Dead Dead Dead

R.I.P. Playboy Buddy Rose.  To have to die in Vantucky must have been humbling.

What Are You Worth

A Republican congressman switching parties to become a Democrat carries as much merit with me as a Public Defender taking a job as a Deputy District Attorney (or vice versa on either of those).  

How do you spend your career fighting for one cause and then overnight becoming a defender for the opposite cause?  Oh yeah... Money.  These people have no personal value system.  It's all about joining the winning party or finding the biggest paycheck.  Don't get my wrong.  I have no appreciation of the conservative party.  But I at least respect those who stick by their guns, fight for their cause, even when it's not necessarily the the popular opinion at the time.  I don't want some fair weather fan joining my cause.  Yes, it gives my side one more vote... for now, but who knows how long it will take for them to betray my side at another time...  Joe Biden? 

Here We Go Again

SARS, Bird Flu, Killer Bees, blah blah blah. Our government and the media loves to keep us scared. According to the CDC, the flu and pneumonia kill 63,000 Americans every year, at least it did in 2005. It's the 8th largest killer in America. Every year there is a different strain, but once it gets a catchy name the media loves to jump on it and scare the holy Hell out of us. Don't believe the hype.

While Going

I came into work a little earlier than usual today. I had such a busy day yesterday and it's Friday, so I figured anything that might allow me a head start on my weekend will be for the best.

About halfway into my first hour I received the alert that I had to go take care of some business in the men's room. I HATE having to use public bathrooms, especially high traffic public restrooms. Being a government worker and all, we have nothing but high traffic restrooms... and ours sits right next to the Judge's area.

But, it was early and there was just a handful of people in the building. I walked into the stall and realized the stall light was out. I sat there taking in the whole new perspective. I felt sort of creepy. There I was sitting in a darkened stall. If anybody came in to use a urinal, they would have no idea I was in there. I began creeping myself out.

I then looked to my left at the toilet paper. Above the TP was the box of toilet seat covers. I had a chuckle over the product name... Life Guard. Really? Those thin rings of paper are going to save my life? Wow! Perhaps we should send these to the next trailer park hit by a tornado. Who knew?

To Torture Or Not To Torture

That word... torture... seems to be in the press quite a bit lately. It's a very sensitive subject. But let's be realistic about all this. While I firmly oppose 99.9% of the wars the U.S. has engaged in, and pretty much see war as the same way I see people who like to fight... it's for people who are too stupid to talk it out... I do believe all things have a time and place.

Now, if there is actually one person out there who would tell me they oppose torture no matter what, I call you a liar. Let's say some "enemy" has kidnapped your child... your parents... you spouse... etc... and the only way to get that loved one back was to torture the one captured member of that enemy group, are you telling me you would oppose that? What if the only way to save three thousand people from a terrorist attack was to torture one person who is a member of the group of people who are about to commit that terrorist act?

I'm sorry. Torture is a part of war and war sucks. Torture has existed from the earliest days of warfare and there isn't a side of any war that hasn't engaged in torture to extract intelligence. Sometimes it's effective and sometimes it's ineffective. And it's a tragedy that it is the only real way to get important information quickly. I'm sure we're making great progress at truth serums and such, but for now I'll rely on a pair of red hot vice grips and a pair of bare nipples.

To end... No War!

When I Was A Kid...

What kids these days, with their rock and roll and such, don't realize is that when we were kids we could camp all night outside a G.I. Joes and actually buy a concert ticket that was within 100 feet of the stage. Yes, there was a time when corporate bastards didn't get first grabs on everything. And now anything they don't buy up is swiped by radio stations. I think I first realized this shift in sales ethics when Paul Simon was coming to town on the Graceland tour, or was it Rhythm of the Saints, but only Visa Platinum members could buy tickets for the first week. Back in those days, only rich people had Visa Platinum, meaning Paul Simon was saying only rich people are allowed to have good concert seats. Now you can't even speak voice to voice with a real life ticket sales person. And G.I. Joes? Going out of business. The times they are a changin'.

Hey! Hey! You! You! Get Off Of My TV!

How many times per half hour do we really need that crawler at the bottom of our televisions telling us how to prepare for the big switch to digital broadcast?  I watch a fair amount of tv each day and can say that I see that thing at least twice per half hour.  

First of all, I think there's only about six people left in the country who would even need to worry about the digital switch.  Secondly, I have a feeling that they have the point.  If you are one of those people who actually has to make the switch and get one of those boxes do you honestly not know what to do yet?  Do you really not know when the deadline is?  Do you need 96 reminders per day?

Leave our tv shows alone! 

The Good, The Bad, And The Cop

First let me start off by saying that it was two years ago tonight when Carol and I first "saw" each other.  "Saw" is important because we didn't actually speak to each other, but had it not been for that passing glimpse, we probably wouldn't have ever connected.  It was Rick Emerson's Listener Party 10 at Barracuda.  Two years, thousands of E-mails, hours of phone calls, and several visits to and from Tucson later... and we're still going strong.

So now let's talk about last night.  I knew it was going to be a doozey going into it as there was so much to do.  My day started after a solid nine hour sleep.  That's unheard of in my world.  I ran down to the Buffalo Gap to meet Rick and pick up some VIP passes to a Widmer Brewing party. Rick and I downed a chicken nacho and a pitcher of Widmer's Drifter beer, which I highly recommend.  We then headed to Oaks Park to watch the Heartless Heathers beat the tar out of the Guns 'N Rollers in a pretty intense roller derby bout.  

From there we headed down McGlaughlin toward north Portland.  As I was passing through a dark and lone stretch of the road, the speed limit quietly jumped down from 45 mph to 35 mph. Sitting in a darker portion of the median was a copper on a bike.  I wasn't even aware I was speeding, but I saw him pull the kickstand up and turn in my direction.  I knew he was coming for me.  I was naturally slowing down, but then saw another sign dropping the speed limit to 30 mph, which I did quickly.  The cop followed me for about a quarter mile and then lit 'em up.  I pulled off next to that jumbo Goodwill store.  I had my license, insurance, and registration all ready for him.  He told me I was going 57 in a 35.  I knew better than to argue with him.  He then stated it was a construction zone.  I was sunk.  He took my license and did that thing where they putt around behind your car.  He came back and told me he was just going to cite me for the speeding and would let the construction zone go.  That was actually pretty cool of him as I could have been nailed hard.  So, I now have a $240 ticket and will need to put a battle plan in effect for court.

Once we were set free, Rick and I headed to the Widmer warehouse for an invitation only 25th Anniversary Party.  Not many people know this, but according to my dad he was their first customer to carry Hefeweizen on tap.  He recalls the days when Kurt and Rob Widmer would hand deliver their kegs in a little pickup.  And that little pickup was parked in front of the warehouse last night.  The place was packed and the beer was free.  We didn't stay long, as it was shutting down and we got there fairly late for the event.  

We then headed over to the Green Dragon, which happens to be owned by Rogue Brewing.  They were hosting the roller derby after party.  My band was playing, but I had opted not to play as I felt we weren't really ready for a gig, especially for that kind of crowd ... a bunch of wild derby girls.  So, Helen recruited Howard and Steve to handle guitar duties, which is hard to mess up.  But... apparently there was a schedule change and the band had already wrapped up the gig by the time Rick and I got there.  I missed my own band play.  

I took Rick back to his car and called it a night.  Lot's of fun, but too bad about the run in with the law...

Here's One For You

If anti-abortionists believe that we are human beings at the moment of conception why would they celebrate birthdays?  Shouldn't they be celebrating the moment ma and pa knocked it out?

When?

Can somebody please tell me why practically zero media outlets are explaining the motives behind these Somali pirates? This is not an endorsement of the pirate's actions, but most people are not aware of why they are doing what they are doing.

Somalia is essentially a country without a government due to constant civil war and foreign intrusion. Thus, first world countries such as France and many more have taken this opportunity to first, dump toxic waste into the Somalian waters, and secondly, to fish the remaining fish stock that has survived the toxic waste. Fishing is an essential part of the Somali's financial income. It's how they feed their families and survive. Now they have no fish to catch due to the fish either being fished out, or killed from foreign toxins. And there's nobody there to stand up for them.

So, what would you do if your entire means of income were taken from you by foreigners and you couldn't feed your family? Would you let them starve, or would you do ANYTHING you could to feed your children? Taking hostages and demanding ransom certainly isn't the right answer, but until the modern world gives them a reason not to, I don't think the pirates will be going anywhere soon. We created this mess, and it's our responsibility to make it right.

The Meaning

Is the song "Sex is on Fire" by Kings of Leon a song about STD's?

Scariest Headlines

I just read the top headlines and they were all pretty disturbing until I hit the last one...

"Feds release accused Nazi prison guard Demjanjuk"

"Obama tempers optimism with reality on economy"

"Crying Calif mom arraigned on murder, rape charges"

"Somali pirates on hijack spree since weekend"

"NKorea boots inspectors, vows to restart reactor"

And the most disturbing and ultra-scariest...

"Gingrich eyes possible White House run in 2012"

There And Back

After a few sweeps, a bit of dusting, and loads of laundry, I finally flew out of Portland Friday afternoon. The initial take off wasn't too shabby and I had the two seats to myself as I headed to my connecting flight in Salt Lake City. One moment that shook my core was the small child sitting in the row in front of me saying, "look mommy, there's ice on the wings," as we were climbing into the sky. Terrifying!

I have never been to SLC, so I was fairly excited to get the aeriel tour of the big lake. That sucker's huge... ugly, but huge. The surrounding snow capped mountains, however, were quite beautiful. It was a brief layover in SLC. And the take off to Tucson was an event that can make one think hard about things.

I've never quite reached the level of true Atheism, thus leaving me in some sort of Agnostic state. I'd prefer to call myself an Atheist, but I've always believed in ghosts, which means something. And... after take offs like the one out of SLC I found myself pondering the existence of God and did he truly want me to die that day. The worst part is I found myself qietly asking somebody to please get me through that moment. When I realized what I was doing, I quickly told myself to knock it off because I didn't believe in things like that. I then quickly realized that if I was wrong and there was a God, rejecting him during a questionable take off wasn't the time to share that disbelief. But then I realized if there was a God, he knew my state of mind already and I was a sure goner. Through that I then realized that by me merely having the thoughts I was having, he must have realized I was ok because I was talking to him, even through my doubt. Seeing as how I've always determined that if God is perfect, he's not vain. And since seeking worship is vanity, he'd be ok with me debating myself in a shaking airplane.

As we approached Tucson the pilot informed us they were having windstorms and that it would be best to stay strapped in, and to be prepared for an "exciting" landing. The landing did consist of a lot of dips and sways, but as always, I made it in one piece.

I grabbed a cab as Carol had to be at the venue where she was performing that night. I got to the hotel where the performance was at and met up with Carol. We hung out until she had to go backstage. I sat, painfully, through three psychobilly (Punk meets Rockabilly) bands until it was time for Carol's troupe to come out and do their thing. As always, and Carol doesn't ever to seem to believe me, she got the best crowd response for her burlesque act.

We were finally driving back to her place as a small lightning storm rolled through town. I crashed somewhere around 2:00 a.m., completely exhausted.

The next day was full of rain and sixty five degree winds. We farted around her house and town. That night we took it easy as we had a little beer tasting night at her house while watching Raising Arizona. I swear we didn't watch it because we were in Arizona. It was on a list of movies I recommended to her and that's what Netflix had sent. And dang me for not writing them down, but we did have two beers that were incredibly good that I've never seen here. One was an oak aged (as in used whiskey barrels) stout, and the other was a blueberry infused work of perfection.

Sunday was Easter. We ran some more errands and took care of some more projects around her house. We caught the movie Observe & Report, which was a bit different that I had expected (B-). Later that evening we headed over to her parents for Easter dinner. Prior to dinner we were all hanging outside. I was standing by the pool with Carol when her mom said, "oh look, there's a bobcat." I couldn't see it. "Oh," she continued, "he's walking right in front of you." And sure enough, there was a bobcat about thirty feet away from me. What do I do? Tried to get closer. I think growing up with so many animals made me a bit stupid when it comes to dealing with wild ones that can maul my face off.

Dinner was great and I got to know her family a little better before we went home for the night.

Monday was spent with more errands, a tad of sight seeing, and an encounter with Somalian gangsters in a dumpy Asian market. We said our goodbyes at the airport and away I went. Roughly twenty minutes after take off the lady two rows behind me chucked her innards all about. The smell stuck in the plane until we reached L.A. After boring myself for a two and half hour layover in L.A., I finally boarded the last plane home. There was little relief from smooth take offs and landings the whole way back, but I have to say the approach into Portland was a sight to behold as we whipped through blizzard like conditions through the clouds. We finally touched down to the rain and cold.

And here I sit at work during the lunch break as if nothing ever happened.

And...

Attention MOMMY- How's that iPod working for you? Did DADDY get that GPS unit from Christmas 2007 up and running yet?

This Just In...

Grumpy old men who walked to school five miles uphill both ways in the snow now reading The Monday Report.

And Now It's My Turn To Feel The Budget Cuts

Yes it's true. We received the E-mail yesterday. From this point on, I will no longer be allowed to use government issue Kleenex. I kid you not. We received official word that from this point on, Kleenex will only be accessible by our clients. Should I come to work with a cold or allergy issues, I must now wipe my nose on my sleeve or go outside to blow a snot rocket. But it gets even better... according to the E-mail, my clients aren't worthy of Kleenex either, at least in my office. Only clients in the court room, conference rooms, or Conciliation (our divorce unit) are worthy of Kleenex. A parent who has just been confronted with the reality that their parenting report card has been given an F and they just lost custody of their children are not allowed to sit in my office and cry. No way! If you want to cry you must do so in the court room or a conference room... or get a divorce. If I have a youth in my office and I've just informed them I am requesting to the Judge that they spend the next year of their life in lock up, THEY CANNOT CRY!

And here's my question... we're only allowed to let members of the public use this Kleenex. By definition, am I not a tax paying member of the public? And let's get real here... nearly all my clients, and more than half of their parents, don't pay taxes. They didn't contribute to that Kleenex. I did. I pay my taxes yet I can't use the Kleenex.

Next up, no more use of government issue toilet paper.

Say Bye Bye

See this bridge (below)... for those of you who don't know it, it's the Marquam Bridge in Portland.  It's a double decker and sits pretty high off the water.  I have no memory of ever crossing that bridge without thinking about earthquakes or structural failures.  It's just part of crossing that bridge.  

This past Friday night I was driving home from band practice on the lower portion of the bridge.  Ryan was with me and it was a drive like any other until we were getting to the west side.  I was on the inside lane, and some overpriced BMW/Mercedes/Infinity SUV (they all look identical to me) was on the outside lane.  Without any warning the SUV starts coming at me.  I began honking my horn repeatedly.  The more I honked, the closer it came.  I started moving toward the wall, still honking and the SUV just kept coming.  At one point my passenger side may have been just inches from the wall, and the SUV's mirror was less than an inch away from making contact.  And as quickly as it came at me, the stupid MF'ing driver backed off and hit their brakes.  

A thousand thoughts ran into my head.  One of them included chasing that bastard down and beating the holy Hell out of them, but then I remembered that no matter how I responded they would always be stupid.  Nothing was going to change that.  

Fast & Furious

Um, yeah... didn't we already have this mouth breathing attraction once before and it had a "The" at the beginning?  Unemployment at 8.5% and Vin Diesel still gets work.  

You Know It's Gonna Happen

Everybody is going to come in to work today and all they will be able to talk about is what a great weekend it was... "I just wanted to take today off!".

I spent the majority of our first nice day of the season pulling weeds, mowing lawns, clipping things, carrying things, moving things, and digging. My skin is covered in scratches and thorn holes, and the back of my neck is sun burnt, thus I now qualify as a... redneck.

Yes, the weekend was outstanding and today will be even nicer, but guess what? Rain in a just a day or two. So neener neener...

More Lies Our Parents Told Us

I was watching the latest DVD release from Ricky Gervais "Out of England", a live performance. Considering the comedic genius of Gervais, I'd give this a B-, but that's not what I want to talk about. One of his runs was about nursery rhymes. He brought up Humpty Dumpty, and even Gervais missed this point. Who the Hell ever said Humpty Dumpty was an egg? I looked online and couldn't find one reference stating Humpty Dumpty's origins were that of an egg.

So I did some digging at Wikipedia.com and saw some pretty fascinating information. According to Wikipedia, Humpty Dumpty was meant more as a riddle. And many references claim Humpty Dumpty as something from military roots. But, with Idiocracy on the march, Humpty Dumpty was dumbed down so all of us mouth breathers can understand it.

But do we? Do we understand what Humpty Dumpty is really about? Can you tell me the moral of the story? And good luck explaining the moral of nearly every fairy tale or nursery rhyme. The little old lady who lived in a shoe? That sounds like a story about a homeless person. Jack and Jill? Boom chicka wow wow!