spread farther and deeper than the pool itself.

At the same time, however, it's nice to own things. It's nice to be able to take a swim and not have to worry about other people taking up the pool. I don't particularly want a pool in my back yard when I buy a house (that's where the baseball field is gonna go anyhow) and I certainly don't care for a waterfall or whatnot. Do I consider the set-up described excessive? Yeah.

Then again, as previously mentioned, I own three computers. To many, that's excessive. For me, it makes my life easier and I worked hard to be able to afford it (as likely does anyone who gets the water park in their backyard). If working hard did not buy me things that I want, I would not work as hard at anything except writing. It's the inducements, often frivolous, that keep many of us going when we want to quit.

That, in turn, makes the standard of living in the US higher than that of most of the world. It keeps even our working poor with VCRs. Why? Because once upon a time, a bunch of people spent money frivolously on VCRs. That money went to the manufacturers, who used it for R&D to make a cheaper model, which in turn brought the prices down, which in turn made it accessible to even those that make less money.

That's the America that I believe in.

Oh dear.

[via Emily]

He's apparently been promoted to ambassador!

Or something...

Unfortunately, Daniel and Heidi are on hiatus and I don't know how often TPB comes around, but I have a legal question: Does attorney-client priviledge apply after the death of the client?

I would figure so, but an episode of Law & Order on Saturday made me wonder.

In the episode in particular, the client was murdered and quite likely shared information about the murderer that would have been applicable in the prosecution. Would the lawyer have been bound by priviledge not to say anything?

Earlier this year, I was going through something of an identity crisis, wondering why my life had gotten to where it was and where it was headed. One of the questions floating in my head, especially when I lost my job and started thinking about career paths, was "Fundamentally, what kind of person am I?"

A computer nerd?
A struggling artist?
A bureaucrat?
A communicator?
People-oriented?
Prohibitively introverted?

Well, if I'd only had Tortured Artist's musings handy, I'd have known just how to figure out: Where do I go in the book store!

Hmmm, well the general fiction section.

Crap.

That doesn't tell me much of anything, does it?

[props to anyone who can cite the quote of this post's title]

Apparently, some liberals have decided that Canada is "now closer to American ideals than America is" and are headed north.

Good, I say.

I don't mean that in the sense of "love it or leave it" but rather because if you don't want to live in America, or there is some place you would rather live in that will take you, leaving is the prudent thing. This is particularly true of liberals, who have a great white neighbor to the North, Europe, and a host of other options. Since there isn't a conservative Christian country that I am aware nor a more capitalist nation (again, that I am aware of), conservatives are in a bit of a bind.

The reason for many to leave is that they want to get married and that is an option not currently available in the US. I wish it were, but I wish them the best of luck. Well, except for the ones disingenuously going up there to get married so that they can come back and sue the government to force American recognition of marriages. I support gay marriage rights, but not by judicial fiat.

The other reasons that they choose to go up there -- namely Canada's more socialist outlook -- I can't really buy in to, but I hope they get what they're looking for. I hear little but horror stories about their health care system, but they seem to love it to death. Similarly, they hear horror stories about our system, but despite various calls for change (similar calls are made up there), we've rejected the national health care system.

As a fan of state's rights and federalism, having a country like us but different from the north is appealing to me in the same way for the same reasons. Competing structures and may the best one win.

During the Vietnam War, U.S. emigration to Canada surged as thousands of young men, often accompanied by wives or girlfriends, moved to avoid the draft. But every year since 1977, more Canadians have emigrated to the United States than vice versa -- the 2001 figures were 5,894 Americans moving north, 30,203 Canadians moving south.

Of course, this is largely because America is, despite current economic difficulties, where the jobs are. That, of course, has nothing to do with our (generally) capitalist economy that has produced the economic powerhouse that has amassed some quarter of the world's wealth.

But, like I said, to each their own. I'd rather much have people who want to live here living here and I'm sure that Canada would say the same, welcoming our emigrants.

[via Warliberal]

"Whenever you hear that voice in the back of your head softly whispering 'don't send this letter', approximately 10 out of 10 times that voice is correct" -Me, a few months ago.

Would only that Mr. Tripplehorn were to take my advice (and have a spell-check on his email).

From: Kelly Tripplehorn [mailto:tripplehorny@hotmail.com]
Sent: Tuesday, June 03, 2003 2:11 PM
Subject: you suck

Well, as of this afternoon, I was planning on ruining your career by making phone calls to all of my parents friends and have you blackballed from the workplace as well as every prestigous law school in the country, but then (lucky for you) I decided not to do that because you are a sad sad person and I will just let your life self destruct right before my eyes....

By the end of the day if I wanted to, I could make a phone call and have your life absolutely ruined but there is no need because you are falling fast enough towards failure without me. In the end, all I can say is that people love me and people hate you. You should observe me and take a few notes on how to make real friends. Other than you tieing this one other person, I have never had such little respect for a human being in my life. I don't even have to tell you why because in my very accurate analysis that most everyone else agrees with, if you were to agree with my analyis about your character than my whole entire analysis would be wrong. Your inflamed ego has left you so blind and so impotent that you can nto even recognize the most obvious flaws in yourself. All your old roommates absolutely hated you and you still think the problem is with them, not you. Well I talked to your roommates and I thought they nice normal girls. So naturally, you would not fit in with them because you are so intellectually above them all. Right? You suck at life and you need to figure out why or you will be miserable for the rest of your life.

Once again from your intellectual, moral, social, and emotional superior,
Paul Kelly Tripplehorn, Jr.

If his description is only half-accurate, they deserve one another. If it's completely accurate, they really deserve one another.

Mr. Cluth has an award for people like this.

I was going to do a follow-up on marriage study I tacked on to $tre$$ of Divorce post, but as it happens, Mr. Martin did a better job of summing up my views than I probably could have:

So I guess my point is that when you marry, you are marrying for keeps (at least in theory.) And "for keeps" is the rest of your lives (allegedly.) So happiness will ebb and flow. If you are looking for continuous happiness, you won't find it in a marriage. What you will find (hopefully) is a partner that is committed to spending his or her life with you. Whether good times or bad. And you will face life together. You'll have ups and downs, but you will have them together. And united you can take on all comers, but divided you'll fall prey to selfish desires that destroy the relationship.

I agree right down to the parenthisized qualifiers.

David Cohen in the comments section over at Brothers Judd commented that marriage is the one institution where the opportunity costs are consistently overestimated. I'd love to point to the specific link, but it was some time ago. It's remained in my head, though.

When I was younger and more irreverent, I used to joke "Marriage is a wonderful institution. I think I'll partake a few times before I die."

As those who have read me before (or know me personally) are familiar with my near-marriage around 2001. I had already asked her parents permission to propose, was working on a ring when things began to unravel.

Part of me thinks "how lucky am I?" that I didn't get married and then see the problems. But the coincidence of the two was hardly that. In many ways, it was the burden of the "rest of our lives" that hastened a number of existing problems.

Below I put down a little quiz asking whether people thought that it was ill-concieved marriages or hasty divorces that can be attributed to the high divorce rate. Susanna was really the only person that voted, but her answer matched mine: hasty divorces.

That is not to say that I disapprove of all divorce. If my mother hadn't (justifiably) left her first husband, I would never have been born. That's one of the things that makes discussion on this issue so tough. Most of us who have not been personally divorced at least know one person who has been and in many cases, we'd at least like to say they're better off for it.

Susanna posted on the subject a while back and an interesting debate in the comments section ensued between Susanna and a fellow named John McCrarey, who is divorced and believes that's best all around. In his case it might be as it might be in many others.

At the same time, benign divorces as well as wife-swapping (or husband-swapping) have an insidious cultural effect. It ads a sense of impermanence to the institution of marriage that leads a number of people to enter marriage with the knowledge that no-fault divorce can get them out should the need arise. Or maybe less of that and more of a feeling of justification that leaving the marriage will come without social cost. I can think of two otherwise outstanding men who have turned in their marriage for a younger model and it baffles me the blind eye that our society turns to this sort of thing.

So what's the solution? I can't say that I favor terminating no-fault divorces. Nor do I oppose a Scarlet D for those that get divorced. It's difficult to identify the problems, see the repercussions, and yet know that this is more than the government can step in and solve.

Well, for now we can read Martin's clear thoughts on the subject. Also, while you're there, scroll down a bit and read his thoughtful post on gay marriage.

More thoughts to come...

Last night, I had quite a bit to drink.

Today, all I've had to eat is two burritos.

I clearly hate myself.

I only caught a handful of DEA songs, but they sounded great. The Firehouse's sound system is incredible to the point that my friend Ed says "it has no right to sound as good as it does" in a place with a concrete floor. Melott & company made full use of it and I'm only sorry I didn't get to hear more.

DEA and Creager are an odd fit, as Kevin mentioned, but DEA seemed to go over pretty well. It's not uncommon for the talking at the Firehouse to overcome the opening act, but the folks seemed attentive enough so it wasn't an issue.

Roger Creager took the stage at about twenty-till-one. My primary complaint with Creager is that he's relatively slow putting out new material. Last night's show was a bit of a shock to the system because he's prepping for the release of his next CD. If what I heard is any indication, it's sure to be a great one. What Creager lacks in quantity he makes up for in quality. On the two CDs of his that I own, I can count the number of immediate-fast-forward tracks on my thumbs, which is quite rare.

Late Night Blues might be the best song I've heard from him to date.

Unfortunately, the sheer crowd he attracts makes him a difficult act to endure. The music is great, but the room gets unbearably hot. Last time I saw Creager at a weekend night show (before they worried about fire codes), I had to step outside periodically to avoid collapsing. One girl was gracious enough to follow me out and make sure I was doing okay. I looked that bad. I generally have good stamina for such things and it wasn't as bad last night, but it certainly detracts from the enjoyment of the show.

Creager's not good enough for me to justify taking that on very often. Then again, I don't think anyone this side of Phil Pritchett is that good. Between Creager, Reckless Kelly, and Jason Boland, I'm going to have to start making a list of musicians I love to death but can't watch at the Firehouse so that I can make a trip out to the Texas Hall of Fame (which is huge and very well air conditioned) or somewhere to catch them.

In my earlier post about Pat Green, I commented that Green wasn't the kind of person to be able to change the face of Nashville. Creager is getting big enough that soon he'll outsize the Firehouse. Before long, I suspect he'll get attention in the right places. Of all Texas Country's talent, I think Creager has the most potential for superstardom. I hope he does change the face of Nashville, or, at the very least, it doesn't change the face of him.

First off, I've got some of the best friends in the world. Second, thank heavens my head is screwed on.

Kevin and Callie were gracious enough to get me an advanced ticket to see Roger Creager and Dead End Angels play at the Firehouse. I was an ungrateful enough recipient to lose track of the ticket and miss over half the DEA set. What's most sad is that this was 100% predictable. Grumble.

I realized when I was about to head over at 8:00 or so that the ticket was missing. I looked for it for about 45 minutes before finally calling my folks to see if I'd left it at their house. Sure enough, I had, so forty-five minutes driving to Clear Lake and forty-five minutes back got me there at about 10:15 or so.

When I eventually did get there, I was held at the door for about 20 minutes or so. Ten of it was my own fault as I didn't realize that the line wasn't moving. Well, I realized the line wasn't moving, but I thought it was because of some problem with the people at the front. Turns out they were worried about fire codes for occupancy and they were only letting new people in as others left.

Once I realized what was going on, the next ten minutes was spent haggling with the doorman and explaining that I had a ticket and, it would seem to me, that the ticket means that I am allowed to go in. They seemed to be caught by surprise and the guy didn't even realize that they sold tickets in advance.

The entire time I'm dealing with irate Firehouseers who are telling me to get back in line. Finally, one of Houston's finest at the door suggested that I do so. I explained the ticket to him and he tracked down a full-timer (most of the door people are part-time and periodic help). He seemed to have a better idea of what was going on, though he apparently hadn't accounted for people with a ticket showing up after they let all the people they can inside.

Don't get me wrong on any account. I love the Firehouse. I like their management, their employees, and they bring in the best acts in Houston, bar none. Most of this can be chalked up to growing pains. Fire codes and advanced ticket sales are only an issue every few months and it's only recently that they've been paying attention to them. As much as I'd like to curse the codes, anyone who was inside would verify that they didn't need any more people in that bar. They do need to get their act together, however, on issues like these that are going to be more and more common.

On the other hand, a lot of it was my fault because I shouldn't have been late to begin with. Lessons learned.

Today's installment is going to focus on food procurement, as I just went shopping.

I usually go to Kroger's with certain goals in mind, but it almost never turns out like I planned. Last night, I could tell by looking over my receipt that I realized that, as evidenced by the contents of my haul, I am

(1) Trying to save money.

(2) Going on a diet.

Everything I got was either cheap or healthy. I haven't decided if I'm just a displaced college student (18 packs of Ramen), a health-conscious yuppee (low-fat Ravioli), a coupon-snipping housewife (Lots of Big K's Diet Cola), or a carpetbagger (pecante sauce made in New Jersey, get a rope...).

Based on what I've eaten since, I have a few observations:

Hormel chili sucks, no matter how much you try to like it.

Anyone who looks at the health content of Hormel and Wolf, their primary competitor, will notice how much better the former is for you. Anyone who tastes them both will figure out why. Hormel is soupy, to say the least. It's actually not bad for RAW's Patented Stupendous Chili Cheese Dip (tm), but try, just try to eat it plain. It took my stomach hours to forgive me. Even the chunks of meat taste awful. Kinda like in turkey-based chili, but I think I recall that turkey-based chili is better.

I hope so, I got a can of that to give a test run soon. Thank heavens I got Wolf turkey chili. If Hormel's beef chili is that bad, I don't want to know.

There is something aesthetically disturbing about corn in pecante sauce.

The New York Brand folks don't seem to realize that, though. Or maybe I'm just off-my-rocker on this issue.

Half-Percent milk doesn't taste as different from skim as I remember.

I thought I remembered that 1/2% making "all the difference in the world" and tasting more like 2% than skim. Apparently not, or perhaps I should have gone with skim first so I could appreciate the difference.

Doesn't matter, though, I'm just gulping the stuff down. I'll probably go for skim next time so that I can do so without even a tinge of guilt.

Despite what you might think, Ramen is not particularly healthy.

40% of your daily alotment of saturated fats in each baggie. On the other hand, it really fills me up and gives me that nostalgic feeling from college that I-can't-believe-this-meal-only-costed-ten-cents.

Health content of different flavors of the same brand of InstaBurritos vary wildly

Even if neither is advertised as being low in fat or 50% less fat or whatnot, beef and bean burritos have twice the fat and saturated fat contents of cheese and bean burritos. Given how superior cheese is to any other food on the face of the earth, I think I'll go the healthier route in the future.

Interestingly, though, neither are particularly bad for you fat-wise so long as you don't eat many. Of course, those evil packaged food companies maximize their formulas to taste good so that you'll want to eat more. Bastards.

Your food is going to be high in fat, high in sugar, expensive, taste nasty, or be obscenely high in sodium.

Probably two or three of the five, actually.

If you don't read the label before you eat something, you're going to really wonder what they meant by that.

What do they mean "cook thoroughly"? How much is thoroughly? I mean, I put it in the microwave for a minute but then got impatient and ate it anyway. Is that thoroughly?

There wasn't any meat in there, so why does it need to be cooked? Is it a matter of taste (it was quite hard)? Is it a matter of digestion? Is an alien going to burst out of my stomach as I sleep?

Via Instapundit there is an interesting article on speeding. I remember Montana having no real speed limit and, having just gotten a drivers license when it happened, thinking that was an exceptionally good idea:

Common sense would suggest a straightforward correlation between higher speed limits and the risk of accidents, but common sense also suggests -- out West, at least -- that when there's nothing to have an accident with, it's not momentum that matters but simple alertness. A few years ago in Montana, my home state, there was no posted speed limit on highways, just a vague rule about driving in a ''reasonable and prudent'' manner. This haziness forced motorists to think, adjusting their speeds according to the conditions while hoping that lurking state troopers agreed with them. I felt flattered by this invitation to use my judgment and drove more consciously than I ever had. I felt like a grown-up.

I think there is a degree of truth to this. I know that there are times when I focus more on the speed limit and cops than I do on my fellow driver. It's one thing to have speed limits (even obnoxiously low ones) in residential areas, but it's quite another when I'm driving to Austin at four in the morning, dozens of miles from any town or any people, and yet I still have to stick to 70 miles an hour. On the other hand, I get a feeling of relief when a car passes me at 110 miles an hour and then later see him pulled over by a state trooper.

But the article really made me rethink that a little, when I realized that what struck me as most dangerous might have had less to do with his 110 MPH speed as with the difference between my rate (80, unless you are a cop reading this, then 70, sir, the speed limit) and theirs.

A friend of mine, Ross, a former Navy pilot who regularly drives between Phoenix and Seattle by way of empty Nevada, argues persuasively that velocity isn't as treacherous as it's said to be; the real risk is variations in velocity. ''When you're in the Navy flying formation at 350 knots'' he says, ''everybody's fine, but if one guy's going 340, you've got a problem.'' For Ross -- and I've heard of experts who agree with him -- unrealistically low speed limits widen the gap between law-abiding slowpokes and the restless majority, resulting in lots of risky passing maneuvers and general chaos.

I recall a heated debate one year in Defensive Driving class some time back. One side argued that the left lane should be restricted to those going exactly the speed limit and the other argued that people going only the speed limit were a hazard to drivers by being in the left lane, where people were generally going considerably faster.

I side with the latter, as when I am going to speed limit (which is more often than not, as I am under one year defensive driving probation and can't get a ticket) I tend to stick away from the left hand lane. Then again, there are people out there who want to prove some point by getting in everyone's way. The class jester versus the hall monitor. I'd be willing to bet that people have died because of that conflict.

Of course, the Europeans have their own solution to the problem, making me proud to be an American.

E. [X] That's Attorney General John Ashcroft.

Does that make me insufficiently ideological?

I was just reminded of Martin's quiz as I was reading below and thinking about it. Thought of another test (with perhaps less practical application than Martin's).

Fact: Around half of all marriages end in divorce.

Opinion:

A. [ ] Good. Marriage is a patriarchal institution designed to oppress women.

B. [ ] Why should I care?

C. [ ] How unfortunate. There are obviously too many people getting married before they are ready to.

D. [ ] How unfortunate. Too many people are giving up on their marriages without giving them a real chance.

E. [ ] This is a complex socio-economic issue with many facets to it. It'd be too simple to chalk it up to premature marriages or divorces really. We live in a different age, and while perhaps it shouldn't be, that there is a malleability in housing arrangements. It's difficult to know how to address this, but better educating young people on the consequences of their actions would be a better start. That way they would perhaps think twice about getting married in the first place and, once married, they'd be more likely to stick with it because they waited in the first place. Or they could decide to get married younger, then divorce. As long as they're making an educated decision...


"Read More" to determine what your results say about you. [Read More!]

Via Duff Wire, I ran across an MSNBC article on how contentiousness of divorce proceedings has risen as the economy has fallen.

Makes sense, when you think about it, on a number of levels. First, when the resources are scarce, every little bit counts. It's easier to remain civil when you know that, regardless of the outcome, you'll remain relatively comfortable.

But back in the roaring ’90s it often looked like it could, as free-flowing cash greased the exit ramp of many marriages. Newly minted millionaires could write a check, says divorce lawyer Raoul Felder, “and move on to the next wife.” Today those former high fliers are haggling over tenths of a percentage point and now worthless stock options. Many of the most contentious couples don’t just want to be single again, says Beverly Hills divorce lawyer Annie Wishingrad. They want the Dow to be trading at 10,000, too. “People still have unreasonable expectations.”

The second reason is that times like these many marriages are troubled because of the economy. Financial difficulty is one of the leading causes of divorce and when money was an issue in the marriage, you can sure bet that it's going to be an issue in the divorce. Especially when the financial difficulties are due to one party or the other losing their job.

Even couples who have been divorced for years find themselves back at the negotiating table. Salaries for people in the tech and financial-services industries have plummeted, and many want to readjust their alimony payments to reflect the downturn.
But bitter members of the First Wives Club say too often those former mates are crying poor to keep from meeting their obligations. Ginita Wall, a forensic accountant in San Diego, specializes in tracking down marital assets, usually on behalf of a soon-to-be-single wife. She’s found that some men have been legitimately hurt by the economy. But others, she says, are using tough times as a convenient cover while they squirrel away assets in order to avoid splitting them with their departing partner. Sometimes, though, it’s the wives who are unwilling to face a shrinking bottom line. Wall has had clients who think the prolonged bear market is a conspiracy cooked up between their ex-husbands and their divorce lawyers. “The difficult economy,” Wall says, “has bred distrust on both sides.”

I'm sure both scenarios are true, though in my (entirely anecdotal) observations, the men are generally not as well off as their former partners believe they are. It's easy to look from the outside in and say "he should have more money than that."

On the other hand, my biases are pretty transparent. More of my friends are guys than otherwise and are, for the most part, too young and not world wise enough to even think to stash money away.

There's also quite a bit of space in the article dedicated to child support issues, which are naturally going to crop up in any divorce. In fact, in non-alimony states like Texas (used to be anyway, I've heard that's changed, can anyone confirm?), once the money's been split, child support is their only financial interaction.

The issue of child support and custody battles probably deserves its own post, so I'll refrain from commenting on it at this time.

In related news, I ran across a study on how leaving an unhappy marriage as often as not leads to being a similarly unhappy divorcee. I've got more to say on it, but I will have to tackle it later.

Orrin Judd finds an interesting article on virtual reality. Typically, it brings in the Matrix as a primary pop culture reference, but incorporates it well. I'm working on a comic book proposal and this has reinvigorated my interest in it:

Today, faith in political action is practically dead, and it is technology that expresses the dream of a transformed world. Few people any longer look forward to a world in which hunger and poverty are eradicated by a better distribution of the wealth that already exists. Instead, governments look to science to create ever more wealth. Intensive agriculture and genetically modified crops will feed the hungry; economic growth will reduce and eventually remove poverty. Though it is often politicians who espouse these policies most vociferously, the clear implication of such technical fixes is that we might as well forget about political change. Rather than struggling against arbitrary power, we should wait for the benign effects of growing prosperity.

It may well be true that we cannot cure the worst evils by political action: if an absurdity like the Iraq war cannot be prevented, what hope is there of governments eradicating hunger? Yet technology is not a surrogate for political action. In practice, we simply use it to mask problems we cannot solve.

As traditional forms of social control are swept away, we turn to pervasive video surveillance to stop crime. As terrorism grows, we deploy smart bombs against "rogue states". We use Prozac and similar drugs not only to cope with episodes of depression, but increasingly to suppress normal human responses of frustration and disappointment. New media technologies enable us to blank out the environments in which we live. Plugged into our Walkmans, we can forget the filth and squalor by which we are actually surrounded.

Even when we are not insulated in this way, our view of the world is deformed by the mass media. Each day, we may encounter a filthy environment and dysfunctional public services, but in the virtual world conjured up by interactive television we are all only a moment away from wealth and freedom. For many people, this fantasy world is more compelling than their disjointed everyday actions and perceptions. The Matrix shows the logical outcome: a dream-filled half-life passed in a simulated environment. A degenerate product of the human longing for a better world, the Matrix is the ultimate technology of escape.

Kevin notes Glen Phillips of Toad the Wet Sprocket has some Texas dates coming up. I've not heard Phillips play, but a while back I did run across a handful of free downloads from a group called the Lapdogs, who are apparently comprised of at least some of the former members of the Toad band.

They have an interesting sound.

As someone who's been following Texas country music and Pat Green for a few years now, I took great interest in the Austin American-Statesman's write-up on his newfound success.

Like Charlie Robison before him, since Green graduated from Texas to Nashville, there has been predictable grumbling that he's selling out. There are, after all, no songs explicitly about Texas. Nor are there any beer hall tunes.

I think much of the criticism rests on the intense desire of Texans to see our unique brand of country music go national. Nashville is in such a sorry state, it needs the shot in the arm. When Green got signed, there was hope that he would be the person to turn Nashville on its head.

I believe that view to have been misguided from the start. There are a number of Texas artists such as Dub Miller and Mark David Manders whose love of country music runs through their veins and who could never really do anything else (and thank heavens they never will!).

Green, on the other hand, is a utility player with a crisp voice and a desire, first and foremost, to please the crowd. If you go to one of his shows (particularly one at a smaller venue), you get that sense and it's a powerful draw. It's not so much a lack of musical integrity as it is versitily as a songwriter. His versitility has served him well in Texas where repeated songs about love lost or gained or on hold tend to make crowds go restless.

It also means that, unlike some other Texas musicians, he will have things other than Texas to write about. Other than beer halls. It gives him the ability to acclamate himself to several different music environments and lend his own unique voice there.

The Texas Music Revolution is going to have to wait. Pat isn't the right guy to jumpstart it. He never really was.

With that in mind, I actually welcome most of what I've heard since he got signed. First of all, he actually bucked Nashville and signed with Universal Records in New York. That raised a few eyebrows when it happened, including mine. Second, when he needed a producer, he hired Don Gehman.

Some point to this as a real sign that something is amiss, noting that Gehman is the producer behind Hootie and the Blowfish, among others. My first contention is that anyone who has a markedly negative opinion of Hootie and the Blowfish seriously need to let go of their radio perception of the group and listen to their debut album. Not only will they likely be surprised by the depth of talent there (that was not present on a number of their radio singles), but I think they'll see that it's actually a quite good match. Off the top of my mind, I can think of at least 5 songs on that record that would fit right into a set list at the Firehouse Saloon.

The second thing to note is that by all accounts, Green and Gehman are working together quite well:

"We had conversations, long conversations, about what wasn't right with our music," Green recalls. "We were used to working with Lloyd (Maines), who's like your father in the studio. Gehman was more like a boss." Gehman wanted Green to stretch lyrically. He had Green scuttle some of his favorite songs and write new ones in the studio.

"It was pretty brutal at the beginning," says Pollard, Green's closest friend in the band. "We got off to a slow start, but then, when things did start coming together, we appreciated it more."

Green says the choppy waters started smoothing when he and the producer, whose reputation had him shaking in his boots just a couple weeks earlier, had a big heart-to-heart. "I told him that I had no problem whatsoever in getting another producer and starting all over again if this wasn't a good fit, and he totally didn't take it the wrong way," says Green. "He agreed. There was no sense beating our heads against the wall."

After that confrontation, both sides relaxed a bit. Gehman grudgingly recorded "I'm Tired," a song he didn't much like. And the band got loose the old-fashioned way: They got drunk. The players and Green sounded stiff while trying to get a "Dead Flowers" groove going on "All the Good Things," so Gehman sent them out for a couple of 12-packs. That night's session ended up on the record. "We thought we were just making a demo and the next day we'd do it for real," Green says, with a laugh. "But Gehman said that was it -- he got a good take."

There is the tendency to argue that it's an either-or and that Gehman is trying to prevent Pat from being Pat. I know this because that was my gut reaction. On the other hand, it's often true that two minds work better than one. Whenever I've worked in a group project, such as with No-Lyfe Productions, there is always a lot of give and take, but ultimately the final product is something that none of us could have come up with on our own.

Pat obviously doesn't need Gehman and said as much. To the degree they work together, it's by Pat's choice and I think it's safe to assume that if Gehman was too far off the reservation, they would part ways.

Simply put, I strongly suspect that Green truly likes the direction he's taking. I'll go a step further and say that I believe, from his decision to sign with Universal on, it has actually been what he's wanted to do all along.

The most important aspect of Green's music is Green's distinctive voice (both physical and songwriting). What I don't see in this article, and which would worry me, is if he was being handed songs by basement Nashville (or Chelsea) songwriters. That doesn't appear to be the case. The sacrifice's that Green appears to be making are on his own songs. I'm sorry not to get to hear the songs that he had to throw by the wayside, but unfortunately the best songs end up on the cutting room floor some times.

That applies also to independent artists, such as a song by Dub Miller that he'll play only when he's drunk and will never put on a record, but is one of the funnest songs I know of. The truth is that a lot of what's going on with Green's music quite possibly would be going on anyway. Green's former playing buddy, Cory Morrow, released an independent CD the same time Green released his studio cut, and Morrow's CD ("Between The Lines") was a tremendous departure from his previous work. Green's golf buddy, Phil Pritchett, already made the transition from country to heartland rock.

Green, Morrow, and Pritchett are all growing up. Pritchett commented that he doesn't write beer hall songs anymore because he is a husband and father of two, and since he doesn't even go to beer halls anymore, writing about them would be dishonest. Morrow and Green are also married and Green has a child on the way. As their lives change, so should their music.

Now, while I'm not as concerned about Gehman, the actions of the record company are troubling:

[Universal President] Morris and Universal South President Tony Brown ended up producing the single with a topflight Nashville studio band, which looks like a sound decision: "Wave On Wave" is already Green's highest charting single, at No. 25 and climbing the country charts. But one can sense the bitterness in the band that was replaced on the track. "You've gotta make some concessions to radio," Pollard shrugs."

I suppose so.

That brings me back to Hootie and the Blowfish, the much maligned act of yesterday. I only hear them on the radio sporadically. When I do, it's almost always their god-awful pop hit "Only Wanna Be With You" with a catchy tune and insipid lyrics. Whatever Hootie's artistic talents are, their commercial releases will always be overshadowed by that one track, which sticks out like a sore thumb on the record and I'm almost sure was pressed for by a record executive.

No matter what they do now, that song will haunt them for the rest of their careers. I hope Pat keeps that sort of thing in mind.

I obviously don't agree with the politics, and it could use more content, but I still think it a neat site.

Threat rating: zero. Excellent work - you demonstrate all the qualities of patriotism that will make America even greater under Bush. USA #1!!!

What threat to the Bush administration are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Kris Lofgren met presidential candidate Dick Gephardt. While Kris didn't try to steal his coat, he did come away with a solid impression of the man:

He showed his frustration with the fact that Republicans have managed to be able to call Democrats “unpatriotic.” I could tell that this really irked him and got under his skin because his mood quickly became more somber and focused. He said that it “sicked” him that Republicans were able to get away with such preposterous accusations. What he’s fighting for in his campaign, is to bring to light the patriotism of the American people - not the so-called patriotism founded on fear, but the underlying love for America that he knows is within each American. Somewhere below the skepticism and cynicism is the American spirit – the one that motivates college students to drive across the vast lands of America in the summer with their friends; the one that makes old men and small children together stand with respect at the sound of the national anthem and the sight of the American flag; the very spirit that this country was founded upon – that is the reason Dick Gephardt is running for the presidency of the United States, and that is why I support him.

Those of you on the other side of the political fold should really read The Lofty more often.

Kevin:

The folks at Browning have decided that nobody can link to their website.

That's right.

The folks at Browning have separate North American and International websites. On the NA site, you can investigate rebates, read product manuals,locate a dealer, and other helpful things. It's really a nicely done site. The international site, on the other hand, has a bio of founder John Moses Browning, and an attractive tintype showing him posing with a gun. I can't say what else is on the site, as I have flash disabled and there's no way to navigate the silly thing without it. I highly encourage fellow bloggers to investigate the Browning websites, where there are, no doubt, many many more interesting items to link and discuss.

Hurricane Claudette hit Texas earlier today. There was a bit of a scare that it would hit the Houston area, but thankfully that did not come to pass.

It reminds me of a couple years ago while my family went on our annual trip to the Pensacola, Florida. There was talk of a hurricane in the Gulf that was headed somewhere on the Third Coast (Florida panhandle and the coasts of Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Texas).

As Hurricane Erin approached, the water was too rough for most people to swim it (was great for me, though), so people started watching TV and tuning in to the weather station.

Mr. Stenholm, who held no degree in meteorology, announced that the hurricane was sure to hit Louisiana. I hadn't yet earned a degree in Information Systems, but what I'd learn about network architecture told me that all of the experts were, in fact, wrong.

In fact, the entire group of us, with various degrees in business, engineering, and information systems, felt that since we were all so sure, and since we outnumbered the experts, democracy would dictate that the Louisianans were screwed.

Then the evacuation was ordered.

We tried to talk to management of the apartment complex into letting us stick around, but we were thwarted by a big sign on their office's front door that said "ARMAGEDDON HEADING THIS WAY! RUN FOR THE HILLS!"

So we were among the last to leave. Much to our disappointment, it appeared that the hotels up in Alabama were predominantly full. It seems that other people had doubted our expert opinions and planned ahead. The fools. Well, except that somehow they had a hotel room and we didn't.

Mr. Stenholm and my father were out looking for a hotel room while the rest of us looked around for a place to eat that wasn't out of bread. We finally hooked up and they told us that they'd found a place called the Landmark Inn. It was cheap, they reasoned, so when the hurricane hit Louisiana, we will have saved money.

As Hurricane Erin was slamming the coast of Pensacola, we were busy getting acquainted with this lovely hotel that they had been found for us.

"We need a new room," Mrs. Stenholm told my mom.

"Yeah, ours isn't very good, either. The door leaves a half an inch to the doorway. The carpet has some ugly stain on it, and there aren't any towels. I've also seen a few roaches."

"No, you don't understand. We need a new room."

"I don't think you're going to find much better."

"We'd better be able to. You don't want to know what we found on our bed."

"What?"

"You don't want to know"

They eventually got another room. Just to be sure, they stripped all the sheets. A couple of them slept in the car. The next morning the power was out throughout the town we were staying at.

We'd had our fill of visits from the cockroach family, so we all hung out in the parking lot for the most part, scoping out the damage of the hurricane (that had probably turned back to a tropical storm by the time it reached Alabama).

Then we saw them. They were like a liberating army, coming to free the vacationeers from the evil forces of the Brownout. They were the Georgia Light & Power company. Or, as we referred to them, our heroes.

It turns out they had been sent to stay in a hotel near ours so we were among the first to be brought back out of the stone age. They came in with their tanks, err, trucks. If we'd had confetti, we'd have thrown it. If we'd had paper, we would have made confetti out of it just so that we could throw it at these nameless, faceless power company electricians just doing their job.

We eventually got back to the beach, but all of the little umbrella stations below where our families congregated had been swept away. Our windows were still intact, so we spent the remaining couple of days indoors, celebrating my father's birthday, which was the same day the hurricane hit.

All in all, we thought as we left Florida back for Texas, not a bad trip. We'll take Hurricane Erin over Hurricane Ivan any day.

As for Hurricane Ivan, I'll be sure to tell you all about him another day...

Thanks to some cool features on Nucleus, there are going to be a number of pictures attached with posts. Hover the mouse over the picture and you'll get a description.

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Some posts from the original RAWbservations have been moved over. I'm going to move the rest, but because of some of Blogger's new "features" I can't access the HTML for them without deleting posts. So I'll probably have to dismantle it in the process.

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Thanks to everyone who helped make RAW360's debut a strong one!

I am completely, utterly, and entirely ambivalent to the Brights debate. I applaud Dawkins for coming right out and announcing, "This is spin! Spin this is! Look at us! We are co-opting a phrase with connotations to smart and upbeat and using it to describe us so that people will accept us more! Watch us go!"

As far as I'm concerned, it's simply a non-believer by a different name. I am not offended by the notion that because they call each other Brights they assume I'm stupid (I assume that some do, but they already did, and some don't who will nonetheless ascribe to the philosophy and use the word).

What I do find striking is the sense of urgency in Dawkins's call. The sense that they must all unite in the face of the common enemy. As someone with a more quiet faith, I don't envision confrontation as a way of finding acceptance anymore than I believe in prosyletizing with a bullhorn and signs.

When in college, there was a flyer flying about for a group called the FreeThinkers Union that was, in many ways, similar to Dawkins's Brights movement. Like the Brights, the FTU hinged on lumping everyone who was not in the Christian/Jewish/Muslim axis into a category.

What I remember being most striking was that it listed potential members as being atheists, deists, agnostics, and secular humanists. What they seemed to ignore is how mutually exclusive these groups are. Deism is the belief in a god (that generally does not mettle in human affairs), atheism is the complete absense of that, and agnosticism is the declaration that we simply don't know one way or the other.

What do these groups have in common except for deists and atheists each trying to win over the poor agnostics while they all complain about organized religion? There is also the matter that anyone who has come to the conclusion that there is and is not a god is no longer a "free thinker." Once one comes to a conclusion (on any matter), one closes off other options, and the thinking becomes structured and no longer free.

Dawkins's group strikes me as a variation of that. We Are Collectively Atypical. Well, good for them. I personally think that the existing terms of atheism, agnosticism, deism and the like are sufficient and well recognized enough to get the point across and the changing of the label won't much change peoples' perceptions of the belief. On the other hand, maybe they'll learn the frustration I feel whenever anyone blanketly ascribes a belief of a particular Christian sect (or sects) to the whole lot of us whether we think that way or not.

As someone who doesn't ascribe to a philosophy that would fit under their umbrella, I don't (or at least shouldn't) have much of a say.

Other voices that probably matter more than mine:
Pro: Dean Ensmay, Max Power
Anti: Andrea Harris, Angela Schultz

And my favorite, ambivalent Andrew Northrup:

As a non-religious person, let me assure you that I will never ever refer to myself as a "bright", simply because that's the most self-satisfied and pussiest name I've ever heard. "Hi this is my friend Sparkles, and we're both Brights, and every Thursday our special club meets for a slumber party at Candycane Hollow and discuss issues of athiesm in modern society and play My Little Pony." Why not save everyone some time and energy and beat yourselves up.

Via The Corner and Iain Murray comes this truly astounding article presented (unlike the below Hulk post) in a somewhat respectable publication.

In a rare instance where the US is more regulated than Britain, it would seem that... ahem... like this are perfectly legal:

The scheme I’ve invested in is known as Hearts, and it’s for women only. It calls itself a ‘gifting scheme that benefits all women’. Men aren’t allowed in because they’d ruin it with their incessant cynicism and greed. They aren’t even supposed to know about it. That, in a way, is the point.

It works like this: you buy a ‘heart’ for £3,000 and then recruit some friends to do the same. If you are like me and pathetically poor, then you can opt to buy a smaller share — in my case, an eighth of a heart.

When a sufficient number of new people have been recruited, you’re in line for a lovely pay-out. You throw a party. Your friends come to your house with stacks of cash. You serve up the champagne and say thank you very much as you count your winnings: eight times your money. That’s not a bad return, now, is it?

As a general rule, any time you are offered a business proposition and told not to let your spouse or significant other in on it, it's a good idea to walk away.

As a second general rule, unlike what I'm sure some wacko leftist feminist somewhere might argue that mathematics is a patriarchial concept used to keep women down, most of us would agree that 8x8 is 64, 64x8x8x8x8 etc will eventually outnumber the three billion or so women on the planet.

Even the author of the article realizes it on some level:

Torli had told me that it would be good, but not essential, if I signed up two friends, and the more I signed up, the quicker I would get my money. But one of the scary Internet articles had pointed out that each pyramid must increase by a factor of eight, so for everyone in my line to get their money, we would need 4,096 people. Another lurid article suggested that for 12 layers of a pyramid you would need eight billion people — more than the population of the planet. That’s what the hard-nosed economists have been saying — but it’s not what’s happened in practice around here.

Imagine that, the 1+1 does not equal 2 when gender politics is involved. The likely reason "it's not what's happened in practice" is because people keep reinvesting. True, as long as that keeps happening, it can go on indefinately, but whenever people put in less than they got, it will require more people. And more. And more. People will, of course, eventually want to spend the fun money they put in to this. Or, just as likely, those "greedy" men will catch wind of it and see the endgame. The men likely will not because they're smarter, but the spouses and boyfriends of these particular ladies must be smarter, as they do not appear to possess the brain power to hold down a job to have the extra fun money to put, so one can reasonably assume their husbands do.

As someone in Iain's comments section pointed out, these schemes almost always come with a hitch. It's only for women, Catholics, blacks, southern protestants, Albanians, and ultimately, every working American. It's sad that some people feel so alienated that they believe the road to riches is only stopped by the "greedy" other.

The author points out that they are not needy people putting in their food money, which is good. I hope it stays that way, but as the numbers swell it will have to swell down to lower income brackets. Maybe the author will come out of this ahead. Maybe the friends she recruited will as well. But the ledger will always equalize, and that money will eventually come from somewhere.

It's a gamble. I don't mind gambling, per se. Except that casinos have big giant bright signs announcing precisely what the establishments are for. People enter a casino to gamble. This more nefarious scheme comes not in the form of showgirls, watered-down beer, and bright lights, but rather in the form of a good friend with a "business opportunity."

It reminds me of The Devil & Max Devlin, the story of a person whose only way out of Hell is to sign on three innocent people to unknowingly take the fall for him. If he manages to do so, he gets off scot free and his signors, friends willing to blindly sign a contract out of trust of him, go to Hell.

I only hope that Ms. Royce's signors, their signors, or whomever ultimately pays for their games are as dense and repugnant as she is.

If he's lucky (and the rest of the country isn't-so-lucky), Rob has a story he'll be able to tell his figurative grand-kids about. His brush with possible future president Howard Dean:

About five minutes before he was due to speak, I went out to the back yard where the podium was set up. Governor Dean came out of the back door and walked past me. He then took off his coat, held it out, turned around, and, I thought, looked directly at me. Thus began our second more policy-related conversation:

Me: Would you like me to hold your coat?

Dean: No. I want Ashleigh to hold it.

Me: Oh.

Dean: But thanks.

So at least we now know that, should he be elected, Dean will have someone in control of Sport Coat Security.

Interestingly, I made my acquaintence with Rob by responding to a post he had on Dean some time ago, before he became the anti-war candidate. I actually had some good things to say about the guy. I still do, I guess, but only begrudgingly.

As Kevin suggested, I took my rant from Saturday and it is officially recorded. To anyone who has had it up to here with convenience stores that LIE, give it a listen.

[5.3MB]

One day a while back I was scanning through a Superman comic book. Though I think I was collecting at the time, I didn't buy much Superman, but there was a scene that sticks fresh in my mind.

Clark Kent had lost his superpowers and he and Lois were walking down the street. She asked how he was doing and he said "I'm cold and I'm hungry. I don't like being cold and hungry."

As someone who wasn't used to the feeling, it hit him particularly hard.

I'm the same way when I am feeling under the weather. It doesn't happen very often, but when it does, I am not a happy camper. I find myself getting snippy, which for a congenial fellow like me, is quite odd.

The other night I was hanging out with Kevin and I went into a big rant on a familiar topic for those of you who read my No-Lyfe Journal work and he suggested that I audioblog it because I couldn't possibly write the passion I was exhibiting.

Despite feeling tired and washed out, I found the energy to bitch, moan, and complain. Of course, it's a paradox that the worse I feel, often the more energetic I am.

When I was a kid, I tended to veer a bit towards hypochondria. At some point, enough was enough and I decided that I would not allow myself to get sick anymore. Granted, there wasn't much I could necessarily do about getting a bug, but I could certainly control how I acted. So with 102-degree temperatures, I still went to school and remained as animated as I could. I'm not so much an animated fellow in general, so often it was more animated than I normally was.

It worked, without any reward for being sick (getting to lay around the house all day, miss school, not have to do stuff), my mind seemed less inclined to admit that it wasn't feeling well and it was only cases like this, where it's been going on for four days, where it even comes up.

Of course, those people that see me alternating between washed (the way I feel), happy happy animated (the way I act), and caustic (the way I think that slips out), people think I'm a nutbar. It's all part of the fun, I suppose.

While looking up articles on Dan Morales for the article below, I was reminded what a squishy partisan hack Clay Robison is.

I'd be curious how anyone can say, with a straight face, how the man who writes these editorials (they're catalogued on the left) can be expected to be completely unbiased as the cheif of the Austin bureau of the Chronicle.

I'd make some quip about the former chief lawyer for the state ending up in prison, but just about every article written about Former Attorney General Dan Morales's plight has tried to be cute about it, so I'll spare you.

For those of you outside Texas, Morales was a rising star in the Democratic Party whose political career has ended and whose freedom may not be far behind. He was a series of contradictions. He was a Harvard-educated populist, fiercely taking on Big Tobacco but leaving Microsoft be. He was the Hispanic, Democratic Attorney General who single-handedly killed overt Affirmative Action in Texas. He came from South Texas, but spoke Spanish so poorly that he had to reneg on a planned Spanish-only debate with eventual Democrativ gubernatorial nominee Tony Sanchez. An unglamorous man who married a former stripper. A formerly frugal man brought down by excessive material greed that has proven his downfall.

Morales was a love-him-and-hate-him kind of guy. Not in the sense that you either loved him or hated him, but rather just about everyone loved him and hated him. The Democrats loved him because he increased Hispanic turnout significantly, but many never forgave him for his opposition to Affirmative Action. Republicans appreciated that and that he was so independent, but he was brought down by a political battle with his former nemesis, George W. Bush.

He was the second most popular politician in Texas, but that wasn't enough.

Bush's (or more likely Rove's) interest in Morales was apparent quite early on during W's governorship. Morales's cheif victory, a settlement with tobacco companies, was immediately siezed on by the Bush machine and gave birth to the war that brought him down. Before the 1998 elections, Bush and Rove recruited Texas Supreme Court Justice (and now U.S. Senator) John Cornyn to defeat him in the election.

Then, out of nowhere, the still-popular Morales announced that he would not seek re-election. Many Democrats expressed dismay, as he was the only candidate who seemed capable of beating Bush. Others, though, breathed a sigh of relief, oblivious to the thrashing they were about to recieve.

Since then, it's been downhill. Attorney General Cornyn launched an investigation against his predecessor and more and more evidence began to prove that Morales had acted illegally. Then, as if only to alienate any friends he may have had left in the Democratic Party, he ran against Tony Sanchez and turned the gubernatorial primary into a bloody one. Then, when he lost, he endorsed Republican Governor Rick Perry.

More recently, his bond was revoked when he lied on various credit reports. The judge called Morales's behavior "beyond stupidity." Indeed, reading the Chronicle's recap is a story of an immensely reckless man:

That led to U.S. District Judge Sam Sparks' decision to revoke Morales' bond after hearing evidence that he claimed on loan applications he was making $20,000 a month when days before he had sworn in federal court that he had no income.

It's all immensely puzzling, explained by former political allies as the action of a man so optomistic and proud that he was sure he could get away with anything. There are also numerous interesting tidbits about how his behavior changed when he married and had a child.

When he stepped down in 1998, he said that he was wanted to take care of his family. That, apparently, is what he felt he was trying to do with his sudden desire for a jet and $600,000 mortgage.

It's sad in more ways than one. Morales was one of the few truly independent people in politics. Towards the end of his career, many wondered if he would switch parties, but he really fit in to neither. He did what he thought was right and, apparently, whatever lined his pockets.

It's sad to me personally because it makes me wonder about independent politicians. Though I'm a Republican, I still appreciate independence when I see it, yet when I come across it I tend not to like what I see.

They seem to either fall into one of two categories. They're either wishy-washy and indecisive with a constant finger to the wind and media in the Jim Jeffords mold, or they're intrinsically disturbing and unhinged by not only party line, but basic common sense, in the mold of John McCain.

And, apparently, in the mold of Dan Morales.

Sad.

RAWbservations 2.0 is open for business!

A few years ago, on the eve of impeachment, President Bill Clinton sent our armed forces into Iraq on a bombing campaign. This was not the first time that a bombing campaign had coincided with other big news that shed the President in a negative light.

As one might expect, Clinton faced a torrent of criticism from his domestic rivals in the Republican congress. The likes of Newt Gingrich, who had accused Clinton of "wagging the dog" on every military campaign that Clinton initiated since his 1996 re-election, as well as the likes of Senator Orrin Hatch, who'd previous tried to quell such talk, all wanted answers.

As did I. I wasn't as conservative then as I am now. I'd written a couple critical columns of Clinton in the Daily Cougar about his behavior in regards to the impeachment trial, but I did not regret having voted for him two years before. But this, I felt, was beyond the pale.

Clinton went on television and gave what was probably one of the best delivered chats I'd seen him give, explaining that he did not want to initiate bombing during the islamic Holy Month of Ramadan.

Some time after the speech, I called my father and we talked on the phone about it for a bit. Dad, despite being a Democrat in the FDR mold, disliked President Clinton in a way that I'd not known him prior, or since, to feel about a public figure.

"I still don't like him and I don't trust him," he told me, "but he's my president, and I want to support him."

I was reminded of this story when Kris Lofgren posted on his reservations in regards to talk of sending troops to Liberia:

If our new policy is one of humanitarian intervention, with a long-term benefit of political stability, I'm all for it. But invading a country on false pretenses and trying to smooth it all over with the tales of horrific genocide later, that's not something the American people should stand for. Either we are a benevolent superpower bent on the betterment of all people, or we're just covering for our mistakes. With this administration that choice has become perfectly clear, and unfortunately for the people of Zimbabwe and Uzbekistan, it's not the choice that benefits them.

When I read that it most reminded me of President Clinton, my father, and most of all, the Republicans in congress who thought that Hussein should be overthrown but not bombed when there are more pressing domestic matters to be attended to (namely impeachment).

In many ways, it came down to a matter of trust, as it does with Mr. Lofgren and President Bush. I can't say that President Clinton lost Trent Lott's trust or Bush lost Kris's because, in a sense, they never really had it.

It's all a part of the campaign process. Governor Bush was looked at by many Democrats as a refreshing change from the harsh, partisan Republicans that it seemed to them were dominating the party. President Clinton was viewed by many Republicans as a more centrist, reasonable Democrat. But in the high tension of campaigning, Bush said a lot of things that flew even the more reasonable Democrats into a frenzy, as did Clinton with Republicans.

I noticed this happening with Al Gore. I'd always liked Gore, but during the height of the campaign, I viewed him with a considerable amount of derision. Now that the campaign is over and he is not president, he suddenly looks a lot better than John Kerry, Hillary Clinton, and many of the other would-be Democratic nominees. Right now my opinion of John Edwards is that he's my favorite Democrat in the field with a chance of winning, but I can guarantee you that my opinion of him will change if he squares off against Bush, whom I would more likely to support over the North Carolina Senator.

When the bad guy gets elected, though, it's more difficult for you to re-adjust your opinion of him. Because then they are doing things day in and day out that annoy you. Partisans on your side come up with more and more evidence that they are corrupt, unworthy, and/or incompetent. At the end of the day, even if you didn't view President X as being the worst the other party has to offer, he is the worst because he's doing the most damage and even though he may not be on the extreme fringe, he is a member of the other party for a reason. Namely that he disagrees with you more than otherwise.

It's remarkably difficult to have a high (or medium) opinion of someone who spends his day actively opposing policies that you support. It's difficult to say "Though I oppose all of his policies, he's still a good person doing what he thinks is right."

I don't say this to lecture people who are unable to do that, because after all, I'm one of them. It's human nature to view your side as being more benign. We fight for truth, justice, and the American way. They, inversely, do not. It's a natural inclination to believe that since your ideas are better, if someone with opposing ideas got elected it's because they lied or cheated. If they remain popular, it's because they're still lying or cheating, or, and this is the death knell of any opposition movement, the people are stupid.

This all brings me back to supporting the president in times of war. It's one thing to support the president in a war that you do not believe we should be engaged in, which is more-or-less impossible. That's not to say that I approve of those that blow every negative event out of proportion with a disturbing excitement, but to say "rah rah rah yay team" is more than is fair to ask of anyone.

What I find puzzling, however, is when someone supports what a president is doing (or at least would definitely support another president doing it) and yet cannot bring themselves to speak positively of it. Despite the fact that Republicans had no substantive opposition to the 1998 bombings in Iraq, their words of support were always outweighed by their qualifications. "It's good that Hussein is being confronted, but blah blah blah wag the dog blah blah blah insincere blah blah blah kicking up desert sand blah blah etc."

Perhaps the bombing in 1998 was a "wag the dog" maneuver. Perhaps Bush is simply going in to Liberia to cover his tracks in Iraq. The truth is that we will not know for some time to come, if ever. It's that vagueness that forces us to betray our political biases. When left to try to figure out the opposing president's motives, it's almost always going to split right down partisan lines.

Which is a shame. But this is all quite easy for me to point out when my guy is in the White House. It's easy for me to ask Democrats to lay off psychoanalyzing Bush and his motives because while I may believe it's the right thing to do, but it's also (at least seemingly) beneficial for my side if you do it. When the other side is in office, how will I respond?

I hope that I can react with the same view that my father does. Even when I think the president is an unworthy SOB and a scumbag, it doesn't really matter what his motivations are if he's doing the right thing. Nor, for that matter, does it matter if his motivations are good and he's doing the wrong thing. He's the President, and I want to support him when he's doing what's right, and when he's doing what's wrong, I want to hope that I'm wrong.

It's not an easy thing to do.

I have a picture of President Bush tacked on to my wall. I hope that Bush remains in the White House until 2008 and at which point he is replaced by a Republican. I also hope that, in the case that proves to not be true, I will be able to put up a picture of President Edwards, Kerry, Richardson, or (heaven forbid) Rodham Clinton.

I may oppose everything that they do. I may wish they had lost and hope they lose the next time around. At the end of the day, though, they will be my president, defending and looking out for the country the way they see fit, and when faced with a foreign adversary, I hope to support them.

Heaven knows I won't say this very often, but Hillary showed a lot of class. Good for her.

From The Sun:

Curious Leah noticed a lump after winning the monster, catchphrase “You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry,” at a seaside fair.

And when she peeled off the green comic-book character’s ripped purple shorts, she found the two-inch manhood beneath them.

Horrified Leah immediately ran to mum Kim and reported the find. And last night Kim called for a ban on the saucy toy. She said: "A hulk with a bulk like this just shouldn’t be allowed."

Suddenly everyone's Johnny Cochran.

It reminds me of an episode of Spin City in which an action figure of Mayor Winston was released and he had a bit of a bulge down there. Of course, that was a running gag on a sitcom.

This is a bit harder to figure out.

Spinster Carol Garland gives the Left Behind series a serious shalacking:

And I left out the whiz kid’s name: Naomi Tiberius. The authors do have one talent: making up horrible, ugly names for their characters.

Check these out: Buck Cameron, Tsion Ben-Judah, Ming Toy, Nicolae Carpathia, David Hassid. And this one: A female tattoo artist of Indian descent who the authors named Kashmir. Yes, that makes sense. Everyone knows that Indians name their children after provinces of their country.

Now, I suppose I'm not one to talk about giving characters strange names. Over at the No-Lyfe Journal I have the tendency to give odd pseudonyms like Elciem and Ora, but that's in part to make them conspicuous and give the reader an idea that I'm not naming names.

In the case of my fictional writing, I tend to use rather mundane nameage. It helps add to the realism of generally realistic stories. It might not be as fun or "clever" as using a geographic location that proves I'm world-wise, but the author's enjoyment isn't entirely the point. The story is.

Mostly, though, it's a sign of a lazy writer. Roger Ebert said of Dana Carvey's latest vehicle: "Carvey plays an Italian waiter named Pistachio Disguisey, who is unfamiliar with the First Law of Funny Names, which is that funny names in movies are rarely funny."

And clever names generally aren't clever. It's a sign of pretentiousness at worst or, at best, laziness to cross-dart a baby names book and a phone book.

The melodramatic names never stop coming and neither do the incredibly convenient abilities. Chloe Cameron, daughter of Rayford Steele and wife of Buck, is miraculously endowed with the ability, at the tender age of 22 or so, after dropping out of Stanford after the Rapture, to run a worldwide underground trading company which keeps the post-rapture believers fed, without anyone in the world government being the wiser. She has no qualifications for this, but someone had to do it and if the authors declare it to be Chloe then she must be able to do it. I don’t believe the authors ever spent any time figuring out how this would be done so no convincing detail is ever provided, but what the hey, it’s just a novel and they don't have to respect their target audience.

So it's laziness then.

I've not read the series, so I can't comment on it first hand, but I've heard various mutterings that it was farmed out to ghost writers after the first couple books and it was meant, as much as anything else, to be a prosetylizing work.

That sort of thing is often hard to do right, be it religious or social recruiting. Anyone who has seen more than a couple of god-awful Public Service Announcements can tell you that often the more loudly they try, the worse it comes across.

Perhaps the most effective moral story I've ever come across is the movie Trainspotting, a movie about addiction and the drug-scene in Scotland. Whether one buys into the message or not (indeed some say that there is no message), it manages to entertain.

Subtlety.

Someone who can watch that movie and come away with the idea that hard drug usage is good or even neutral is either too far gone or not really in a position where they are considering it. A good religious (or ideological) set of novels ought to have the same quality. A non-Christian should be able to enjoy it throughout.

Religion plays a role in all three of my novels. A minor role in two and a rather major role (of Left Behind proportions) in the third (and my next scheduled one to write). The only person to have read all three is a staunch atheist, but enjoyed the stories nonetheless (and, ironically, the most Christian novel is the one he enjoyed the most). That's important to me.

At least that's my view of it. I suppose there's nothing wrong with a Christian writing a Christian book that no one outside the faith (or, considering Left Behind's outright hostility to Catholicism, outside that sect of the faith) would enjoy, but I think that's limiting and often the same sign of laziness that special effects movie directors take ("They're here to see the special effects, we don't need a plot").

I don't expect I'll be reading Left Behind any time soon. Though, to be honest, I don't suspect I would have prior to Ms. Garland's write-up on it.

According to Matthew, perhaps. Though the subject has been (and will perpetually be) up to debate, some traditional Christians may have put together some puzzle pieces verifying at least the possibility of Matthew's authorship:

One of the first Gospels to be doubted was Matthew. Church tradition said it was written by Matthew, a tax collector who became a disciple of Jesus, a witness to events. Conservative Christian clergy and scholars said they believe the book of Matthew was written between A.D. 40 and 60, within Matthew's lifetime.

But other scholars concluded the Gospel wasn't written any earlier than A.D. 85, perhaps as late as A.D. 135, long after Matthew's death. If the author wasn't a witness, the thinking goes, the Gospel becomes less credible.

So to scholars the dating is important.

[...]

The [possible] parody [of the Gospel of Matthew], written by a rabbi known as Gamaliel, is believed by some well-respected liberal Christian scholars to have been written about A.D. 73 or earlier.

The fact the parody exists and the date when it was believed to be written "would undercut badly (biblical critics') claims of a late date of A.D. 85-90 or later," said Bob Newman, professor of New Testament at Biblical Theological Seminary in Pennsylvania.

Not sure what to make of it one way or the other, but it's certainly interesting.

I find it odd that the Kansas City Star put it in the Entertainment section, though. Considering that it's a historical evaluation of a book that a significant number of Americans profess to live by and historically wars have been fought over it, it might perhaps belong elsewhere (as would other archeological or findings from another religion).

Colby Cosh has an interesting post on Canadian Football and how quotas on how many Canadians must participate on each team and how that leads to a dearth of good Canadian QB's.

Entirely without shame or apologies, the CFL has, for decades, imposed a quota of Canadian citizens on each team. Each CFL roster consists of three quarterbacks and 36 other players. No more than 17 of the 36 can be "imports"--in practice, players from the United States.

[...]

One obvious example is the effect of the exemption for quarterbacks from the roster limits. We are now thirty years beyond the career of Russ Jackson, the last world-class Canadian QB. No successor has appeared--and why should one? For a CFL team, a Canadian quarterback would not add value beyond his talent by opening up an extra roster spot for an import, the way having a good Canadian kicker or running back does. It is therefore in the interests of CFL general managers to convert fast, savvy, strong Canadian kids to running backs or receivers; indeed, Canadian college QBs are sometimes drafted with this explicit intention.

The whole post is interesting. But then, I've always thought Canadian football to be interesting since I discovered it when they kidnapped Rocket Ishmael way back when.

(note: if the permalink does not work, click on the "MORE" and I have reprinted it, minus links and formatting, here)

There is one thing, though [Read More!]

Do not give someone bad news and then immediately log off before they can respond.

I'm a peaceful man, but I had an odd thirst for violence last evening. Someone was sharing with me a dreadful story about junior high. It was the kind of mean thing that junior high kids do that most people just grow up, get over, and laugh at the losers who are probably all leading quite miserable lives by now.

Which is what this person was able to do.

I, on the other hand, felt a compulsion to invent a time machine to go back in time and kick some junior high posterior.

September '75 I was 47 inches high
Mom said someday I would have
A bad ass mother G.I. Joe
for your little minds to blow
I still got beat up after class
Now I'm big and important
one angry dwarf
and 200 solemn faces
are you
If you want to see me
check your papers and your T.V.
Look who's tellin' who what to do
Kiss my ass good-bye
-Ben Folds Five

Marvel has sued Sony again.

The Spider-Man movie ranks roughly at #3 for the best superhero movie I've seen, so I really hope that this mess doesn't throw a wrench in the clockwork on the sequels. Marvel, to be sure, has every reason to be paranoid-style protective over its properties, though I don't know enough to know if Sony's allegations of Marvel simply angling for a renegotiation are valid. If so, then Marvel deserves to screw themselves over.

I guess this is one problem that DC/Time-Warner doesn't have...

A study by students at Israel's Bar-Ilan University comes to the conclusion that men and women write differently. Not only that, but if you put in the correct algorithm, a computer program can predict with 80% accuracy whether or not a man or woman was the author.

Then they fed the remaining text into an artificial-intelligence sorting algorithm and programmed it to look for elements that were relatively unique to the women's set and the men's set. ''The more frequently a word got used in one set, the more weight it got. If the word `you' got used in the female set very often and not in the male set, you give it a stronger female weighting,'' Koppel explains.

When the dust settled, the researchers wound up zeroing in on barely 50 features that had the most ''weight,'' either male or female. Not a big group, but one with ferocious predictive power: When the scientists ran their test on new documents culled from the British National Corpus, they could predict the gender of the author with over 80-percent accuracy.

The words in particular are primarily pronouns and the like, which men and women use more unconsciously. I notice that I make distinctions when I'm writing male and female characters and, despite my tendency to have more precise rather than realistically clumsy dialogue, what each character says is (generally, I'm not perfect) very unique to his or her voice. The biggest difference I found was when a couple was arguing in Something So Perfect that he was continually using "think" (ie "I think you're ignoring me") and she used a combination of "think" and "feel" (ie "I feel that you don't understand how busy I am"). It's hardly rocket science, but I actually didn't realize I was doing it until I was editing through it.

One thing that's worth noting, though. If a woman was writing in a venue meant primarily for men, she tended to write in the more "male" style and vice-versa. Most women I know, when the situation calls for it, can speak in shorter senses and more abstractly and less personally. I don't know that the reverse is true, however. My guess is that if it is, it would be less so.

I can't say that I find any of these results particularly surprising with the exception of 100% agreement with the libertarian candidate, considering that I'm spotty on the abortion and drug legalization issues. I guess since I put them as "low priority" they didn't count or something. I'm a bit unnerved by Buchanan's high rating and surprised by Lieberman's low one. Here's the test.

Rankings:
1. Libertarian Candidate (100%)
2. Bush, George W. - US President (91%)
3. Buchanan, Patrick J. – Reform/Republican (75%)
4. Bayh, Senator Evan, IN - Democrat (63%)
5. McCain, Senator John, AZ- Republican (55%)
6. Kerry, Senator John, MA - Democrat (55%)
7. Clinton, Senator Hillary Rodham, NY - Democrat (54%)
8. Lieberman Senator Joe CT - Democrat (54%)
9. Kucinich, Cong. Dennis, OH - Democrat (50%)
10. Dean, Gov. Howard, VT - Democrat (50%)
11. Gephardt, Cong. Dick, MO - Democrat (50%)
12. Phillips, Howard - Constitution (49%)
13. Daschle, Senate Minority Leader Tom, SD - Democrat (49%)
14. Feingold, Senator Russ, WI - Democrat (49%)
15. Edwards, Senator John, NC - Democrat (46%)
16. Leahy, Patrick Senator, Vermont - Democrat (45%)
17. Biden, Senator Joe, DE - Democrat (44%)
18. Dodd, Senator Chris, CT - Democrat (44%)
19. Hagelin, John - Natural Law (40%)
20. Jackson, Cong. Jesse Jr., IL - Democrat (39%)
21. Feinstein, Senator Dianne, CA - Democrat (38%)
22. Sharpton, Reverend Al - Democrat (38%)
23. Kaptur, Cong. Marcy, OH - Democrat (36%)
24. Graham, Senator Bob, FL - Democrat (34%)
25. Moseley-Braun, Former Senator Carol IL - Democrat (32%)
26. Green Party Candidate (29%)
27. Bradley, Former Senator Bill NJ - Democrat (23%)
28. Clark, Retired Army General Wesley K "Wes" Arkansas
29. Gore, Former Vice-President Al - Democrat (20%)
30. Socialist Candidate (17%)
31. Vilsack, Governor. Tom IA - Democrat (7%)
32. Hart, Former Senator Gary, CO - Democrat (3%)
33. LaRouche, Lyndon H. Jr. - Democrat (-10%)

[via Rob and Greg]

You may or may not recall, but not too long ago a woman was video-taped shalacking her four year-old child in her van. Her name was Madelyne Toogood. It happened in Texas, though it made the national news cycle for a bit.

Over at Slate, Brendan I. Koerner did a good job explaining who the Irish Travellers are and what makes them so unique:

A few Irish Travelers emigrated to America during the Potato Famine of the mid-19th century. Their 7,000-10,000 descendants still speak the secret Traveler language, a dialect alternately known as Shelta, Gammon, or Cant, which includes elements of Irish Gaelic, English, Greek, and Hebrew. They are also devout Roman Catholics who rarely marry outside the group. Their tightknit, insular clans spend the winters in such sunny locales as White Settlement, Texas, and Murphy Village, S.C., then hit the road come spring. Many U.S.-based Irish Travelers, including Toogood's husband, work as itinerant roofers, pavers, and painters.

I didn't think much about it as I'd never heard of White Settlement and likely just glazed over that part anyway.

I ran across White Settlement again this weekend when I was reading Fort Worth's alt-weekly, Fort Worth Weekly. I picked up the paper (which was of little ordinary use to this Houstonian) because it mentioned the Irish Travellers, which I'd remembered from the Slate article as being an interesting brood.

I've been in Fort Worth for the past couple of days celebrating Independence Day. My Aunt, my father, and I were out eating breakfast and I picked up a copy of Ft. Worth's alt-weekly, Fort Worth Weekly. In some ways, it picked up where the Slate article left off:

"I don't know how to describe them, except maybe rich white trash," Jeffrey said. "You've never seen nicer cars; you've never seen nicer trailers. But they are the strangest people I've ever seen. Nothing about them makes any sense. Don't even try to figure them out."

Jeffrey said he has found dozens of new pairs of jeans and other clothing -- still with tags from the department store -- tossed in his dumpster. He said he sees plenty of drinking and fighting. Wild kids, he said, come and go at all hours of the day and night. Two years ago, on New Year's Eve, police confirm, the Travellers built a huge bonfire in their parking lot and danced around it.

"They're very entertaining, I'll give them that," Jeffrey said.

Whereas the Slate article was more interested in their history and when they're on the road, the Weekly article does a good job of passing on information about how they live now. There is apparently a political battle in the White Settlement area that they're finding themselves in the middle of.

Interestingly, this is only because they're finally starting to plant some roots and they're doing that because of some increasing pressure from child welfare services after the Toogood incident as well as a couple of others, such as this one:

But the worst case by far, one that didn't get the national publicity of the Toogood case but was carried in the local papers for weeks, occurred here on Jan. 2, 2000. That day, five young men died on Interstate 30 just west of Fort Worth when the brand-new extended-cab pickup they were driving flipped and became airborne, crossing the median and striking another pickup, roof-to-roof. The youths were killed instantly; the other driver survived.

When police tried to identify the bodies, they found a confusing set of driver's licenses from Oklahoma, Colorado, Kansas, and Georgia, giving the young men's ages as 15 to 20. Police who tried to verify the names and ages with the families were rebuffed. In truth, the five were only boys, aged 12 to 14; they were Irish Travellers, all cousins who lived in White Settlement.

For days, the media printed the wrong names and ages of the boys. The police had no luck in determining the true identities of the children until the funeral, when an undercover civilian with the Fort Worth Police Department attended the funeral and found the real names and ages from a funeral program. The handling of the incident baffled the Fort Worth Police Department.

"It was the strangest reaction to a fatal accident," said Fort Worth Detective R.L. Wangler. "They were prepared to have those aliases in our investigation. After we found out what the true identifications might be, the county medical examiner took the unprecedented step of opening the casket to fingerprint these five kids, for the record, between the funeral and the burial. ... They would rather have us open up the caskets than cooperate with the investigation."

So they're starting to settle down in the White Settlement area, they've brought land. Unfortunately, this came at the ire of some of the local residence they displaced when they broke their tradition of living on the run. Now they're squarely in the middle of small town political struggle (which I can tell you from first-hand observation, small town political struggles are usually much nastier than big city ones) after they aligned themselves with a particular faction.

I can't get in to it all, but both the Slate and FWW article are interesting reads if you're interested in a minority group you don't hear that much about (that would prefer keep it that way).

Andrea Harris:

... Giuliani's complaint focused on the use of taxpayer money to fund the the shit-madonna exhibit, but of course to artists and their sycophants even the faintest threat that the American public cash cow might decide to refuse to give more milk is the same as clapping artists in irons and throwing them in jail. As far as the liberal elite artistic community is concerned, the average American is a blight on the landscape, a Disney-worshipping, fast-food-gnawing, teevee-sitcom-watching swine, whose only purpose is to pay artists to throw the equivalent of feces at them.

Sounds about right. Their method of thinking this, of course, is that they know that denial of funding means that no one will see their work (because no one actually likes it enough to financially support it), which in turn means that they will have to get a job, which they would rather go to jail than actually do, so, in the end, aren't we just threatening to throw them into jail?

I am an artistic person (as is Andrea, it's worth pointing out), but I have little patience for this nonsense. Instead of throwing feces on a mural and calling it art, I write novels and short stories. I don't typically write the stuff that big house publishers or movie-makers know will make them a bazillion dollars, so even if and when I do start sending my stuff to publishers, I'll likely not be "the next big thing."

But I don't have to. I believe in what I do and those that have read it truly appreciate it. Even those that have every reason not to. Even if no one ever read my writing, I'd still write because it's what I do. Some day I'll start writing more conventional stuff and send it off in hopes of making a career, but I have no right to turn to the government and ask them to support me. I certainly can't claim censorship if I did and was denied.

Of course, the second greatest irony of all this is that the same people that lament denial of funding based on political message would be first in line to have real problems with what I do since I don't spend precious novel space making outrageous political statements denouncing western civilization, America, Christianity, or whatever.

Perhaps the greatest irony, however, is that if Andrea's guesses are right and this is a talented man, and if my suspicion is right he is attacking Giuliani by showing him with feces in order to get noticed, he is no less an artistic whore than a basement animator at Disney.

Sperling's Best Places apparently did a study on the best and worst places to drive in the nation. The results: Texas took four of the top ten cities (including all three of the top three) for driving and none of the bottom 10! Granted, Houston, Austin, San Marcos, and Waco, where we've all lived, aren't among the four in the top ten, but considering how bad things are, it's gratifying to know that we're not in the bottom ten either! There are cities worse than ours!!

Well, that or we weren't among the 77 cities they looked at.

Update: Actually, if you include Oklahoma as part of Texas (which I generally do... stupid mapmakers), we have 6 of 10 and still none of the bottoms.

*- Ft. Worth has a wonderful downtown area. They took us down there on Thursday evening and it was awesome. More similar to Austin than Houston, I'd say. Not bad for one of the most conservative cities in the state.

*- My Aunt and Uncle have Annie, a Beagle that's probably about 12 years old. I remember her when she was a puppy. Young, spunky, cute, full of energy.

*- She's still cute.

*- There is nothing that makes you want to take a nap more than watching a twelve year old beagle stretch out and rest. As soon as I finish that, I might want to take a nap.

*- Gerry Spence once said that dogs are wiser than people because when people want attention, they don't try to innocuously draw it by playing "Guess what's wrong with me" games or whatnot. They just put their head on your leg, look up to you, and say with their eyes in perfect English (or Spanish or Japanese or whatever), "Pet me. I want to be petted. I want attention."

*- Annie is a firm believer that no dog is ever too old for such treatment.

*- Watching her lay there for hours on end with her tummy pointed up just on the off-chance that someone might walk by and want to rub her tummy almost makes me want my tummy rubbed.

*- Almost, but not quite.

*- My cell phone battery is out of juice. Boo hiss. I wonder if they have a charger around here.

*- My aunt and uncle have high speed Internet on a relatively fast computer... with 128 megs of RAM running Windows XP. It's analogous to having a 1984 Dodge Colt motor in a Ferari.

*- Their computer also has 800x600 resolution on a 17" monitor. At the dorm I work on 1600x1200 resolution on a 19". We're both wrong, but they're more wrong because the Internet quite simply was not made for 800x600 resolution. No-Lyfe Journal certainly wasn't.

*- The high speed Internet here might, might just be enough to convince my father to get high speed at their house. They have a faster computer with more RAM, but a modem connection. My folks are still under a contract that they signed in 1994 three ISP mergers ago, paying $25 a month for a modem connection that maxes out on 28.8. My mother is only now begining to understand the distinction between computer and connection ("It's not the computer, it's the modem") and that might be the last nail in my father's coffin of thriftiness. She's been on this computer more than I have. Two-fold.

*- While the computer is good and the RAM is bad, it also has tons of freeware installed on it. I'd say two third-site pop-up ads appear on every site I visit, including blogspots and other sites that I know do not contain pop-ups. The ESPN site brings up six. Lesson for the day: Mind your freeware. Ain't nuthin' free in this world.

*- Back to Fort Worth. There may or may not have been a big fireworks ceremony. If there was, we didn't go to it. At 1 in the morning last night, though, there were a handful of people (about one in each direction) putting on an impromptu demonstration. Small, but sincere, perhaps the way that it was meant most to be.

*- Each year they have a wonderful demonstration over Clear Lake. Everyone walks around from neighboring communities and fills Clear Lake Park with blankets. People sell tons of glowsticks. Usually a radio station or two will show up so you'll get some R&B station competing for volume with some pop country station. Unfortunately, 90.1, our Pacifica/NPR station, doesn't stop by. Perhaps because this is a demonstration of pride of America. Nasty jingoes, all of us.

*- I miss the sense of community of the Clear Lake show, but not the actual community. The people are fine, of course, but so many of them in such close quarters? I'll pass.

*- Above I said there may or may not have been an official fireworks demonstration. I now recall that there was and Charlie Robison was playing at it. I'm sorry to have missed it.

*- But not the people.

*- Looking down the street of where my Aunt and Uncle live, this is the stereotypical Texas community. I have to count about five or six houses in either direction before I actually see a house with a car, as opposed to pick-up, van, SUV, or RV. The RVs outnumber the cars 2-to-1.

*- I really like it here.

*- It's a good thing I left my car at home, though, because I think it would be getting lonely.

*- I wish I could hear Robert Earl Keen's rendition of "Fourth of July." The thing about Robert Earl Keen is that he is quite possibly the best songwriter in Texas history. His voice, however, is hollow and scratchy. It works for him, but just about everyone can cover a REK tune better than Keen can sing it. Keen didn't actually write the "Fourth of July" song (Dave Alvin did), but this one is the exception that proves the rule. Kudos to Alvin for writing a song about the Fourth of July that's about isolation and sadness in the face of a joyous holiday. Kudos for Keen's hollow and scratchy voice for singing it so much better than Alvin does.

*- -Dave Alvin's "Fourth of July"

"She's waiting for me when I get home from work
But things just ain't the same
She turns out the light and cries in the dark
Won't answer when I call her name

On the stairs I smoke a cigarette alone
The Mexican kids are shooting fireworks below
Hey, babe, it's the Fourth of July"

*- I love that song.

*- American flags are everywhere. I suspect that such is the case even when it's not July 4.

*- A few weeks back, on a date that was not July 4, I was at the Firehouse. A guy named Frank NeVille was opening for Dub Miller. I wasn't familiar with him, and given that I have my ear to the rail of Texas Country Music that meant that most likely 95% of the people in the club that night, mostly there for something to do or see Miller come on, hadn't heard from him either.

Towards the end of his set, he asked everyone to please stand for the national anthem. Unlike at the begining of a baseball game or whatnot when one expects to stand for the national anthem, this was in a bar full of people that were comfortably talking or listening to him play. Nonetheless, I'd say 90% of the people in that bar stood up, at the request of an unknown musician, in respect for our country.

*- One of the many reasons to love Texas.

I was just outside on the street of my aunt's house. I don't have any childhood memories here. When we came to Fort Worth previously, we generally stayed at my grandmother's house. Until recently, my Aunt and Uncle lived in a shoddier house over in that neighborhood, a couple of miles away. But for some reason I was reminiscing about the Oakland Silver Eagles.

The Oakland Silver Eagles were the team that Jason and I "played for" many years ago. It involved a nerf turbo football, me as quarterback (usually) and him as wide reciever (usually). I'd make up schedules and we'd play various teams. Our characters even had names. Mine was Eric Woodsen and heaven help me, I can't remember Jay's, but it was a good name. Even our opponents had names. The Los Angeles Raiders QB was named Adam Severin and the Denver Broncos linebacker was named Derrick Thompson. We were in the AFC somewhere. We had thirty teams, with the Jacksonville Tropics as the NFC expansion team.

We had various teams for various sports. We were the Oakland Pioneers basketball team (for anyone wondering, we chose Oakland because at the time it didn't have a football team and still doesn't have a basketball one). My name was something Spencer and his was something Brochton. Even when we weren't the Pioneers, we were still outside shooting hoops a lot. We'd throw baskets and talk about movie ideas, girls, or whatever else we felt inclined to.

These days, neighborhoods are being build that don't allow basketball hoops. Some are being built that only allow them off to the side, which causes a host of logistical problems, but keeps the neighborhoods nice, I guess. Keeps garage roofs with minimal damage. They're a lot less fun, but that matters to some more than it does to others.

Earlier today, I was driving down Baronridge drive, killing some time waiting for Dad to get home so we could leave and I saw Baronridge Park. A long time ago, there used to be a big giant mound that we'd ride our bikes over and, just for a few seconds, we'd fly. Some landings were smoother than others, but when we would scrape our elbows, we'd get back on and ride some more.

The mound is gone now. It's not hard to figure out why. Either some kid got hurt and their mom complained or some insurance investigator figured that might not be the case, so they dug it up and replaced it with nothing. Kids can't get hurt on nothing, I suppose. That's one step better than the park by the pool, where they took the entire thing down, save for a little rocking shuttle (analogous to a rocking horsie, except we're 10 miles from the Johnson Space Center). No more jungle gym or fort or anything.

Another thing that Jay, myself, and all of his friends would do on his birthday was have a watergun fight. We planned those things intensely. We saved up so that we could get the best munitions on the market, which at the time was a Super Soaker 200. The SS200, for those of you who do not recall, was a really powerful water gun with a good-sized air pocket that would allow for more pressure. It worked, as if shot close enough, it sprayed so far that it hurt. It hurt, so it's gone, too. Recently, we looked over Super Soaker's current offerings at Walmart and none of them approach that power.

When I was growing up, pools had a high dive board and a low dive board. The sense of fear that I had going up the high dive was palpable. The knot in my stomach as I went down almost hurt. The pain of the water hitting my skin was not severe, but noticeable. Time and time again I jumped, and time and time again I wanted to keep doing it. I liked every minute of it. When I was probably 11 or so, they took the high dive down. Now many pools don't even have low dives.

Now they're doing away with the deep end altogether. We're told that they will not be missed because the new pools are safer. Less accidents. More importantly, less need for parental oversight. Even more important than that, lower insurance payments required.

Granted, really small kids have no business on a diving board, high or low. Agreed, a kid who is barely above 3' tall doesn't really need to be on the 7' end of the pool. Being 6'5", though, I want a 7' end of the pool. When I was 14 and 6', I wanted the same. When I was 12 and however tall I was at the time, I wanted to toss sinking rings into the deep end and drive down all 20' of water to go get them.

When I think of the most exciting things I did as a kid (of whatever age), they almost always involved a sense of danger. There was always, however small, a risk involved. Whether it was at the highest point of a wave pool, 15' below water, or diving 30' into the water. It wasn't for everybody, but it was for me. And many, many others like me. I understand the need to make the world safe, but you can only insulate kids so much. A little parental supervision (and lifeguard and so on) goes quite a long way.

When I was in Oklahoma, little Adric was all over the place. There were certain dangers that were serious and we all watched out for that. When Adric continually ran too close to the hot grill, he was tied down. When the campfire was going, he was monitored very closely. At one point when I was talking to Micah, his father, he shared his philosophy on the matter. When they fall and start crying, you check to make sure they're not really hurt, then you let them cry. The kid learns what hurts and what doesn't and cries when there is a problem, not just because he or she knows it'll get him or her attention. Kids, he said, are more durable than we give them credit for.

On my right arm are two pin-marks from a jungle gym that I fell off of when I was in the first grade. Right under my eye is a scar that I got when a baseball bat hit me there. There are many bruises that haven't left marks, like when I hit my head by trying to demonstrate that I could ride a bike without any hands. There was also the time when I drove my bike right into a ditch and fell on my thumb so hard it didn't move for almost two days. Scrapes, cuts, bruises.

But I'm still here. And better for it.

I wanted to do a big writeup on suing the food manufacturers, but I think this Consumer Freedom ad does a better job than I could have:

I'm leaving town for Fort Worth some time tomorrow morning. I intended to post this morning, but I have been struck with an opthalmic migraine which means that my eyes are going to be pretty useless for a few hours. I'll try to write something tonight if I can, but right now I can barely read what I'm typing, which isn't good for finding post-fodder.

Kevin links to an article about the recent conference shake-ups and provides some commentary:

The WAC apparently would love to have the Coogs, Tulane, and TCU, which would allow it to split into eastern and western halves and make it slightly less of a joke of an athletic conference (although not a whole lot less). When the eastern part of your conference is mainly composed of the losers of the old SWC (although Houston had some good years), it's hard to say much.

Kevin is more interested in and knows more about the University of Houston's athletic program than I do, so I don't have much to say there. What interests me is what the news article story doesn't say about the WAC and the Mountain West conferences:

The far-reaching WAC, which includes Rice, SMU and Tulsa, wants to be proactive in the realignment process and likely would welcome UH, Tulane and TCU if C-USA dissolves. The league then could split into eastern and western divisions to ease travel burdens.

"The hope is our league will be strengthened as a result of whatever movement occurs, and we're doing all we can as a league to make that happen," Rice athletic director Bobby May said. "You can play and project and be as proactive as you want to be, but you're not going to be as successful in doing that, because you don't control your own destiny."

The Mountain West Conference reportedly has its eye on expansion, specifically trying to add Hawaii, Nevada and Boise State of the WAC. The WAC held a conference call with its athletic directors Monday to discuss its future, but May is on vacation in Seattle and couldn't participate.

Well okay. That would make since if I disregarded everything I thought that I knew about those two conferences.

As I understand it, most of the colleges in the Mountain West Conference (MWC) were in the Western Athletic Conference (WAC) and then bolted when the WAC became too large and unwieldy, leaving the WAC comprised mostly of colleges that hadn't been in the conference long, such as SWC orphans SMU, Rice, and, until recently, TCU (which I'll get to in a minute).

So wouldn't the WAC administration, assuming its the one that saw the conference crumble before, be a little wary of expanding again? Similarly, why would the MWC schools that ditched the bloated WAC want to take in new members... from the very conference that they all left to form their own?

Lastly, I never quite understood TCU's decision to leave the WAC for Conference USA, but I find it odd that the WAC would be interested in having back a school that left them just a couple years ago.

There must be some sort of reason for all this that I'm missing. Probably many reasons. But it's 4 in the morning, I'm tired, and all this conference hopping talk is making me dizzy.

Whenever the subject of gun control comes up, conservatives are often quick to cite figures of other deaths that far outstrip the number of people that die from handgun fatalities, which is relatively minor (and even more minor when you discount the suicide figures that some gun control advocates like to imply are accidents or uniformly preventable with gun control). It's a very solid argument and a great way to point out that you can't make the world foolproof.

There are, unfortunately, often side-effects to even the best arguments. In this case, we may have let out the red carpet for pool control.

Today, I've been wearing a t-shirt that I've had since my sophomore year in high school. It's got a hole in the armpit and the ends are becoming frayed. I also put on a pair of hospital scrub pants that I bought at a thrift store. The most recent article of clothing is my pair of tennis shoes that I excitedly got earlier this year.

It's so awesome being me. You have no idea.

The Blogger formerly known as Juan Gato has posted some amendments he'd like to make to the dictionary:

Potential
"I have unreasonable expectations for you which you are failing to meet. Allow me to use guilt to try to make my problem yours."

Rebel
A person who does little more than exchange one orthodoxy for another, but does so dramatically.

So stop over, read the thing, and don't quote Orwell.

Sent by Kevin's mom

These pictures were taken at Ushicon in February. I meant to post them a while back, but kept forgetting about them.

The other evening, I was talking to a good friend who was impressed with an excerpt from one of my novels that I posted here. She asked how it was that I could relate to things that, as a young man, I should have no right to. It was all quite flattering. Though her tone was somewhat inquisitional, I took it as a compliment because understanding people is one of my most developed skills. I'm not positive where I got it from (my mother? people watching?) but it nonetheless helps me out a lot day to day because I'm not like most people and if I wasn't adept at understanding people who weren't like me, I'd understand practically no one at all.

I assess people rather quickly. Within a few hours, I can tell how compatible I am with someone (be it romantically or otherwise) and though I'm not a fortune teller, I am not often surprised by what they say and do. This drove Lisa, a girl I dated earlier this year, batty. She constantly tried to surprise me or tell me things about her that would throw me for a loop. She would say things just to get a reaction, but because I was expecting not only off-the-wall self-divulgements, but the very ones that she gave, I rarely batted an eye.

The conversation with my friend didn't remind me so much of Lisa, though, as it did of Elciem. Elciem and I met while we were both in the process of getting out of the serious relationships we were in. We hit it off instantly and felt through one another a connection that we'd both been lacking for some time. Though we remained faithful to our respective partners, we both knew exactly where our undefined relationship would end up. The night that I was free to get off. Somewhere in between where we started and where we were supposed to end up, her ex-boyfriend, whom I will call Michael (in part because that's his name, but even if it weren't, I'd still call him michael because dipsticks of his sort are always named Michael), entered the picture.

What happened next was not a pretty sight. She not only had to deal with her soon-to-be-ex partner and me, but an ex-boyfriend from a rather intense relationship. I'd never met Michael, but I had gathered that he was the pivotal boyfriend in her life as I knew that after him, she said everything felt less alive. I was, of course, trying to change that. I was succeeding right up until I was left to compete with the very person who had last inspired such feelings in her. Her meeting with Michael all started out rather innocently. Reconciliation was not even discussed between them.

It didn't matter. I knew.

I told her that she was making two rather tremendous mistakes. First that she was spurning me (low self-esteem isn't generally one of my biggest problems), but second, that she was getting involved with someone who grossly neglected and mistreated her. While I'm obvious biased on the first point, I felt more passionately about the second. While I would have been hurt had she jilted me for someone who was deserving, at least then I'd know she would at least be happy. Honest to God, that mattered to me as much as anything else. But Michael would not make her happy and she'd not only be jilting me, but doing so for someone that would cause her nothing but pain. To whatever degree he might open up initially, he would eventually back away and start looking for a better deal, with her wrapped around his finger.

When I voiced my concerns, she told me I was crazy. She and Michael were just getting closure and she was just trying to sort things out with him. They hadn't discussed reconciliation and nothing romantic had happened or was even likely to happen. Who was I to tell her what she was going to do and what he was going to do? I was clearly going out of my mind due to jealousy and fear.

Except, as time went on, Elciem did exactly what I said she would. So did Michael.

Elciem and I eventually worked to put the pieces back together between us, but it was more-or-less ill-fated from the start. She wasn't over Michael and I knew too much about the way she worked to ever truly trust her heart. Even as she got over the dipstick, I could tell that things just weren't going to work, no matter how much each of us wanted them to. At several points I tried to walk away, but each time she managed to convince me to stay.

Everything finally came to a head when another fellow entered the picture and she wanted to back off to think things over. I told her that wasn't going to happen and that lead to a prolonged and heated argument. She told me that she just needed to work things out, I told her that she was going to decide that she needed a new start. I could see, action for action, how things were going to disintegrate. That wasn't what I signed on for and this time I really wanted out for good. The argument continued as she told me to stop telling her what she was going to do, until finally it clicked.

We were sitting in the parking lot of a Target when we had our last argument.

"You're always mad and I'm always sad. Things between us have just never been right, have they?" she asked.

"No, they haven't."

"Things with Other Guy aren't as bad. But then, he and I haven't made it as far along as you and me," she reasoned.

"It doesn't matter. Things between you two aren't as bad. That's why you're going to choose him."

"And then things between us won't ever have been right."

"I know," I told her.

"And that's why it's not right for me to be asking you to stay."

And, in probably the only selfless act of our tenure, she stopped. Once again, I was proven right. I was right about Michael, I was right about the other guy, and I was right in between.

In Greek mythology, Cassandra is known for being able to tell the future, yet being unable to do anything about it. To a degree, I could relate to that over the 2001 year. I knew what she was going to do, and why, but I couldn't stop it. Indeed, I thought that knowing what she was going to do would spare me the pain of shattered expectations.

I take pride in my ability to learn something from nearly every ill-fated romance I partake in (or try to). It took me a while before I began to really understand the lessons imparted, however unintentionally, by Elciem. I've been keeping one of them close to my heart over the past few months:

If you're looking off the ledge of a three story building, it doesn't matter if you know you can't fly and that hitting the ground is going to hurt. It hurts anyway.

UPDATE: There seems to have been some miscommunication. Elciem happened during 2001. A parallel event has not happened. It has been "on my mind" because of the assessment I've been going through this year and wondering if perhaps I'd been guarding myself too tightly and vesting time and energy in the wrong places. I have a rather large post coming up that will clarify these points.