Tuesday, May 27, 2008

A sectioned list of personal political statements. Also, jokes. Or, how I learned to stop loving the bomb.

List Part I: An Introduction.
  • I am the bomb. Woop woop.
  • That might have been a joke.
  • It is not.
  • However, I am not the walrus.
  • Coo coo ka choo.
  • I am the eggman.
  • That is a lie.
  • I am TWO eggmen.
List Part II: Who I Have Voted For, and War.
  • I have identified as Republican for as long as I can remember. This has recently changed.
  • I voted Dubya twice, and I don't regret it.
  • I would not vote for Dubya again
  • Partially, this is because I no longer believe in war. In any circumstance.
  • I don't even think I believe in force anymore.
  • If I believed in the use of force to stop bad people, I think I would vote for Dubya again, if given the chance.
  • He believes that power should be used to protect people.
  • I do not.
  • I don't know how they could have gotten rid of Saddam Hussein without war, let alone some sort of force. That man did many evil things in order to keep his own power. You could say he forced the issue. Ha ha.
  • Maybe a Brechtian puppet show would have worked. Next time let's give that a shot.
  • I do not think that would work.
  • I don't know how non-violence works on psychopaths. If it does at all.
  • I think non-violent solutions are right whether they work or not.
  • I think anything right is right whether it works or not.
  • This is my definition of an extreme rightist.
  • A extreme leftist believes that only things that work are right.
  • I don't know if Saddam Hussein was a psychopath. I think he wasn't. I think he was just a plain old normal selfish person who got his way a lot more than I do.
  • An American unconcerned with efficacy? What will they they think of next?
List Part III: Who I Will Vote For.

  • I am not planning on voting for any of the major three candidates for president in November. (Nor October via absentee ballot. Nor December via being a Supreme Court Justice. Ha ha. Perhaps in January as part of the Supreme Court Justice League's time travel division. Ok, that would technically be November, so that's a possibility, I guess.)
  • I am excited about this election.
  • Two men walk into a bar wearing two-man donkey suit. The one behind says, "You keep trying to get ahead, slow down." The one in front says, "Quit being a butt."
  • That was not a joke. Rather, a personal political statement. The one in back really was being a butt.
  • I am excited about this election for the same reasons the Democratics and Republicanites are scared of it: the possibility of chaos at the conventions: The HILLARY vs. OBAMA quagmire. MCCAIN vs. all the RON PAUL people who went to the trouble of going to the state conventions. That seems like a real political process where people was similar things, but disagree on the how of the thing. But as for after the conventions? I am barely interested.
  • Candidates for president are always allcaps.
  • I wonder, but have no answers for why when BUSH the II ran, the lists listed him as BUSH. But when CLINTON the II runs, she is HILLARY.
  • I am not planning on voting for anyone. Primarily because I do not believe that power is the method by which change happens. I wish this wasn't a joke.
  • Change happens when people change.
  • Most people do not want change.
  • Most people, even revolutionaries want the status quo. But only if they get to run it.
  • Two men walk into a bar in an elephant suit. The one in back says, "You keep trying to get ahead, slow down." The one in front says, "At least I'm not a communist."
  • This, also, is not a joke. Rather, a personal political statement. The one in back really was a communist.
  • Well, anarcho-socialist. But who can tell the difference anymore?
  • Ok, technically, just a Brechtian. But only because theatre pays the bills..
  • I don't think "Brechtian" is a noun.
  • I don't plan on voting for CLINTON the II. I don't think she'll be around for to be voting in November anyhow. Plus, I don't trust her. Call me a biased ex-Republican if you want.
  • I don't plan on voting for OBAMA. I do trust him. Call me a biased ex-Republican if you want. This is nitpicking, but he recently said that America is the world's last best hope. I do not believe this. I see people hoping in OBAMA as president more than the others. I don't know if hoping in a guy is good. I think hope is good. Maybe that'll be good. Doesn't mean I'm voting for him, though.
  • I don't plan on voting for MCCAIN. I don't trust him. Seems more interested in power than policy. I would want to vote for someone who believed more than politicked. Two years ago, he almost defected to the Democratics. I could care less if he did. His voting record seems a little more AMERICAN LEFT than AMERICAN RIGHT. But to do so, or not do so as a political manoeuvre? Meh, says I.
  • The AMERICAN LEFT and AMERICAN RIGHT do not believe they believe the same things. I agree and believe they do not believe the same things. But I do believe they practice the same things to the point that, to an outsider, there is no discernible difference.
  • The way things are going, I am planning on writing in JESUS for President. I don't think he's going to win. He doesn't test well in the young urban professional demographic (not sure they even think he's real), and his PR people have really dropped the ball over the last 6800 quarters or so. Crosses on shields, indeed.
  • I don't mean White Jesus. No sashes.
  • Whoever thought that a first-century middle-eastern philosopher looked more like Val Kilmar after a summer at the beach than Osama bin Ladin should be shot.
  • Or, uh, shown a Brechtian puppet show.
List Part IV: General Politics.
  • I still believe that government can be an effective way of organizing people.
  • I do not believe that any governments have been very effective for very long.
  • Maybe they have never been effective.
  • For some reason I am still hopeful.
  • Some days, I don't believe anything has ever worked, that everything is a failure.
  • This is probably true.
  • Most days I think everything I do is a failure.
  • I don't know how that works with the concept of imago dei, which I also believe.
  • Ah-ah.
  • I believe in small government. I'm close to libertarian if you have to define me.
  • Quit defining me.
  • I don't think I'm an anarchist. I don't know why. It seems almost closer to what I think than libertarianism. Maybe I think people should organize for safety. I would like this to be true.
  • Maybe it's that I still want decent roads, dangit, and don't want to pay some company for it.
  • I don't trust companies any more than I trust governments.
  • I don't trust any groups of people.
  • I don't trust people.
  • Two anarchists walk into a bar. Because they wanted to. Ow, though.
  • Also, clean water would be nice.
  • And laws against slavery and such.
  • How to enforce without force, though . . .
  • A good law is sometimes all an oppressed person needs.
  • A good swift kick in the pants is sometimes all a snotty person needs.
  • My Facebook political views say I am not interested in power.
  • I am interested in power.
  • I do not want to be.
List Part V: The Undiscovered Country.
  • Who says it has to be death?
  • Shakespeare? What did he know?
List Part VI: In Conclusion.
  • In a series of articles beginning here, that is not yet finished, Zack Exley says that Christians need to go beyond love on the small scale, and can organize to love on the big scale. That large organization does not necessarily mean failure. I don't know if I believe him yet.
  • In light of that, I would like to define my politics as loving the people I see better than I love myself, and trying to see as many people as possible.
  • I do not live what I believe about politics.
  • Does anyone live what they believe?
  • Is everyone a failure?
  • Likely.
  • I believe that anything that can go wrong, will.
  • I also believe that anything that can go right, can, sometimes.
  • So yeah, I still have hope.
  • I believe in hope.
  • Um, JESUS for President!

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

The Song That Never Ends

I am writing this using entirely the speech recognition software built into Windows Vista. My hands are behind my head. I kid you not. I am navigating Firefox without touching the keyboard, laying in bed. The future is now. Or something.

What is really odd is how I went to Quiktrip with Amanda before we worked on our book earlier this evening and how sort of I thought I could use voice commands to pull things off the shelves. Like I could get the chips to fly into my hand, or maybe just show blue numbers over the vodka which would allow me to click on the bottle to get more information. It's kind of like when I went to see The Matrix having just seen Dark City for the first time. I came out of AMC 30 and walked across the concrete star where you can lay down and hear your voice echo in your ears, and for half a second I thought I might be able to fly with just the power of my mind.

Maybe this is one of the reasons I like to turn the volume down when the commercials come on when I'm watching Lost. Besides the reason my mom does it. Which is also the reason I turn the radio off them in the car with people, and partially why I break the spaghetti before I put in the pot. I mean, I like shorter spaghetti. It's easier to eat with a fork. But also that's what I grew up with. But I turn down the volume because I don't want those stories to dictate to me what I'm supposed to think. I'm very impressionable.

For example, in a conversation with someone with whom I disagree entirely, I will totally lay out all the reasons I disagree with them. Three hours later, I argue their point to someone else. The conversation about total depravity comes to mind, just so you know, Steve.

I've talked about this before. Remember the whole conversation about that nasty drink called Snow that they sell at Target which is a minty carbonated beverage that I actually liked until everyone else said they hated it? Yeah, I'm that guy.

So yeah, I typed and edited the whole thing, italics and all, without touching the keyboard. Ain't I fancy.

Friday, May 16, 2008

Ruminisms on Euphamisms

Not since The Popsicles have I seen a band with as much pageantry and positively electric stage presence as The Khrusty Brothers, who I saw last Friday night at the Crosstown station at the same time as such friends as Jill and Lucas and Moe Didde and John Raux and Dan Farmer and Bet(h) Mercer and well, half of Jacob's Well, really. Saying it's a great show is an understatement. Good songs, good theatre, good performances. Good. Their upcoming show at the Bottleneck in Lawrence has been postponed, but when they play next, you should see them. Even Jill loved the show, and she's not such a big fan of concerts. They're kind of a Beck-ish rock band with two drummers and an announcer named Cowboy Jesus who dances through the whole set. I'd dance to them. I did dance to them.

They've got a line in their song 'Sympathy for Jesus' where a man with a "hot gun" stumbles into church to tell Jesus his demands. But some angels are acting like Jesus's secretary. The man calls Jesus out on this, and then Jesus calls him out right back and says to him, "so address me to my face, if you think you've got the balls." The man "tries hard to remember every shitty circumstance" to tell Jesus to try to vindicate himself. Jesus tells him he "appreciates [the man's] kind and pours himself a drink," and then kind of goes off on a non-sequitur, telling the the man that that Jesus is "saddled with the job, you know, interpreting [his] dad to a bunch of frightened people. Frightened or just mad." Then he says "I got my fiancee; she's supposed to speak my mind; sometimes she's just chicken, and she meses it up other times," which is referring to the church as you know. Maybe even suggesting the man should have been helped by the fiancee.

It's a great song, and you can listen to it here if you want. I'm a big fan of using art to recast things that are commonly known into new metaphors. So calling the church Jesus' fiancee is pretty boss. another good example would be Page France's 'Chariot', where the singer refers to Jesus as "the blushing circus king." I need more artists with good imaginations like this.

Ok, even though I think it totally fits the song, and the concept, and I think I like how it works in the song, I've got to say here, just so you know, that 'shit' is my least favorite word.

That's what I'd say if they asked me on Inside the Actor's Studio. I might even say "the s word" when asked. By the by, 'bastard' is my favorite swear. It has a really good ring to it.

Here's how much I hate the word, though. If I were reading this aloud to you, I'd substitute "the s word" for the s word. Ridiculous, I know. I don't even want to write it more than once. Even though it's powerful and specific. My morays getting in the way of my literary aspirations.

I only bring the specifics of the lyric up because I've been present in a number of conversations lately that have been about swearing. The general consensus seems to be that Christians should swear when the situation would warrant it, because that's the honest and non-hypocritical thing to do. Even Shane Clairborne in Irrisitible Revolution talks about how there was a youth pastor driving these inner city kids to a youth camp, and on the way, the van broke down in a particularly annoying fashion (storm or summat), and he let rip a fine string of obscenities while getting the van up and running again. The story goes that a bunch of the kids that rode up in the van decided to follow Jesus that weekend, and when the pastor asked one of them why, the kid said that if a guy who could get angry and swear like that could follow Jesus, maybe he could too.

And then Steve said the other night (on the porch at the guy's house. Again, yay porches.) that when you say 'heck' and 'darn' and 'shoot' and what-have-you that that's also dishonest, not just ingenuine, because you're thinking to say something else, and we all know what you meant, really.

Earlier today, my friend Zack dropped the f-bomb in response to something I was saying about human trafficking, and then he quickly apologized because he had forgotten that I was the sort of person who did not like swearing. I'm not sure I've ever told him this. Maybe it's my "Christian-ness", whatever that means. I thought it was appropriate, honestly, considering the nature of human trafficking.

Here's my deal; I grew up hearing that swearing meant you didn't have a strong enough vocabulary to express what you meant. My parents actually said the alternate words and phrases (with the very rare exception) and so that was what I thought one said in those circumstances. Not that I didn't say 'crap' or whatever mid-range swearing is out there (list includes bastard, but not gang, darn, shoot, or rats, in my opinion), but it actually came as a surprise as I got out into the world that other people really used words like 'damn' (and worse) in non-cinematic conversations.

So I feel a little guilty when I say things like 'for crying out loud' or 'what the heck' because I don't mean 'for Christ's sake' or 'what the hell,' and I'm sure it sounds like I'm inauthentically censoring myself, but I'm not thinking those other things in my head, and then modifying them for the audience, that's what I mean to say.

I wrote a short story my junior year where most of the substance came from the irony between the characters names and what actually happened in the story. For example there was this character Anne, whose name means 'grace', and she was very ungracious to people. Get it? Do ya? Ha! Yeah, it sucked. I also put some swearing in it to make it seem more realistic, because most all the people I knew were swearing types. Teena Winter, who was my very good English teacher at the time, said that among the many faults of the story was that my swearing didn't seem authentic. Tacked on, as it were.

Although, once in a great while, I'll think a swear when I've been reading Stephen King or watching Boondock Saints or whatever, I'm not tempted to say them. What does that mean for authenticity? I think some things I don't say, but I don't consider those thoughts things that I'd actually say. Like, I think about skateboarding ala tony Hawk all along the pews and front of the stage EVERY time we go to Olathe Bible Church, but I'm not going to even try. Also, I can't skateboard.

Of course, I do take way too much pride in the fact that I've never sworn using the "bad words". Yeah, I've quoted people who swore, and I'd be lying if I told you that the Jill and I hadn't reclaimed some colorful terminology for our own, non-vulgar, usage, but I mean, in anger, I've never said . . . well, you know . . . all those words that most people say. I think back the angriest I was in my entire life, and my exact words were "Oh for crying out loud. You're got to be kidding me." I have said "freaking" (sung that at church, even) and "bastards all" and "load of crap" and "full of it" (with no intention of 'it' meaning anything but the pronoun) and even "freaking bastards" (most of this in response to anecdotes concerning corporations who have screwed people over, if ya believe it), but never have I said any of these at someone. Even when I'd say I've had good reason.

Like I said, too much pride.

Jill has said this is an example of my non-emotiveness. I'm not sure what she thinks now. But that was a point of contention for a while there. Which, she, ironically, expressed using such language. One of her favorite swears is my least. Go figure.

Maybe I'm just coming in to you, like you're Jesus in that church, hot gun in my hand, and trying to vindicate the fact that I don't swear, and that's dishonest. But maybe the point of writing this is to try to say that it's not dishonest for me. But then again, maybe I've betrayed the opposite.

To others of you, I think I'd have to come in and justify for the little swearing that shows up here, since it likely, in your mind, falls under the "coarse jesting" or the "let no unwholesome talk come out of your mouth" bits of the New Testament. And let's not even get into the whole, "Let your yes be yes and your no be no" business, which shows up in these conversations.

That's all I've got. I'd say something clever, swearing for ironic emphasis, but I don't feel like it. See, not even for the irony.

Monday, May 12, 2008

Left hand meet right hand. Oh, you *know* each other? Well, crap.

Back in high school/early college days, I had my room set up just the way I wanted it:

Bunk bed with a loveseat pushed up against it and comforter hanging down from the top bunk to create a cocoon-like curtained-off sleeping chamber. Sitting on the loveseat, I could access my computer (dial-up FTW), my VCR (used to hit Movie Gallery and watch a movie a night), my Nintendo (only 60 or so games at the time), the portable CD player that I bought a 50 foot cable for to hook up to the totally old school stereo system/turntable on the other side of the room. Records for the stereo. A keychain collection hanging in a long chain over the closet door, floor to doortop to doortop to floor.

The walls and ceiling were covered with posters, the bad hair day cat, my StuCo campaign posters, a Tim Johnson South Dakota campaign sign that Juliet had lovingly added the letters OTHY to, a Toy Story poster, a set of multi-colored cards describing my identity as a follower of Jesus (I would have said Christian at the time), some CD cover posters I got that summer I worked at the Christian Book and Gift store (Jesus Freak, Bloom, and later a signed Conspiracy No. 5 I got at a rare live acoustic show), a painting or two that I did living in Belarus, some witty postcards, and a bunch more that I've forgotten (but if you remember, feel free to comment).

Above the stereo, I kept a shelf full of nostalgic knick-knacks: craisens from Mackenzie, little spiky haired bottle cap guy from Mackenzie, a plastic dinosaur from Mackenzie (heck, a bunch of great white elephant stuff and birthday knick-knacks from my good friend Mackenzie who I kind of blew off about two years ago and still need to get back in touch with and apologize to), some paintballs from that time I went paintballing with the youth group (stored in a little laquer box from Belarus, two drippy candlesticks that were once lamps that I had used in my quasi-ironic shrine to Toy Story, a virgin strawberry daquiri plastic goblet filled with Frutopia caps, a Frutopia CAN, a can of Cheetoes, a marble or three, a double shot glass candle from prom, as many badges with my name on them that I could collect, my dead older brother's cap gun (with new caps I bought just for that gun), my ONHS spirit buttons, an Altoids can filled with cufflinks, and a bunch of other stuff I can't remember (but again, if you remember, feel free to comment).

That was me up there. I'm even getting a little nostalgic as I write this. That was who I was. Those things. Keychains, and the shelf of knick-knacks especially, and posters, and the computer, and the old NES games. I was the guy who didn't care if he had good stuff, as long as he had stuff he thought was cool. Especially if only he thought those things were cool.

The funny thing was that as much as all those things made my image, I had a friend tell me that of all the people he knew, I was the most likely to be able to give everything up. I was the most likely. That's scary.

Admission: I love shopping. Jill has a hard time remembering this for some reason, so it always catches her off guard when I actually need something and I go and have a long fun shopping time and get all kinds of good deals on stuff. I love walking around malls, going into every store that interests me. I love swap meets and garage sales and flea markets and Goodwill and thrift stores. Heck, I even really like grocery shopping.

The thing is, over the past few years or so I've been realizing how much I've bought into the lie that what I own is who I am. It's a big lie, too, and a lot of people believe it, even people who aren't necessarily materialistic. Maybe even especially the people who aren't materialistic. In our culture, what you don't own is as much your identity as what you do. So I've really laid off shopping. To the point that I probably could use some more clothes than I have, but it's almost an addiction to paint my identity like that, so I keep away as I can.

I was saying week before last about that walk I took at lunch how I like being seen. I like my image to be one that makes people think, makes them question their own image. Like, "Hey, that guy is X, and he's Y; I didn't know you could be both. For example, I used to try to be a "cool" Christian. I'm not sure anymore that such a thing exists. Now I'm not even sure what image I'm trying to project. I want to be the iconoclast. Also, something intelligent, probably. I like to be thought of as smart. But I want to give it up. Deepest down, I don't want an image at all besides Jesus (Try the You are the Image song here, which should also give you some insight into a recent post title), and I have no idea how to shed everything else.

But just a layer shallower than that, although I've somewhat left behind the image of the guy who only owns stuff he thinks is cool (oh but not entirely), I want the image of the guy who doesn't own very much. Or the image of the guy who owns nothing.

At the same time, I don't want to own very much. I want to live simply. I could do it so no one knew about it, I wouldn't care. If someone broke into my house and stole everything we had, I'd be sad, but I'd also be really relieved. It's even a selling point of moving to the east side: better chance to get our stuff stolen. Ha.

But not ha. I'm kind of serious. Jill and I actually talked about it and the only thing I'd really be sad about losing would be some of the data on our hard drive. Which is a good reason to start backing it up off-site, which we've started to do with our pictures (Thanks Dropbox). I'd be fine with losing the books and the games and the game systems and Nintendo games and even the laptop (I'd actualy be saddest about that, really. Almost as much as the data.) and the DVDs and the furniture. I'm cool with that. And I really want everyone to know that I'm cool with that. But I also don't want anyone to know. You know?

Wednesday, May 7, 2008

In defense of porches.

There's nothing to defend. Porches rule.

But for the skeptics, I'll provide two short examples.

Example 1:
Had the Jr. high guys over last night for our weekly group. Talked about how Jesus is the gospel and how he wants to marry everybody. Also, Schrodinger's Cat, God's possible deterministic role in random chance, the Monty Hall problem, and we watched the We Didn't Start the Viral video, which isn't a rickroll, but features Rick Astley towards the end. Also, there were fig newtons.

Afterwards, one of the guys and I sat out on the porch waiting for his dad to come get him and talked more about certainty and the role of the observer in epistemology. The porch was awesome.

Example 1: PROVED

Example 2:
Sunday night after church, the guy's house held an after-after party for the spring formal they'd held Friday night. We grilled hamburgers and hot dogs, and Brett decided he was going to be "re-emergent" to be contradictory to Steve, who is post-emergent. We talked about how Christianity is changing, and about old churches we'd gone to and new churches we go to. I head nodded to a guy walking down the sidewalk and he nodded back. Austin cleaned a bunch, and then we played Twister in the dining room. The porch was awesome.

Example 2: PROVED

Friday, May 2, 2008

The foilbles of frequent communal meals

Last Sunday, we held the family celebration for Amanda's birthday over at her apartment. Jill and I brought low fat strawberry and low fat caramel ice cream and waffle cones and sugar cones. Amanda had some sherbe(r)t and some low fat other kind of ice cream I've forgotten . Probably chocolate. With my chocolate allergy, I tend to block its presence out of my memory. She also bought some cake cones that turned out to be kid size. Which is good for those on diets. Also, Lilliputians.

The appropriate party epoch for ice cream distribution arrived, so I got all the ice cream out of the freezer, opened the cartons, got out spoons for each kind of ice cream, opened the cones, announced that ice cream was ready, waited a few minutes, and then piled my strawberry on my waffle cone to get the ball rolling; people sometimes have hangups about being the first in line, so if no one jumps in, I'll sometimes just start things off so people will feel comfortable getting food. Feel more like they're at home.

I sat down on the couch with my cone, and both my mom, and my grandmom (Omi) commented more than once that I hadn't served anyone else. It took me a second to realize what they were talking about. I'd opened the cartons, got everything set up. It's not like I got the ice cream out, made a cone and put everything away. That'd be rude. You leave dessert out for a while so people don't have to go rooting for it when they're ready for it. I announced the ice cream was ready and didn't jump in right away even, although it was fully within my prerogative as person who set the food out.

Then I realized that at Omi's house, when there was ice cream, everyone sits around and waits for the host to serve them. Aha, cultural differences at play.

See, at our house, the food sits on the peninsula, and everyone grabs what they want and makes what they want and eats how and where they want. I usually get plates out for people, but the silverware and the cups in the drawers on the peninsula, you can get what you need. Most people who come to our house more than once even know where the pots and pans are.

It never crossed my mind to directly serve the people at Amanda's party their food. I mean, wouldn't that make them feel less at home? Wouldn't it make them feel like I was dictating to them the manner in which they should eat their food ? That they are less capable?

The answer is obviously no, but this incident does highlight two different schools of hospitality: Make the guest feel at home, and make the guest feel like royalty. Both of these serve people, I think. One says, let me serve you directly. One says, let me serve you by making you feel at home. Yeah, I could have gotten them cones. And maybe I would have thought about it if we didn't frequently eat similar meals at Amanda's that we do at home. Heck, I'm sure I should have gotten them ice cream in order to be hospitable to them. Just didn't occur to me. Whether that's unintentional rudeness, or unintentional cross-cultural sensitivity, that's up to you, I think.

The nature of hospitality is an easy place for cultures to clash and feelings to get hurt.

We had some friends at OBC, the Hoskins, who totally fell into the royalty category. Parties at their house were like catered affairs. There were particular times set aside for various planned events. They even pre-planned dinner conversation topics. All to make people feel special. It was very impressive, but not really my bag. I'm a pretty laid back person, and that sort of hospitality always felt too rigid. I appreciated it for sure, but it sometimes felt stilted. I know they didn't feel this way, but almost like they didn't want us to get close, so they put up structures to keep it from happening.

There are a number of households like theirs I visit on frequent (or occasional) occasions, where all I want to do while I'm there is sit on the couch. Houses that do the royalty style hospitality. Omi's, for example. Anything else I do besides sit, I feel uncomfortable, out of place. My guest status places me outside of comfortability and familiarity.

But there are other houses (hi Guys' House) where I sometimes even naturally take up doing the dishes when they're dirty. I take more ownership of post-dinner cleaning because I feel more like their home is mine.

I'm not saying one is good, or the other is bad. One's clearly easier for me to live in. But it is another example of how very easy it is to unintentionally cross cultural boundries with people even in your same culture. Almost worse than full-on cross-cultural faux pas because we don't realize the other is Other.

Thursday, May 1, 2008

My once per year snarky comments about local media. A few years ago, I called 980 KMBZ about Mr. Remodeler Dean Blay.

The following email was sent to KMBCnews@gmail.com at 9:14 P.M.

Subject: Breaking news! LOST, quality television production pre-empted AGAIN

Seriously? This folderol again? ABC newscasters heart their own faces, year II. Look, I realize we can watch LOST online tomorrow. But if this is the case, we can also check our weather online, and don't need continual blanket coverage of a storm. I hate to break it to you, but there are other media from which I can get news. Media that aren't preempting quality programming. This evening, Channel 41 gave their weather report in commercial breaks. Channel 4 is running a bold scroll along the top of the screen. Ia lso realize Brian Busby only gets so many chances to get his face on TV, and needs this sort of seasonal career boost. Oh, wait, he's on every bloody night; I forgot.

I understand this sort of letter will have no impact on your programming decisions. Ergo, I see no reason to continue watching your station when your delight in the the availability of later internet viewing is so apparent.

The letter was unsigned.

Flotsom and Tidbits

  • Bison vs. venison vs. lamb. Who wins?
  • Took a walk today at lunch. It was windy and cloudy, but warm. Stuck Irresistible Revolution in my back pocket and read as I forged down the sidewalk, my newly longer hair flapping about like an agitated flamingo. Was not expecting a re-read to be this challenging. Was wrong. Am challenged and unsettled. We'll see where that goes. Had a BOB at Taco Bueno. I know, I know fat burritos are fattening. Also, delicious. Ordered it to go without a bag because I would just throw it away. The food makers gave me a bag anyway, but the manager fellow manning the counter saw that and debagged my food for me, hopefully to reuse for the next order. But who knows. I mean, what am I going to do with a plastic bag for one burrito? Make a wee parachute and get a lift back to work? That sounds fun, if a tad futile. Stopped at the Hyvee convenience store on the way back and got a diet Sunkist. Which has caffeine. Which I lovehate. And have quit, apparently. But, mmboy, alertness in the afternoon is delightful. That's my forth day in a row taking some small amount of caffeine. Shayne Wessel told me this morning that if I write more on the drug than off it, maybe it's worth being on, seeing as how I love writing so much. I'm not sure I know how to keep form over-doing it. I can't imagine being able to go back to teaching without the ability to stimulate my brain on those days I stayed up too late the night before.
  • When I came back in, it took almost 20 minutes for my sight to readjust to being inside. Is that normal?
  • Been catching up (on emulator) here at work on all those SNES games I never played as a kid, not having a SNES, or being good enough friends with anyone who had one. Final Fantasy VI (or III, depending on your nationality) has been my constant work companion for the last two weeks. Impressively epic story, especially for a ol' 16 bit system. Here's a sample: rediscovering that long-lost magic still can exist in a world that's been without it for centuries, singing in an opera in order to attract a roguish airship captain (actually had to memorize some lines of the libretto), redeeming past failures with new friends, losing your family to war and getting one last chance to see their spirits before they cross over to the afterlife, challenging the heart of a vast and oppressive empire, saving the world from destruction but not total devastation, getting depressed and attempting suicide in an isolated corner of the new and desolate world. And that's just the first half of the game. Also, this is time consuming and I'm lazy. Hence less blogging.
  • Which leads me to the next item. Today is RSS Awareness Day. Which is a ridiculous thing to have an awareness campaign for, considering all the other more important things in the world that could a day of awareness. But RSS is helpful for catching my blog when it's updated, rather than furiously refreshing the page all day waiting for me to post. so that's nice. RSS is a way of aggregating and viewing continually updating websites all within a single other webpage, or reader. Kind of like getting an email every time a webpage updates. So, when my favorite blogs or news sites or comics (except Married to the Sea/Natalie Dee/Toothpaste for Dinner, dangit) update, it shows in my reader, and I can either choose to go to the website directly, or just browse in my reader. Here's a nice lo-tech video explaining it: http://rssday.org/. Jill just started using Google reader, too, and seems to like it
  • Speaking of blogs, my brother in-law-in-law, Nicholas, a music fanatic, is starting a new blogging project where he listens to "Christian" and not music for a month each and records his moods. http://3030musicjourney.blogspot.com/ I've already subscribed to the feed.
  • Just watched the documentary The Business of Being Born with Jill and Nick and Martha. You should see it if you're into well made documentaries. Some stats: When the film was made last year, more than a third of American hospital births end in C-section. New doula Kathy Weatherford says it's now 40%. That number could be 50% by 2010, based on current trends. Less than 4% of American home births end in C-Section. Now, less than 3% of births in the US are attended by midwife. The average in the rest of the "industrialized world" (Hi western Europe!) is 60%. We have the second highest infant mortality rate among those countries. All I'm sayin' is, somethin' ain't right there.
  • I'm thinking about going back and re-proofreading and editing and tagging all my previous blog posts. Is this worth it?