So, I went to bed last night, it was 50 degrees.
That's a "WTF?" all by itself, for mid december in Chicago.
But wait....
Woke up this morning, it was 9 degrees.
Temp dropped forty one degrees in four hours.
WTF????
bitter cold this morning, didn't care for it all.
Heard something when I got to work however, that warmed my heart.
President Bush ducks shoes in Baghdad.
Everyone was chuckling about it, talking about how he's got good reflexes, etc.
I attribute it to lots of practice.
He's been ducking all kinds of things, for most of his adult life.
Responsibility
consequences
the media
straight answers....
Monday, December 15, 2008
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Oh, The People You'll meet!!!
Oh the people you'll meet!
Another Patrick Murray original.
Not written by Dr. Seuss, that's for sure.
Oh the people you'll meet!
As you venture down the stairs,
off of the street, and go underground.
Follow the shaking floors, and
the roaring sound
step, sniffing, through the el train door,
deciding to sit down if it doesn't smell like pee or ass
or something more.
Oh the people you'll meet!
sitting on the shiny train
trying not to make eye contact - it's all in vain
Crazy doesn't need to look you in the eyes
To be crazy.
It's always a surprise
The people that you meet.
Most are harmless, headed to work
or to catch a plane
Some are unwashed
a few are insane.
The troubled are the ones that stand out, 'tis true
As being different than me and you.
Oh the people you'll meet!
that serve to remind you that your life is sweet
Because you're not talking to yourself
or to someone I can't see
Or screaming at a wall
Or sitting in your pee
You're not preaching, preaching, all the time
about the evils of going to work
You're not panhandling for a dime
Or changing seats at every stop
or being harassed by a transit cop
Because you travel with nine trash bags full of things
not described in childrens songs
at least not any song that we sing
You're not a grown man who thinks he's a spy
talking into a toy wrist communicator with a
happy gleam in your eye
You're not a one-eyed screamer, demanding my seat
Because you're unstable, you yell
and then you prop up your feet
after I let you sit down, but I was too slow
So you continue to berate me as the train starts to go.
Oh the people you'll meet!
Oh the people you'll smell!
Oh the people you wish you could avoid
When you're riding on the El.
But I still wish them well.
Another Patrick Murray original.
Not written by Dr. Seuss, that's for sure.
Oh the people you'll meet!
As you venture down the stairs,
off of the street, and go underground.
Follow the shaking floors, and
the roaring sound
step, sniffing, through the el train door,
deciding to sit down if it doesn't smell like pee or ass
or something more.
Oh the people you'll meet!
sitting on the shiny train
trying not to make eye contact - it's all in vain
Crazy doesn't need to look you in the eyes
To be crazy.
It's always a surprise
The people that you meet.
Most are harmless, headed to work
or to catch a plane
Some are unwashed
a few are insane.
The troubled are the ones that stand out, 'tis true
As being different than me and you.
Oh the people you'll meet!
that serve to remind you that your life is sweet
Because you're not talking to yourself
or to someone I can't see
Or screaming at a wall
Or sitting in your pee
You're not preaching, preaching, all the time
about the evils of going to work
You're not panhandling for a dime
Or changing seats at every stop
or being harassed by a transit cop
Because you travel with nine trash bags full of things
not described in childrens songs
at least not any song that we sing
You're not a grown man who thinks he's a spy
talking into a toy wrist communicator with a
happy gleam in your eye
You're not a one-eyed screamer, demanding my seat
Because you're unstable, you yell
and then you prop up your feet
after I let you sit down, but I was too slow
So you continue to berate me as the train starts to go.
Oh the people you'll meet!
Oh the people you'll smell!
Oh the people you wish you could avoid
When you're riding on the El.
But I still wish them well.
Friday, December 5, 2008
five christmas cartoons of note.
#1 Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown.
not a huge fan of the dialog, liked the general plot idea ok. Loved the music, of course.
The thing about this, and some of the other peanut cartoons, that I really liked?
The quiet.
This was a slow, peaceful cartoon, with emphasis put on what was being said. screen time actually given to the characters simply walking from point A to point B.
For want of a better term, this cartoon is..... relaxing.
#2 The Tick vs. Santa Clause (AKA: The Tick Loves Santa)
A petty thief dressed as Santa gets electrocuted, and finds he can reproduce himself. He creates an army of criminal santas and goes on a crime spree in The City.
Only the Tick can stop his nefarious plans, but can't bring himself to hurt Santa Clause...
He discovers that a static electric shock causes the replicants to dissolve, when he rubs one of them on the head.
Yep. Noogies save christmas.
Hey, it's the Tick, for christ's sake. If you've never seen this animated series from the early 90's, you need to. It was brilliant.
The Tick - huge, strong, nearly indestructible, a little dim and child like.
Arthur - His doughy, accountant-turned-moth-man sidekick. Throw in some crazy supervillains with equally odd nefarious plans, and some secondary superhero characters, and it was entertaining as hell.
The Tick: Lowly wretch! This is the last time you make epic naughty in Santa threads!
The Tick: Like a great blue salmon of justice, the mighty Tick courses upstream to the very spawning grounds of Evil!
#3 How The Grinch Stole Christmas
duh. great direction, courtesy of Chuck Jones, and truly inspired casting of Boris Karloff as the voice of the Grinch, and the narrator.
A great adaptation of a teriffic book by Dr. Seuss. There are many good cartoon adaptations of his books, and not a single good live action adaptation.
Christmas day IS in your grasp, as long as you have hands to clasp.
# 4: Pinky and the Brain's Christmas special.
Pinky and the brain. One's a genius, the other's insane.
And that's the brilliance of this cartoon series. You get to decide who's which.
The christmas episode won an Emmy, by the way.
Pinky and the Brain travel to the north pole. Pinky wants to meet Santa, the Brain's created a toy that hypnotizes people, and wants Santa to (unknowningly) distribute the toy worldwide, so The Brain can hypnotize everyone, and finally achieve his goal of World Domination.
#5 is a combo, cuz you put 'em both together and you almost have one good cartoon.
Year without a Santa Claus
Ok. This was actually crap. As were all the Rankin Bass Stop-Action animation cartoons (Rudolph, Rudolph and Frosty's Christmas in July) It's probably un-american to say so, but - crap.
Visually interesting, as you don't see stop-action animation anymore. Storylines, etc.... dodgy. And big on sentimental.
The adult me doesn't like gooey sentimentalism in my entertainment choices.
And why was Mickey Rooney always doing one of the voices? There had to be a lot of actors looking for an easy paycheck when these were made. Did he own stock?
While they were all largely crap, a couple of them were partially redeemed by fun characters, or at least a fun song.
Heat Miser and Cold Miser were whiny, mama's boys. But I liked their songs.
Like 'em? They stick in my head like a deer tick on a camping trip.
You can take the rest of the cartoon: the two dim elves, the sickly baby reindeer, the whiny sniffly santa clause, the doe-eyed, buck toothed boy and stuff them in a stocking or something else suitably tied in with the holiday theme of this post.
Santa Clause is Coming To Town
See above rant about Rankin Bass cartoons. What saves this one? Burgermeister Meisterburger, of course.
and the catchy "Put one foot in front of the other".
It's a story about the origin of Santa, how a young Kris Kringle built toys as an act of civil disobedience, corrupting the town's children, in direct violation of the law, grew a beard to disguise his face, and then got old and fat.
Oh, and an evil winter warlock finds a few kernels of magic corn in his pockets, after a gift of a toy makes him the goodhearted winter warlock, feeds them to some deer, who in turn bust everyone out of jail.
Now you know the origin of the eight flying reindeer. They ate some "magic" corn, and then became accessories to several felonies.
Mrs Clause is explained as well. She's the hot, single, good hearted school teacher of course.
She has a thing for bad boys, apparently, and is smitten with the rebellious, toy-making rabble rouser. She quits her job, leaves her home, and goes off to live with him and his midget friends in the woods. And then got old and fat.
The End.
And damn if Mickey Rooney's not the voice of Santa Clause again.
Hey, I know 40 year old me is not the audience at which the Rankin / Bass cartoons were aimed.
I mock because I can.
Kids still love 'em, my daughter will doubtless enjoy them when she's a little older, and my wife still loves 'em; even though she'll joke along with me the whole time about their relative cheesiness.
And that's why they made my list, really.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
five christmas movies
Was watching Elf over the weekend.
Will Farrell, like Jim Carrey, is a limited exposure kind of actor for me.
He plays arrogant and dumb at the same time, very well.
But the joke gets old.
When he tries his hand at something different, like he did in Stranger Than Fiction and Elf, however, he impresses the crap outta me.
As it's that time of year, I'll try to come up with my $0.02 worth of five best holiday movies in the whole world, ever.
In no particular order.
Keep in mind I'm not a very sentimental guy, and my humour runs dark. Also keep in mind that when I refer to them as the best holiday movies in the whole world, ever, it's possible I'm less than 100% serious.
Long Kiss Goodnight - Geena Davis, Samuel Jackson.
A heartwarming tale of an amnesiac professional killer, living the life of suburban housewife until. She has no idea who she was before she work up on a beach, three months pregnant, many years earlier.
Until she hits a deer, driving a drunk home from her christmas party. She gradually regains her memory and job skills, just in time to save (WAY) upstate New York from a fake terrorist attack.
The attack is orchestrated by a government agency looking to increase how much money it gets from the fed government, in the coming fiscal year. In the 2nd or third (but final) thrilling climax of this movie ( too many endings, a'la Speed), she flies through the air on a string of christmas lights, and kills the father of her daughter, then is saved by a ridiculously battered Sam Jackson, and they drive away as the tanker explodes behind them....
Nothing says Merry Christmas like an over-the-top violent amnesiac assassin movie.
The Ref - Denis Leary, Kevin Spacey, Judy Davis.
A cat burglar botches a job, and hi-jacks a car driven by a fighting couple on their way home from marriage counseling. The town goes on lock-down because of the botched job, so he hides out at the warring couples' house until the heat dies down, pretending to be their marriage counselor, as their dysfunctional family arrives for christmas eve dinner.
Mean, mean, mean movie. Laughed my ass off the first time I watched it. Leary's great as Gus, a down and out kinda guy who is constantly surprised by the level of animosity and venom on display within the family he's holding hostage. Kevin Spacey does snide well, Judy Davis does pretentious artsy-type well, and the in-laws are so over-the-top obnoxious...
A little too warm and fuzzy at the end, but starts so far away from warm and fuzzy that you know it's gotta end on a cuddly note.
Gus: Do you know what this family needs? A mute.
Scrooged - Bill Murray.
Any version of this story, where Karol Kane and David Johansen are two of the ghosts - gold, baby. Pure gold. And the scene at the end, with the big speech, is riveting. And pre-ghost scrooge as a heartless TV exec was a refreshing update to the old old money lender scrooge. As was a black, female Cratchett character.
ELF - Will Farrell.
Damn, he was fun to watch in this movie. Great supporting cast as well. And Zooey Daschnel (Sp?) is dreamy. Scenes where he confronts a dept. store Santa ("You sit on a throne of lies!!!!"), where he comes in contact with a midget children's' book author ("he's an angry elf"), and where he finds out who his father is, and that he's on the "naughty list" are particular standouts in a movie with no real weak scenes. Farrell's a fearless actor, and this movie worked only because he took the role seriously.
Scrooge - Albert Finney stars in this musical version of A Christmas Carol, released in 1970.
I can honestly say I'd never seen or even heard of this version, until my wife introduced me to it not too long into our relationship. And I was none to excited about watching it the first time, given that
a) it was yet ANOTHER adaptation of an overly adapted book.
b) it was a musical.
I'm a guy. I don't really enjoy musicals all that much. Something about my characters breaking into spontaneous song and complex dance routines makes it difficult for me to suspend disbelief and let myself be caught up in a story.
But Albert Finney's performance as both a young and old Scrooge is amazing. You can see how he became a truly miserly and loathsome creature over time. And while some of the songs make the narrative drag, "I Like Life" and "Thank You Very Much" are great fun.
The scene in Hell is suitably unpleasant, and a bit...psychedelic in nature. Almost.
Hey, it WAS released in 1970. And The Ghost of Christmas Present is a guy I'd really like to party with, ESPECIALLY if he's bringing the wine.
So, there you go. I'll probably think of three better ones the moment i post this.
Next up - five best christmas themed cartoons. exciting, isn't it?
Will Farrell, like Jim Carrey, is a limited exposure kind of actor for me.
He plays arrogant and dumb at the same time, very well.
But the joke gets old.
When he tries his hand at something different, like he did in Stranger Than Fiction and Elf, however, he impresses the crap outta me.
As it's that time of year, I'll try to come up with my $0.02 worth of five best holiday movies in the whole world, ever.
In no particular order.
Keep in mind I'm not a very sentimental guy, and my humour runs dark. Also keep in mind that when I refer to them as the best holiday movies in the whole world, ever, it's possible I'm less than 100% serious.
Long Kiss Goodnight - Geena Davis, Samuel Jackson.
A heartwarming tale of an amnesiac professional killer, living the life of suburban housewife until. She has no idea who she was before she work up on a beach, three months pregnant, many years earlier.
Until she hits a deer, driving a drunk home from her christmas party. She gradually regains her memory and job skills, just in time to save (WAY) upstate New York from a fake terrorist attack.
The attack is orchestrated by a government agency looking to increase how much money it gets from the fed government, in the coming fiscal year. In the 2nd or third (but final) thrilling climax of this movie ( too many endings, a'la Speed), she flies through the air on a string of christmas lights, and kills the father of her daughter, then is saved by a ridiculously battered Sam Jackson, and they drive away as the tanker explodes behind them....
Nothing says Merry Christmas like an over-the-top violent amnesiac assassin movie.
The Ref - Denis Leary, Kevin Spacey, Judy Davis.
A cat burglar botches a job, and hi-jacks a car driven by a fighting couple on their way home from marriage counseling. The town goes on lock-down because of the botched job, so he hides out at the warring couples' house until the heat dies down, pretending to be their marriage counselor, as their dysfunctional family arrives for christmas eve dinner.
Mean, mean, mean movie. Laughed my ass off the first time I watched it. Leary's great as Gus, a down and out kinda guy who is constantly surprised by the level of animosity and venom on display within the family he's holding hostage. Kevin Spacey does snide well, Judy Davis does pretentious artsy-type well, and the in-laws are so over-the-top obnoxious...
A little too warm and fuzzy at the end, but starts so far away from warm and fuzzy that you know it's gotta end on a cuddly note.
Gus: Do you know what this family needs? A mute.
Scrooged - Bill Murray.
Any version of this story, where Karol Kane and David Johansen are two of the ghosts - gold, baby. Pure gold. And the scene at the end, with the big speech, is riveting. And pre-ghost scrooge as a heartless TV exec was a refreshing update to the old old money lender scrooge. As was a black, female Cratchett character.
ELF - Will Farrell.
Damn, he was fun to watch in this movie. Great supporting cast as well. And Zooey Daschnel (Sp?) is dreamy. Scenes where he confronts a dept. store Santa ("You sit on a throne of lies!!!!"), where he comes in contact with a midget children's' book author ("he's an angry elf"), and where he finds out who his father is, and that he's on the "naughty list" are particular standouts in a movie with no real weak scenes. Farrell's a fearless actor, and this movie worked only because he took the role seriously.
Scrooge - Albert Finney stars in this musical version of A Christmas Carol, released in 1970.
I can honestly say I'd never seen or even heard of this version, until my wife introduced me to it not too long into our relationship. And I was none to excited about watching it the first time, given that
a) it was yet ANOTHER adaptation of an overly adapted book.
b) it was a musical.
I'm a guy. I don't really enjoy musicals all that much. Something about my characters breaking into spontaneous song and complex dance routines makes it difficult for me to suspend disbelief and let myself be caught up in a story.
But Albert Finney's performance as both a young and old Scrooge is amazing. You can see how he became a truly miserly and loathsome creature over time. And while some of the songs make the narrative drag, "I Like Life" and "Thank You Very Much" are great fun.
The scene in Hell is suitably unpleasant, and a bit...psychedelic in nature. Almost.
Hey, it WAS released in 1970. And The Ghost of Christmas Present is a guy I'd really like to party with, ESPECIALLY if he's bringing the wine.
So, there you go. I'll probably think of three better ones the moment i post this.
Next up - five best christmas themed cartoons. exciting, isn't it?
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
road rage - thanksgiving
It started innocently enough.
It really did.
I was just driving to work this morning.
A little back-filler, if you will.
I work 28 miles away from my house.
23 of those are spent on I-294, locally known as the Tri-State. the other five miles is spent on 95th street, getting to and from the highway.
In the morning, it takes me as long to drive the five miles, as it does to drive the 23.
Ok, now on with the story.
Did I mention that it all started innocently enough?
The woman in front of me at the stoplight, did not press her right foot down on the gas pedal, thus keeping her car from moving forward, when the light turned green.
To keep myself in check, I've instituted a slow 3-count for such situations. I give the driver in front of me slow three count before tapping briefly on my horn. And it's just that, a tap.
Honest.
And that's what the helmet-haired honey got from me this morning. A slow 3-count, and a brief horn tap.
Which caused her to go into a fit of rage.
6:45am, the day before Thanksgiving, on a fairly empty street, and I've managed to enrage someone.
I've got mad skills.
She's in her mid-50's, makeup looks like it was applied by a clown, afore-mentioned stiff helmet of hair, driving a Lincoln, with bobble-head dogs lined up across the back window, and she's flipping me the bird and yelling at me in her rear-view, as she slllllllllllllllooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwlllllyyyyyyyyyy began moving.
She was doing five miles an hour, to spite me, and was making sure I knew it.
NO problem. I've got three lanes to maneuver within, and no personal issues with the glowering clown in front of me, who's bent on showing me the error of my ways. I'm just trying to get to work.
And I don't even want to go to work.
So I shift over a lane, and then into the other one when it opened up. a minute later I looked over, and she had accelerated, so that she was keeping even with me, two lanes over, still visibly upset, hunched over steering wheel, taking her eyes off the road to glare at me some more.
Geezus.
As we got close to the Tri-State, I had to get over to the middle lane, to pass someone, and....There she was. She actually slipped in behind me, and was tailgating me. I was beyond amused at the situation by this point.
Was this crazy bitch going to get on the highway with me? Certainly I could lose her easily enough, if she did, but who wants to play games on a busy interstate?
I signaled to change lanes so I could get onto the highway, and she leaned on her horn.
man.....
Someone lets me over, she comes up beside me again, honks and yells one more time, and drives off, NOT getting on the highway with me.
I breathe a sigh of relief as I ease up the on-ramp and merge with traffic and continue on my merry way.
Happy Thanksgiving ma'am, whoever you are.
May you spend it alone and lonely, ignored by family and ex-friends who you've repelled by your anger and willingness to lash out randomly at the slightest provocation.
If you stop to think about how you've gotten to this point, you will doubtless blame everyone else.
It really did.
I was just driving to work this morning.
A little back-filler, if you will.
I work 28 miles away from my house.
23 of those are spent on I-294, locally known as the Tri-State. the other five miles is spent on 95th street, getting to and from the highway.
In the morning, it takes me as long to drive the five miles, as it does to drive the 23.
Ok, now on with the story.
Did I mention that it all started innocently enough?
The woman in front of me at the stoplight, did not press her right foot down on the gas pedal, thus keeping her car from moving forward, when the light turned green.
To keep myself in check, I've instituted a slow 3-count for such situations. I give the driver in front of me slow three count before tapping briefly on my horn. And it's just that, a tap.
Honest.
And that's what the helmet-haired honey got from me this morning. A slow 3-count, and a brief horn tap.
Which caused her to go into a fit of rage.
6:45am, the day before Thanksgiving, on a fairly empty street, and I've managed to enrage someone.
I've got mad skills.
She's in her mid-50's, makeup looks like it was applied by a clown, afore-mentioned stiff helmet of hair, driving a Lincoln, with bobble-head dogs lined up across the back window, and she's flipping me the bird and yelling at me in her rear-view, as she slllllllllllllllooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwlllllyyyyyyyyyy began moving.
She was doing five miles an hour, to spite me, and was making sure I knew it.
NO problem. I've got three lanes to maneuver within, and no personal issues with the glowering clown in front of me, who's bent on showing me the error of my ways. I'm just trying to get to work.
And I don't even want to go to work.
So I shift over a lane, and then into the other one when it opened up. a minute later I looked over, and she had accelerated, so that she was keeping even with me, two lanes over, still visibly upset, hunched over steering wheel, taking her eyes off the road to glare at me some more.
Geezus.
As we got close to the Tri-State, I had to get over to the middle lane, to pass someone, and....There she was. She actually slipped in behind me, and was tailgating me. I was beyond amused at the situation by this point.
Was this crazy bitch going to get on the highway with me? Certainly I could lose her easily enough, if she did, but who wants to play games on a busy interstate?
I signaled to change lanes so I could get onto the highway, and she leaned on her horn.
man.....
Someone lets me over, she comes up beside me again, honks and yells one more time, and drives off, NOT getting on the highway with me.
I breathe a sigh of relief as I ease up the on-ramp and merge with traffic and continue on my merry way.
Happy Thanksgiving ma'am, whoever you are.
May you spend it alone and lonely, ignored by family and ex-friends who you've repelled by your anger and willingness to lash out randomly at the slightest provocation.
If you stop to think about how you've gotten to this point, you will doubtless blame everyone else.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Chicago to Atlanta to Detroit to Chicago (Boy are my arms tired)
Flew to Atlanta for the weekend at 7am Friday morning, with my wife and daughter.
Man, that's early.
My wife woke up with the stomach flu at 2:30 Thursday morning, and it really kicked her ass. We were not sure when we went to bed Thursday night that we'd be going ANYWHERE Friday morning.
But when the alarm went off at 4am (jesus...) she felt fine, had no fever, so... we were off!
Got bumped up to first class for the 80 minute flight to Atlanta. The extra room was nice, as we had our 15 month old daughter in our laps.
(no way she was gonna stay in a seat, so we didn't even bother with the pretense.)
She fell asleep as we were taxi-ing for take off, and didn't wake up until after we landed.
I was really, REALLY looking forward to several cups of coffee on the flight down.
First class, they'd be bringing me coffee in a nice china cup, standing at the ready to re-fill it....
nope. They announced that the water lines had froze (!!!) overnight while the plane sat on the tarmac, because, as the flight attendant said "it was built in ecaudor, what do THEY know about cold?" This meant no coffee.
sonofa.....
weekend was ok. My wife finally embraced solid foods Saturday morning, my daughter pulled her usual "I don't like sleeping when we travel" nonsense, then we came home.
To flesh out the weekend, I'll mention that..
My two nieces, 4 and 2 I think, thought my daughter was a wonderful toy. She had a great time, but would occasionally get tired of them, or the dogs, being in her face all the time.
We ate very well.
I haven't found a polite way out of eating homemade biscuits and gravy yet. They're made with such pride, with a dozen follow up "can I get you some mores?"
I just might have to break down and embrace vegetarianism.
Ohio State crushed UofM (good)
but
Penn State made my MSU Spartans look sick. (bad).
Wife's family were the usual assortment of cool, slightly snooty at times, and sit-on-my-ass-and-not-lift-a-finger. Pretty much like any other family, I'd guess.
We were unable to get a direct flight home yesterday. NWA combines with Delta, and we STILL can't get a direct flight from Altanta to Chicago?
WTF?
So our 80 minute travel to Atlanta, was a 5 freakin' hour travel home. 2 hours to Detroit, two hours layover, 1 hour flight home.
We planned it so that our daughter would be drop-dead tired by the time the flight to Detroit took off.
She was.
We fed her as we took off, she fell asleep, just as we planned.
She woke up 35 minutes later, not at all as we planned...
We had to keep her amused for almost 90 minutes.
She's a good sport, and we didn't incur the wrath of anyone on the plane.
which was the most crowded, uncomfortable plane I've ever been on.
But for $2.00, you could buy a pair of ear buds, and watch what ended up being one episode of a bad-sitcom, followed up by 90 minutes of what amounted to advertisements for Disney vacations and Delta flights.
Seems they should have paid us the $2.00.
We landed poorly in Detroit. We... bounced. Then immediately slammed our brakes, or whatever jets do to slow down RIGHT NOW.
Everyone gasped, a couple people yelled out. My daughter - cheered. And then clapped.
Whoo Hoo! best ride ever! let's do it again.
Detroit Metro has spent a lot of $$$$, I was told by my friend Neil, to rehab portions of the airport.
Money well spent!
Additional props to Neil for the heads up on the red trolley, the fountain and the coney joint (read on...)
He travels a lot on business which is why he's so familiar with the airport.
(I prefer that explanation, over any hint that he's been hanging out in the bathrooms there...)
He steered me toward the coney place, if I was looking for something with a bit more local flavor to it.
I asked him if they would also mug me, for a true taste of Detroit.
There's an awesome tunnel from concourse B to A(or A to B, depending on what direction you'r e walking), with surround sound and light shows on the wall. as we walked down the long hallway there, the walls flashed a lightning storm. we thought about just stopping in the middle of the tunnel, and sitting down, to enjoy the show, but kept going. Big eyes and pursed lips from my daughter. She was most impressed.
You come out the other side, and there's a fantastic water fountain, perfectly placed so that little kids can go up to touch it, and then get soaked when they lean up against it and find out that water runs down the outside in a thin, invisible stream...
oopsie.
It really was a cool fountain, though.
A red train rolls by overhead, every few seconds.
There're sushi restaurants, and an Irish pub, a spa that offers 15 minute chair massages (should your chair need a massage) and a place to get a (damn good) coney dog and a mug of beer.
Maybe I'm not ready for vegetarianism, just yet.
Basically, it's an airport for little kids and stoners, two demographics that are woefully under-marketed to, by the various airlines.
All that was missing were gatorade water fountains, a place to play frisbee, and maybe a big purple dinosaur....
We get to our connecting gate with lots of time to spare, at dinner from the coney joint (the mugging comes when you pay for your food...), and tried to tire Fiona out.
I ended up flying her all over concourse A, amusing both her and dozens of fellow passengers. I was the only entertainment to be had, apparently.
I'd fly her around, and bring her back to my wife, a little out of breath. She'd go right to Wendy, then turn around and yell (And sign) for "more airplane" (comes out as "more ap-pee") and then make the plane noise I as just making.
And off we'd go again.
Man, I love being a dad.
Our flight to CHI was fairly uneventful, save for when I couldn't get the battery pack to properly attach to the portable DVD player.
My daughter was just starting to come unglued, finally, after a very long day, when I got the DVD player out of my bag.
She knows what it is, and what it means.
She smiled and started bouncing up and down, signing and saying "Baby!" over and over, because she digs the Baby Signing Time dvds, which we'll refer to as "Baby Crack" going forward.
Then I couldn't get the damn thing to turn on.
Sorry, darlin. No baby signing time for you. I was just messing with you.
Ha Ha! (think Nelson from The Simpsons)
I felt like a total bastard....
But finally got the bad boy to work, she got quiet and happy, and I was not a bad dad anymore.
We finally pulled into the garage at 9pm, an hour and a half AFTER her bedtime.
We were beat.
left the suitcases packed, put the kid to bed, and fell over.
A good weekend. We traveled safely, got along with everyone, and no drunk jackass drove into the front of my house, like happened the last time we got together with my wife's family....
whoo hoo!
Man, that's early.
My wife woke up with the stomach flu at 2:30 Thursday morning, and it really kicked her ass. We were not sure when we went to bed Thursday night that we'd be going ANYWHERE Friday morning.
But when the alarm went off at 4am (jesus...) she felt fine, had no fever, so... we were off!
Got bumped up to first class for the 80 minute flight to Atlanta. The extra room was nice, as we had our 15 month old daughter in our laps.
(no way she was gonna stay in a seat, so we didn't even bother with the pretense.)
She fell asleep as we were taxi-ing for take off, and didn't wake up until after we landed.
I was really, REALLY looking forward to several cups of coffee on the flight down.
First class, they'd be bringing me coffee in a nice china cup, standing at the ready to re-fill it....
nope. They announced that the water lines had froze (!!!) overnight while the plane sat on the tarmac, because, as the flight attendant said "it was built in ecaudor, what do THEY know about cold?" This meant no coffee.
sonofa.....
weekend was ok. My wife finally embraced solid foods Saturday morning, my daughter pulled her usual "I don't like sleeping when we travel" nonsense, then we came home.
To flesh out the weekend, I'll mention that..
My two nieces, 4 and 2 I think, thought my daughter was a wonderful toy. She had a great time, but would occasionally get tired of them, or the dogs, being in her face all the time.
We ate very well.
I haven't found a polite way out of eating homemade biscuits and gravy yet. They're made with such pride, with a dozen follow up "can I get you some mores?"
I just might have to break down and embrace vegetarianism.
Ohio State crushed UofM (good)
but
Penn State made my MSU Spartans look sick. (bad).
Wife's family were the usual assortment of cool, slightly snooty at times, and sit-on-my-ass-and-not-lift-a-finger. Pretty much like any other family, I'd guess.
We were unable to get a direct flight home yesterday. NWA combines with Delta, and we STILL can't get a direct flight from Altanta to Chicago?
WTF?
So our 80 minute travel to Atlanta, was a 5 freakin' hour travel home. 2 hours to Detroit, two hours layover, 1 hour flight home.
We planned it so that our daughter would be drop-dead tired by the time the flight to Detroit took off.
She was.
We fed her as we took off, she fell asleep, just as we planned.
She woke up 35 minutes later, not at all as we planned...
We had to keep her amused for almost 90 minutes.
She's a good sport, and we didn't incur the wrath of anyone on the plane.
which was the most crowded, uncomfortable plane I've ever been on.
But for $2.00, you could buy a pair of ear buds, and watch what ended up being one episode of a bad-sitcom, followed up by 90 minutes of what amounted to advertisements for Disney vacations and Delta flights.
Seems they should have paid us the $2.00.
We landed poorly in Detroit. We... bounced. Then immediately slammed our brakes, or whatever jets do to slow down RIGHT NOW.
Everyone gasped, a couple people yelled out. My daughter - cheered. And then clapped.
Whoo Hoo! best ride ever! let's do it again.
Detroit Metro has spent a lot of $$$$, I was told by my friend Neil, to rehab portions of the airport.
Money well spent!
Additional props to Neil for the heads up on the red trolley, the fountain and the coney joint (read on...)
He travels a lot on business which is why he's so familiar with the airport.
(I prefer that explanation, over any hint that he's been hanging out in the bathrooms there...)
He steered me toward the coney place, if I was looking for something with a bit more local flavor to it.
I asked him if they would also mug me, for a true taste of Detroit.
There's an awesome tunnel from concourse B to A(or A to B, depending on what direction you'r e walking), with surround sound and light shows on the wall. as we walked down the long hallway there, the walls flashed a lightning storm. we thought about just stopping in the middle of the tunnel, and sitting down, to enjoy the show, but kept going. Big eyes and pursed lips from my daughter. She was most impressed.
You come out the other side, and there's a fantastic water fountain, perfectly placed so that little kids can go up to touch it, and then get soaked when they lean up against it and find out that water runs down the outside in a thin, invisible stream...
oopsie.
It really was a cool fountain, though.
A red train rolls by overhead, every few seconds.
There're sushi restaurants, and an Irish pub, a spa that offers 15 minute chair massages (should your chair need a massage) and a place to get a (damn good) coney dog and a mug of beer.
Maybe I'm not ready for vegetarianism, just yet.
Basically, it's an airport for little kids and stoners, two demographics that are woefully under-marketed to, by the various airlines.
All that was missing were gatorade water fountains, a place to play frisbee, and maybe a big purple dinosaur....
We get to our connecting gate with lots of time to spare, at dinner from the coney joint (the mugging comes when you pay for your food...), and tried to tire Fiona out.
I ended up flying her all over concourse A, amusing both her and dozens of fellow passengers. I was the only entertainment to be had, apparently.
I'd fly her around, and bring her back to my wife, a little out of breath. She'd go right to Wendy, then turn around and yell (And sign) for "more airplane" (comes out as "more ap-pee") and then make the plane noise I as just making.
And off we'd go again.
Man, I love being a dad.
Our flight to CHI was fairly uneventful, save for when I couldn't get the battery pack to properly attach to the portable DVD player.
My daughter was just starting to come unglued, finally, after a very long day, when I got the DVD player out of my bag.
She knows what it is, and what it means.
She smiled and started bouncing up and down, signing and saying "Baby!" over and over, because she digs the Baby Signing Time dvds, which we'll refer to as "Baby Crack" going forward.
Then I couldn't get the damn thing to turn on.
Sorry, darlin. No baby signing time for you. I was just messing with you.
Ha Ha! (think Nelson from The Simpsons)
I felt like a total bastard....
But finally got the bad boy to work, she got quiet and happy, and I was not a bad dad anymore.
We finally pulled into the garage at 9pm, an hour and a half AFTER her bedtime.
We were beat.
left the suitcases packed, put the kid to bed, and fell over.
A good weekend. We traveled safely, got along with everyone, and no drunk jackass drove into the front of my house, like happened the last time we got together with my wife's family....
whoo hoo!
Thursday, November 13, 2008
no sooner had I published the last post, then I realized I missed some truly awesome women-in-rock songs.
Totally John Cusack'd my list...
I swear I pressed the publish post button on the last post, and immediately heard Mandinka, by Sinead O'Conner, in my head.
Her album, Lion and The Cobra, came outta nowhere in late 80's and knocked me on my college-radio dj'ing ass.
Mandinka, Put Your Hands On Me... floored me.
I had just about picked myself up, when Emperor's New Clothes showed up on her follow up.
"What about whats-her-name, you know, uh....The Pretenders singer?" my wife asked.
Oh my christ, how could I have forgotten Chrissie Hynde?
I remembered Joan Jett, but forgot Chrissie Hynde?
Does Zombie, by The Cranberries count? Not sure if Delores wrote it, or if one of the guys in the band did. Was she just the vocalist?
it rocks, for sure.
Does Shame on You really connect with me on the same level as Chicken Man? Nope. How'd I forget Chicken Man, also by the Indigo Girls?
One of my favorite artists is Suzanne Vega, but not 'cuz she rocks.
Except she really sorta did, on 99.9 degrees and Blood Makes Noise.
and to a slightly lesser degree on Left of Center.
Siouxie and the banshees? Cities In Dust, or later-era alt. rock classics like Peek-a-Boo and Kiss them for Me are certainly worthy songs.
But is the simple fact that I didn't remember these songs, these great artists, when compiling my initial list, proof that they didn't belong on my top 10 desert Island list?
Or is it more indicative of the fact that my brain's failing?
History will (already has, probably) decided on the relative importance and staying power of all the above-referenced.
But for my own tastes, Should Mandinka have made the cut, instead of Seether? Probably. I still hear it once in awhile on the radio, and sing along with it at the top of my lungs, failing miserably each time to hit the high notes.
And shouldn't that be the defining characteristic of a great rock and roll song?
If you find yourself singing along to it at the top of your lungs, completely un-selfconcsiously, and the act of doing so brings you great joy, momentarily elevating you...... you have a winner.
Totally John Cusack'd my list...
I swear I pressed the publish post button on the last post, and immediately heard Mandinka, by Sinead O'Conner, in my head.
Her album, Lion and The Cobra, came outta nowhere in late 80's and knocked me on my college-radio dj'ing ass.
Mandinka, Put Your Hands On Me... floored me.
I had just about picked myself up, when Emperor's New Clothes showed up on her follow up.
"What about whats-her-name, you know, uh....The Pretenders singer?" my wife asked.
Oh my christ, how could I have forgotten Chrissie Hynde?
I remembered Joan Jett, but forgot Chrissie Hynde?
Does Zombie, by The Cranberries count? Not sure if Delores wrote it, or if one of the guys in the band did. Was she just the vocalist?
it rocks, for sure.
Does Shame on You really connect with me on the same level as Chicken Man? Nope. How'd I forget Chicken Man, also by the Indigo Girls?
One of my favorite artists is Suzanne Vega, but not 'cuz she rocks.
Except she really sorta did, on 99.9 degrees and Blood Makes Noise.
and to a slightly lesser degree on Left of Center.
Siouxie and the banshees? Cities In Dust, or later-era alt. rock classics like Peek-a-Boo and Kiss them for Me are certainly worthy songs.
But is the simple fact that I didn't remember these songs, these great artists, when compiling my initial list, proof that they didn't belong on my top 10 desert Island list?
Or is it more indicative of the fact that my brain's failing?
History will (already has, probably) decided on the relative importance and staying power of all the above-referenced.
But for my own tastes, Should Mandinka have made the cut, instead of Seether? Probably. I still hear it once in awhile on the radio, and sing along with it at the top of my lungs, failing miserably each time to hit the high notes.
And shouldn't that be the defining characteristic of a great rock and roll song?
If you find yourself singing along to it at the top of your lungs, completely un-selfconcsiously, and the act of doing so brings you great joy, momentarily elevating you...... you have a winner.
for my little woman who rocks
was driving home the other day, when I caught one of my all-time favorite songs on WXRT. They were playing their "women in rock" segment. Artist was PJ Harvey, song was Sheela-Na-Gig. It was from her debut in 1992.
In one of those "only happens on TV/ In The Movies" moments, I was trying desperately to find a hole in the traffic, so I could get past some fuktard who was doing 60mph in the left lane on the Tri-State. With 1/2 mile of open lane in front of him.
In one of those "only happens on TV/ In The Movies" moments, I was trying desperately to find a hole in the traffic, so I could get past some fuktard who was doing 60mph in the left lane on the Tri-State. With 1/2 mile of open lane in front of him.
I really hate that.
Anyhow, as I see a convoluted but technically possible route across two lanes, and then back, The opening bars of the song start playing.
I had my own soundtrack for aproximately 3 minutes and 20 seconds.
Song started, I turned it up and punched the gas pedal.
It was one of those brief, fleeting moments when everything aligns on a cosmic level, and is just as quickly gone again.
But when you're actually in the moment, you're....high.
I had time to contemplate the idea of a special segment for women in rock, a few minutes later. WXRT plays plenty of songs by female artists.
But went out of their way to celebrate specific artists, for five minutes, two days a week.
They tend to be overshadowed by the pure abundance of men in rock. Also, it tends to come in phases. There will be brief periods where you'll find a lot of girlbands on the airwaves, then you don't anymore.
Heard another one of my personal faves, driving home from the train last night.
So decided to get all "High Fidelity" about it, and come up with a top-10 desert island list of some of my favorite"women in rock" songs. This is by no means a comprehensive list, and, aside from the first couple, are really not in any kind of order.
For my little woman of rock....
1. Sheela Na Gig - PJ Harvey
2. Feed the Tree - Belly
3. Seether - Veruca Salt
4. Shame on You - Indigo Girls
5. Cornflake Girl - Tori Amos
6. Homestead - Michelle Shocked
7. Doll Parts - Hole
8. My Sister - Juliana Hatfield
9. Last Splash - The Breeders
10. Pissing in the River - Patti Smith
Honorable mentions:
Pass you By - Gillian Welch
Sweet Relief - Maria Mckee
I know What Boys Like - The Waitresses
We Got The Beat - The Go-Go's
And like in "High Fidelity" you know damn well that I added and subtracted from the above list many times.
I left some great rock and roll songs off the above list, just because... they're not my favorites. I don't even care for 'em that much, but recognize them for what they are.
Do You Wanna Touch Me? - Joan Jett
Barracuda - Heart
Thing Called Love - Bonnie Raitt
And very talented female artists were left off, cuz... they don't really rock.
my $0.02, anyhow.
1. Sheela Na Gig - PJ Harvey
2. Feed the Tree - Belly
3. Seether - Veruca Salt
4. Shame on You - Indigo Girls
5. Cornflake Girl - Tori Amos
6. Homestead - Michelle Shocked
7. Doll Parts - Hole
8. My Sister - Juliana Hatfield
9. Last Splash - The Breeders
10. Pissing in the River - Patti Smith
Honorable mentions:
Pass you By - Gillian Welch
Sweet Relief - Maria Mckee
I know What Boys Like - The Waitresses
We Got The Beat - The Go-Go's
And like in "High Fidelity" you know damn well that I added and subtracted from the above list many times.
I left some great rock and roll songs off the above list, just because... they're not my favorites. I don't even care for 'em that much, but recognize them for what they are.
Do You Wanna Touch Me? - Joan Jett
Barracuda - Heart
Thing Called Love - Bonnie Raitt
And very talented female artists were left off, cuz... they don't really rock.
my $0.02, anyhow.
southern living with gardens and guns
First saw this magazine while waiting for a flight out of Gulfport, MS this past March.
My wife came back from her v. short stroll (not a big airport) laughing.
She assumed it was a joke at first, some kind of satirical publication, but discovered this was not the case.
http://gardenandgun.com/
Garden and Gun is a magazine that celebrates the soul of the New South. Southern culture, arts, food, hunting, etc.
I'm not sure where the New South is, or what they did with the Old south.
I know that old new york was once New Amsterdam, but that's off-topic.
The magazine has gorgeous photography, and decent writing, and is aimed at the wealthier end of the new south, the new south that quail hunts and cares about hand crafted wood kayaks and art exhibits and such.
But damn, couldn't they have come up with a title for the magazine that wasn't so close to punchline for a southern-stereotype joke?
Southern Living magazine is less obvious of a punchline, unless you're not from the south, and lived there for a period fo time, then fled back to the north.
like....me.
We lived in the deep south for a couple of years, and still visit multiple times a year.
I recall sitting in my converted chicken coop of a rental house, in the middle of nowhere MI, discussing the move with family members.
"how different can it realy be down there, all bullshit aside?"
So we moved, and quickly found out.
Again, not sure where the New South is, or what designates it as "New", but I'm pretty sure I moved to the old south...the really old south.
a week after we moved, we caught a free concert sponsored by the local modern rock radio station. Collective Soul at the gulf coast coliseum.
the attendees looked just like the friends we left in the north, at first.
Until a heavy set woman in a tube top climbed up on the shoulders of her skinny boyfriend, and started waving the confed. flag over her head, screaming " whoo hoo! whoo hoo!" over and over and over.
That was our first big clue that things were different.
A few nights later, we were harassed by local law enforcement for having glass containers on their litter-strewn beach, after we had fireworks shot at us by a fun-loving family celebrating the 4th, nearby.
we apologized for our error, and said we'd leave. He heard our lack-of-accent, and asked where we were from, with suspicion in his voice.
We told him, then asked him about the fireworks, he said that there was no law against fireworks, just glass containers, and mentioned that the dog wasn't allowed on the beach, either.
There were other dogs on the beach, of coruse.
While we lived down south, the state in which we were residing, was discussing the possibility of upping the age of consent from 13 to 16.
logic being that doing so would decrease the # of teen pregnancies.
I don't remember the proposed change passing.
The casual use of (to my northern ears) inflammatory racial slurs never ceased to shock me.
"which one of the _________ hit you with the forklift?" my white dock foreman asked me after I got sideswiped by a forklift that was not entering and exiting the warehouse door in the middle, as he should have been.
The same guy was sitting on the tailgate of his truck an hour later, eating lunch with the forklift drivers.
The guy that sold me my work boots had "reb" tattooed on his left ring finger. Yep, he was married to the rebel flag.
I can recall with clarity having lunch at Chimneys, a water-front seafood restaurant on stilts, when CNN anounced best and worst states to live in.
MS was 49th best to live in, and to raise kids in.
Thank god for Louisiana.
I could go on and on, and have done so in the past. Some of the stuff's just crazy funny, like news articles post-hurricane George about gator farmers calling on sherrif's dept to help them round up gators that had gotten loose and what I imagined their response to be.
But for every humorous moment, every cool new experience like gigging for flounder or scuba diving, every pleasant realization that folks tended to talk to each other more, and life was slower paced in a good way, there are three stories like the ones I related above.
So that's what Southern Living means to me, and I'd pay to read THAT magazine, instead of the one that gives you recipes for rolls that explode...
http://www.southernliving.com/southern/foods/tr_recipes/article/0,28012,605096,00.html
On the other hand, I'm the kind of guy that would try that recipe, in a safe environment, just to see what would happen...
My wife came back from her v. short stroll (not a big airport) laughing.
She assumed it was a joke at first, some kind of satirical publication, but discovered this was not the case.
http://gardenandgun.com/
Garden and Gun is a magazine that celebrates the soul of the New South. Southern culture, arts, food, hunting, etc.
I'm not sure where the New South is, or what they did with the Old south.
I know that old new york was once New Amsterdam, but that's off-topic.
The magazine has gorgeous photography, and decent writing, and is aimed at the wealthier end of the new south, the new south that quail hunts and cares about hand crafted wood kayaks and art exhibits and such.
But damn, couldn't they have come up with a title for the magazine that wasn't so close to punchline for a southern-stereotype joke?
Southern Living magazine is less obvious of a punchline, unless you're not from the south, and lived there for a period fo time, then fled back to the north.
like....me.
We lived in the deep south for a couple of years, and still visit multiple times a year.
I recall sitting in my converted chicken coop of a rental house, in the middle of nowhere MI, discussing the move with family members.
"how different can it realy be down there, all bullshit aside?"
So we moved, and quickly found out.
Again, not sure where the New South is, or what designates it as "New", but I'm pretty sure I moved to the old south...the really old south.
a week after we moved, we caught a free concert sponsored by the local modern rock radio station. Collective Soul at the gulf coast coliseum.
the attendees looked just like the friends we left in the north, at first.
Until a heavy set woman in a tube top climbed up on the shoulders of her skinny boyfriend, and started waving the confed. flag over her head, screaming " whoo hoo! whoo hoo!" over and over and over.
That was our first big clue that things were different.
A few nights later, we were harassed by local law enforcement for having glass containers on their litter-strewn beach, after we had fireworks shot at us by a fun-loving family celebrating the 4th, nearby.
we apologized for our error, and said we'd leave. He heard our lack-of-accent, and asked where we were from, with suspicion in his voice.
We told him, then asked him about the fireworks, he said that there was no law against fireworks, just glass containers, and mentioned that the dog wasn't allowed on the beach, either.
There were other dogs on the beach, of coruse.
While we lived down south, the state in which we were residing, was discussing the possibility of upping the age of consent from 13 to 16.
logic being that doing so would decrease the # of teen pregnancies.
I don't remember the proposed change passing.
The casual use of (to my northern ears) inflammatory racial slurs never ceased to shock me.
"which one of the _________ hit you with the forklift?" my white dock foreman asked me after I got sideswiped by a forklift that was not entering and exiting the warehouse door in the middle, as he should have been.
The same guy was sitting on the tailgate of his truck an hour later, eating lunch with the forklift drivers.
The guy that sold me my work boots had "reb" tattooed on his left ring finger. Yep, he was married to the rebel flag.
I can recall with clarity having lunch at Chimneys, a water-front seafood restaurant on stilts, when CNN anounced best and worst states to live in.
MS was 49th best to live in, and to raise kids in.
Thank god for Louisiana.
I could go on and on, and have done so in the past. Some of the stuff's just crazy funny, like news articles post-hurricane George about gator farmers calling on sherrif's dept to help them round up gators that had gotten loose and what I imagined their response to be.
But for every humorous moment, every cool new experience like gigging for flounder or scuba diving, every pleasant realization that folks tended to talk to each other more, and life was slower paced in a good way, there are three stories like the ones I related above.
So that's what Southern Living means to me, and I'd pay to read THAT magazine, instead of the one that gives you recipes for rolls that explode...
http://www.southernliving.com/southern/foods/tr_recipes/article/0,28012,605096,00.html
On the other hand, I'm the kind of guy that would try that recipe, in a safe environment, just to see what would happen...
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Man, that was awesome.
I got a bit emotional last night, after the polls closed on the west coast, and they declared Obama the winner.
Watching unheard-of-large crowds turn out in Grant Park and NYC, just to watch election returns, made the hair on my arms stand up.
Know this -
I've been an Obama supporter since he announced he was running for president.
I find something in Hilary Clinton personally repellent. I hoped beyond hope that Obama would somehow beat her in the primaries.
If he had not done so, I would not have voted yesterday.
I was a fan of McCain in 2000. His campaign tactics and message, and vp candidate choice this go-round were repugnant to me.
Let's get us a girl to run as vp, cuz a girl just lost the bitterly fought primary on the other side.
So they went out and found the most vacuous, annoying and least qualified female politician they could.
And then the campaign just got sillier and sillier.
Not at any time were we given a clear, positive message as to why we should vote for them. Instead, we were told to be afraid, that his opponent didn't love america like us folks do, that he's a terrorist hugging baby killing commie that's gonna take all my hard earned money and give it to folks who don't work for a living. Be afraid, be afraid, be afraid. And don't pay attention to our own past transgressions, connections to whacko churches, friendships with people like Liddy, Keating five scandals, et al.
Nope. just pretty please be afraid. Oh, and Obama's middle names Hussein, and you KNOW what THAT means....
Fuck you. Selling fear to the rubes worked long enough to drive us all collectively into a ditch, it's not going to work this time around.
Take your mean-spirited vaguely racist bullshit hyperbole elsewhere, we're not willing to eat any more of it.
As a white guy who's been pissed off about our political situation for eight years; a guy who was way ahead of the curve on being against the Iraq war, way ahead of the curve in knowing that our current president is, basically, a moron; a guy who has been personally offended on a moral and ethical level by a seemingly constant stream of lies and bad behaviour on the part of republican officials; I firmly believe that any halfway competent democrat that ISNT H. Clinton, could have won this election.
I'm very glad that the person to do it is Barack Obama, but hundreds of thousands of new registered voters, record voting turnout, and the aforementioned crowds gathered just to watch election returns, is not because the dem candidate was black, or a female, or a circus midget, as much as it is about how disgusted, finally FINALLY, the majority of Americans have become with the way things have been run.
Coupled with an amazingly well run campaign, and eloquent, intelligent public speaker who talked of hope and of all of us coming together to restore America to what it should be.
President-Elect Obama, if you are even ½ as genuine as you appear to be, I'm very excited for the next four years. And holy crap, but I am relieved that the painful ordeal of the Bush years is finally drawing to a close.
I got a bit emotional last night, after the polls closed on the west coast, and they declared Obama the winner.
Watching unheard-of-large crowds turn out in Grant Park and NYC, just to watch election returns, made the hair on my arms stand up.
Know this -
I've been an Obama supporter since he announced he was running for president.
I find something in Hilary Clinton personally repellent. I hoped beyond hope that Obama would somehow beat her in the primaries.
If he had not done so, I would not have voted yesterday.
I was a fan of McCain in 2000. His campaign tactics and message, and vp candidate choice this go-round were repugnant to me.
Let's get us a girl to run as vp, cuz a girl just lost the bitterly fought primary on the other side.
So they went out and found the most vacuous, annoying and least qualified female politician they could.
And then the campaign just got sillier and sillier.
Not at any time were we given a clear, positive message as to why we should vote for them. Instead, we were told to be afraid, that his opponent didn't love america like us folks do, that he's a terrorist hugging baby killing commie that's gonna take all my hard earned money and give it to folks who don't work for a living. Be afraid, be afraid, be afraid. And don't pay attention to our own past transgressions, connections to whacko churches, friendships with people like Liddy, Keating five scandals, et al.
Nope. just pretty please be afraid. Oh, and Obama's middle names Hussein, and you KNOW what THAT means....
Fuck you. Selling fear to the rubes worked long enough to drive us all collectively into a ditch, it's not going to work this time around.
Take your mean-spirited vaguely racist bullshit hyperbole elsewhere, we're not willing to eat any more of it.
As a white guy who's been pissed off about our political situation for eight years; a guy who was way ahead of the curve on being against the Iraq war, way ahead of the curve in knowing that our current president is, basically, a moron; a guy who has been personally offended on a moral and ethical level by a seemingly constant stream of lies and bad behaviour on the part of republican officials; I firmly believe that any halfway competent democrat that ISNT H. Clinton, could have won this election.
I'm very glad that the person to do it is Barack Obama, but hundreds of thousands of new registered voters, record voting turnout, and the aforementioned crowds gathered just to watch election returns, is not because the dem candidate was black, or a female, or a circus midget, as much as it is about how disgusted, finally FINALLY, the majority of Americans have become with the way things have been run.
Coupled with an amazingly well run campaign, and eloquent, intelligent public speaker who talked of hope and of all of us coming together to restore America to what it should be.
President-Elect Obama, if you are even ½ as genuine as you appear to be, I'm very excited for the next four years. And holy crap, but I am relieved that the painful ordeal of the Bush years is finally drawing to a close.
Milennium Park, 11/2/08
So, went downtown yesterday with Wife, baby and 10 year old nephew, for his belated birthday adventure. What do you give kids who get everything they could possibly want for their birthday and Christmas, from their parents and paternal grandparents?
An afternoon in the city, with fun, lunch, and a trip to the Borders downtown. Start it off with an El train ride from Midway.
They dig it, we dig it.
Anyhow, it was 70 and sunny in downtown Chicago yesterday. After lunch, and before the bookstore, we walked over to the park.
I had brought my frisbee with us, as Andrew and I had a lot of fun throwing one around last summer in the park.
we were looking for a suitable place to throw one around, when we passed the Pritzger Pavillion. There's a huge expanse of lawn there, criss-crossed overhead by rounded steel girders and a pretty impressive array of speakers.
I really need to catch a concert there at some point...
So as we started walking across the lawn there, we heard trains. Coming into station, leaving station, etc.
There's an El Line that dead ends in Grant Park, you walk over it to get to the park from MI ave.
Took me a few minutes to realize that the tracks ended a couple blocks south of where we were at.
What the...?
Just for kicks, the folks that run the park were playing train noises through the speaker system.
In surround sound.
As I realized this, I noticed a few people scattered around, just lying on their backs on the grass. Good choice, my fellow travelers.
We started throwing the frisbee, as trains pulled in and out all around us, rail cars were connected and disconnected, conductors hollered for people to board, steam was released from brakes....
If ever I decide to, uh....be kind to myself again, I believe it will be on the lawn of the Jay Pritzger Pavillion, on a unseasonably mild fall afternoon, with a good friend or two, and a frisbee....
An afternoon in the city, with fun, lunch, and a trip to the Borders downtown. Start it off with an El train ride from Midway.
They dig it, we dig it.
Anyhow, it was 70 and sunny in downtown Chicago yesterday. After lunch, and before the bookstore, we walked over to the park.
I had brought my frisbee with us, as Andrew and I had a lot of fun throwing one around last summer in the park.
we were looking for a suitable place to throw one around, when we passed the Pritzger Pavillion. There's a huge expanse of lawn there, criss-crossed overhead by rounded steel girders and a pretty impressive array of speakers.
I really need to catch a concert there at some point...
So as we started walking across the lawn there, we heard trains. Coming into station, leaving station, etc.
There's an El Line that dead ends in Grant Park, you walk over it to get to the park from MI ave.
Took me a few minutes to realize that the tracks ended a couple blocks south of where we were at.
What the...?
Just for kicks, the folks that run the park were playing train noises through the speaker system.
In surround sound.
As I realized this, I noticed a few people scattered around, just lying on their backs on the grass. Good choice, my fellow travelers.
We started throwing the frisbee, as trains pulled in and out all around us, rail cars were connected and disconnected, conductors hollered for people to board, steam was released from brakes....
If ever I decide to, uh....be kind to myself again, I believe it will be on the lawn of the Jay Pritzger Pavillion, on a unseasonably mild fall afternoon, with a good friend or two, and a frisbee....
Saturday, November 1, 2008
ah, this internet silliness.
high speed internet has enabled me to do things on the 'net I previously would not have bothered with.
like this here.
"you have to get a facebook page now!" an old friend of mine urged.
"what for?" I ask
"That's just it, you don't know why, until you do it..."
Generally speaking, I like to know why i'm a gonna do somethin', afore I do it.
Cause, effect.
neat, tidy.
but I did as he suggested, and found him on it as he urged. Having already found him a few years ago, I did not consider him to be misplaced...
And then I realized - I have no idea how this shit works. Great, I found Billy.
And I can see all his virtual friends. and I can ask to be his friend.
And.... then what?
I expect there's some way to actually find out what all he's posted there, he claims it's the best source for finding out what's been going on in his life.
Better than asking him, and him telling me....
I get it, though. You spend a lot of time updating stuff like that, for the purpose of sharing your life efficiently, why not direct folks to it?
Found my ol' buddy Greg T. on it as well. I had not considered him mis-placed, either.
But I asked real nice, so maybe they'll agree to be my virtual friends...
If not, They're still my real life flesh and blood friends, and I guess that will just have to do...
high speed internet has enabled me to do things on the 'net I previously would not have bothered with.
like this here.
"you have to get a facebook page now!" an old friend of mine urged.
"what for?" I ask
"That's just it, you don't know why, until you do it..."
Generally speaking, I like to know why i'm a gonna do somethin', afore I do it.
Cause, effect.
neat, tidy.
but I did as he suggested, and found him on it as he urged. Having already found him a few years ago, I did not consider him to be misplaced...
And then I realized - I have no idea how this shit works. Great, I found Billy.
And I can see all his virtual friends. and I can ask to be his friend.
And.... then what?
I expect there's some way to actually find out what all he's posted there, he claims it's the best source for finding out what's been going on in his life.
Better than asking him, and him telling me....
I get it, though. You spend a lot of time updating stuff like that, for the purpose of sharing your life efficiently, why not direct folks to it?
Found my ol' buddy Greg T. on it as well. I had not considered him mis-placed, either.
But I asked real nice, so maybe they'll agree to be my virtual friends...
If not, They're still my real life flesh and blood friends, and I guess that will just have to do...
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
more embarassing myself on the 'net
with co-writing credit going to my good friend, Rick.
Gonna rent me a room where I wont stay.
gonna build me a boat gonna sail away
Gonna dig me a moat to keep people away
Gonna give away my coat before the sleeves fray
(bridge)
I'm gonna run out of the right things to say
I'll try to forget you, every day
I'm gonna run out of the right things to say
I'll try to forget you, every day
(chorus)
Gonna love you Gonna leave you
Bow before you And deceive you
I'll beg for your return, Smiling as you walk away
Gonna wake up and drink myself sober
Gonna leave this town gonna start over
Gonna trade in my honda for an old land rover,
Gonna slap it in gear and run for cover
Gonna rent me a room where I wont stay.
gonna build me a boat gonna sail away
Gonna dig me a moat to keep people away
Gonna give away my coat before the sleeves fray
(bridge)
I'm gonna run out of the right things to say
I'll try to forget you, every day
I'm gonna run out of the right things to say
I'll try to forget you, every day
(chorus)
Gonna love you Gonna leave you
Bow before you And deceive you
I'll beg for your return, Smiling as you walk away
Gonna wake up and drink myself sober
Gonna leave this town gonna start over
Gonna trade in my honda for an old land rover,
Gonna slap it in gear and run for cover
to sleep, perchance to fish...
love of fishing, dream of fishing....
I fish.
It's one of my few real passions outside of my wife and child.
It affords me the luxury of removing myself from everything else, for a few hours. Like a really good concert, but quieter, and in more pleasant surroundings.
I'm not particularly obsessive about it, certainly not to the point where I own 8 tackle boxes, 12 rod/reel combos, participate in tournaments, etc.
But I know what I'm doing.
And this is what frustrates me. I know what I'm doing.
I'm....adept.
Until I fall asleep.
I dream about fishing, frequently. And in every case, my dream fishing experiences are straight up fiascos.
I hardly ever even get to the point where I have a line in the water, and never catch fish.
One mis-step after another. poles break, I forget things and have to go back for them, water levels are too high, parks are closed, lines are tangled....
the list of obstacles that prevent me from fishing competently in my sleep, are endless.
I bring this up only because it happened last night.
last night it was a kayak that was not watertight, and hopelessly tangled fishing line, after making 8 trips back to the house to find things...
I'm not even sure I can categorize these as "dreams about fishing", as I rarely fish in them.
I could think of them as "dreams about NOT catching fish" but that would include every dream I have....
what would freud have to say about this?
I fish.
It's one of my few real passions outside of my wife and child.
It affords me the luxury of removing myself from everything else, for a few hours. Like a really good concert, but quieter, and in more pleasant surroundings.
I'm not particularly obsessive about it, certainly not to the point where I own 8 tackle boxes, 12 rod/reel combos, participate in tournaments, etc.
But I know what I'm doing.
And this is what frustrates me. I know what I'm doing.
I'm....adept.
Until I fall asleep.
I dream about fishing, frequently. And in every case, my dream fishing experiences are straight up fiascos.
I hardly ever even get to the point where I have a line in the water, and never catch fish.
One mis-step after another. poles break, I forget things and have to go back for them, water levels are too high, parks are closed, lines are tangled....
the list of obstacles that prevent me from fishing competently in my sleep, are endless.
I bring this up only because it happened last night.
last night it was a kayak that was not watertight, and hopelessly tangled fishing line, after making 8 trips back to the house to find things...
I'm not even sure I can categorize these as "dreams about fishing", as I rarely fish in them.
I could think of them as "dreams about NOT catching fish" but that would include every dream I have....
what would freud have to say about this?
no mas l'hospital, por favor
That's supposed to mean "no more hospital, please" as I dust off my high school french...
Why? Read on.
So, at age 40.75, I had my first hospital experience as a patient last week.
Overall, I really can't recommend it to anyone.
I was in a freezing cold waiting room for over three hours, then in a bed in ER for another seven, most of which was spent just a curtain away from a hardcore drug addict whom, I'm told, is brought in about once a week when her neighbors call the police.
They couldn't get her to wake up, while at the same time they couldn't get her to stay laying down. Guess I'm glad she wasn't awake, as that would not have made my morning anymore pleasant.
They ran a large # of high tech tests on me, in hopes of figuring out why I was so sore I couldn't hardly stand up straight, and why my white cell count was aprox 3-4x the ideal level.
the transport guys would push me down a maze of hallways, and then leave my outside a seemingly random door, with a vague promise that someone would be seeing me shortly. I'd have a little doze there in the hallway, folks chatting with one another as they walked by. I felt invisible.
After the second or third such trip, I toyed with the idea of pulling my bedsheet up over my head while laying there in the hallway, just to see if anyone noticed. I hadn't slept in a couple nights by this point, so my judgement was probably not the best.
tests completed, blood drawn 3x already, urine analyzed, they finally admitted me. There were adult rooms on what had been their pediatric unit. So I had a pink room with giraffes painted on the walls outside my door. and big windows out into the hallway, designed for nurses to be able to keep an eye on the kids as they passed by, I assume.
Wasn't allowed food nor drink, had an IV plugged into crook of my elbow.
I'm right handed, so of course they stuck it on that side.
And then told me to try not to bend my arm.
For two days.
Oh, and I had to pee into a bottle, while wearing a hospital gown. But I couldn't bend my arm.
How many hands does it take to aim and hold a bottle, whilst lifting a hospital gown ? I think five would have been a good number, as long as at least three of the hands were attached to bendable arms. But I'm a bright lad, and figured things out.
As I'm of irish descent, big, and live in south suburban Chicago, I had to convince each doctor I spoke with that no, I'm really not an alcoholic, and wasn't out binge drinking miller lites while power eating bratwursts the night before, with all my alcoholic brat wurst eating buddies.
That got pretty old.
I was profiled!
I relayed this to a black co-worker, for the laughter I figured it would bring him. He thought it was hilarious.
Solidarity, brother.
We can't let the man keep us down.
when you're finally off food restriction, and allowed to eat again, you don't want it to be hospital food. Granted I had no appetite, even after going without food for three days, so I wasn't going to eat much. But even with such diminished needs and expectations, Saturday's breakfast fell way short.
Man, I really hope this is not a re-curring ailment, as it oftentimes can be....
Why? Read on.
So, at age 40.75, I had my first hospital experience as a patient last week.
Overall, I really can't recommend it to anyone.
I was in a freezing cold waiting room for over three hours, then in a bed in ER for another seven, most of which was spent just a curtain away from a hardcore drug addict whom, I'm told, is brought in about once a week when her neighbors call the police.
They couldn't get her to wake up, while at the same time they couldn't get her to stay laying down. Guess I'm glad she wasn't awake, as that would not have made my morning anymore pleasant.
They ran a large # of high tech tests on me, in hopes of figuring out why I was so sore I couldn't hardly stand up straight, and why my white cell count was aprox 3-4x the ideal level.
the transport guys would push me down a maze of hallways, and then leave my outside a seemingly random door, with a vague promise that someone would be seeing me shortly. I'd have a little doze there in the hallway, folks chatting with one another as they walked by. I felt invisible.
After the second or third such trip, I toyed with the idea of pulling my bedsheet up over my head while laying there in the hallway, just to see if anyone noticed. I hadn't slept in a couple nights by this point, so my judgement was probably not the best.
tests completed, blood drawn 3x already, urine analyzed, they finally admitted me. There were adult rooms on what had been their pediatric unit. So I had a pink room with giraffes painted on the walls outside my door. and big windows out into the hallway, designed for nurses to be able to keep an eye on the kids as they passed by, I assume.
Wasn't allowed food nor drink, had an IV plugged into crook of my elbow.
I'm right handed, so of course they stuck it on that side.
And then told me to try not to bend my arm.
For two days.
Oh, and I had to pee into a bottle, while wearing a hospital gown. But I couldn't bend my arm.
How many hands does it take to aim and hold a bottle, whilst lifting a hospital gown ? I think five would have been a good number, as long as at least three of the hands were attached to bendable arms. But I'm a bright lad, and figured things out.
As I'm of irish descent, big, and live in south suburban Chicago, I had to convince each doctor I spoke with that no, I'm really not an alcoholic, and wasn't out binge drinking miller lites while power eating bratwursts the night before, with all my alcoholic brat wurst eating buddies.
That got pretty old.
I was profiled!
I relayed this to a black co-worker, for the laughter I figured it would bring him. He thought it was hilarious.
Solidarity, brother.
We can't let the man keep us down.
when you're finally off food restriction, and allowed to eat again, you don't want it to be hospital food. Granted I had no appetite, even after going without food for three days, so I wasn't going to eat much. But even with such diminished needs and expectations, Saturday's breakfast fell way short.
Man, I really hope this is not a re-curring ailment, as it oftentimes can be....
hey, if you can't embarass yourself anon. on the 'net...
Then Just what's the point?
here goes:
She grew luscious produce,
Fresh squeezed her own orange juice, which she
brought to me in her bed
It was all organically grown, and
when I'm alone
I can't get her out of my head
She made her own herbal tea, she'd
share it with me
when we would sit on her garden wall
We plotted and talked,
brainstormed while we walked
And then she opened a store in the mall
She grew luscious produce, but
it was just no use
I couldn't give up my carniverous ways
Now she's worth several mil, and I
think of her still,
And long to be part of her salad days
A friend came up with "luscious produce" on my 'frig magnet poetry awhile ago, and I was (ill) inspired. I think it has a bad Jimmy Buffet vibe to it. Somewhere, lost forever I expect, is the companion piece, Veggie Burger in Paradise. That one was a bit more blatant in it's...homage.
here goes:
She grew luscious produce,
Fresh squeezed her own orange juice, which she
brought to me in her bed
It was all organically grown, and
when I'm alone
I can't get her out of my head
She made her own herbal tea, she'd
share it with me
when we would sit on her garden wall
We plotted and talked,
brainstormed while we walked
And then she opened a store in the mall
She grew luscious produce, but
it was just no use
I couldn't give up my carniverous ways
Now she's worth several mil, and I
think of her still,
And long to be part of her salad days
A friend came up with "luscious produce" on my 'frig magnet poetry awhile ago, and I was (ill) inspired. I think it has a bad Jimmy Buffet vibe to it. Somewhere, lost forever I expect, is the companion piece, Veggie Burger in Paradise. That one was a bit more blatant in it's...homage.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
tips for graduating seniors
Here's a great tip for all you college aged folks out there, who will probably never read this.
Do not graduate first.
Yep, that's all I got. I could tell you all to wear sunscreen, and falsely attribute this pearl of wisdom to a dead writer, but... that's been done.
While in college, you will gather to you a group of people that will likely be with you for the rest of your life. Gathering them is a fun and rewarding experience, that should NOT be documented on your myspace page.
(Does the word "Duh!" have any meaning to you? Geezus, anyone who wants to can find you on the 'net, see that embarassing picture of you passed out with someone elses' underwear on your head, or the photo captioned "me and the ganja gang" and it's bye-bye job opportunity. )
However, if you're the first to graduate out of your group of friends, you'll find that they may very well do something very disturbing, after you're gone.
It's entirely possible that they'll bring new people into their circle, without clearing them with you first. All the sudden, they're just...there.
Hey, you're young, you're not thinking long term, you're cool with it, and frequently, this can introduce you to new dating/scrumping opportunities, which always liven up a weekend spent back at your alma mater.
You don't know that your first impression was probably accurate, that they'll do nothing to endear themselves to you over the ensuing years, and in fact will frequently behave in such a manner as to achieve the very opposite effect. But they're now an intrinsic part of the group, and you find yourself wondering, year after year, what's gonna happen THIS year when everyone gets together, and what measures can you take to minimize impact.
It's just not worth it.
Stall, is all I can say.
Take fewer credit hours, work some internships into the mix, maybe take a term off to travel europe, or work on a cruise ship. But make sure that YOU are the one introducing new folks into the circle, after everyone else graduates. You'll thank yourself at least once a year for the rest of your life.
Do not graduate first.
Yep, that's all I got. I could tell you all to wear sunscreen, and falsely attribute this pearl of wisdom to a dead writer, but... that's been done.
While in college, you will gather to you a group of people that will likely be with you for the rest of your life. Gathering them is a fun and rewarding experience, that should NOT be documented on your myspace page.
(Does the word "Duh!" have any meaning to you? Geezus, anyone who wants to can find you on the 'net, see that embarassing picture of you passed out with someone elses' underwear on your head, or the photo captioned "me and the ganja gang" and it's bye-bye job opportunity. )
However, if you're the first to graduate out of your group of friends, you'll find that they may very well do something very disturbing, after you're gone.
It's entirely possible that they'll bring new people into their circle, without clearing them with you first. All the sudden, they're just...there.
Hey, you're young, you're not thinking long term, you're cool with it, and frequently, this can introduce you to new dating/scrumping opportunities, which always liven up a weekend spent back at your alma mater.
You don't know that your first impression was probably accurate, that they'll do nothing to endear themselves to you over the ensuing years, and in fact will frequently behave in such a manner as to achieve the very opposite effect. But they're now an intrinsic part of the group, and you find yourself wondering, year after year, what's gonna happen THIS year when everyone gets together, and what measures can you take to minimize impact.
It's just not worth it.
Stall, is all I can say.
Take fewer credit hours, work some internships into the mix, maybe take a term off to travel europe, or work on a cruise ship. But make sure that YOU are the one introducing new folks into the circle, after everyone else graduates. You'll thank yourself at least once a year for the rest of your life.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
winneconne, wi - fishing weekend - 6/08
Up from 12-1:30 Friday morning with fiona. Up for the day at 4am.
Drove up with my buddy ___, a 6'5" mechanical engineer, avid outdoorsman, and dead head. he took apart his subarau's engine, and put it back together, just for fun, a few weeks ago.
I asked him for directions to his place, he sent me a satellite photo, with his building circled.
Ah, geek humour.
had my first Cracker Barrel experience. When you have to enter a restaurant through it's gift shop, it's not really about the food.
Caught my limit on Walleye for the day, in just over two hours.
They tasted really good for dinner, with Point Beer and garlic bread.
Poker - texas hold 'em is stoopid. With the myriad poker game choices, how did this one end up on TV?
seven card stud's way better.
I was up for 21 hours straight on Friday. No idea how I ended up winning money, as I was half asleep for the last few hands.
Maybe that's the key to success.
Saturday the weather got real weird. wind so strong it negated the current on the river. we were drifting UP stream.
We caught very few fish.
Called it quits and checked out the classic car show downtown.
Winneconne starts at 1st street, ends at 3rd street, and is only one street wide. half the town was blocked off for this show.
The show's DJ leaned heavily on polka music and Elvis songs. Not the cool hip new wave Elvis, either.
As the show broke up, all the hot rods gathered together, and had a group engine rev. If I wasn't sterile before....
witnessed several very cool lightning shows on Saturday afternoon.
We're all old enough to have appreciated the rapid drop in temp, because it meant good sleeping weather.
every young woman who waited on us in this town was beautiful. Not sure how they do it. Fresh faced, big eyed, nicely put together.
Wish the same could be said for the sporting goods store's calendar models. each unit had a calendar in it, in hopes you'd want to buy one.
uh.... no.
Stayed out of the town bar. played lots of cards, was relatively moderate in my behaviour.
There was a walmart sponsored bass tournie on Saturday there, and it tanked, because of the bad weather. I don't even have punchlines or ancedotes for "walmart bass tourney".
No stringer of fish on Saturday means we ate pizza.
We wandered into one of two pizza joints in town, found it to be the one that did not serve beer, or even really have seating.
We found the other one after the fact, which encouraged beer drinking AND sitting. I've filed it away for next time.
We entered, and a guy in a wheel chair took our order.
We popped out to the beer store, came back, and he was standing at the prep counter, making our pizza's. he then walked them across to the oven.
it was a miracle.
praise jesus.
Drove home through a flooded WI Sunday morning, in a torrential downpour, with a guy who was determined to play DJ non-stop on his in-dash I-pod thingy, while driving.
In a torrential downpour.
On flooded highways.
"Uh, how about we listen to ther radio?"
Mars Cheese Castle - if entering or leaving WI, and yuo find you have a hankerin' for some cheese, or some jerky, or even some way overpriced candy - this is the place.
It's the size of a denny's, and it has bus parking...
a bag containing wet clothes, a small carrier bag I used as a tacklebox, a rain poncho and a pair of Kean water sandals, did not make it home with me, and noone can figure out how this happened....
very sad.
So - mixed weekend. was great to get away. Was a little unsettling when wendy called me Saturday evening from our basement, where she and Fiona holed up until the tornado warning expired....
Drove up with my buddy ___, a 6'5" mechanical engineer, avid outdoorsman, and dead head. he took apart his subarau's engine, and put it back together, just for fun, a few weeks ago.
I asked him for directions to his place, he sent me a satellite photo, with his building circled.
Ah, geek humour.
had my first Cracker Barrel experience. When you have to enter a restaurant through it's gift shop, it's not really about the food.
Caught my limit on Walleye for the day, in just over two hours.
They tasted really good for dinner, with Point Beer and garlic bread.
Poker - texas hold 'em is stoopid. With the myriad poker game choices, how did this one end up on TV?
seven card stud's way better.
I was up for 21 hours straight on Friday. No idea how I ended up winning money, as I was half asleep for the last few hands.
Maybe that's the key to success.
Saturday the weather got real weird. wind so strong it negated the current on the river. we were drifting UP stream.
We caught very few fish.
Called it quits and checked out the classic car show downtown.
Winneconne starts at 1st street, ends at 3rd street, and is only one street wide. half the town was blocked off for this show.
The show's DJ leaned heavily on polka music and Elvis songs. Not the cool hip new wave Elvis, either.
As the show broke up, all the hot rods gathered together, and had a group engine rev. If I wasn't sterile before....
witnessed several very cool lightning shows on Saturday afternoon.
We're all old enough to have appreciated the rapid drop in temp, because it meant good sleeping weather.
every young woman who waited on us in this town was beautiful. Not sure how they do it. Fresh faced, big eyed, nicely put together.
Wish the same could be said for the sporting goods store's calendar models. each unit had a calendar in it, in hopes you'd want to buy one.
uh.... no.
Stayed out of the town bar. played lots of cards, was relatively moderate in my behaviour.
There was a walmart sponsored bass tournie on Saturday there, and it tanked, because of the bad weather. I don't even have punchlines or ancedotes for "walmart bass tourney".
No stringer of fish on Saturday means we ate pizza.
We wandered into one of two pizza joints in town, found it to be the one that did not serve beer, or even really have seating.
We found the other one after the fact, which encouraged beer drinking AND sitting. I've filed it away for next time.
We entered, and a guy in a wheel chair took our order.
We popped out to the beer store, came back, and he was standing at the prep counter, making our pizza's. he then walked them across to the oven.
it was a miracle.
praise jesus.
Drove home through a flooded WI Sunday morning, in a torrential downpour, with a guy who was determined to play DJ non-stop on his in-dash I-pod thingy, while driving.
In a torrential downpour.
On flooded highways.
"Uh, how about we listen to ther radio?"
Mars Cheese Castle - if entering or leaving WI, and yuo find you have a hankerin' for some cheese, or some jerky, or even some way overpriced candy - this is the place.
It's the size of a denny's, and it has bus parking...
a bag containing wet clothes, a small carrier bag I used as a tacklebox, a rain poncho and a pair of Kean water sandals, did not make it home with me, and noone can figure out how this happened....
very sad.
So - mixed weekend. was great to get away. Was a little unsettling when wendy called me Saturday evening from our basement, where she and Fiona holed up until the tornado warning expired....
Saturday, September 13, 2008
new orleans - post katrina 4/07
I went back to ohio
But my city was gone...All my favorite places...
Reduced to parking spaces
A, o, way to go ohio
- Chrissy Hynde
No way could you guess, with a post that starts by quoting from "My City Was Gone" by the Pretenders, that this is a re-cap of my adventures in travelling to New Orleans last week for a three day conference about "Securing Ones' supply chain, in a post 9/11 environment."
See, I used to hang out in N.O.
A lot.
When you live find yourself living on the MS gulf coast, scratching your head, mumbling "what was I thinking" over and over and over, there's really nothing better to do on a quiet Saturday than get in the car, and....drive somewhere else.
80 minutes from my driveway to the public parking lot adjascent to the Ajax Brewery building.
but by getting so far behind myself, I'm getting ahead of my self, which ruins a good story.
First of all, I have something to confess. I'm on the federal naughty flyers list.
Not me, actually, but someone who plays me on TV.
No. Wait...
Someone who has the same name as me.
My evil twin, if you will.
And I'm getting pretty darn tired of him, cuz he's fowled up e-ticketing for me since 2005.
So after the usual song and dance
("Oh! you're the good _____ _____, not the bad one!" from the United ticket agent),
My boss and I make our way through a crowded, hostile airport to our gate. Hostile because every flight outboundto NY, Philly, DC and such were cancelled due to weather.
The company bought me a nice chicken sandwich from Mcdonalds, flight left without problem, and we arrived in N.O around 5:30.
stepped outside.... 85 degrees and air so thick you can spread it on toast.
yep. Just like I remember it.
My T.C. is a good guy. But he doesn't like being warm. and he gets warm REAL easy.
So the un-airconditioned shuttle ride to the French Quarter Marriott was not any fun.
to speed up this story:
made it to hotel, checked in, waited 30 minutes whilst my traveling companion wrassled with his room's internet connection, and finally got out.
And discovered...
all the places I used to go, all the places the wife and I would make sure to take guests when they'd come visit us in MS and we'd drive over to N.O. for the day, all the places that made N.O. worth the drive and the time to us.....
gone.
(hence the Pretenders quote)
The Magic Bus, the very best used CD store in America? gone.
La Madeline's french pastry and coffee shop? gone.
O'Flagerty's Irish Pub? gone.
The French Market grocery and flea market? gone?
you guessed it.
if the businesses were backed with corporate money, they weathered the post storm lack of tourism dollars far better, obviously, than local merchants, and this was obvious, everywhere I went.
As example, every hotel made sure to draw attention to the fact that they "proudly serve Starbucks".
I half expected to see Cafe Du Monde, the century old coffee shop, whose coffee you can buy worldwide, advertise this.
Larry Flynt was doing his part to bolster the local economy, as was the owners of the Coyote Ugly chain.
The # of crap T-shirt shops and take out Daquiri stands has quadrupled.
N.O. was always a day trip for us. we liked getting there early, getting a cup of coffee and some pastry, sitting on a park bench in Jackson Square, and watching the quarter wake up.
I went back to New Orleans, but my city was gone...
Given the above, I had never actually spent a night out on bourbon street before.
Bourbon street is full of large belt buckles, unsteady legs, excess, desperation and men standing in the middle of the street, hawking free admission passes to the various venues where one can give semi-clothed women a dollar for... being semi-clothed.
"C'mon in. It'll change your life!"
The essence of desperation and sadsack-dom became much more concentrated when you walked in to one of these places.
groups of young guys chain smoking marlboros, bragging about how you get in for free if you're in the military.
japanese men in suits, stacks of singles in front of them, intensely focused, expressionless, as the slightly built dancers try their hardest to part the money from the man's hand...
None of the guys actually seemed to be smiling. Apparently, this was serious business indeed.
film it in black and white, add a soundtrack of old tom waits music...
And when you were not in one of those clubs, you were sitting on a bar stool in one of the dozens of completely interchangeable bars along the street. All of them even had the exact same 70' rock/funk cover band performing. At least, they all seemed exactly alike.
And good news, it's three beers for the price of one tonite!
Oh, and it was spring break for thousands of high school and college students last week.
So you can sit and drink your three Buds for the price of one (one really expensive one), listening to Gap Band and Earth Wind and Fire covers and feeling like a dirty old man, without even really being a dirty old man, as the dance floor fills up with with 19 year olds, there to take full advantage of the Quarter's um...relaxed policy on legal ID's.
All the negative aside, I got to go out by myself for a couple of hours in the afternoon, on day 2 of the conference, thanks to a gap in seminars.
It was 65 degrees and sunny.
I walked the river for a bit, then cut inland to Cafe Du Monde, where I had a couple cups of their world famous coffee, while sitting on the patio listening to some good street musicians, watching an old man make balloon animals for the little kids passing by with the parents.
He's been working that corner for as long as I've been going to New Orleans.
All of this with Jackson Square and the horse and buggy parking as backdrop.
So, for that brief period, I got it.
It was the New Orleans of my memory, and I was a happy man. I had to call my wife, just to tell her.
"So I guess not every single thing we liked about N.O. is gone."
no, but it's a close thing.
Stopped by the New Orleans Kite shop on my way back to the hotel, talked for the very sweet middle aged owner, and spent some money. She told me how lonely it was, after the storm, when she re-opened, cuz lots of her fellow merchants were not around anymore.
http://www.kiteshopneworleans.com/, by the way.
That evening, we walked past every old, established, historical restaurant in the quarter, to end up eating at a bad sports bar with cheap food prices. My boss throws company pennies around like manhole covers.
Friday morning, we were in the hotel restaurant, having just sat down to eat our buffet breakfast before heading to the airport, when it happened.
A cockroach started walking across our table.
Breakfast was cancelled.
my traveling companion is a bit antsy. perpetually nervous about missing deadlines, flights, conference starts....
We were the first people at the conference on Wednesday morning, waiting 45 minutes before anyone else even showed up.
This carried over to leaving N.O., arriving at the airport 3 ½ hours before our flight.
There is simply not enough going on at the airport to keep you amused for three hours.
Had a great cup of coffee and a muffin at PJ's, a local coffee shop chain. My T.C. delighted in the fact that it wasn't starbucks.
He doesn't like their coffee, apparently. I know this, because I heard this, 15 times in three days....
we milked that coffee and muffin, and the highly in-demand table, for 75 minutes....
arrived late into O'hare, because it was Friday afternoon, and it's imposible to arrive on time into O'hare on Friday afternoon.
At one point, our pilot actually told us that he had been told to slow down as much as possible, to avoid being placed into a holding pattern.
I may be in the minority here, but I want my jet planes to fly as fast as they can. I don't like them when they're FLYING AS SLOW AS THEY CAN FLY, WITHOUT PROBLEMS OCCURING.
But I'm a sissy.
But my city was gone...All my favorite places...
Reduced to parking spaces
A, o, way to go ohio
- Chrissy Hynde
No way could you guess, with a post that starts by quoting from "My City Was Gone" by the Pretenders, that this is a re-cap of my adventures in travelling to New Orleans last week for a three day conference about "Securing Ones' supply chain, in a post 9/11 environment."
See, I used to hang out in N.O.
A lot.
When you live find yourself living on the MS gulf coast, scratching your head, mumbling "what was I thinking" over and over and over, there's really nothing better to do on a quiet Saturday than get in the car, and....drive somewhere else.
80 minutes from my driveway to the public parking lot adjascent to the Ajax Brewery building.
but by getting so far behind myself, I'm getting ahead of my self, which ruins a good story.
First of all, I have something to confess. I'm on the federal naughty flyers list.
Not me, actually, but someone who plays me on TV.
No. Wait...
Someone who has the same name as me.
My evil twin, if you will.
And I'm getting pretty darn tired of him, cuz he's fowled up e-ticketing for me since 2005.
So after the usual song and dance
("Oh! you're the good _____ _____, not the bad one!" from the United ticket agent),
My boss and I make our way through a crowded, hostile airport to our gate. Hostile because every flight outboundto NY, Philly, DC and such were cancelled due to weather.
The company bought me a nice chicken sandwich from Mcdonalds, flight left without problem, and we arrived in N.O around 5:30.
stepped outside.... 85 degrees and air so thick you can spread it on toast.
yep. Just like I remember it.
My T.C. is a good guy. But he doesn't like being warm. and he gets warm REAL easy.
So the un-airconditioned shuttle ride to the French Quarter Marriott was not any fun.
to speed up this story:
made it to hotel, checked in, waited 30 minutes whilst my traveling companion wrassled with his room's internet connection, and finally got out.
And discovered...
all the places I used to go, all the places the wife and I would make sure to take guests when they'd come visit us in MS and we'd drive over to N.O. for the day, all the places that made N.O. worth the drive and the time to us.....
gone.
(hence the Pretenders quote)
The Magic Bus, the very best used CD store in America? gone.
La Madeline's french pastry and coffee shop? gone.
O'Flagerty's Irish Pub? gone.
The French Market grocery and flea market? gone?
you guessed it.
if the businesses were backed with corporate money, they weathered the post storm lack of tourism dollars far better, obviously, than local merchants, and this was obvious, everywhere I went.
As example, every hotel made sure to draw attention to the fact that they "proudly serve Starbucks".
I half expected to see Cafe Du Monde, the century old coffee shop, whose coffee you can buy worldwide, advertise this.
Larry Flynt was doing his part to bolster the local economy, as was the owners of the Coyote Ugly chain.
The # of crap T-shirt shops and take out Daquiri stands has quadrupled.
N.O. was always a day trip for us. we liked getting there early, getting a cup of coffee and some pastry, sitting on a park bench in Jackson Square, and watching the quarter wake up.
I went back to New Orleans, but my city was gone...
Given the above, I had never actually spent a night out on bourbon street before.
Bourbon street is full of large belt buckles, unsteady legs, excess, desperation and men standing in the middle of the street, hawking free admission passes to the various venues where one can give semi-clothed women a dollar for... being semi-clothed.
"C'mon in. It'll change your life!"
The essence of desperation and sadsack-dom became much more concentrated when you walked in to one of these places.
groups of young guys chain smoking marlboros, bragging about how you get in for free if you're in the military.
japanese men in suits, stacks of singles in front of them, intensely focused, expressionless, as the slightly built dancers try their hardest to part the money from the man's hand...
None of the guys actually seemed to be smiling. Apparently, this was serious business indeed.
film it in black and white, add a soundtrack of old tom waits music...
And when you were not in one of those clubs, you were sitting on a bar stool in one of the dozens of completely interchangeable bars along the street. All of them even had the exact same 70' rock/funk cover band performing. At least, they all seemed exactly alike.
And good news, it's three beers for the price of one tonite!
Oh, and it was spring break for thousands of high school and college students last week.
So you can sit and drink your three Buds for the price of one (one really expensive one), listening to Gap Band and Earth Wind and Fire covers and feeling like a dirty old man, without even really being a dirty old man, as the dance floor fills up with with 19 year olds, there to take full advantage of the Quarter's um...relaxed policy on legal ID's.
All the negative aside, I got to go out by myself for a couple of hours in the afternoon, on day 2 of the conference, thanks to a gap in seminars.
It was 65 degrees and sunny.
I walked the river for a bit, then cut inland to Cafe Du Monde, where I had a couple cups of their world famous coffee, while sitting on the patio listening to some good street musicians, watching an old man make balloon animals for the little kids passing by with the parents.
He's been working that corner for as long as I've been going to New Orleans.
All of this with Jackson Square and the horse and buggy parking as backdrop.
So, for that brief period, I got it.
It was the New Orleans of my memory, and I was a happy man. I had to call my wife, just to tell her.
"So I guess not every single thing we liked about N.O. is gone."
no, but it's a close thing.
Stopped by the New Orleans Kite shop on my way back to the hotel, talked for the very sweet middle aged owner, and spent some money. She told me how lonely it was, after the storm, when she re-opened, cuz lots of her fellow merchants were not around anymore.
http://www.kiteshopneworleans.com/, by the way.
That evening, we walked past every old, established, historical restaurant in the quarter, to end up eating at a bad sports bar with cheap food prices. My boss throws company pennies around like manhole covers.
Friday morning, we were in the hotel restaurant, having just sat down to eat our buffet breakfast before heading to the airport, when it happened.
A cockroach started walking across our table.
Breakfast was cancelled.
my traveling companion is a bit antsy. perpetually nervous about missing deadlines, flights, conference starts....
We were the first people at the conference on Wednesday morning, waiting 45 minutes before anyone else even showed up.
This carried over to leaving N.O., arriving at the airport 3 ½ hours before our flight.
There is simply not enough going on at the airport to keep you amused for three hours.
Had a great cup of coffee and a muffin at PJ's, a local coffee shop chain. My T.C. delighted in the fact that it wasn't starbucks.
He doesn't like their coffee, apparently. I know this, because I heard this, 15 times in three days....
we milked that coffee and muffin, and the highly in-demand table, for 75 minutes....
arrived late into O'hare, because it was Friday afternoon, and it's imposible to arrive on time into O'hare on Friday afternoon.
At one point, our pilot actually told us that he had been told to slow down as much as possible, to avoid being placed into a holding pattern.
I may be in the minority here, but I want my jet planes to fly as fast as they can. I don't like them when they're FLYING AS SLOW AS THEY CAN FLY, WITHOUT PROBLEMS OCCURING.
But I'm a sissy.
music as lifestyle / fashion
an email exchange with a friend led to the topic of concert footage he's seen, of bands like The Grateful Dead, allman bros, skynyrd....
He marveled at the lack of showmanship, even while some of the music was amazing.
I don't think you went to those shows to watch the band's performance. I think you went to let the music flow through you, whilst you danced awkwardly around on the grass, barefoot, perhaps with a tie dye clad bra-less waif, who was partially obscured in a cloud of patchouli funk. She was probably really hot, but you'd have to hose her down real good... That's just the allman brothers and the dead. Skynyrd... I think you went to those shows so your 200lb tube top wearing girlfriend could climb up on your skinny, homemade tattoo-adorned shoulders, and scream "whoo hoo!" while waving the confed. flag over her head... here's an alarming combo we studiously avoided when living down south. Skynyrd playing a 4th of July concert at the hockey arena in Biloxi. We were pretty sure THAT crowd would have made us pack up our sh*t and flee MS, that very night. GD and AB actually put out a fair amount of music I like hearing, especially when I'm driving. and they were known for putting on marathon-length concerts. filled with 20 minute guitar solos, and a bunch of guys just standing around...
My friend indicated that the serious deadhead types always made him uncomfortable, and would write this off as being a product of HIS own narrowmindedness.
My thoughts?
the true dead heads bugged me, too.
And honestly, how many bootleg concert tapes can you possibly need?
And was the '78 Alpine Valley version of Dark Star REALLY more profoundly trancendent than the '76 Red Rocks version?
I recall music conversations with them, never lasting long.
Me: If you like that, do you also like ______ (fill in the blank, CSN, Neil Young, allman bros, etc)
"No. I only listen to the 'dead."
Ok. good talk. let's do it again soon.
Any group of people that have decided that one band, or one narrow genre of music is the ONLY thing to listen to, and actually adopt lifeystle options and fashion choices to coincide... let me know when you've grown out of the posing phase of your life.
True dead heads; all the black clothes wearing, Morissey worshipping squids and the portly pale girls that loved them even though they were secretly gay; the unkempt self mutilating punkers who would hang out at the McDonalds in the Kalamazoo Center on saturdays when I was in high school...
f*ck 'em for their closed mindedness and music-fueled mis-placed elitist attitudes.
I'm 40 years old now, and some of them are still working in record stores, wondering which poorly attended show they should go to next....
but young women in tie-dyes... they were ok.
so very ok...
And while I'm at it, f*ck the sailing fanatics that will only listen to Jimmy Buffett on their boats.
you're a stereotype.
Put down the rum drink and change the CD already.
But, uh.... thanks for taking me sailing those times. I really dug it.
He marveled at the lack of showmanship, even while some of the music was amazing.
I don't think you went to those shows to watch the band's performance. I think you went to let the music flow through you, whilst you danced awkwardly around on the grass, barefoot, perhaps with a tie dye clad bra-less waif, who was partially obscured in a cloud of patchouli funk. She was probably really hot, but you'd have to hose her down real good... That's just the allman brothers and the dead. Skynyrd... I think you went to those shows so your 200lb tube top wearing girlfriend could climb up on your skinny, homemade tattoo-adorned shoulders, and scream "whoo hoo!" while waving the confed. flag over her head... here's an alarming combo we studiously avoided when living down south. Skynyrd playing a 4th of July concert at the hockey arena in Biloxi. We were pretty sure THAT crowd would have made us pack up our sh*t and flee MS, that very night. GD and AB actually put out a fair amount of music I like hearing, especially when I'm driving. and they were known for putting on marathon-length concerts. filled with 20 minute guitar solos, and a bunch of guys just standing around...
My friend indicated that the serious deadhead types always made him uncomfortable, and would write this off as being a product of HIS own narrowmindedness.
My thoughts?
the true dead heads bugged me, too.
And honestly, how many bootleg concert tapes can you possibly need?
And was the '78 Alpine Valley version of Dark Star REALLY more profoundly trancendent than the '76 Red Rocks version?
I recall music conversations with them, never lasting long.
Me: If you like that, do you also like ______ (fill in the blank, CSN, Neil Young, allman bros, etc)
"No. I only listen to the 'dead."
Ok. good talk. let's do it again soon.
Any group of people that have decided that one band, or one narrow genre of music is the ONLY thing to listen to, and actually adopt lifeystle options and fashion choices to coincide... let me know when you've grown out of the posing phase of your life.
True dead heads; all the black clothes wearing, Morissey worshipping squids and the portly pale girls that loved them even though they were secretly gay; the unkempt self mutilating punkers who would hang out at the McDonalds in the Kalamazoo Center on saturdays when I was in high school...
f*ck 'em for their closed mindedness and music-fueled mis-placed elitist attitudes.
I'm 40 years old now, and some of them are still working in record stores, wondering which poorly attended show they should go to next....
but young women in tie-dyes... they were ok.
so very ok...
And while I'm at it, f*ck the sailing fanatics that will only listen to Jimmy Buffett on their boats.
you're a stereotype.
Put down the rum drink and change the CD already.
But, uh.... thanks for taking me sailing those times. I really dug it.
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