Monday, April 18, 2005
Sunday, April 17, 2005
This Week on Mercy High's Marquee!
"GYPSY 4/15, 16, 22, 23 7:30PM TIX 334-0525"
Yeah, it took me a few days to get this posted. You try getting all of those dates -and that phone number- right while you're whizzing past on 19th Avenue... in traffic... wearing a burka... and whistling Echoes while shaving and checking your blind spot.
The real issue at hand here is... what's a private, all-girl Catholic high school doing staging Gypsy? It is still a stripper's life story, right? Is this the family values message we wanna' be sending to the cloistered kids?
I guess there's an argument to be made that Together is a metaphor for one's walk with Christ... but mostly I just wanna' know who'll be playing Herbie.
Oh yeah, these are interesting times....
Yeah, it took me a few days to get this posted. You try getting all of those dates -and that phone number- right while you're whizzing past on 19th Avenue... in traffic... wearing a burka... and whistling Echoes while shaving and checking your blind spot.
The real issue at hand here is... what's a private, all-girl Catholic high school doing staging Gypsy? It is still a stripper's life story, right? Is this the family values message we wanna' be sending to the cloistered kids?
I guess there's an argument to be made that Together is a metaphor for one's walk with Christ... but mostly I just wanna' know who'll be playing Herbie.
Oh yeah, these are interesting times....
Saturday, April 16, 2005
I Will Not Use the Force in Class
Luke! Don't underestimate Pedro! Or suffer your father's fate you will!
Friday, April 15, 2005
So That Happened
I was standing in line at Subway. It was a long line; I'd been in it for quite a while.
I hate lines... even for things that don't suck. So just imagine how I felt about that particular line. That's right... it was like the Sarah Jessica Parker of lines. That line was my personal enemy. That never-ending march through Hell toward a Purgatory of broken dreams and soggy onions... that was my forty days in the desert. That was my Exodus... 'cept, you know, I didn't get anywhere and I wound-up with just a crappy sandwich and a flat Mountain Dew.
While I was a good little lemming and followed the others through the maze of plastic chains and chrome-plated stanchions, the guy behind me was plodding along, and barking non-stop into his cell phone.
He was a man of principle. "MOP," for our story, okay? I know he was a man of principle because he told me... well, told us... well, announced it repeatedly to the rest of us in line while he debated the merits of Mickey's Big Mouth, decried the demise of this year's pro hockey season (it's "fucked-up," I learned), and deconstructed professional lacrosse (it's "fucked-up," I learned) with his cellular confidante.
I finally got my turn at the shiny plastic oasis that was the order counter. I ordered my sandwich: pastrami on sourdough, toasted. I like 'em toasted... they're so... so delightfully toasty... aren't they?
The kid at the counter nodded; dutifully sliced my sourdough open, and pushed it on to the next slack-jawed counter-agent (yeah, like Don Adams... but with acne) who took care of the rest with mindless efficiency.
Meanwhile... behind me, the next train on the Subway line derailed in Sensurround splendor....
"Welcome to Subway, sir! What kind of bread would you like?"
"No, I didn't say he kill-- hang on," MOP sighed into his phone.
"Bread sir?"
"What's that one?" MOP asked, pressing his thumb against the greasy plastic partition.
"Italian."
"Yeah, I want that one."
"Oh, we're out. Sorry," the counter-agent said, sneaking a peek at the lengthening line.
"Then what's that one?"
"Asagio."
"Kewl.... gimme that."
"Sorry, we're out."
MOP groaned into his phone: "They're fuckin' out of bread... what? She said that?"
"Sir?"
"Look, give me what he got, a'ight?" MOP waved a hand at my freshly-toasted sourdough.
"Yes sir... ummmmmmmmm, so what kind of sandwich did you want sir?"
"That one... turkey, ham and bacon melt."
"Yes sir!"
"Is that hot?"
"The sandwich, sir?"
"Yeah, the sandwich... is it hot?"
"It's toasted, sir; the cheese is melted."
"So it's hot, right?"
"Yes sir... it's hot."
"A'ight."
By this time I'd moved on to the produce. I'm easy when it comes to produce: the less the better. Lettuce is fine; tomatoes are okay when I forget to say "Oh! No tomatoes!" I can pick them off... I don't even mind. You know why? 'cause I'm easy when it comes to produce... did I mention that?
While I'm noticing that I forgot to say "Oh! No tomatoes!" my brother-in-line has a new question about his sandwich....
"What's in that?" MOP asked, pointing at his open face sandwich.
"In your turkey, ham and bacon melt sir?"
"Yeah. What's in that?"
"That, sir. Turkey, ham and bacon."
"Is there pork in that?"
"There's bacon, sir."
"Is there pork in that?"
"In... in bacon sir?"
"Yeah."
"It is pork."
"Yeah, I can't eat that."
"Bacon?"
"Pork."
"You can't eat bacon?"
"Or pork."
"Sir, bacon is pork."
"Then take it off."
"Yes sir."
I tried to linger at the register; I wanted to hear how their subsequent produce transaction went... but it's a well-oiled machine there at Subway... once my sandwich was sheathed in paper and plastic I was sent on my way faster than cocaine balloons through a two-year-old terrier's large intestine.
Looking back, I realize that then... at that moment? That's when I lost hope for civilization.
Now? Now I'm reminded of Ken Kesey's immortal words: It's the truth even if it didn't happen.
I hate lines... even for things that don't suck. So just imagine how I felt about that particular line. That's right... it was like the Sarah Jessica Parker of lines. That line was my personal enemy. That never-ending march through Hell toward a Purgatory of broken dreams and soggy onions... that was my forty days in the desert. That was my Exodus... 'cept, you know, I didn't get anywhere and I wound-up with just a crappy sandwich and a flat Mountain Dew.
While I was a good little lemming and followed the others through the maze of plastic chains and chrome-plated stanchions, the guy behind me was plodding along, and barking non-stop into his cell phone.
He was a man of principle. "MOP," for our story, okay? I know he was a man of principle because he told me... well, told us... well, announced it repeatedly to the rest of us in line while he debated the merits of Mickey's Big Mouth, decried the demise of this year's pro hockey season (it's "fucked-up," I learned), and deconstructed professional lacrosse (it's "fucked-up," I learned) with his cellular confidante.
I finally got my turn at the shiny plastic oasis that was the order counter. I ordered my sandwich: pastrami on sourdough, toasted. I like 'em toasted... they're so... so delightfully toasty... aren't they?
The kid at the counter nodded; dutifully sliced my sourdough open, and pushed it on to the next slack-jawed counter-agent (yeah, like Don Adams... but with acne) who took care of the rest with mindless efficiency.
Meanwhile... behind me, the next train on the Subway line derailed in Sensurround splendor....
"Welcome to Subway, sir! What kind of bread would you like?"
"No, I didn't say he kill-- hang on," MOP sighed into his phone.
"Bread sir?"
"What's that one?" MOP asked, pressing his thumb against the greasy plastic partition.
"Italian."
"Yeah, I want that one."
"Oh, we're out. Sorry," the counter-agent said, sneaking a peek at the lengthening line.
"Then what's that one?"
"Asagio."
"Kewl.... gimme that."
"Sorry, we're out."
MOP groaned into his phone: "They're fuckin' out of bread... what? She said that?"
"Sir?"
"Look, give me what he got, a'ight?" MOP waved a hand at my freshly-toasted sourdough.
"Yes sir... ummmmmmmmm, so what kind of sandwich did you want sir?"
"That one... turkey, ham and bacon melt."
"Yes sir!"
"Is that hot?"
"The sandwich, sir?"
"Yeah, the sandwich... is it hot?"
"It's toasted, sir; the cheese is melted."
"So it's hot, right?"
"Yes sir... it's hot."
"A'ight."
By this time I'd moved on to the produce. I'm easy when it comes to produce: the less the better. Lettuce is fine; tomatoes are okay when I forget to say "Oh! No tomatoes!" I can pick them off... I don't even mind. You know why? 'cause I'm easy when it comes to produce... did I mention that?
While I'm noticing that I forgot to say "Oh! No tomatoes!" my brother-in-line has a new question about his sandwich....
"What's in that?" MOP asked, pointing at his open face sandwich.
"In your turkey, ham and bacon melt sir?"
"Yeah. What's in that?"
"That, sir. Turkey, ham and bacon."
"Is there pork in that?"
"There's bacon, sir."
"Is there pork in that?"
"In... in bacon sir?"
"Yeah."
"It is pork."
"Yeah, I can't eat that."
"Bacon?"
"Pork."
"You can't eat bacon?"
"Or pork."
"Sir, bacon is pork."
"Then take it off."
"Yes sir."
I tried to linger at the register; I wanted to hear how their subsequent produce transaction went... but it's a well-oiled machine there at Subway... once my sandwich was sheathed in paper and plastic I was sent on my way faster than cocaine balloons through a two-year-old terrier's large intestine.
Looking back, I realize that then... at that moment? That's when I lost hope for civilization.
Now? Now I'm reminded of Ken Kesey's immortal words: It's the truth even if it didn't happen.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
Semper Fraud
The bankruptcy bill passed today.
Jumpin’ Jesus on a pogostick.
Did you know that a great majority of the families that declared bankruptcy in 2004 did so because of a major life crisis like, ohhhhh, huge medical bills or layoffs that threw them helplessly, headlong into a downward spiral of debt? Didja’ know that credit card companies have been lobbying for over eight years to pass this legislation? Well, now after a multi-year, multi-million dollar lobbying effort by these gut-wrenchingly-greedy credit card companies, Congress approved a sweeping change in bankruptcy law that makes it virtually impossible for “jus’ folks” who have been dealt a shitty hand to get a fresh start.
"Representative government..." sure, I buy that.... Maybe once upon a time... for one, brief shining moment... but those days are a hazy shade of winter now, my friends.
So, after accepting more than $620,000 from the lending industry to his various PACs, Republican Majority Leader Rep. Tom DeLay lead the charge today, and once again royally-screwed the common folk. Us. You, me and a whole bunch of people who piss me off at the mall, but whom I still wouldn’t wish this financial catastrophe on under any circumstances. This change in bankruptcy laws is a clear example of whose interests the Republicans in Congress are serving… but make no mistake: a few monumentally-misguided Democrats voted for it too. Bottom line: far too many of our elected representatives just merrily betrayed the middle class. Again.
So, while this vote leads to a bonanza for countless, faceless corporate contributors, it’s sure to be the bane of untold numbers of struggling American families in the very near, very dire future.
USA! USA!
“What’s wrong with this legislation?” you ask? Well, just let me outline a few things for ya’, alright? First of all, over a million families had to declare bankruptcy last year, and half of them? They had to do it because of unexpected and extraordinary medical expenses. Millions more totter helplessly on the brink of bankruptcy as I type this. The large numbers of bankruptcies is a clear sign of the tenuous state of the economy (thanks to Dubya’s wildly-irresponsible fiscal policies… though you won’t hear any of his big oil cronies complaining); millions of Americans who work hard and play by the rules in a game increasingly stacked against them could be pushed at any time to financial ruin by job loss, business failure or major medical expenses. We’d all love to think it couldn’t happen to us, yet we all know it’s getting harder and harder here in the trenches of suburbia. Until today, the safety net has historically been bankruptcy, but now Congress has made life much tougher for many hard-working folks in order to secure billions in profits for creditors.
USA! USA!
Didja’ realize that the legislation is over 500 pages long (not uncommon… these are lawyers and wannabe intellectuals after all), and that the Republicans & corporate lobbyists were in such a hurry to shove it through that it’s chockablock full of typos and errata?
Here are some highlights:
The law makes families pay more to creditors, both in bankruptcy and after bankruptcy, so that instead of offering a clean start, a bankruptcy filing will leave families burdened by credit card debt, car loans, and continued payments to banks or to payday lenders.
It makes it more expensive to file for bankruptcy by driving up fees so that
the people in the most trouble can't afford to file, and if they could… well,
just re-read that point above.
It makes it trickier to get through a bankruptcy so that more people will get
pushed out of bankruptcy with no debt relief.
It makes it harder to repay debts by increasing the minimum payments in
repayment plans.
Best of all, it preserves the millionaires' loopholes… you know, special
privileges that allow the uber-rich to escape their debts by hiding their
money in special exemptions and trusts.
Thing is, what pisses me off goes far beyond the passing of this legislation… I’m pissed I’m not surprised. You know why this isn’t surprising? Well, according to the Center for Responsive Politics, MBNA, Credit Suisse First Boston, Bank of America and Wachovia were among the top contributors to Bush's two campaigns in 2000 and 2004, giving more than $300,000 in total donations. MBNA also was one of the top contributors to Republican candidates and committees in the 2004 elections with some $7.3 million in political donations. Hell, they’ve a right to expect a return on their investment, right? That’s the American way!
Remember Enron? WorldCom? Those bankruptcies cost thousands of regular people with sensible, American cars their jobs. But instead of addressing corporations run amok, Congress is helping companies crush those same struggling Americans. Yeah, I know… a bunch of the Enron secretaries got to pose in Playboy as a result of that debacle, and they got to hang out with Hef and Debra Jo Fondren, and snort lines offa’ Jimmy Caan’s ass… but they also had to date Pauly Shore… still think they came out of that fiasco unscathed?
And see, this shit is just the start. This week the radical Republican leadership –yeah, I mean Tom DeLay, so?- have declared a war on ordinary Americans with a “corporate trifecta:” bankruptcy law changes, a permanent repeal of the estate tax (which only affects the super-rich, ie: not you), and a budget that cuts health care and explodes the debt.
USA! USA!
Can someone tell me why there aren’t term limits in Congress? Please? It’s painfully obvious that most of the people we send to the hill are tucked in the hip-pockets of their corporate financiers. It’s equally clear that they don’t care to listen for our anguished cries while they thunder at their bully pulpits on behalf of the squintilly-billionaires and xtian fundamentalists. Keeping their offices for four-score years doesn’t make them more experienced and more nuanced… it makes them more corrupt. Period.
Barbara Boxer rules. I have a Barbara Boxer poster on the wall of my office (well, not really, I’m trying to make a point. That’d be cool though.), and I’d still be happy to vote her out of office in 2006 if the nation… or just the people who are getting screwed by this administration and this congress… oh, I’m sorry, that was redundant… where was I? Oh yeah… I’d be happy to vote her out as part of a clean-sweep in ’06. Just one, huge, do-over. Send a message… this whole dog and pony show is supposed to be by us, for us, goddamit.
Is that little plan rife with problems and unimagined pitfalls? You betcha’ it is… honestly think you’d be any worse off? What, we might not get to watch any more steroid hearings on CSPAN? Oh, we’ll have to stop flushing money down the toilet of the Iraq “war?” Yeah, you’re right, that would suck.
Sarcasm is still legal, right?
I thought these were supposed to be friendly fascists!*
What is it? Is it all a carefully orchestrated plan to subjugate the middle class, and drive them to the state-sanctioned religion out of sheer desperation? Shit, I’m on the verge of praying… but I’m not convinced Robert Goulet is gonna’ listen. He’s always going on about “free willy” or some shit….
Ahhhhhhh, Camelot… there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home….
*Thanks Scott!
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Get Perpendicular
I'd like to go on believing that software engineers are a lot like Jedi Knights: they have a power I can't understand, and could never have.
But man alive! Seeing this... I just may have to go back to knowing they're just a bunce of pasty-faced geeks with bad haircuts, no social-skills and watches that cost more than my car.
(I'm not too proud to point out there were both Return of the Jedi and Glengarry GlenRoss references slipped in there)
But man alive! Seeing this... I just may have to go back to knowing they're just a bunce of pasty-faced geeks with bad haircuts, no social-skills and watches that cost more than my car.
(I'm not too proud to point out there were both Return of the Jedi and Glengarry GlenRoss references slipped in there)
The Last Thing on My Mind...
You know how the last thing on your mind is always "the last thing on my mind?" What's up with that?
I don't know what made me think of that.
Anyhoo, this site is absolutely fascinating! You think you wanna' see the best and the worst people are capable of? Think again.... The good news is these pink elephants on parade never stop, er, parading! This is a perpetually-updating collection of the latest 40 images uploaded to Live Journal. Gaze in wide-eyed wonder... blink, and hit "refresh" to start all over again.
I don't know what made me think of that.
Anyhoo, this site is absolutely fascinating! You think you wanna' see the best and the worst people are capable of? Think again.... The good news is these pink elephants on parade never stop, er, parading! This is a perpetually-updating collection of the latest 40 images uploaded to Live Journal. Gaze in wide-eyed wonder... blink, and hit "refresh" to start all over again.
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