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.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
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...
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