You scored as Goth. Goth 63% Drama nerd 63% Stoner 50% Geek 50% Punk/Rebel 44% Loner 38% Prep/Jock/Cheerleader 25% Ghetto gangsta 19% What's Your High School Stereotype? created with QuizFarm.com

(Note: Last time I took a similar quiz I got "outsider")

href="http://www.liquidgeneration.com" target="_blank">

I am 11% Metrosexual.

I need some advice. I need to STOP BUYING MY CLOTHS AT WAL-MART!!!! I will never land a decent woman unless I shave this nasty facial hair, and spend more then $5 on a haircut.

Take the
Metrosexual Test
@ FualiDotCom

Seeya Mondayish!

"We don't live in isolation, and decisions we make about our own lives inevitably affect others - personally and on a larger scale. If Barry Bonds decides to use drugs (and I'm not saying he does), and that gives him an edge, then it will become necessary for every other athlete who wishes to compete with him to do the same. It will cease to become a choice, which was what was touted as its value initially. If the long-haul trucker takes speed to stay in the game, it's the little Nissan Sentra with me in it that he's too wired to see when he's strung out in his 20th+ hour without sleep that will pay his penalty. It's the son who comes home to find his Dad's brain matter splashed over the refrigerator (HST), or the people who find their loved one face down in a ditch (EAP), who will pay. On a larger scale, it's a sober person working his butt off to feed his family and pay his taxes who will pick up the slack for the druggies who burden society with increasing law enforcement, prison and rehab costs without putting a single red cent back into the till." -Susanna Cornett

Kevin Rant makes the following declaration:

Real novelists make a living from their work. If you've not actually been paid for a novel, then please don't insult actual novelists by calling yourself one.

My first thought upon reading this was "Oh crap! Have I called myself a novelist?"

A quick scan of my blog answers the question "sort of"... I refer to myself as an "amateur novelist" at one point and at another referred to Oliver Willis as a "fellow novelist," implying that I am one. In the case of the latter, even if the title is wrong (as Kevin believes) the association is valid (neither Willis nor I had been paid for our novels).

So, with that aside, is his criticism valid? Part of me very much believes so. Even though I have written three (unpublished) novels, I don't refer to myself as a novelist except with the "amateur" disclaimer or when basically pitching someone else's writing. The truth is that I would consider myself somewhat of a poseur for calling myself a novelist because I have yet to sell and get paid for one. Further, the term "novelist" implies a professionalism that I do not presently have outside of my current lack of publishing success. My novels are of a very personal nature and were not written with publication in mind. Maybe some day publication will be my aim, but I'm not there yet.

On the other hand, a novelist is somewhat that writes or has written novels. By that definition, I clearly fit. I set out the huge task of writing a novel, plotted and planned it, and executed it. The brainpower and time involved in this is not insignificant. It's not writing a book of free verse poetry of ellipses seperating a bunch of depressing words in all lower case letters. It's not even a collection of short stories, which are more difficult but don't have the all-or-nothing stakes that a novel does. My computer is littered with the first 20 pages of novels started but never finished - that many pages in short stories encompasses several and an easy "accomplishment fix". It's 150 pages single spaced pages devoted to thoroughly telling a story with not-just-cursory characters, themes, and so on.

But back to the first-hand, replace the word "novelist" with the word "writer" and I have a grievance very similar to Kevins. I can't tell you how many people I know who have called themselves "writers" without actually going to the trouble of... well... writing anything (or writing aforementioned poetry). My ex-girlfriend Lisa and I actually got into an argument about this. Many so-called "writers" only documented creativity is coming up with reasons why they haven't written anything. Lisa's was that while she was certain whatever she wrote would come out to the satisfaction of everyone around her - including big-house publishers - she was so much a perfectionist that she would truly hate it and herself for writing something so imperfect. Hers is an extreme example, but a lot of would-be writers seem to prefer the sound of the wheels turning in the back of their mind to the sound of rubber hitting the road.

So in that vein, I can very much understand where Kevin is coming from. While technically if they've written so much an email the folks in the last paragraph are writers, I am technically a novelist . It may be true, but it's inaccurate.

I get the (perhaps inaccurate, certainly convenient) impression that Kevin's grievance is with those that are more loud and self-congratulatory about their hobby rather than those that are more humbly proud of their work (such as myself). But as annoying as the "novelist" thing may be to him and the "writer" thing to me, it's possible that the bigger loser in the exchange is the person that's convinced himself he's bona fide novelist/writer without fully living up to their potential. My annoyance with Lisa and others is only partly that they claim to be what they are not, but rather that some of them really could be great writers, but settle for simply developing the ideas in their head and never actually doing anything with them.

That makes me take a step back and look at myself. While three novels may in fact be quite the achievement for someone my age, I haven't made serious headway on a novel in two years. Furthermore, I have to wonder if a part of me is hiding behind the personal nature of my writing so that I won't have to face what is certain to be countless rejections from publishing houses in even a best case scenario (where I actually get published). Maybe in the same way that Lisa hid behind her perfectionism, I'm hiding behind the fact that I'm not a professional so that I can write what I want rather than what might be read beyond a circle of twenty or so.

Food for thought, anyway.

My last day at OmniStar, I saw one of the coworkers that I really took a liking to and whose number I wanted for coffee or a drink some time. Unfortunately, I didn't get the number because it seemed like he was in a hurry to get to his station (and OmniStar is pretty anal about tardiness). I've been keeping an eye out for him ever since. The only time I saw him he was in his suburban driving out of a gas station. I thought it unwise to jump in front of a moving suburban.

Earlier in the week I was pretty agitated with myself when I discovered that my credit card was not where it should be. It forced me to borrow $10 from a coworker and lead me down the wayward path dietarily speaking. I was relieved when I figured out what had happened to it. The last place I'd used it was Applebee's. I am notorious for leaving credit cards at restaurants. So while I was relieved, I still had the inconvenience of having to drive down there to get it.

So guess who was walking out of Applebee's when I was walking in?

I haven't been this happy to get the phone number of a guy... well... ever.

Here is the back of the envelope:



Just so you know, other than the fact that they put this on the envelope, that's the normal part. The rest: [Read More!]

1. It's usually the recurring consumption that gets you. The high mortgage payments, the second helping at every meal, and so on. One Big Mac or large TV shouldn't hurt you too much if you're doing everything else right.

2. Restaurants are your enemy.

3. We lose track of how much we consume. It's a good idea to periodically keep track of where all of your money/calories are going.

4. If buying/eating something won't make you happier, then you shouldn't do it. Yet we still do all the time.

5. Poor consumption breeds poor consumption. Fast food begets more fast food and a surround sound system begs for more DVDs.

5. We set ourselves up to fail sometimes with unrealistic goals followed by splurging in between falling off the wagon and getting back on.

6. Economies of scale often hurt more than they help.

7. Super-duper entertainment systems are bad for both.

8. Righteousness is a lot easier when you have more money.

9. Going to the store hungry is a bad idea.

10. Budgeting/dieting problems are often indicative of larger emotional or spiritual issues.

I can't remember what class it was, but one of my college professors pointed out that when it comes to magicians, it's not that we don't see the "magic" that they're pulling off, it's that our brain doesn't process it.

It's interesting the tricks our eyes play on us. If you stand twenty feet away from a car and hold a yardstick up, it'll be smaller than it is if you hold the same yardstick up from ten feet away. The car only appears to be smaller than it is because of distance and perspective. Sometimes it can be taken even a step further. The moon in the sky appears smaller than it is because it's so far away. But it appears larger if it's standing behind some mountains or trees. Except that if you take a ruler, it's actually about the same... it only appears to appear smaller.

Pretty trippy stuff.

Of course, there's also vertigo, optical illusions, and countless other ways our mind inaccurately interpret data.

I run across one such example on a daily basis. When a state trooper is parked in the median of a freeway - or off to the side - it always appears as though he or she is pulling out as you pass him. The further away you get, the more stark this illusion becomes.

I call this optical trick "paranoia."

As I was taking the test, it seemed to me to be leading takers towards an inaccurately liberal label. But if that was the case, it didn't seem to work.

You scored as Republican. Republican 92% Anarchism 58% Fascism 42% Communism 33% Socialist 33% Democrat 33% Green 25% Nazi 17% What Political Party Do Your Beliefs Put You In? created with QuizFarm.com

"To simplify thigs, let me put it this way: when a Scandinavian women looks ugly her face tends to look like a horse's face, whereas ugly Finnish female faces more often reminds one of pigs." -Markku Jantunen

When I first discovered that there was a state called Idaho and that I would be moving there, I made a list of things I wanted to do before I left. On that list was meeting four bloggers. Three of them still live in the Houston area, so I made darn sure that I was going to see them on my trip. In fact, after I made the flight reservations, they were the first people I emailed.

It's always interesting meeting people that you've talked to online, especially when your online communication has gone on for a while. Sometimes they're exactly how you expected them to be and other times they are completely different. Usually, though, they're somewhere in between. They're a variation of what you're expecting, but you made odd connections in your mind. They're like someone that you know, or they're the antithesis of someone you know. Things you don't entirely see until you're face-to-face with them.

On Monday s Adrianne Truett in Austin. Adrianne and I have been visiting each other's blog for some time now. I even remember it before it was renamed - though neither of us can remember the previous name! The only thing that stopped me from suggesting a meeting before was that since she's protective of her identity that she might not be open to it, so it was a pleasure to finally get to meet her. The personal connection in my mind was that of that girl who was in honors classes in high school. I would really like to have gotten to know her cause she seemed like a really good conversationalist, but since she and I would have no classes in common I'd never get the opportunity. Question I forgot to ask: How she met Bob.

On Tuesday I met TP Milton at the Central Market. Apparently, back when I was a columnist at the Daily Cougar, TP was a regular reader. He had the good taste to think that I was a good columnist, so he had the quickest introduction-to-blogrolling transition in RAWbservations history. It didn't hurt that he was a fellow Kafka fan. TP very much reminds me of a lot of kids from the Honors College at UH. The kind I could have spent hours talking to after class about whatever it was that discussed during lecture. Especially on the subject of philosophy. It was people like him that helped me get so much out of the honors classes. Questions I forgot to ask: What kind of law he does and what brought him to UH.

And on Thursday I met Chris Elam in Sugarland. Chris is one of the most charismatic folks I've met in quite a while. I expected the charisma and the cleverness, but the part I found most interesting is how thoughtful he is. It's like finding out that the school's athlete has a 4.0 GPA and is foregoing Big State U. in favor of Princeton. I mean, you knew he was smart and had a vague idea that his grades were probably better than yours, but it's something you don't fully appreciate until you're in the midst of conversation. What I would love to know: Every last bit of his voter research data. Man could I have fun compiling a database with stats like that!

Now, if I can just find such fun and interesting bloggers up here, I'll be all set!

From the start of my trip back to Texas, there were two old flames that I intended to meet up with: Anna and Audrey. Together they comprise of two of the three romantic-type figures from my past that have had the deepest and most profound effect on me. I had to see Anna because she threatened to beat the living tar out of me if I didn't (and, of course, I wanted to see her anyway). As for Audrey, the way we parted last time was difficult and so filled with conflicting emotion that I felt I needed to see her when we were both finally on an even footing (and, of course, I wanted to see her anyway). Plans were made on Saturday with Audrey and Sunday for Anna.

But on Friday night it so happened that I ran into a third. When Scarlet Hicks sat at the table next to Ed and I at the Firehouse on Friday night, it not a particularly welcome event. Though really, once I did in fact ascertain that it was her (different hair, more weight), other than the occasional glance I didn't give it a much thought. Part of me felt like I should say something or at least acknowledge her presence. I would for anyone else, but... no. I was there to talk to Ed and watch Jason Boland play.

I saw her glance over enough times that I knew she knew who I was. She had a "come and talk to me" look in her eyes, but luckily Ed provided a good shield so that I could ignore her without being too too rude. But eventually my trips to the bar caught up with me. She was right at a bend in the crowd and I would have to make sufficient eye-contact with her as to acknowledge her presence... or bulldoze through the crowd for another route... or so obviously avoid eye contact as to be an idiot avoiding contact with someone standing directly in front of them.

So ahead I plunged. As I passed she opened her mouth and stepped a bit into the clearence. I nodded and side-stepped past her. Others have hurt me more and in the aggregate others have probably lied more to me, but once upon a time she took the cake in having done the most mind-bogglingly thorough job of of making a fool out of me.

If I'd thought about it (and were I more a prick) I would have asked for my Bleu Edmondson CDs back.

The next night the plan was to meet Audrey Elciem some time around 5:00. I called her work phone Friday afternoon to confirm plans, but the voice on the other side said that Audrey had called in sick. Audrey can have pretty fierce migraines and if she was struck, it was unlikely that I would get to see her. The prospect left me with a feeling of collosal disappointment. In some ways, of all the people I saw down there, she was going to be the most important. Not the one I was looking forward to, but the most important. We had unfinished business. Not words unsaid or feelings unexplored, but I guess a sort of equilibrium that kept evading us.

That she wasn't calling me back wasn't surprising. If she was having a rally migraine, she could literally spend the whole weekend asleep trying to recover. And unlike in times past, I wasn't angry with her. While part of me was saying "Surely she can muster the energy to call and cancel" most of me was saying "that's no so sure, pardner." And since I knew that she really did want to see me, I didn't take it personally or defensively. When she called at 3:15 or so and said that she was going to try to get a couple more hours sleep, I felt even better about it all.

Even so, as 5 and 6 and 7 passed, it nonetheless put me in a very uncomfortable, very familiar position. All of those nights in 2001 spent waiting to hear from her. Nights I'd pushed out of my mind, for the most part, started to tug at my serenity. I guess just like that song that still makes you think of someone long gone, the prospect of waiting to hear from anyone - much less Audrey herself - makes me think of a time in our mutual lives that we both wish we could change.

But I bided my time, visiting places that I didn't think I would get make time to: Deidrich's Coffee, my Briarwood Apartment, Cactus Records, and Planet Anime. When I made my way to the UH campus, she called. She was obviously feeling a lot better and we made the plans in double-quick time to meet at 8:00.

Seeing her again was great. Talking to her again was great. I'm not sure what I wanted from the conversation. I'm not a big believer in closure, so that wasn't entirely it. But I guess I was hoping that she would open her mouth and God's own voice would say "It's okay, Alex. What's past has passed and everyone moves on."

And in a sense I got that. Neither she nor God uttered those particular words, but I realized what I'd sort of known all along: she's been saying that for the past few months. Her new relationship, her apartment, the longer and longer time lapsed between emails. She's moved on and she's happy now and while I did the same, I can start feeling better about it.

And Sunday I saw Anna McLoed for what was a comparatively undramatic meeting. It was a welcome relief. She and I made enough peace with each other long enough ago that there's nothing for even me to be neurotic about. She's lost weight, she bought a house, and she's building a life for herself for once. She may not have what she wants most in this world, but she's doing what she needs to for the next time around.

Name: Scarlet Hicks
Alias: Yes
Type: ESTP
Born: 1981
Base of Operations: Jersey Village
Occupation: Unknown
Superpower: Aggressiveness
Loss Vulnerability: Inconsistency
Short Version: Significant other (2002)
Long Version:
I met Scarlet in a chat room. She messaged me to compliment something or another I was doing (probably dressing down idiots with delusions of Being a Unique Individual, but I can't be sure). When she messaged me on AIM, I saw that she had a Cory Morrow quote on her profile. Naturally the subject of Texas country music came up. To test me, I suppose, she asked me to place some lyrics. It was a pretty easily Bleu Edmondson song. Feeling a bit cocky, not only named the song, artist and CD, but added "I have the CD. I have it signed."

That was the ultimate selling point for her. I was a bit harder to sell, though. She wasn't yet 21, which presented a problem for my social schedule. The fact that I saw it as a problem was a red flag that something else wasn't right (most likely simple incompatibility).

In any event, we met at a pool hall the next night. She was an award-winning pool player, but she let me win two out of three. Though uncertain, I laid on my goofy charm. We had a date the following week. Things went well enough that I loaned her my Bleu Edmondson CD and we were officially an item.

A couple weeks later I gave her one of the best gifts I've ever come up with: I bought her a copy of the Bleu CD and had it signed "Wish you were here, Bleu!"

It didn't take a month before things started getting odd. She started cancelling-and-rescheduling with unsettling frequency. I reasoned that it was understandable considering that she worked a couple of jobs and was attending college. I'd been there. But it eventually reached the point where she was going to need to make me a higher priority of we'd essentially have a long-distance relationship from ten miles away (and less than one mile from my job).

Then there was her family. I wasn't particularly interested in meeting her family (we weren't that far along), but the degree to which she kept me away from them was an oddity. When I ran in to her and her sister by chance, it seemed that she was in a hurry to get elsewhere. She said she was in a hurry and I bought it, or I would have if it weren't for the other pieces to the keep-RAW-away-from-her-family puzzle.

"You know," I told my friend Polly, "I'm beginning to wonder if she is seeing someone else." I figured I was being paranoid and didn't think anything of it again. After all, if she loaned my first Bleu CD to her father - and it was signed to me - then at some point my existence was acknowledged...

Not long later I ran into her sister again. When I asked how Scarlet was doing, she said, "They're thinking about moving out to be a little closer to us."

That made no sense.

She got a phone call on her cell and our conversation ended.

That night I saw that she was online. I messaged her to follow up.

RAW: So where is she thinking about moving?
Sis: They're talking about moving off Jester.
There's that "they" again.
RAW: Interesting
Though, theoretically, it can't be closer to her parents' place SINCE SHE LIVES WITH THEM!!
RAW: Well, at least it would be closer to one of her jobs.
At least, that's the assumption...
Sis: Yeah, but Larry is against it.
Larry? I know of no... Larry. I know her father's name, her brother's name, and most of her closest friend's names... SO WHO THE HELL IS LARRY!?!?!

Then, in the most infuriating moment of DSL connection ineptitude in recent memory, I got knocked offline.

I was off for about an hour.

She wasn't online when I got back.

But I already knew who Larry was. A quick tour of DMV records suggested that he fit the profile. At her address was not anyone with her surname, but a man named Larry Coburn. Twenty-six years old - she joked that I, four years her senior, was almost too young for her. Owner of the car she drives.

Our last conversation went like this:
"Hello?"
"Hey, it's Scarlet."
"Hey Scarlet, just who I was hoping to talk to."
"I don't think we should see each other anymore."
"I agree."
"Bye."
"Bye."

Shortly thereafter, I realized that I would have to buy another copy of that Bleu Edmondson CD since she had both of mine.

After telling him the story, Bleu signed it "Better luck next time!"

"Pathos must be earned. The characters have to persuade us that they are real human beings first and not strike us ... as having been invented only for the sake of their pathos." -James Bowman

Three websites you cannot access from the public terminal at Denver International Airport:

LegalXXX
Brain Fertilizer
Master of None

And on a seperate not, the "keyboard" there was not keys but buttons, nearly impossible to type on, and has three distinct spacebar buttons. That's just wrong.

As you can probably guess, I've made my way out of the Lonestar State back to the Gem State.

I didn't get to do all the things I would like to have done and I didn't get to see all the people I was hoping to, but on the whole I was quite surprised by what I was able to do.

I want to thank all of the people down there who made time out of their lives, sometimes really late at night and at inconvenient times. A lot of you guys waited when I was late, rescheduled when I couldn't make it, and were patient when I couldn't even determine what the plans would be until the last minute because they were contingent on something else.

I really appreciate it.

I got my license when I turned sixteen. I was a decent enough driver and got more time behind the wheel than most, thanks to Dad.

It didn't take long before I started wanting to just drive around. I had practically nothing in the way of a social life at the time, but while I had nowhere to go I determined that I really liked to drive.

We had two cars at the time: a Dodge Caravan and a red convertable. Unsurprisingly, I chose the latter. My earliest driving exploits were up and down Nasa Road 1, the only street in the area I was familiar with. At some point I discovered Red Bluff, a rural road oasis in Pasadena. It had a whopping 55mph speed limit. I felt like I was flying. In a testament to my dangerous streak, when I had the road to myself I would even take my seat belt off for minutes at a time before putting it back on.

I have this odd tick about never wanting turn around and drive back the way I came, so I eventually settled on a <45mph circle on Highway 146, Nasa Rd. 1, and Red Bluff. While I could have gone faster and drove on the 55mph stretch of Red Bluff as well as 50/40 Bay Area Blvd (the "Clear Lake Loop" in my terminology), the RedBluff/146/NR1 ("Seabrook Loop") had something the Clear Lake Loop: A view of the city skyline.

Okay, it wasn't really the city skyline. It was a refinery off in the distance. But all of the lights and immediate pollution made me think it could have been the Houston skyline. At that point, I didn't know what the skyline really looked like. To this day, off in the distance, it looks like some sort of hellish, futuristic Apokalypse city (comic book reference).

It wasn't long after that I got frustrated with going around in circles and decided to start driving southbound on 146 to wherever it was that I would get bored and start driving back. 146 gets really dark in some places, which made it all the more exciting.

My biggest adventure was a road trip up to Katy. Except that it was absolutely the most boring drive ever because I was still afraid of urban (and suburban) freeways, so I took the ultra-long way on Highway 6. So instead of flying by at 55mph, I was stopping at countless stopsigns with a speed limit that often dipped to 35mph. But I eventually got to where I was headed.

My first foray on to urban freeways was by accident. I was finally able to muster up the courage to drive on the freeway. My trips down 146 were replaced by flying down Interstate 45 towards Galveston. I always headed towards Galveston because, lest I end up in the big, bad city, it was the only direction I could go. The speed limit was still 55mph (by federal law at the time), but I never had to stop! Woooweeee!

Well one day I was driving in my car with Jay and we went northbound on I45 for reasons I cannot entirely recall. At some point, I missed the last exit before the big, bad city and found myself accidentally turning off on the eastern arm of 610. This had me freaking out on a number of levels. First, I'd gotten off the only freeway that I'd known. Second, I had somehow managed to end up by the sea (Houston sea port) despite going in what I thought was the opposite direction. And third, I had somehow jumped from Interstate Forty-Five to Six-Hundred-And-Ten... that's a factor of 13.5555555555555555! I calculated this number in my head as I flew down the freeway in abject horror.

That was the last time I took the freeway for a long, long time. Two months at least. Maybe four!

Anyone else having trouble with GMail? Seems like things are getting delivered to my email box quite belatedly...

Some place in Houston opened up (or started advertising on the radio) at some point after I left the fair city. Those of you that do listen to the radio are undoubtedly familiar with "The Dump," a place that apparently specializes in selling expensive stuff cheap based on purchasing by availability rather than demand.

The weird thing is that I find the ads on the radio oddly captivating. The narrator has some sort of infectuous enthusiasm. It's not like those car commercials where the dealer or announcer is "really excited" about this sale or that. This Dump guy sounds really excited! I've never heard someone so excited about Persian rugs being so cheap and I can't imagine any consumer being that excited. Yet he sounds credible throughout the commercial.

It's bizarre. Whoever that actor is, he deserves a raise.

Wednesday evening:
Adam: Did you hear that so-and-so and so-and-so are getting married?
RAW: No kidding? Wow. It really seems like everyone we know is starting to get married.

Wednesday night in an email:
Linus: Lucy and I are getting married!

I remember during the 2000 campaign reading that Al Gore, a sturdy but never obese man, was fighting weight gain throughout his presidential run. It made sense at the time, seeing as how every event revolves around food. If a candidate only ate at half his campaign functions, he's probably getting over 3000 calories a day. This past week I have truly experienced it first-hand.

I've been seeing a lot of people on this trip, which has been great. Most everyone I've hooked up with, however, has been over one meal or another. Then there's dinner with the family. And breakfast with Dad. I've gone from 1.5 meals a day to 3+ and instead of eating canned beans I'm getting all kinds of homecooked and restaurant goodies.

It's been wonderful.

But when I get back to Idaho, I don't know if I'll ever want to see food again.

1. The only [major league] sport* we're missing that matters is in the league that just cancelled their season.

2. Houston is the most diverse city in America. This is something I didn't fully appreciate until this trip. While hanging out at the Central Market today, watching a man with a turbin walking into the store to shop followed by a large Hispanic family and white yuppies.

3. Houston may not have as many universities as Boston, but six four-year (or more) institutions (University of Houston, Rice University, Texas Southern University, Houston Baptist University, University of St. Thomas, and UH-Downtown), three law schools (UH, TSU, and South Texas College of Law), and countless medical schools ain't bad.

4. It's not as vain as Dallas, not as dirty as San Antonio, and not as self-absorbed as Austin.

5. It has a quirky personality. For instance today the city completely forgot that it's February.

6. This town is full of hidden treasures. Within ten minutes of getting lost you're guaranteed to find something worth seeing or visiting.

7. Houston is the only major metropolis without zoning, so you have houses tucked away in the middle of shopping centers.

8. If you don't like where you live, you can move somewhere entirely different within city limits. In the general area, you can find just about any way of life (that doesn't include mountains).

9. Unless you have a desire to, there are few reasons you would ever need to leave this town. Whether you're wanting to go to a great university, find a good job, or get malignant cancer taken care of, you're just fine here.

10. And all of this with a relatively low cost of living considering its size.

Bonus: Boston hates it, the national media generally ignores it, and Lee P. Brown no longer runs it.

Note: Adam and Laurence Simon have pointed out that we do have an AHL team. I know of the Aeros, of course, but I was referring to major league (or "highest league") teams, MLB, NFL, NBA, and NHL.

Like many computer folks, I keep a spambox that I use to sign up for services or leave comments on blogs (or message boards) so that any webspider that captures the address won't be sending crap to my main email box. It's generally been my policy to wade through that mail box every now and again, but lately it's been so bombarded with spam that I've not been as good about that lately.

A blogger whose blog I commented on mentioned that she wrote me an email. It came as a surprise to me until I realized that I put the spambox email addy whenever I comment on another blog. But in the process of fishing out that email, I found three others from people responding to comments I've left here and there. I also found another from a service I signed up for a couple of years ago that is very upset with me cause they can't renew the account because my Houston-based bank card expired.

Makes me wonder what else I've missed.

So it occurs to me that I'm going to have to start being a little proactive about all this somehow.

In any case, if you've sent any email to pariah@ev1.net and I haven't replied, it's probably because I never saw it. Apologies on that.

This evening I was busy today making calls to round out my planning for the week. I called Tigger's place to see if I could set anything up. Tigger's father is coming in to town so he's out. Mike and I made some tentative vague plans. But I couldn't get a hold of my roommate Danforth. On one hand, that sucks cause despite living together for over two years I haven't talked to him since I moved. But on the whole I'm actually really glad that I won't be able to see him.

The reason that I can't see him is that he moved to Conroe.

Which is not too far from Huntsville.

Which houses Sam Houston State University.

Where Danforth must still be attending!

Wooohooooooo!!

Today I was filling up at an Exxon station. I slipped my card across the scanner dealibob and honored its request to REMOVE CARD RAPIDLY! without incident.

But the pump wouldn't turn on.

Pull, pull, nothing.

Pull, pull, nothing.

So I actually take the time to look at the display and it asks for my zip code. Thinking that this is an obnoxious customer survey like they have at Best Buy and some other places, I go ahead and enter my parents zip code (figuring that my Idaho code wouldn't help them out).

It then cancelled the request.

I repeated the process and it cancelled the request again.

I guess it's some sort of security feature. If you think about it, it's pretty smart. That way if someone creates a card and strip they can't use it without knowing the address of the person that they're creating the strip from. It probably won't stop most forms of credit card abuse, but every little bit helps I guess.

My only question is whether or not it did so because I was waaaaaay out of my area (if so, outstanding!) or if it always does that (if so, probably more time lost than money saved).

"Economists are pessimists: they've predicted 8 of the last 3 depressions"
- Barry Asmus [via Tom Hanna]

I was walking Gruene Hall to head out to San Marcos. On my way to the car, an attractive young black woman - about my age or perhaps a bit younger than myself - stopped me and asked if I was coming out of Gruene Hall. I told her that I was.

She said that she was new to the New Braunfels area and had heard a lot about the place. I said that it was somewhat legendary throughout Texas (which it is if you follow Texas country music). She asked what kind of place it was and I said it was a "nicer than usual honky tonk."

"What do you mean by that?"

I explained that it was a honky tonk sort of atmosphere, though not as dingy as some honky tonks are stereotyped to be. When she asked me what a "honky tonk" was, I knew that she really wasn't from around here.

She asked if it was an "exclusive" place.

I asked what she meant by that.

She asked if she was dressed okay.

I thought that she was, if anything, a little overdressed. But a lot of people overdress to that sort of thing, so I didn't say that. I told her that it wasn't a particularly exclusive place.

She got a little sheepish and giggled out of nervousness or embarassment. She said she had a question for me, but was afraid to ask it. As nicely as possible, I told her to go ahead and ask it. I started to get an idea that the question might pertain to her race and their degree of acceptance of that.

She said that she'd met some "ugly people" in New Braunfels. She didn't say precisely what she meant by "ugly" people and I should have asked, but I didn't. She asked if there were ugly people in there. The way she asked it, though, had me wondering if I was totally off-base. Like she meant very heavy people. I was a little reluctant to bring race into a conversation that it hadn't been established as concerning it.

She gigglingly said something like, "I mean, I know that there are ugly people everywhere. But are there a lot of ugly people in there?"

By the time I eventually did get to my car, it was never established whether she meant ugly temperamentally or physically. Honestly, if it had been a racial query, I don't know what I could have told her. The truth is that I've never been black in the south and no matter how much I might try, I'm not going to notice everything that a black person would. I would have felt it presumptuous to say that racism wouldn't be an issue, but it's not something I'd particularly noticed (I've never really heard offhand comments derogatory towards blacks at Texas country music shows) so I couldn't have said that either.

If she was worried about fat people, I honestly would have cared less about informing her because I don't do well with snobs.

Either way, though, as I headed to the Exxon station and she into the bar, I doubt that she had a particularly good time and she's probably regretting having trusted the nice things I said about the place and the music there. But I do hope that I am wrong.

[Ring Ring]

"Hello?"

"Hey Alex. You coming up here?"

"Yeah. I'm at the Exxon at the corner of FM306 & I-35."

"In New Braunfels?"

"Yeah. Should be in San Marcos in half an hour..."

"So about 11:45?"

"Sounds about right."

Five minutes later

[Ring Ring]

"Hello?"

"Hey Mom, sorry for calling so late. Is Dad still awake?"

"Sure, hold on."

"Hello?"

"Hi Dad. Sorry for calling so late. I wanted to try to figure this out myself but I figured the longer I tried the later it would get."

"No problem. What's going on?"

"I'm trying to start the car, but I can't."

"What's it doing?"

"Nothing. It won't even turn. It's like this key doesn't belong to this car... hmmm..."

"So it's not turning at all?"

"Hold on."

[silence]

[vroom]

"Nevermind, Dad. It seems to be working now."

"What was the problem?"

"I had the wrong key in there."

Nothing brings out the worst in suburbia as much as the issue of education. The Clear Creek Independent School district, which runs the schools southeast of Houston (including my own Clear Lake High School) is building a handful of new schools which require some redistricting. The letters page of the local Bay Area Citizen demonstrates this quite clearly:

Some remarks 'embarassing'

[...] I must admit though to be actually embarassed by the few parents who would have been better served by keeping their mouths shut. I actually heard a father say, "I don't want my kids going to school with kids from 'that' neighborhood," another said that he only wanted kids to go to school with kids whose parents made as much money as he did and who lived in a house as big as theirs.

Another said that people who pay taxes should be left alone and those people that don't pay taxes (??) should be bussed to portable buildings. I must honestly admit I was floored by those comments. What message do those parents send to their children? That exlusion and bigotry are right? That because I make more money than you - I am better than you? I can only hope not. [...]

Charles Pond
Friendswood

Not knowing Mr. Pond and not having attended the meeting myself, I can't verify this, but even if these words were not spoken (and I believe that they were) they were thought a hundred times over.

I went to working-class Seabrook Intermediate within the CCISD. When asked if they were concerned about my going there, my folks replied that it would probably do me good to know that some people had to fish or man a store for a living. Sure enough, one of the reasons I was appreciative of being able to go to college was meeting some really smart kids whose parents weren't going to be able to afford it.

The fact is that wherever you go to school in the CCISD, you're guaranteed the chance at a good education. The parents ought to be thankful for that rather than splitting hairs over which school they go to. In some ways, thanks to the Ten Percent Rule it's actually advantageous to go to a less stellar high school. But that is of little consolation to a parent that doesn't want their kids going to school with "those" children.

I won't lie and say that there wasn't any difference between students on each side of the tracks. A whole lot of the kids that I went to Seabrook with never made it through high school. By the time I was a senior, some of them were still sophomores. But you have a lot of good kids from medium or below-medium families. Is it really good social policy to rope them in with the "bad" kids just so that your kids don't have to learn what kind of people are out there?

One of the more admirable things about Pocatello, in my view, is how they spread the riches and poorest kids in town between the schools. Most everyone up there wants their kids to go to Century High School (the newest one) and want to avoid Poky High. Instead of catering to the wealthy or taking the easiest path, they have students go across town to their school in order to prevent the financial stratification that a lot of parents from Clear Lake and Friendswood are aiming for.

The CCISD's current superintendent is Sandra Mossman, who was my principal at Seabrook Intermediate. Hopefully she stands her ground on this.

You are a Diary Blogger.

Your blog is your online diary. Sure
you've changed a name here or there, but
there's enough info there that someone with
enough time could figure out who you are. And
secretly that thrills you, because secretly you
want an agent to discover your blog and offer
you a book deal. You aspire to be the next
Dooce, only maybe without having to lose your
job first.


To lodge compliments or complaints visit
http://deathintheafternoon.blogspot.com. The
following quiz is void in the following states:
Deleware, Washington, and Wyoming. Death in
the Afternoon(TM) reserves the right to change
quiz results without notice.

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

[via Adrianne]

Dear Good People At 93Q,

I was a bit surprised to see you at the Bleu Edmondson show. The four people or so that you had passing out fliers and whatnot certainly weren't free. After you left, Bleu thanked you for taking the time to show up. I would have joined with him in that appreciation, except that I think that time, money, and resources might be better spent actually looking outside "country's" top 40 and playing his music every now and again. instead of probing his audience for people to listen to the exact kind of country music that we go to places like the Firehouse to avoid.

Just sayin'...

Best,
Author of the Blog You Do Not Read

A long time ago SkyWest was hiring for flight attendants. I thought it odd that they require the attendants not be about 5'4". After being on their planes, I no longer find it odd at all.

In the seatrow behind me, there was a mother and her son. The son, a few years old, took great pleasure in kicking my seat. He eventually got bored with that and started poking my arm around the seat with a pen. You know, I'm a bit too tolerant sometimes...

The mother and son were apparently actually moving from Salt Lake City to Las Vegas. From a holy city to Sin City... talk about an adjustment!

The mother said "This is the last time I'm going to warn you" at least twelve times. Well, twelve times after I started counting.

As soon as the plane stopped, waiting to taxi to the gate, the kid jumped out of his seat and ran towards the door.

Flight attendants really don't like it when kids do that.

The kid, who would not listen to his mother for anything, did absolutely everything the flight attendant told him to. When he said to get back to his seat, he did. When he told him to buckle his seat belt, he finally did. In both cases, his mother had said the same repeatedly.

Las Vegas is a really interesting town to be flying in to. It's this island of light surrounded by a sea of darkness. It must be surrounded by mountains or heavily zoned because whatever sprawl may be occuring didn't register from however high up I was.

I have never hated a city as instantly as I hated Las Vegas. I never left the airport, but I have no desire to. The stench of greed, vanity, and gluttony was as strong as the alcoholic odor on your typical barstood drunk. I felt depressed and sad for humanity all the way from landing to take-off. It was weird.

The girl who flew next to me between Las Vegas and Houston brushed her hair for the entire three hour flight.

Oddly, that annoyed me more than the kid behind me on the previous flight.

The LAS-IAH flight was full of people flying in from Japan. Given that it was a red-eye flight, I guess that makes some sense.

When we exited the plane in Houston, the flight attendant asked the girl in front of me whether or not her peculiar shoes hurt her feet. I could see on her face that she thought it was totally weird. But what was going through my mind is "I'm home!" because Texans, or southerners in general, love asking stupid questions in the name of making conversation.

In case I was ever wondering if I did, I don't miss Houston drivers.

I have about three and a half hours to cover about 200 miles. I'm going to see what I can do about getting a head start. One factor has been whether or not I will have to check in a bag.

One of the frustrating things about my existence up here is how much stuff I still have town there. Two computer monitors, a TV, VCRs, personal affects, and so on.

But today, for once, that's going to come in pretty handy.

There are not many trips you can take where you don't have to pack clothes.

Since last week I wrote on the headier issue of economics, I thought I would write something a little more frivolous this week. Below is a list of ten (well, eleven I guess) mistakes that a lot of bloggers - myself included! - make.

1. Only link to what we've already read and only say what we've already heard. Most bloggers will go through this stage at some point, but ask yourself why they should be reading you instead of InstaPundit if you're taking all your links from IP and why they should be reading you instead of RightWingNews or Daily Kos when your point of view is virtually identical.

2. False modesty. If you don't believe your writing is worthwhile, why put it for all of us to see? It rarely adds the humor I think that the author intends and is generally, at best, a distraction from the posts that actually bring readers to the site. In some ways, false hubris actually makes better reading.

3. Clearing the archives. I've never understood the motivation behind this. I can understand deleting select posts for this reason or that, but a lot of people seem to like to start over, leaving a whole bunch of dead links on other blogs and a minor agitation for readers. Even if you quit blogging, it's probably not a bad idea to save your archives in case you come back.

4. Become overly concerning yourself with blogging "rules." It can look downright pathetic and turn friendly bloggers off and create long ethical discussions over small things that nobody except bloggers or the excessively self-rightous care about.

5. Fail to follow basic punctuation rules. Few will care if you split an infinitive or dangle a participal, but unless you're Tony Pierce, it'll seriously undermine whatever point you're trying to make.

6. Substitute slang for ideas. Rethuglicans, Dummocrats. These terms add absolutely nothing to any argument presented (even if you're "preaching to the choir") and can turn off sympathetic folks (even those on your side). Also, while I know it's convenient that $ is similar to the letter S and is a convenient way to detract someone or something you think is "all about money" it lost its originality a long time ago.

7. Fail to take advantage of 95% of the blogosphere. It does not begin and end with InstaPundit or Kos and who they link to. There are a lot of interesting perspectives out there that a blogger can be drawing on and it's easier to build up an audience by reading and linking with lesser-known bloggers than to rely on attempted InstaLanches.

8. Become a one-note charlie. If you're an expert in health care or Iraq, then by all means put your expertise to work. But there's only so many ways you can advocate a more libertarian health care system or pulling out of Iraq before it grows stale.

9. Decline to put up an "about the author" link. It's extraordinarily helpful for a new reader to have a general idea of who the author is and where he's coming from (even if he's pseudononymous).

10. Decline to participate in their own comments section. While one needn't respond to every single comment put on a blog, it helps encourage commenters to know that you are reading what they have to say (and comments encourage repeat visits).

Bonus: Take themselves too seriously. Seriously, the world does not end if you don't write a post today.

As I customize the settings for a fresh Windows XP installation, I want to register my complaint about something that has bothered me about Windows since the `95 version:

What is this "My _______" Crap?

I know it's My Computer because I bought it. I know that they're My Documents because they're on my computer (or on my account on a public computer). Why does it feel the need to point all this out to me? I know they're My Downloads cause that's where I told it to download stuff. Actually I didn't, so my My Downloads file actually does nothing. And unless they know how I organize my file server, I wish that they wouldn't tell me where My Pictures are cause they're wrong.

Don't mistake me, I understand the functionality that some of these things provide. I understand the utility of My FillInTheBlank, but did they really have to give it the cute name? In most cases, if they just eliminate the "My" they're doing a-ok.

I know that I can change folder names and all that, but does anyone really like the whole My chic? Is there anyone that thinks "Good thing it says My Documents or else I would have to change it to say 'My Documents'"? Are there sufficient number of people to outweigh those like myself that say "What is this crap?" and just start deleting "My's" off the names of everything on the computer?

Am I the only one who feels this way?

My friend Linus stopped by into Idaho Falls yesterday, where we had lunch. After I got off work, we came down to Pocatello and slummed around Thrifthaven while we tried to get the computer I got from him working. Hovering over food and the computer, we had quite a bit of time to get caught up on everything.

Linus and I come from somewhat similar backgrounds: two people raised in Clear Lake that found themselves in the Mountain West (one by choice, the other by circumstance). While he and I might come from the same place geographically, politically we differ a great deal. It can always be a touchy subject when talking politics with someone that comes with a different set of assumptions and immediate goals, though I've found Linus to be one of the easier people to talk about philosophy and politics.

What I find interesting is that despite how liberal he is and how conservative I am, the way that we each approach life is startlingly similar. We have different interests, to be sure, and our ethical priorities differ somewhat, but I find quite a bit of overlap in life goals and concerns (right down to internal conflicts about Utah).

Less than a couple months past a very contentious election, it's worth remembering all we have in common with those at the other end of our tug-of-war rope. I've said these things before, and yet... and yet...

Not long ago, Susanna Cornett wrote:

She can say all her wonderful arguments, that sound so bone-deep convincing and condemning to her, and I just blink. They mean nothing to me. It's so much wind trying to blow sand in my face. When it's my turn to talk, no matter what examples I use or words I send flowing over her in passionate waves, she remains untouched. In that arena, her priorities are not mine.

So it has become something we don't talk about. I have mentioned it in passing once or twice, and she has fixed me with a sharp look that said, Don't go there. And I stop. I know she is a wonderful person, and sometimes I have difficulty reconciling the goodness that I know permeates her character with some of the political positions she takes. Although we've not discussed it - I guess it's on our unspoken list - I'm sure she feels the same.

The list of people that I don't discuss politics has gotten increasingly long over the past year. The election drew the line in the sand so deep that it often feels more like a canyon than a line. And... honestly... I'm tired of the discussion for the most part.

The biggest casualty of all of this is probably my blog reading list. A few sites just hit a point where I no longer felt welcome to read their site. After all, who would want a homophobic racist theocrat reading their blog? Who would want readers stupid enough to believe all of Bush's lies or evil enough to be in on it with him? Coming from the other side, Greg Wythe said the following just after the election:

This election has been tough. Tougher than most. Not because of the outcome, but because of what went into it. I've thought more than a fair amount of what to make of friendships both online and in-person that sometimes get strained when debate turns vigorous and sensibilities get rubbed raw. There are, to be sure, those that I simply just can't find a way to forget things that were said and shrug it off. Call it a failure on my part, I suppose.

The irony is that Greg is one of the best examples of the left-of-center blogs that I don't really read like I used to. He can see it, I can see it, but there is little that either of us can do about it. (note: I use Greg as an example of someone that I don't read as much as I used to, but not as an example for some of the behavior I'm describing that drove me away.)

For a while I toughed it out. But over and over again, I found my blood pressure raising. I found myself leaving ruder and ruder comments and acting less and less like my generally congenial self. I found myself getting in to arguments I didn't want to get in to that brought out the worst in me and were, in the end, entirely unproductive.

There are still a handful of liberal blogs that I do read. Some - most, probably - more liberal than the blogs I've kind of drifted away from. I'm not sure if it's just a matter of tone (I don't do well with snark or condescension) or content (the liberal blogs I read focus a lot less on personalities and more on policy and philosophy).

It's easy with friends. With friends, I simply don't discuss politics, focus on common ground, or find the best way to talk about the tough issues of the day. It's harder with people I know primarily online. A number of them I could easily see myself sharing a beer with while we talk movies or music. Some, like Greg, I have. But I guess it's like the former in-laws after a divorce. No matter how well you get along, when the crap hits the fan the obvious link is gone and you find yourself on opposite sides of the inevitable following conflicts that eclipse all other issues.

Firehouse Schedule:
2/11 - Bleu Edmondson
2/12 - Django Walker
2/17 - Phil Pritchett
2/18 - Jason Boland
2/19 - Randy Rogers & Wade Bowen
2/20 - Houston Showcase (??)

I was hoping to be taking my trip to Houston a little earlier in the year, but the mandatory overtime we got at work in January but a nix on that. Once I got word of when the mandatory overtime would end, I started looking up tour dates to make plans for my return trip home. While I couldn't find the two artists I was looking for in a single weekend, but I did find them back to back in February. So my trip became longer than I had originally planned.

Since then, I've been looking religiously at the Firehouse and artist websites. I forgot how tentative show dates are. Phil Pritchett was bumped from his 2/18 show at the Firehouse and panic ensued until he was resheduled for the 17th. Not only do I get to see Phil, but Jason Boland replaced P2 so I get to see him as well. Bleu Edmondson, the other artist, also got rescheduled from Saturday night (2/12) to Friday (2/11), but still while I'm down there.

Whew!

Randy Rogers magically appeared, rounding out three of my top five Texas country musicians plus Phil Pritchett!

So, to make a long story short, I couldn't have picked a better stint musically if I'd tried. The only artist I'd really love to see that I'm going to miss is Mark David Manders. He'll be playing in New Braunfels on the 12th. I may be able to make a trip up there, but I nailed down plans with someone for that evening anticipating Bleu playing that night, so it's unlikely.

But six great shows over the course of 11 days ain't bad!

How does every racist comment and/or diatribe begin?

Answer: [Read More!]

"If males use the toilet, there are three possibilities: (1) They lift the seat and put it back afterwards, (2) They lift the seat and leave it up, and (3) They don't lift the seat. Why are the women who rant so sure that they'll get (1) and not (3)? Note, men are able to deal with (2) when they need the seat.... Note, men are able to handle (2)." -Andy Freeman

As most of you know, whenever you get a package in the mail that has bubble rap, it's extremely fun to pop the bubbles. I don't know why this is the case, but there is a strange therapeutic value.

What you may not know - what I didn't until this week - was that stepping on melted ice and snapping it has a similar therapeutic value.

Ordinarily something like this would be FURLed, but since it's registration-only and most of you (I'd imagine) are disinclined to register with The Oklahoman, I thought I'd put up an excerpt:

TULSA - For the right price, John Cox will change his first name to anything you want, within reason.
Your name here: To view John Cox's auction, go to www.ebay.com and enter 5555381567 in the search field.

The Tulsa man expects the winner of his eBay auction to be a corporation, and hopes to make a couple hundred thousand dollars for him to assume the company's name and act as a spokesman and living billboard.

The auction ends Monday. Friday afternoon, the highest bid was $62.05.

"I'm not really scared because even if my name is 'Procter Gamble Cox' I'll be making some good money," he said. "I mean, who knows, I might regret it in the end but at this point, I'm hungry for some money and a little crazy I guess."

It's been a rough week. The Internet went down an hour before I got back from northern Idaho. My car has started to wheeze on uphill climbs again. My computer gave me another I'm-dying-and-I'm-gonna-take-all-your-stuff-with-me scare. While the running water in my apartment has been fixed, the heat is running at half power. Then, at 10:30 last night the Internet went out. The time is important because it's too late to contact management but early enough to be extremely inconvenient and because it was Friday, it could take a couple days to get back online (management can be hard to get ahold of on weekends). The only place I can type this from is Idaho Falls, an hour away from my place in Pocatello. But I needed to come to Idaho Falls anyway, so that's not as bad.

Eel has had a rougher week than me. About when I was leaving to return here, she started coming down with a cold. The timing on this was particularly bad because she was scheduled to take a very important medical test over the weekend. The test is important enough that they use cameras to make sure students don't cheat. Another anti-cheating policy they have is no matter how sick you are and how freely your nose is running, you can't take a kleenex in to the testing area. Definitely worse than my week.

But right now I'm in Idaho Falls because I had to come up for a funeral. It was not unexpected, but when the parents found out three months ago that the child wouldn't last but maybe a day or two out of the womb, they carried it to term in hopes that it might breathe life for just a little bit. It was stillborn.

Things with Eel and things with myself are pretty good right now, y'know?

This has been a source of confusion for some people that I know (that do not, to my knowledge, read this blog, so it isn't a passive-aggressive thing), so I thought I would post it in case others have similar confusion.

A "Right to Work" state does not ensure employment (as the name implies) nor does it allow people to be terminated for any reason (as a lot of people I know seem to think it does). It simply means that you do not have to be a member of a union in order to work for a particular employer or in a particular industry.

"Employment at Will" doctrines, on the other hand, state that anyone can leave or be fired for any reason that does not run contrary to a specific laws or regulations such as whistleblower protection laws or laws protecting the rights of minorities and women. In other words, you can be fired without "just cause," though generally speaking unless they can demonstrate just cause you are due unemployment if you qualify. If they can demonstrate that you were unquestionably neglect in your duties, then they don't have to pay you unemployment (note that this varies from state to state, though Texas and most states make a distinction of being fired with or without just cause).

One of the neat things that Taco Bell has come up with is a 1/2 lb. bean burrito. It's not nearly as big as it sounds, but it's a good burrito for a good price.

The problem is that it's called the Bean Burrito Especial. This is a problem because, in the confines of a Taco Bell, I feel like a poseur using anything remotely resembling a Spanish pronounciation. It's only recently that I gave in to "graunday" instead of "grandee" (only at Taco Bell, mind you, I know how to pronounce it). So even if I can stomach pronouncing "grande" correctly, especial is just too much. I'm not ready.

So do I mispronounce it and feel like an idiot, pronounce it correctly and sound like a poseur, or just keep calling it the "half pound burrito"?

I think I'm going with the latter.

"The American people will never knowingly adopt Socialism, but under the name of Liberalism they will adopt Every Fragment of the Socialist Program until one day America will be a Socialist Nation without ever knowing how it happened." -Norman Thomas, Socialist Party Presidential Candidate (1928, 1932, 1936, 1940, 1944, 1948) and one of the Founders of the ACLU.

Bill White is up for re-election this year. While I wouldn't expect anyone to challenge him, should anyone choose to do so, they should really be reading blogHOUSTON day in and day out.

Now that most of the travel plans are nailed down, I can officially announce my return to Texas!

A week from now I'll be on the plane. I'll be going on the 10th and returning on the 21st. Unfortunately, I'm not going to have nearly the time to do everything that I want to do. I have a roadtrip or two planned for while I'm down there.

It's going to be anything but relaxing, but it'll be awesome!

Reuters has an interesting article pertaining to bankrupcy and medical costs:

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - Half of all U.S. bankruptcies are caused by soaring medical bills and most people sent into debt by illness are middle-class workers with health insurance, researchers said on Wednesday.

The study, published in the journal Health Affairs, estimated that medical bankruptcies affect about 2 million Americans every year, if both debtors and their dependents, including about 700,000 children, are counted.

"Our study is frightening. Unless you're Bill Gates you're just one serious illness away from bankruptcy," said Dr. David Himmelstein, an associate professor of medicine at Harvard Medical School who led the study.

Pretty devestating lede, and were it not for what follows, one would almost certainly be of the opinion that these bankrupcies are caused by greedy HMO's, super-expensive health care, and just bad luck. In some cases, I'm sure it's caused by one or all of these things. However, a closer look puts the problem in perspective:

"Among those whose illnesses led to bankruptcy, out-of-pocket costs averaged $11,854 since the start of illness; 75.7 percent had insurance at the onset of illness."

I may be alone in considering this the most pertinent sentence in the article. Until I got here, I assumed that we were talking about $40k, $50k, or more in bills. But if these are predominantly middle-class familes, there are comparitively few reasons for a family not to have more than $10k in financial padding. One does not have the be Bill Gates, as Dr. Himmelstein suggests, to have that kind of money squirreled away or in accessible rainy-day accounts.

Too many people in the middle or lower-middle class financially are trying to live in the upper-middle class (or higher). Now some of these cases may be young couples that haven't had an opportunity to save up or those hit with wave-on-wave expenses prior to the medical expense. But I strongly suspect it has most to do with families living too closely or slightly above their means, getting swamped with unexpected (and certainly tragic) events.

But from my perspective, if you're hit with cancer, the cost of a new car is not an unreasonable out-of-pocket expense. It's not a matter of people dying because they can't pay the money, but rather bearing a 10-year black mark on their financial record.

But apparently, gauging from what I've seen on websites across the 'sphere and talking to a few people, I'm about the only one who sees it this way.

This is a new category/feature I'm thinking about starting. I'll basically navel-gaze over a particular topic and spout off ten views. We'll see if it takes or if I forget all about it.

Feedback in agreement and disagreement is welcome.


1. Insomuch as a government controls your pocketbook, it is inherently justified to control your lifestyle.

2. The worst kind of tax is, without a doubt, the property tax.

3. The graduated income tax is fairer than the flat tax.

4. Everyone, no matter how rich or poor, ought to have to pay taxes.

5. All tax deductions and tax credits ought to be eliminated in favor of a lower general tax rate.

6. Tax-wise, religious organizations ought to be treated no differently than non-religious organizations.

7. Capitalism is built on the notion that if you help me out, I'll help you out.

8. The same people who "game" the capitalist system for their own benefit will also game any socialist system for their own benefit.

9. As an individual, I have no less control over large corporations than I do over the federal government. And that's not because of "the corrupting influence of money" in politics.

10. A government that kept itself completely out of the economy would not breed effective capitalism as capitalism only works insofar as competition exists.

One of the things I've been working on since the New Year started is reining in some of my bad health habits. One of those is food.

I've been losing a modest amount of weight since December. I can't say how much, exactly, because when I started this I was afraid to own a scale. But I am somewhere between where I was and wherever it is I want to be.

Generally speaking, I watch myself during the week and don't worry so much on weekends. Last weekend, spent in northern Idaho, was no exception except that I probably did eat more than usual.

Eel warned me about checking the scale on a daily basis because of natural fluctuations. I've not been heeding her advice, but have kept in mind that everything is within a five pound range or so.

But when I got back from northern Idaho, the scale tested that with five pounds of weight gain. While I tried to keep that in mind, it was still a bit disturbing since both of my goals (to lose some weight and start feeling better) were faltering: I'd "gained five pounds" and my leg muscle was hurting from something I did on the flight.

But sure enough, one day and a lot of urination later, it returned to wear it was when I measured it last week.

And my leg is feeling better.

So all is right with the world.

Today, I stumbled on a write-up on a vicious piece of spyware called Spector Pro. The part about Microsoft's security failures is good reading for those of you that think that their security problems are due solely to their status as the big kid on the block, but this is the part that got me thinking:

2.1 Stealth Mode Effectiveness

Effectiveness of the system's Stealth Mode depends on obfuscation. Users who do not know what processes to expect on a process listing, or believe that programs must be ``visible'' to be running, stand no chance of determining that Spector Pro is active. No indication of Spector Pro (or Spectorsoft) is found in the process listing, host registry, or visible files.

A particular key combination (apparently ``Control-Alt-Shift-S'' by default) on the keyboard will bring up Spector Pro's splash screen and a password dialog box. A user who happens across the correct key combination would find that the software is running.

The ability for Spector Pro to hide is dependent upon its running. If the disk on which it is installed is examined with another operating system, for example, files invisible to Windows users would be clearly visible, though perhaps still not obviously named.

[...]

2.3.1 Uploads to Spectorsoft

In our quick assessment, we identified that even without specifying an address to which alerts should be directed, Spector Pro was uploading data to Spectorsoft.

We found that among the normal network traffic, our test machine was making TCP connections to the host u2a1376gf-43ty-245b.com [209.61.191.54]. The domain in question is registered to none other than Spectorsoft.

SpectorSoft Corp. (U2A1376GF43TY245B-DOM)
333 17TH ST
VERO BEACH, FL 32960-5670
US

Domain Name: U2A1376GF-43TY-245B.COM

Clearly, use of the domain U2A1376GF-43TY-245B.COM is simply an obfuscation technique, hoping to foil the casual observer.

What I found myself thinking about today was that a programer, or more likely a group of programmers, wrote this. They intentionally wrote a program in order to make computers less secure, to mine data on unsuspecting users, and to hide this fact from them.

There are a lot of legitimate uses for spyware. Companies keeping track of what sites its employees go in to, for instance. Another one is as part of a licensing agreement. Someone offers to have their web-use tracked in order to get a cute purple monkey or weather service or whatever.

But this, by its very design, is not that. This is built around an unethical business model. Yet someone, or a group of people, voluntarily help this company accomplish its goals in order to recieve money.

When I was younger, I thought that there was a division between who you are and what you do. I thought that I would have no problem working for something that I saw immoral because "hey, I'm not making anyone buy it." I've come up with a handful of highly immoral business models. But at some point I realized that a relationship with an employer is about more than a paycheck. It's a relationship. They have more than my services 40 hours a week, they have a part of my identity. I've had my problems with previous employers, but I've always been able to believe in what they're doing. They're making this more affordable, they're powering that. They're doing something for someone that they want.

In that vein, I have to say that in some ways I think that writing the kind of program above is even less moral than peddling pornography, cigarettes, or even illicit drugs. Perhaps not as damaging as those things, but at least in those cases the people are providing goods and services for those that want. The spyware people above, on the other hand, are screwing over the first person to get money from the second one. Less like a bootlegger and more like a hitmen.

While I could never see myself peddling drugs or pornography, I can at least see the rationalizations involved. But how does one justify such an illegitimate enterprise? What do these people tell people who ask them what they do? Is whatever they're getting paid worth having to be evasive or dishonest with what you do for a living? An entire aspect of your identity? How much is that worth? Or, if you're exceedingly honest about what you do, worth the friends you will lose?

It was a good day for thought. There are numerous possibilities for story ideas above. Sort of a modern ninja assassin story, except that instead of the excitement and intrigue of ninjas and assassins it will have computer terminology and user license agreements (and lack thereof). Okay, maybe just a minor character somewhere...

A couple of weeks back we had our company luncheon. It included, among other things, potatoes (Idaho potatoes, one would presume). They had a little sour cream and cheese in there, but it was mostly just taters and onion. Lots of onion. And some sugarless wheat crispies on top.

When I left work that day, I saw the potato pan sitting out and decided that someone ought to refrigerate it so that it can be consumed at a later date by one or more people. So I put some tin foil on it and placed it in the fridge.

Apparently, I'm the only one interested in leftover potatoes. But day in and day out, I've had nothing but potatoes for lunch for the past week and a half. The good news is that potatoes are quite filling. The bad news is that while the onions are tasty, they've made for some long afternoons.

Alas, however, my free ride ends today. I've eaten the entire half-pan. So I guess I'll have to take my canopener, bowls, and plasticwear out of the car.

Of course, as I type this I have some Bush's Best Barbecue Baked Beans (B5) that were generously donated to me by a coworker for reasons unknown to me.

So, judging by the size of the can, the free ride ends next week.

Man, I feel like a welfare case.

FURL is more an indication of what I am reading than what my views on a particular subject are. I'm trying to find a way to incorporate my reaction to the articles, but that's probably a long way off.

On a side note, are any of you reading them and wanting to comment on them but can't? You can actually comment on the FURL site, but that's a bit out of the way. Maybe I'll do a round-up every 7 FURLs or so and create an open forum. I'm curious as to some of your reactions to the articles. If, that is, you're reading them at all :).

The Energy Spatula has a heartfelt post on the difficulties and uncertainties that come with being an overweight female.

While I've fought my own battles with the waistline, the struggles a heavy guy endures simply don't match up with what a heavy girl does. As I've say every now-and-again, if you're shy it's better to be a girl, but if you're heavy it's better to be a guy. So I'll let her post speak for itself and won't try to say "I understand" what I will never entirely appreciate. I will, however, offer a guy's perspective on this matter. I'm an atypical guy, to be sure, but I'm present in conversations that occur only in the company of men and studying people has been my hobby for as long as I have been a wallflower can recall.

This is a meandering post with little utility other than trying to string together a bunch of thoughts on the subject. I'm not giving relationship advice so much as I am giving self-improvement advice (though not self-improvement in the diet form, at this juncture). So take it with a grain of salt and gleam from it whatever wisdom you might be able to find.

Any guy who says looks don't matter is almost certainly a liar. Any girl who says the same is almost certainly a liar as well, but (a) less certainly and (b) less lying. Be it cultural or innate, appearence matters more to guys than to girls from the get-go. But even if it is completely innate or evolutionary, the statistical outlying guys are oftenly caught in the swirl due to cultural concerns.

So why are guys hung up on weight? Largely, I think, it's because we're told to be. The greatest irony, I think, is that this message comes as much from women as from men. Look at Cosmo and look at Playboy and you'll see more waif in the former. In a vacuum, people will stratify. For guys, this often leads to physical intimidation starting at a very young age. I can't tell you how many little napoleon runts tried to lift themselves up in junior high by attacking the oafish, 5'10" fat kid that I was. For girls, a lot of the stratification games appears to be built around beauty, fashion trends, and so on. A lot of the time, girls dress cutely not just for guys, but for each other. Fashion trends are built not to look good, but to be exclusionary. While male infighting tends to be more direct, fe