I went into the laundry room this evening and at least one of the fluorescent lights is on its way out so the lights were blinking, giving off a strobe-light effect. This led me to believe one of three things was about to happen:
1) I was going to have a seizure doing laundry.
2) I was going to bust out some crazy cool dance moves that benefit from a strobe light and turn the laundry room into the best dance club in town.
3) An alien was going to jump out from behind the dryer and kill me.
At any rate, laundry night just got a lot more interesting.
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
On the road again
I had been without a car for four days as of today.
Well, I wasn't exactly without it. It was there, sitting in the parking lot of my apartment building, hibernating beneath a blanket of snow.
On Friday, I went out to the car to head into work.
It wouldn't start.
Now, my car and I have a pretty good relationship. I've put it through a lot in the five years or so that I've had it -- criss-crossing Kansas more than any car or human should on 11-hour trips between Denver and Columbia, Mo.; road trips around the Midwest; and sticking it in the middle of what might as well be the Antarctic for the past three winters -- but I think we're stronger for it. We've only really had two major spats: Once, when I left the headlights on when taking a nap at a rest stop and killed the battery -- my fault. And once, when it refused to start right before my friend Jeff's wedding -- not my fault.
Now I should mention that the night before my car failed me, the temperatures got down to about 20 below. The connection between these two events was not lost on me.
There are two funny things you'll notice about people and their cars up here if you're not from the area:
1) Many cars have extension cords hanging out of the hoods. This is to plug in their batteries to keep them from freezing overnight, I learned.
2) Many people will leave their car running in a parking lot. I've been out to eat with people who will just leave their car on so that it stays warm and doesn't stall.
To most people, these seem like odd things, but around here, it's pretty common. However, I'd gotten through two winters and this one so far without any more than some grumblings from my car. I had already promised it a warmer climate as soon as I can find a new job. So I was a little surprised when it wouldn't start. The battery wasn't frozen -- the radio and lights still worked. I thought maybe whatever it was would just need to some time to thaw. Although since we're not going to hit temperatures above freezing anytime soon, my wait-it-out strategy didn't have a lot going for it. But it was Christmas weekend so I didn't have a lot of choice but to rely on the generosity of a few friends to chauffeur me to work and back. Besides, it was inching above 0 degrees, and I figured that had to count for something.
I tried to start the car a couple of times every day over the weekend, to no avail.
Finally, this morning (Monday), I called my insurance company to get a tow truck to take me to a nearby repair shop. A guy at the shop had said it might be a flooded engine, in which case the spark plugs would have to be replaced and the oil maybe changed. All in all, it would be about $50.
When the tow truck arrived, the guy listened to me try to start it, agreed about the engine being flooded (through no fault of my own, it should be added; he said that just happens sometimes in cold weather with four-cylinder engines). But his solution was much simpler and cheaper -- press the gas and keep trying to start it until it burned off the extra fuel. Sure enough, five minutes and $0 later, I had a working car.
I guess sometimes Santa drives a tow truck and delivers his gifts a little bit late.
Well, I wasn't exactly without it. It was there, sitting in the parking lot of my apartment building, hibernating beneath a blanket of snow.
On Friday, I went out to the car to head into work.
It wouldn't start.
Now, my car and I have a pretty good relationship. I've put it through a lot in the five years or so that I've had it -- criss-crossing Kansas more than any car or human should on 11-hour trips between Denver and Columbia, Mo.; road trips around the Midwest; and sticking it in the middle of what might as well be the Antarctic for the past three winters -- but I think we're stronger for it. We've only really had two major spats: Once, when I left the headlights on when taking a nap at a rest stop and killed the battery -- my fault. And once, when it refused to start right before my friend Jeff's wedding -- not my fault.
Now I should mention that the night before my car failed me, the temperatures got down to about 20 below. The connection between these two events was not lost on me.
There are two funny things you'll notice about people and their cars up here if you're not from the area:
1) Many cars have extension cords hanging out of the hoods. This is to plug in their batteries to keep them from freezing overnight, I learned.
2) Many people will leave their car running in a parking lot. I've been out to eat with people who will just leave their car on so that it stays warm and doesn't stall.
To most people, these seem like odd things, but around here, it's pretty common. However, I'd gotten through two winters and this one so far without any more than some grumblings from my car. I had already promised it a warmer climate as soon as I can find a new job. So I was a little surprised when it wouldn't start. The battery wasn't frozen -- the radio and lights still worked. I thought maybe whatever it was would just need to some time to thaw. Although since we're not going to hit temperatures above freezing anytime soon, my wait-it-out strategy didn't have a lot going for it. But it was Christmas weekend so I didn't have a lot of choice but to rely on the generosity of a few friends to chauffeur me to work and back. Besides, it was inching above 0 degrees, and I figured that had to count for something.
I tried to start the car a couple of times every day over the weekend, to no avail.
Finally, this morning (Monday), I called my insurance company to get a tow truck to take me to a nearby repair shop. A guy at the shop had said it might be a flooded engine, in which case the spark plugs would have to be replaced and the oil maybe changed. All in all, it would be about $50.
When the tow truck arrived, the guy listened to me try to start it, agreed about the engine being flooded (through no fault of my own, it should be added; he said that just happens sometimes in cold weather with four-cylinder engines). But his solution was much simpler and cheaper -- press the gas and keep trying to start it until it burned off the extra fuel. Sure enough, five minutes and $0 later, I had a working car.
I guess sometimes Santa drives a tow truck and delivers his gifts a little bit late.
Saturday, December 25, 2004
Merry Christmas!
It's no letter from Klaus, but in honor of the day, I present one of journalism's finer pieces of work, which appeared in the New York Sun more than a century ago.
We take pleasure in answering thus prominently the communication below, expressing at the same time our great gratification that its faithful author is numbered among the friends of The Sun:
Dear Editor,
I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says, ``If you see it in The Sun, it's so.'' Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?
Virginia O'Hanlon
115 West Ninety-Fifth Street
Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little.
In this great universe of ours, man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.
Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy.
Alas! How dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The external light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.
Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies. You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if you did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see.
Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.
You tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived could tear apart. Only faith, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond.
Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding. No Santa Claus! Thank God! He lives and lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay 10 times 10,000 years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.
We take pleasure in answering thus prominently the communication below, expressing at the same time our great gratification that its faithful author is numbered among the friends of The Sun:
Dear Editor,
I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says, ``If you see it in The Sun, it's so.'' Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?
Virginia O'Hanlon
115 West Ninety-Fifth Street
Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little.
In this great universe of ours, man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.
Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy.
Alas! How dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The external light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.
Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies. You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if you did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see.
Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.
You tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived could tear apart. Only faith, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond.
Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding. No Santa Claus! Thank God! He lives and lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay 10 times 10,000 years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.
Friday, December 24, 2004
Blogger beware
Today, some news from the blogging world:
The St. Louis Post-Dispatch suspended a features reporter and seized his computer after an article was published in the Riverfront Times (employer of the lovely K-Mac) about his blog (which was written under a pseudonym). The full article can be found here. He commented a lot on stories he wrote and people at the paper.
Food for thought.
Also interesting, is this commentary on the incident.
Speaking of media, a good column from the Baltimore Sun talks about how the media has failed the public. This is an excerpt:
Journalists have allowed political operatives to successfully control what is discussed and how it is discussed. TV programs that pit an extremist on the left against an extremist on the right have made it clear there is no room for moderate voices. Walter Cronkite used to be the most trusted journalist in America. Now Jon Stewart - a comedian with a "fake news" show - may be. President Bush invaded Iraq on false pretenses, and many in the news media not only didn't question his assertions but served to legitimize them. The Patriot Act, which authorizes serious abridgments of civil liberties, was enacted and allowed to continue with hardly a whimper from the institutions that depend on the First Amendment for their existence. . . . Pursuing these kinds of stories takes time, energy and sources. It is fueled by a healthy skepticism from reporters and courage on the part of editors. And it requires that government be sufficiently in awe of the power of the press so that it provide answers and access. Instead, we have too many reporters who believe it is their job simply to quote what people tell them - who think being "investigative" is getting a conflicting quote.
If you want to read the whole column, click the link above. (If you don't want to register, you can use the user name and password ''commonbriguy.'')
The St. Louis Post-Dispatch suspended a features reporter and seized his computer after an article was published in the Riverfront Times (employer of the lovely K-Mac) about his blog (which was written under a pseudonym). The full article can be found here. He commented a lot on stories he wrote and people at the paper.
Food for thought.
Also interesting, is this commentary on the incident.
Speaking of media, a good column from the Baltimore Sun talks about how the media has failed the public. This is an excerpt:
Journalists have allowed political operatives to successfully control what is discussed and how it is discussed. TV programs that pit an extremist on the left against an extremist on the right have made it clear there is no room for moderate voices. Walter Cronkite used to be the most trusted journalist in America. Now Jon Stewart - a comedian with a "fake news" show - may be. President Bush invaded Iraq on false pretenses, and many in the news media not only didn't question his assertions but served to legitimize them. The Patriot Act, which authorizes serious abridgments of civil liberties, was enacted and allowed to continue with hardly a whimper from the institutions that depend on the First Amendment for their existence. . . . Pursuing these kinds of stories takes time, energy and sources. It is fueled by a healthy skepticism from reporters and courage on the part of editors. And it requires that government be sufficiently in awe of the power of the press so that it provide answers and access. Instead, we have too many reporters who believe it is their job simply to quote what people tell them - who think being "investigative" is getting a conflicting quote.
If you want to read the whole column, click the link above. (If you don't want to register, you can use the user name and password ''commonbriguy.'')
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
I've got style
Further proving how much of a geek I am, I bought the 2004 edition of the AP stylebook at the bookstore tonight. For those not in the biz, the AP stylebook is essentially the copy editor's Bible. We reference it for spellings, usage and other style related questions. The store didn't have the spiral-bound kind, which was a disappointment, but I was still pretty psyched to get a copy.
Of course the first thing I did was check the beginning to see what the new or altered entries were. Several of the changes were sorely needed. AP just finally got around to acknowledging ATMs, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Sacagawea (you wouldn't believe the debates I've had about how to spell her name; there are about five ways to do so), SARS, Scud missiles and Serbia-Montenegro.
The AP has also finally wised up and changed its preference on not guilty/innocent. It had preferred using "innocent" to guard against the word "not" being dropped from "not guilty," which was a pretty silly reason once we stopped manually putting type on the pages.
AP also continues its inconsistent rulings. Under "headquarters," it clearly states that you shouldn't use the word as a verb (e.g. The company is headquartered in New Orleans). But then, as the Associated Press often does, it violates its own rule under the new Humane Society entry, in which it says that the organization is "headquartered" in Washington.
It also still insists on not really embracing some of the world's new-fangled technology. DVD is acceptable on first reference in most stories but should be spelled out somewhere in a story "in which the context may not be familiar to readers." I have no idea in what kind of stories "digital versatile disc" will be more familiar to readers than "DVD," but OK, AP....
Although that's not nearly bad as the entry on VCR, which AP still insists should be called a videocasette recorder the first time you mention it.
That's just ridiculous.
Of course the first thing I did was check the beginning to see what the new or altered entries were. Several of the changes were sorely needed. AP just finally got around to acknowledging ATMs, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Sacagawea (you wouldn't believe the debates I've had about how to spell her name; there are about five ways to do so), SARS, Scud missiles and Serbia-Montenegro.
The AP has also finally wised up and changed its preference on not guilty/innocent. It had preferred using "innocent" to guard against the word "not" being dropped from "not guilty," which was a pretty silly reason once we stopped manually putting type on the pages.
AP also continues its inconsistent rulings. Under "headquarters," it clearly states that you shouldn't use the word as a verb (e.g. The company is headquartered in New Orleans). But then, as the Associated Press often does, it violates its own rule under the new Humane Society entry, in which it says that the organization is "headquartered" in Washington.
It also still insists on not really embracing some of the world's new-fangled technology. DVD is acceptable on first reference in most stories but should be spelled out somewhere in a story "in which the context may not be familiar to readers." I have no idea in what kind of stories "digital versatile disc" will be more familiar to readers than "DVD," but OK, AP....
Although that's not nearly bad as the entry on VCR, which AP still insists should be called a videocasette recorder the first time you mention it.
That's just ridiculous.
Saturday, December 18, 2004
Tremble in fear ...
... of so many disjointed thoughts thrown helter-skelter into one blog post.
1) I can't believe that Jeff Probst is dating Julie from the latest edition of "Survivor." Actually, I should say that I can't believe Julie would date Jeff (I totally understand Jeff's decision). I mean, did she see the total cheesiness that consumed the last episode? Julie, if you date me, I promise that I will never be shown on television chopping my way through the jungle with a machete all night to a waiting plane, skydive out of that plane over the desert, hop on a motorcycle and then ride it to a television studio. I will also never let Sarge wear that shirt he wore for the final vote ever again.
2) I just got my Electronic Gaming Monthly magazine and it has an ad glued to the cover. It's designed like the cover, as if the magazine were all about this particular video game, but it's just a fake attached to the real cover.
This disturbs me. It's like when they try to make newspaper ads that look like news articles. I hate that.
3) I've just finished reading a great book, and begun another. Both are about a couple of Jewish boys growing up. "The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay" by Michael Chabon is set against the backdrop of World War II and talks a lot about the golden age of comic books. (It's fiction, but contains a lot of actual events and people.) Thanks to Amber for recommending it some time ago and to Capt. Dusty McAwesome for loaning it to me. The other book I've just begun is about the life of Jesus ... as told by his childhood pal Biff (again, thanks to Amber for the recommendation). "Lamb" by Christopher Moore (who also has a new book out -- "The Stupidest Angel") is a slightly more irreverent book. It starts with Biff meeting Jesus for the first time at the age of 6. Jesus has a lizard hanging out of his mouth, which he hands to his younger (half-)brother, who plays with it and then smashes it with a rock. The dead lizard is handed back to Jesus, who puts it in his mouth, and then takes it out again, alive and well ... only to be smote by the younger brother again. And so the cycle repeats itself.
So yeah, it's that kind of book.
4) If you're not familiar with Duluth, I live in a frozen wasteland. My apartment parking lot, which has the misfortune to be on the north side of the building and thus in the shade all day, has become an ice skating rink. For awhile, when it occasionally bumped above freezing, it would turn into a slush pond, but now, it's just sheer ice over the entire thing. I imagine it won't melt until July.
Naturally, the weather is a bit of a hindrance in getting people to come work here. Capt. Dusty McAwesome was talking to a job candidate for one of our open positions this afternoon when she suddenly asked about the weather. It's cold, he told her. (She's from Alabama, so this was going to be a major issue.) She mentioned that she was applying at a paper in Florida and that it was 70 there. Dusty said, "Well, yeah, it's like that here, too. Just drop off the zero."
She suddenly seems to have lost interest in the job.
We all told him he should have tried to spin it better. (It's still several hundred degrees above absolute zero, as he likes to say.)
5) Speaking of work, I've found my vehicle to fame. Some time ago, I was asked to be in a commercial for the paper that was promoting this daily deal thing the paper is doing. I play a husband sitting at the breakfast table with his wife, who has been cutting holes out of his paper everyday, much to his dismay. I only had one line but had to convey a number of emotions through facial expressions. I call this "emoting." I haven't seen the commercial yet, but I believe they rushed it onto TV so that it would be eligible for the coming Oscars and/or Emmys. So keep an eye out for me on the red carpet.
1) I can't believe that Jeff Probst is dating Julie from the latest edition of "Survivor." Actually, I should say that I can't believe Julie would date Jeff (I totally understand Jeff's decision). I mean, did she see the total cheesiness that consumed the last episode? Julie, if you date me, I promise that I will never be shown on television chopping my way through the jungle with a machete all night to a waiting plane, skydive out of that plane over the desert, hop on a motorcycle and then ride it to a television studio. I will also never let Sarge wear that shirt he wore for the final vote ever again.
2) I just got my Electronic Gaming Monthly magazine and it has an ad glued to the cover. It's designed like the cover, as if the magazine were all about this particular video game, but it's just a fake attached to the real cover.
This disturbs me. It's like when they try to make newspaper ads that look like news articles. I hate that.
3) I've just finished reading a great book, and begun another. Both are about a couple of Jewish boys growing up. "The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay" by Michael Chabon is set against the backdrop of World War II and talks a lot about the golden age of comic books. (It's fiction, but contains a lot of actual events and people.) Thanks to Amber for recommending it some time ago and to Capt. Dusty McAwesome for loaning it to me. The other book I've just begun is about the life of Jesus ... as told by his childhood pal Biff (again, thanks to Amber for the recommendation). "Lamb" by Christopher Moore (who also has a new book out -- "The Stupidest Angel") is a slightly more irreverent book. It starts with Biff meeting Jesus for the first time at the age of 6. Jesus has a lizard hanging out of his mouth, which he hands to his younger (half-)brother, who plays with it and then smashes it with a rock. The dead lizard is handed back to Jesus, who puts it in his mouth, and then takes it out again, alive and well ... only to be smote by the younger brother again. And so the cycle repeats itself.
So yeah, it's that kind of book.
4) If you're not familiar with Duluth, I live in a frozen wasteland. My apartment parking lot, which has the misfortune to be on the north side of the building and thus in the shade all day, has become an ice skating rink. For awhile, when it occasionally bumped above freezing, it would turn into a slush pond, but now, it's just sheer ice over the entire thing. I imagine it won't melt until July.
Naturally, the weather is a bit of a hindrance in getting people to come work here. Capt. Dusty McAwesome was talking to a job candidate for one of our open positions this afternoon when she suddenly asked about the weather. It's cold, he told her. (She's from Alabama, so this was going to be a major issue.) She mentioned that she was applying at a paper in Florida and that it was 70 there. Dusty said, "Well, yeah, it's like that here, too. Just drop off the zero."
She suddenly seems to have lost interest in the job.
We all told him he should have tried to spin it better. (It's still several hundred degrees above absolute zero, as he likes to say.)
5) Speaking of work, I've found my vehicle to fame. Some time ago, I was asked to be in a commercial for the paper that was promoting this daily deal thing the paper is doing. I play a husband sitting at the breakfast table with his wife, who has been cutting holes out of his paper everyday, much to his dismay. I only had one line but had to convey a number of emotions through facial expressions. I call this "emoting." I haven't seen the commercial yet, but I believe they rushed it onto TV so that it would be eligible for the coming Oscars and/or Emmys. So keep an eye out for me on the red carpet.
Friday, December 17, 2004
It's not mine
Sorry it's been awhile since I've posted; it's been a hectic week. I've managed to procrastinate quite well about critiquing papers for the Virginian-Pilot, where I'm applying for a job. I'm also way behind on sending Christmas cards.
But enough excuses, there are several things I'd like to blog about, but I'll start out with this:
I don't usually remember my dreams, so I always find it interesting, if not bizarre, when I do remember snippets. Last night, I dreamt I was being sentenced for using drugs. I'm not sure what kind of drugs, and I didn't remember ever using drugs or being convicted on the charge, but here I was being sentenced. I didn't fight it too hard, only saying, "I have no idea how to prove that I didn't do something." So the judge sentenced me to forking over half my salary for the rest of my life. (It should be noted that I'm pretty sure the court proceedings were taking place in a one-room schoolhouse, so in retrospect, I'm not sure they were entirely legit.) I complained about the unfairness of the restitution with the plea: "But I work at a newspaper. I barely make enough money as it is. If I have to pay half my salary, I won't have enough money to live."
The judge -- who I vaguely remember as being a friend, but I'm not sure who -- didn't care.
I think I like it better when I don't remember my dreams. My subconscious is seriously disturbed.
But enough excuses, there are several things I'd like to blog about, but I'll start out with this:
I don't usually remember my dreams, so I always find it interesting, if not bizarre, when I do remember snippets. Last night, I dreamt I was being sentenced for using drugs. I'm not sure what kind of drugs, and I didn't remember ever using drugs or being convicted on the charge, but here I was being sentenced. I didn't fight it too hard, only saying, "I have no idea how to prove that I didn't do something." So the judge sentenced me to forking over half my salary for the rest of my life. (It should be noted that I'm pretty sure the court proceedings were taking place in a one-room schoolhouse, so in retrospect, I'm not sure they were entirely legit.) I complained about the unfairness of the restitution with the plea: "But I work at a newspaper. I barely make enough money as it is. If I have to pay half my salary, I won't have enough money to live."
The judge -- who I vaguely remember as being a friend, but I'm not sure who -- didn't care.
I think I like it better when I don't remember my dreams. My subconscious is seriously disturbed.
Monday, December 13, 2004
This gets my goat
In this time of giving, I'll direct your attention to a worthy cause:
Heifer International
It's an organization that provides cows, chickens and other animals to poor regions of the world to provide a sustainable source of food and income. And the people who get these animals are obligated to pass along their offspring to others in need, thus spreading the chain.
It's a worthwhile site and a good cause, so I encourage you to check it out. There's also a section on things we can all do to help end hunger and save the planet.
A woman at work organized a group of us to donate for the holidays; I think we're getting a goat.
And while I've already gotten people's gifts for this year, I have to admit that I struggle finding things for people. So I think, in the future, charitable gifts may be the way to go.
So don't be surprised, if next year, I donate a chicken on your behalf.
Heifer International
It's an organization that provides cows, chickens and other animals to poor regions of the world to provide a sustainable source of food and income. And the people who get these animals are obligated to pass along their offspring to others in need, thus spreading the chain.
It's a worthwhile site and a good cause, so I encourage you to check it out. There's also a section on things we can all do to help end hunger and save the planet.
A woman at work organized a group of us to donate for the holidays; I think we're getting a goat.
And while I've already gotten people's gifts for this year, I have to admit that I struggle finding things for people. So I think, in the future, charitable gifts may be the way to go.
So don't be surprised, if next year, I donate a chicken on your behalf.
Thursday, December 09, 2004
Money talks...
Well, it doesn't really talk. That would be creepy.
But if money could talk, oh, the stories it would tell.
I got a $20 bill the other night that had the words "CURRENCY TRACKING PROJECT" on the top of the back of the bill, and "WWW.WHERESGEORGE.COM" printed on the bottom. Being a curious sort, I checked it out. It's a little Internet project to track where your currency has been and where it ends up after it leaves your hand. Most of my money hadn't been reported before, but the $20 with the writing on it had last been entered in Philadelphia about 175 days ago.
I find this interesting. I don't know why.
It also makes me want to wash my hands after touching money.
On an unrelated note, I saw "Blade: Trinity" tonight. I have a penchant for what most people would consider to be bad and/or cheesy action films. Don't get me wrong -- I like the movies with depth, character development, emotion and, you know, a plot. But the entertaining action movies are sort of my guilty pleasure. Luckily, I have a cohort in crime for this -- my friend Val. I actually have to restrain her from seeing some of the movies that are bad even by our standards. ("Alien vs. Predator"? Hell, yeah. "Catwoman"? Not a chance.) To most people, this will seem like an arbitrary distinction, but trust me, the line is there.
Anyhow, we both agreed that "Blade: Trinity" was excellent entertainment -- good action scenes and plenty of humor. The addition of Ryan Reynolds and a butt-kicking Jessica Biel (be still my heart) was definitely what the series needed to spice things up. And if that doesn't convince you, I just have two words:
Vampire dogs.
There's just something about turning dogs into evil creatures (also see: "Resident Evil") that I find fun/funny.
Maybe it's because I'm not a pet person ...
But if money could talk, oh, the stories it would tell.
I got a $20 bill the other night that had the words "CURRENCY TRACKING PROJECT" on the top of the back of the bill, and "WWW.WHERESGEORGE.COM" printed on the bottom. Being a curious sort, I checked it out. It's a little Internet project to track where your currency has been and where it ends up after it leaves your hand. Most of my money hadn't been reported before, but the $20 with the writing on it had last been entered in Philadelphia about 175 days ago.
I find this interesting. I don't know why.
It also makes me want to wash my hands after touching money.
On an unrelated note, I saw "Blade: Trinity" tonight. I have a penchant for what most people would consider to be bad and/or cheesy action films. Don't get me wrong -- I like the movies with depth, character development, emotion and, you know, a plot. But the entertaining action movies are sort of my guilty pleasure. Luckily, I have a cohort in crime for this -- my friend Val. I actually have to restrain her from seeing some of the movies that are bad even by our standards. ("Alien vs. Predator"? Hell, yeah. "Catwoman"? Not a chance.) To most people, this will seem like an arbitrary distinction, but trust me, the line is there.
Anyhow, we both agreed that "Blade: Trinity" was excellent entertainment -- good action scenes and plenty of humor. The addition of Ryan Reynolds and a butt-kicking Jessica Biel (be still my heart) was definitely what the series needed to spice things up. And if that doesn't convince you, I just have two words:
Vampire dogs.
There's just something about turning dogs into evil creatures (also see: "Resident Evil") that I find fun/funny.
Maybe it's because I'm not a pet person ...
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
Censorship in the media
A friend of mine makes an excellent point about a church ad that does not promote homosexuality, but merely talks about being inclusive and welcoming to all people, homosexuals included. The reaction shows just how far the chilling effect of the FCC or of the administration's toe-the-line policies or whatever is driving this decision has gone. She puts it more eloquently than I could. You can read her blog entry here.
On a related religious note to any Jewish readers, Happy Hanukkah!
On a related religious note to any Jewish readers, Happy Hanukkah!
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
Fuzzy math
In honor of Capt. Dusty McAwesome taking the GRE today, I present you with the following math story problem:
Brian wins an electronic dartboard at the annual newspaper guild Christmas party. He takes it home and begins to set it up. The instructions insist that the center of the bull's-eye should be 5'8" from the floor. It then instructs him to place the top screw that will hold the dartboard 65.75" from the floor and the bottom screw 50.75" from the floor.
Explain how it is humanly possible to abide by all three measurements.
Brian wins an electronic dartboard at the annual newspaper guild Christmas party. He takes it home and begins to set it up. The instructions insist that the center of the bull's-eye should be 5'8" from the floor. It then instructs him to place the top screw that will hold the dartboard 65.75" from the floor and the bottom screw 50.75" from the floor.
Explain how it is humanly possible to abide by all three measurements.
Monday, December 06, 2004
Ode to a plant
I buried my plant today.
Well, actually, I yanked it out of its pot and threw the plant and dirt into a snow-covered field behind my apartment building. I figure it's better there than throwing it into the garbage. It can just decompose in nature -- dust to dust and all.
So it was sort of like a burial, but without all the digging and ceremony.
My plant and I weren't all that close. I never named it, like some friends I have do. I never talked to it or played it classical music to help it grow. But, more often than not, I watered it and tried to take care of it. And the plant, in return, bloomed nice, red flowers; gave my deck a splash of color; and came back from the brink of death more than once.
We met in the Wal-Mart garden center.
I had gone there one nice spring day (spring being June in Duluth). I had been hesitant about buying a plant. I wasn't sure I was ready for that level of commitment. Would I really remember to water it every other day? Did I have the time to pay it the attention that it would need? Maybe I should go with a starter plant -- like a cactus. But no, I decided to face my fears and give it a shot. Better to find out that I was incapable of taking care of a living thing by accidentally killing a plant than, say, a puppy.
I looked around at all the different kinds. I knew I needed a plant that would be OK in direct sunshine in the morning, but then shade for most of the rest of the day. (The balcony faces east.) Past that, I had no idea. I walked up and down the aisles, checking out the prospects. Some were pretty, others had not only been hit by the ugly stick, they WERE the ugly stick.
Then, I met my matchmaker.
She was probably in her 60s and seemed to have sensed my confusion. She asked what I was looking for. I explained as best I could -- a plant. Something with flowers maybe. She took pity on me and, after asking a few other pertinent questions, began hunting around, checking out various plants. There was much hemming and hawing; clearly, she wanted just the right plant for me. I think I reminded her of her adult son, for whom she was shopping for a plant. Apparently, he was about as knowledgeable as I. Finally, she found it. It was a geranium with red flowers. It hadn't yet hit its peak, and she knew that it would be absolutely beautiful once it did. She handed it to me proudly and I accepted, thanking her profusely for her help. She gave me some tips on how to take care of my newfound companion and I took it home.
Thus began a relationship that would last the rest of the summer (the length of July, in Duluth) and most of the fall.
Surprisingly, I actually did remember to water it every other day. Well, most of the time. There were occasionally times when I would forget and it would be three or four days, but the plant never complained. Once, I forgot to water it for about a week or a little more and it started to die, but after I started watering it again, it sprang back to life. Another time, an early chill nearly killed it, but again, it persevered and survived. I would like to think these struggles tested our relationship and made it stronger.
But it's gone now, killed for good by the first frost several weeks ago.
I do not mourn. I know it's in a better place.
Well, I guess laying in the field in the cold isn't really a better place. But whatever.
Will I get another plant? Eventually, maybe. But I know it won't be the same. Unless I get another geranium, in which case, maybe it will be the same.
But first, I need time.
And I have to wait for summer anyhow.
Well, actually, I yanked it out of its pot and threw the plant and dirt into a snow-covered field behind my apartment building. I figure it's better there than throwing it into the garbage. It can just decompose in nature -- dust to dust and all.
So it was sort of like a burial, but without all the digging and ceremony.
My plant and I weren't all that close. I never named it, like some friends I have do. I never talked to it or played it classical music to help it grow. But, more often than not, I watered it and tried to take care of it. And the plant, in return, bloomed nice, red flowers; gave my deck a splash of color; and came back from the brink of death more than once.
We met in the Wal-Mart garden center.
I had gone there one nice spring day (spring being June in Duluth). I had been hesitant about buying a plant. I wasn't sure I was ready for that level of commitment. Would I really remember to water it every other day? Did I have the time to pay it the attention that it would need? Maybe I should go with a starter plant -- like a cactus. But no, I decided to face my fears and give it a shot. Better to find out that I was incapable of taking care of a living thing by accidentally killing a plant than, say, a puppy.
I looked around at all the different kinds. I knew I needed a plant that would be OK in direct sunshine in the morning, but then shade for most of the rest of the day. (The balcony faces east.) Past that, I had no idea. I walked up and down the aisles, checking out the prospects. Some were pretty, others had not only been hit by the ugly stick, they WERE the ugly stick.
Then, I met my matchmaker.
She was probably in her 60s and seemed to have sensed my confusion. She asked what I was looking for. I explained as best I could -- a plant. Something with flowers maybe. She took pity on me and, after asking a few other pertinent questions, began hunting around, checking out various plants. There was much hemming and hawing; clearly, she wanted just the right plant for me. I think I reminded her of her adult son, for whom she was shopping for a plant. Apparently, he was about as knowledgeable as I. Finally, she found it. It was a geranium with red flowers. It hadn't yet hit its peak, and she knew that it would be absolutely beautiful once it did. She handed it to me proudly and I accepted, thanking her profusely for her help. She gave me some tips on how to take care of my newfound companion and I took it home.
Thus began a relationship that would last the rest of the summer (the length of July, in Duluth) and most of the fall.
Surprisingly, I actually did remember to water it every other day. Well, most of the time. There were occasionally times when I would forget and it would be three or four days, but the plant never complained. Once, I forgot to water it for about a week or a little more and it started to die, but after I started watering it again, it sprang back to life. Another time, an early chill nearly killed it, but again, it persevered and survived. I would like to think these struggles tested our relationship and made it stronger.
But it's gone now, killed for good by the first frost several weeks ago.
I do not mourn. I know it's in a better place.
Well, I guess laying in the field in the cold isn't really a better place. But whatever.
Will I get another plant? Eventually, maybe. But I know it won't be the same. Unless I get another geranium, in which case, maybe it will be the same.
But first, I need time.
And I have to wait for summer anyhow.
So ... ummm....
I'm not that great a small talk in the first place, but if you want a real challenge, try coming up with things to say at a sort-of-work function to a co-worker you don't know that well who has brought a date almost young enough to be his daughter, whom he met over the Internet and has since left his wife for.
Talk about awkward.
On a brighter note, you may have noticed that I've added some links to more people's blogs (our numbers are always growing) along with links to a few sites you might like. I would like to especially point out the last two blogs (Site of the Living Dead and The Hero Guild). The former will be particularly useful if you've ever wondered how to deal with a zombie attack (better to be prepared than eaten, I always say). The latter I expect will be a fascinating look at the extraordinary lives of a few superheroes. Though I have no idea who these brave men are, they have my eternal gratitude for making the world a safer place. They're also dapper dressers from what I hear.
Talk about awkward.
On a brighter note, you may have noticed that I've added some links to more people's blogs (our numbers are always growing) along with links to a few sites you might like. I would like to especially point out the last two blogs (Site of the Living Dead and The Hero Guild). The former will be particularly useful if you've ever wondered how to deal with a zombie attack (better to be prepared than eaten, I always say). The latter I expect will be a fascinating look at the extraordinary lives of a few superheroes. Though I have no idea who these brave men are, they have my eternal gratitude for making the world a safer place. They're also dapper dressers from what I hear.
Saturday, December 04, 2004
Some interesting links
A new study claims that walking is the most dangerous mode of transportation. This seems somewhat ironic seeing as how, not that long ago, health advocates were saying that walking is the best exercise and a great way to improve and lengthen your life.
If you haven't tried using Firefox as a browser, I highly recommend it. It's more secure than Internet Explorer and has a built-in pop-up blocker. Good stuff.
If you're a bit of an astronomy or weather geek like me, you'll love this site: Astronomy Picture of the Day. It even comes with handy explainers, even if I don't always understand them.
If you haven't tried using Firefox as a browser, I highly recommend it. It's more secure than Internet Explorer and has a built-in pop-up blocker. Good stuff.
If you're a bit of an astronomy or weather geek like me, you'll love this site: Astronomy Picture of the Day. It even comes with handy explainers, even if I don't always understand them.
Friday, December 03, 2004
For your amusement
A headline that almost appeared in today's paper on a story about the restructuring of the U.S. intelligence system, but which we decided against after realizing its double entendre:
"Bush faces test on intelligence"
A story on a fire at a butter plant that left a town swimming in melted butter: "New Ulm fire butters town, batters plant."
If you really want your faith in the decency of Superman and the comic book industry as a whole shaken, check this out. As far as I can tell, they're real comic book covers, but to say that they are atrocious would be kind. Thanks to Baby Blue for passing it along.
"Bush faces test on intelligence"
A story on a fire at a butter plant that left a town swimming in melted butter: "New Ulm fire butters town, batters plant."
If you really want your faith in the decency of Superman and the comic book industry as a whole shaken, check this out. As far as I can tell, they're real comic book covers, but to say that they are atrocious would be kind. Thanks to Baby Blue for passing it along.
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