Hazy Afterthought

Update

2012-02-16T14:45:00.001-08:00

I have a love-hate relationship with Weight Watchers. The emphasis on point counting brings back tons of really negative and painful feelings from my first Weight Watchers attempt a long time ago. And the meetings - not a fan of those at all, as the focus (at least what I experienced) still remained on negative concepts, like NOT eating this or NOT doing that. The company claims it has changed with the times, but it still feels like the old punitive Weight Watchers I was forced to attend when I was young. And as I mentioned in my last post, there's nothing I hate more than a bunch of "grown-ups" talking at me and telling me what to do.

And don't even try to sell me on that "cut it into a bunch of little pieces so you'll feel like you have more" crap. Homey don't play that game.

I lost nearly five pounds my first week, but I was miserable almost the entire time. And extremely stressed out. I also got a really bad cold after seven days of basically starving myself and then stressing out about every food item in my vicinity. So while I have canceled my account, I'm still tracking (might as well use the tools for as long as I paid for them, right?) and I'm not beating myself up over little infractions. I've noticed that now that I'm not constantly on the website logging food, I'm also not constantly about to run off and binge on something bad for me. I have, however, begun to really stop and think about what I'm putting into my body, and how that will affect me later on.

Per Matt's suggestion, I'm trying The Line Diet. This is in conjunction with some WW tracking, and the Couch-to-5k training program. I've done the workouts for two and a half weeks now, and am surprised at the progress I've made. I think The Line Diet and Couch-to-5k have provided me with the instant gratification on which I thrive. These programs have helped me keep the focus on what I'm doing and feeling as opposed to stressing over what I am not or cannot eat.

After weighing in this morning, I am 12.4 pounds lighter than when I started this. Of course, I'm a big guy, so that's a much smaller percentage for me than you might imagine. But I'm making progress, and I'm forcing myself to stick with it.

And, most importantly, when I'm doing something, I don't have a good reason to hate myself.

So...

2012-01-29T22:04:00.000-08:00

I'm fat. But if you know me, you probably already knew that. And my dearest friends don't care. They love me no matter what I look like. And for that, I'm grateful.

But I'm tired of being fat, and I'm going to do something about it. I'm going to do something about it on my terms. For me. Not for anyone else. For me.

Don't worry, this isn't going to become one of those "join me in my journey to a healthier me" blogs. That shit requires effort.

Okay, maybe I will blog about it every now and then. But let's be honest - I haven't blogged much about anything lately. So you don't have much to worry about.

I'm going to join Weight Watchers - there's a meeting each week at my workplace - a meeting I found out is attended by several colleagues I know and trust and respect. And our health insurance will reimburse 25% of the cost provided I make it to 11 out of 12 weigh-ins over a 12 week period.

What caused me to finally do something about this? Well, I have a list of my motivations:

- Tired of having to go to fat people stores to buy my clothes. Those places are expensive, and as of late, the employees are getting to be real shitheads. They've got a corner on the market. I don't want to be a part of that market anymore. I want to shop at Old Navy again.
- I'm sick of what I see in the mirror, so I'm going to change it.
- I have so little energy for anything it's ridiculous.
- I want to have women be interested in me again. I'm sick of having women look at me and have zero interest whatsoever because of my physical appearance. I want to give them the opportunity to have no interest in me because I'm a reprehensible human being. You know - the old-fashioned way. All kidding aside, though, I do have some women who are interested in me, but they're all my size. And while they may find that attractive, I don't want someone to be attracted to a version of myself that I really don't like. At all.
- Oh yeah, that too - I don't like that about myself. I know I'm a good person and all, but I just don't like being overweight. If you've been there, you know what I'm talking about.

So yeah. It's time to do something, damn it.

I realize it's going to be really, really difficult. I'm going to screw up. That's okay. But as long as I'm making a genuine effort to change myself and my lifestyle, and I'm seeking outside help in doing it, I can at least say I'm taking action, which is better than nothing.

I did this once before - when I was about 10 years old. My parents made me go to Weight Watchers each week. I lost some weight, but I was a kid. I didn't know what was going on. And I didn't have the self-awareness to make the decision to go on my own. And let's be honest here for a minute - imagine being a 10 year old boy in a Weight Watchers meeting full of middle-aged women. How the hell did my parents think that would help me at all? Every time I shared anything at these meetings, the middle aged women got all weepy.

Oh, and I assure you that when you're 10 years old, and it gets out that you go to Weight Watchers meetings (because several of your classmates' mothers are in the meetings as well) your peers will not greet this news with respect and understanding. No, they will continue to tease you, but this time they will do so with greater frequency and enthusiasm than ever before. So yeah, clearly THAT was going to work out for me.

When I was 12 I did another program - again, the decision of my parents - at a local pediatric hospital. I wasn't really that overweight, looking back at it. There were kids in the program who weighed 300 lbs. and were the same age as me.

And I didn't really get anything out of the program - especially when my parents (who had to attend with me) would take me out to eat at Imo's on the way home.

People in this program kept telling me I needed to exercise. I needed to eat more nutritious stuff. A lot of grown ups spent a lot of time talking at me. Not many people really listened to me. And, again, I'm not sure I had the self-awareness necessary to realize that kids made fun of me because I was overweight, and that I could make that stop by losing weight, AND that I was the one who had to do something about it. That nobody else could do it for me. I mean, sure, I was told all of those things at various points in time, and I figured it out on my own later on, but for some reason it took until this weekend for me to finally decide to do something about it.

Okay, maybe this is turning into a bit of a weight loss blog already. So I'll shut up now. Thankfully I've got nearly 1,000 other posts to balance things out a bit.

The other side of "No."

2012-01-16T19:45:00.001-08:00

This was brought to my attention today.

Summary: Amelia needs a kidney. Amelia also has other medical conditions, chief among them Wolf-Hirschhorn Syndrome, a heartbreaking condition that results in mental retardation, muscle hypotonia, congenital heart defects, ongoing renal issues, and a whole host of other medical issues. A surgeon at the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia says they can't put Amelia on a transplant list because of all these issues. The family says, "that's okay, we have a big family and we're all willing to donate a kidney." The doctor still says no, it's too risky. Among the reasons the doctor cites are mental retardation. Understandably, Amelia's parents flip out and believe their child is being discriminated against.

Parent writes emotional blog post. Outrage ensues.

I ask that you please take a moment to consider this situation from the physician's point of view.

When any healthcare professional decides to enter the profession, they take an oath to do what is best for their patients, and to put the patient's health above all else.

"Then why won't they do the surgery?" you ask. That's an excellent question.

When a patient is in need of a transplant, no matter where the transplanted organ is coming from, a number of factors are considered. Among those are the long-term prognosis of the patient.

After researching her condition a bit more, as well as reading up on the specifics of the case, it seems as though Amelia has multiple health issues, including some cardiac troubles in the past. This is in addition to Wolf-Hirschhorn Syndrome.

Because of her other conditions, attempting a transplant is far more likely to result in speeding up Amelia's demise than it is to be successful. No matter who donates the kidney, that's just the reality of the situation. And then, even if a transplant occurred and was successful, how long would it be before she needed another kidney? And another? And what about her heart? Is her heart even strong enough to endure such a major procedure?

These are the things doctors have to take into consideration every day when determining whether a patient - like Amelia - is a good candidate for a transplant. You don't just show up one day needing a new organ and are put on a waiting list.

The physician arrived at his original decision not because he has it in for Amelia, or he has something against the mentally disabled. No, I'd bet that he knows that the risks involved with any sort of transplant are far too great to justify moving forward.

Now because this physician clearly has no bedside manner whatsoever (as is the case with many of the best surgeons - just ask any doctor or nurse), it came across as "we're not doing the transplant because your child is retarded." Should this have been approached by someone who is better with patients? Absolutely.

The doctor made a tough decision - one that I have no doubt was difficult for him. I'm guessing he believes it would be better for the family to have time to say goodbye, rather than send this poor child into the operating room to be sedated and probably never wake up again.

It's a heartbreaking situation for all parties involved. I understand the anger, because I've been on that end of it. But I also understand the reasoning.

In closing, I'd argue that Amelia's course of treatment should be determined in conversations between her parents and the ethics committee at CHoP. And in these conversations, both parties need to share AND listen to the other side. Although there have been several online polls established asking the hospital to perform the surgery, please remember that no matter what happens, this is not a matter for the public to decide, nor should it be.

Let's all hope for the best outcome for Amelia, regardless.

Taking it to the streets

2011-11-26T14:35:00.000-08:00

As I was returning home from running some errands this afternoon, I turned onto the side street that leads to my house. I did so at a normal rate of speed.

About a third of the way up the block, an old man and two small children were walking down the middle of the street. The old man ushered the children to the side so I could drive by. He yelled something impolite at me as I drove past.

That's right. He was angry at me because I had the audacity to use, in a legal manner, a street. And even though there are two perfectly good sidewalks down either side of the street, he chose to lead two small children down the middle of that street, less than a block from a major arterial road.

What's sad is that this isn't the first time I've seen this.

On the opposite side of things, I've also seen a lot of adults - grown-ass people - riding bikes down the sidewalks.

So, St. Louis, can we all just agree that sidewalks are for feet and streets are for wheels? And can we maybe, just maybe, abide by that? And use crosswalks, too? You know, when the walk signal is lit?

I was on Grand the other day, and right near a four-way intersection, a kid - maybe 10 years old - darted out in front of me, perpendicular to traffic flow.

It's like he was asking to get hit.

When was street-crossing etiquette abandoned? Is this something people no longer teach their kids?

A Remembrance

2011-09-11T00:52:00.000-07:00

I really can't believe it's been a decade since that Tuesday morning in September when our lives changed forever.

It's been a decade and a day since the last time I didn't think about terrorism. Or the dangers of extremism. Or why we can't all just live with our differences. After all, we're all stuck on this rock together, and nobody gets out alive.

A decade ago, I began to seriously question faith and religion. I thought about how the people who so easily killed over three thousand innocent strangers did so in the name of religion. And then I thought about the numerous other terrible acts perpetrated throughout history, all in the name of some theological beliefs.

And, a few years ago, after much thought and consideration, I arrived at the conclusion that no religion comes without negative consequences.

Over the course of my life, my religious views have gone from being a devout, obedient Catholic, to being a skeptic who views all religions - from the mainstream belief systems that have existed for thousands of years, to the cults that have sprung up in the last few - as little more than organized willful ignorance.

There are those who will argue that religion is a positive force. To those individuals, I ask whether any given religion is positive for everyone, or if it is only positive for those who subscribe to it?

Why should innocent people have to die for something that is supposedly so good and pure? What use is any belief system for which lives have been ended? I'm not just talking about Islam. I'm talking about Catholicism. I'm talking about Protestantism. I'm talking about Mormonism. Or really, just about any religion. Sure, forgiveness may be preached, but is it practiced? Why do we really need religion, anyway? Isn't it far more noble to treat our fellow humans with respect for the sake of treating them with respect? Do we really need a theology telling us we need to do it? Can't we be good to one another without religion?

We can certainly be horrible to one another because of it...

I think back to the attacks on this day, ten years ago. The lives lost, the hopes and dreams shattered, the innocence taken away from us. I think about how the events of that day changed me in ways I could never have imagined.

I think about the seemingly endless footage of planes and explosions and rubble on the days following 9/11. I never saw the World Trade Center in person, but that doesn't stop my heart from sinking a little bit every time I see images of it, and I think of the awful events that occurred there, ten years ago today.

New York, you're always on my mind, and you always will be.

Hi again

2011-08-28T18:59:00.000-07:00

In two days, this blog turns eight. If this blog were a human child, it would be in second grade. Or maybe third grade, if it was a fast learner.

I've only posted two other times this year. And that is a pretty accurate summary of my life. There's not a lot going on that's worth writing about - at least not from my perspective.

I have noticed a social media usage pattern lately. Well, not lately, but I guess it's mostly just occurring to me now.

Back when I used IRC, there was a beginning, middle, and end to my usage. And with each of those stages came a corresponding number of my friends who also used it. In the beginning, there were a good number of people there, but not a ton. The middle featured a ton of people I knew, all in one place, all chatting. Eventually, though, it dwindled down to just a handful.

Then I moved to ICQ. The same thing happened - a few people, a ton of people, a handful, and then none whatsoever.

There was a brief flirtation with Yahoo Messenger due to Truman's IT policies, which prohibited ICQ due to a security issue. Same thing - a few people, a bunch of people, and then no one.

Then came AOL Instant Messenger (a.k.a., AIM) - the same thing. A few people, a metric crap load of people, and now there are none. I mean, I'm sure they're out there, but they're not people I know.

Then there was MySpace. Granted, this was a whole new animal - social networking, not just chatting. The same thing happened. My network was small, then ridiculously large (about 300 people at one point, with maybe 1/2 of them posting regularly), and then it fizzled out. Now it's a digital ghost town, inhabited only by those who can only be described as marginally civilized. You know, that junkie cousin everyone has, whose profile is filled with animated gifs of marijuana leaves and spam comments from shitty rappers. Note: if you don't have a cousin like that, look in the mirror. You ARE that cousin. Although if you've read this far, I'm going to go ahead and assume you're not that person. Myspace is not a place inhabited by those with long attention spans.

Oh, wait - I had Friendster for like a month before I got on MySpace. I totally forgot about that. Ha. Apparently it's still big in Asia? Who knows? Who cares.

Chatting didn't go away, though. Google Talk has had a much longer lifespan, I have to admit. I've been using it for a good while. Ever since it came out, honestly. Of course, this started out more slowly than other forms of communication. And it never had huge numbers, but they were solid. I'd easily have 15 people online at any given time. But then people just stopped coming online so much. Or maybe they got sick of me and went to invisible mode. Or blocked me. Right now, though, I see five people online. They're the same five people as always. I think they're probably like me - signed in through their phones. I only chat with a handful of people on there anymore.

Now Facebook is doing the same thing. I have 536 "friends" on there. I had 537 this morning. I must have pissed someone off. Or, more likely, someone purged their contacts, like I do on occasion. Or maybe they just deleted their account entirely. Whatever. Doesn't matter. The phenomenon remains intact - fewer people are updating their statuses. Granted, there are still a ton of people updating their stuff. Just not as many. I've seen more than a few "friends" say they needed a break from Facebook. Or that they were just giving it up entirely. Bully for them.

So, this whole Google+ thing - is anyone doing it? I have it. I don't really use it, though.

Of course, that's what I said when I first joined Facebook. And Myspace. And AIM. Etc.

So, our means of communicating with one another - are they only as good as their last iteration? IRC and ICQ barely evolved at all. Friendster lost ground when MySpace took what they were doing and did it better. And then Facebook totally blew MySpace out of the water. I think Facebook's dominance can be credited to the same force that made Cartman's theme park so popular in South Park - he only let a few people in. Before opening the gates to everyone, Facebook was for college kids only. And then it opened the gates a little wider for faculty and staff. That's how I got in. Then they started letting high schoolers in. And now any old carbon blob with an email address can join. Now nearly 10% of the planet is on Facebook.

So, will Google+ leave Facebook in the dust?

And what about us bloggers? Even those of us who have kept a domain for eight years and may only update a handful of times in any given 12 month span, and who probably have zero readers anyway... What about us?

I guess I'll just have to start tweeting about everything.

Did anyone actually read this far? Leave a comment if you did.

Summer Daze

2011-06-15T21:38:00.001-07:00

This time of year is always kind of strange for me.

Things at work slow down to a snail's pace. I spend a lot of time mowing lawns. I sweat a lot, due to my truck's a/c not working. And I think about my dad.

For those of you keeping score, this June 24th will mark six years since Dad died. It seems like not that long ago at all, yet when I look at how much I've changed since then, it seems like an eternity.

But really, it's just six years.

And I miss him. Of course I miss him. And while I would give anything for just another day with him, I'm thankful for the experiences I've had (some unpleasant and involuntary) that may not have happened, had he still been here.

My Uncle Bob and I (Dad's youngest brother) never would have built that pair of awesome Adirondack chairs on my patio. I probably wouldn't own a house. I most likely wouldn't have moved away from Pacific. I wouldn't have taught myself to do things like replace a light fixture or a thermostat. There's a good chance I may not have even applied for the job that eventually became the one I have today.

I definitely never would have adopted Sasha, now my mother's best friend. And I wouldn't have had two wonderful years with Doc - nor would I have shed so many tears over him when I had to put him down.

Through experiencing my father's sickness and death, I was forced to finally grow up and admit that I'm an adult now.

And I'm a better person for it.

I may have mentioned this before, but Dad wasn't an overly sentimental person. Nor did he spout off fatherly advice as a culmination to whatever problem I was having that week. That's the stuff of sitcoms. Nobody's dad does that.

Dad did once tell me something that has stuck with me, though.

During a particularly rough patch right after I graduated from college, he told me that life is a road, and there are going to be potholes in that road, but you have to just keep driving, because if you don't, you won't get anywhere.

It was a rare nugget of brilliance, shared with me over greasy burgers on a Tuesday night at Steak 'n Shake.

And he was right. Things have gotten better.

Don't get me wrong, I still have my fair share of challenges. But they're different challenges. These are challenges I wouldn't have faced had I not moved past the earlier ones. And when things seem overwhelming, I just think of what he told me, and think about how much better my life is now - struggles and all - than it was on that Tuesday night.

So, this Sunday, if your dad is still around, be sure to give him a call. You never know when the day will come when such a simple act is impossible.

A very important message from The Bob.

2011-03-30T21:26:00.000-07:00

Hi everyone. I know I haven't done a very good job of keeping this blog updated, but sometimes life just sort of gets in the way, and little things like blogging get pushed to the back burner, then pushed to a farther-back burner, and then they fall off the stove top entirely.

However, a very important issue has given me a reason to pull that hypothetical oven away from the wall and pull a greasy, dusty morsel out from its dark hiding place.

As any of you who are long-time readers will know, when I was in college, I joined a fraternity. Specifically, the Theta Rho chapter of Alpha Tau Omega at Truman State University.

After three semesters at Truman, I didn't have much of a reason to stick around. I had a few friends, but I had other friends at other schools (like Mizzou) and when I wasn't reading or writing papers for my classes, I was researching transfer requirements with a move to Columbia planned in the not-too-distant future. Truman just wasn't the place for me. I didn't fit in. I didn't have a place I could go and just be myself. Surely at a school as big as Mizzou, I could find some sort of niche - somewhere to belong.

When Andy Roberts, a Chem 100 lab partner who would eventually become my big brother, suggested I come hang out with this group of guys he was running around with, I took a chance. It remains one of the best decisions I've ever made.

Being an ATO taught me (unintentionally) about so much that wasn't covered in the classroom. ATO taught me that respect is earned, not given. It taught me the importance of being there for each other in good times and in bad. While many people may have just seen ATO as a place with weirdos who had awesome theme parties (party in the pants, anyone?), what was less obvious was that these guys were there for me, no matter what.

When I turned 21 on a Monday night in October of 2000, it was Matt Haggans who got up from a really great Monday Night Football game and bought me my first legal beer - a pint of Guinness.

Two nights after that, while I was still drunk, it was a group of ATOs who convinced me to go to an AGD date dash at the local roller rink. The AGD who was my date that evening is still my friend today, even though I hadn't the slightest idea how to skate.

When I had nothing better to do on an Easter Sunday in Kirksville, Andy Stevenson and Dan Newcomb dragged me (and a case of beer) out to Hazel Creek to go fishing.

When I needed help with trigonometry and statistics, Cameron Moore came over to help me salvage my academic career.

When I needed people to act in a short film that served as my senior thesis, Joe Moccia and John Becker had starring roles.

And when I presented that not-suitable-for-any-audience film to a panel of faculty members, even more ATOs filled the audience and cheered wildly at the appropriate times.

When I decided that I wanted to work at the campus radio station, my little brother, Zach Lechner, sat in with me during my first shift. He made sure I didn't break any FCC rules and played all the right spots at the right times.

We had a lot of great fun, but my ATO brothers were also there for me in not-so-good times.

When one of my fellow SAs went missing, my brothers were there for me. And when the worst possible outcome - suicide - became a reality, the news was broken to me by Paul Stock, who, even though there was a really great party happening at the house that night, took the time to sit with me, talk with me, and make sure I was okay.

When I was totally burned out from being an SA and had absolutely no motivation to do anything at all, I quit my job on campus and moved in with Aaron Baker, Heath Coles, John Klein, and Joe Moccia. They helped me get my life back on track by being positive influences. Cheesy as it sounds, it's totally true.

When I finally did graduate, I was part of a group I like to call the unlikely trifecta: myself, Matt Cowan, and Joe Ruth. While I can't speak for Matt, I know Joe and I definitely struggled to graduate. And we did it - together.

After graduation, when my dad's health was in decline, it was Jay Peterson who kept me company on the phone during my long drives to and from the hospital. When my dad died, one of the lowest points of my life, Harry Harris and Phil Spear were there for me at the visitation and funeral. And within a few days, a card arrived - signed by everyone who was working at the house one weekend. They had taken the time to organize their efforts and purchase, sign, and mail me a sympathy card. Anyone who knows my brothers knows what a huge achievement this is.

And a few months later, Brian Dale and Harry Harris helped me acquire my current job.

These are just a few examples of what ATO has meant to me, and what it continues to mean to me. And I know that many of you who read this blog also have fond memories of that house on Mulanix Street, and the nutjobs who lived there.

That's why I'm writing this - the house needs a sprinkler system. And because we're a relatively young chapter (only 32 years old), we don't have a ton of money sitting around. So we're asking you to consider donating to our cause.

It doesn't have to be much. Every little bit helps.

If you've ever dated an ATO, loved an ATO, or had a good time at an ATO party, please consider helping us.

What happens if we can't raise the money? Well, there's a very real chance the chapter could cease to exist, as the requirement for a sprinkler system is one that has been imposed on us by the national organization, and failure to comply could result in the revocation of our charter.

So please, give us a few bucks so future generations of Truman students can have their own ATO memories.

Thanks.

My Christmas Letter

2010-12-20T19:06:00.000-08:00

I'm not what you'd call a Christmas letter kind of guy. I tried it once. It was an astonishing failure. Or not. I can't really remember. All I recall is that after all the letters were printed, I still had far more snowflake-bordered stationery left over than any straight man should.

So here's my holiday blog entry.

2010!

It was quite a year. In January, I did some stuff. I really can't remember what. Seriously. I have no freaking clue. I can barely remember what I ate for breakfast, let alone what I was doing eleven months ago. Gimme a break here! I probably bitched and moaned about snow and cold and windows that leaked all the time. Yeah. That's most likely what my January involved. Oh, and on MLK Day I continued my tradition of not participating in the annual day of service. I realize that I'm kind of a shit bag.

February was about the same as January. Mostly a cold blur. I probably did my taxes and got a fatty-fat refund check. I was single on Valentine's Day yet again. Actually, I've never not been single on Valentine's Day, so pretty much everything was normal. Also, I probably bitched and moaned about snow and cold and windows that leaked all the time.

Oh -- I do remember this part -- starting March 1st, I decided to stop eating fast food. My landscaping work also picked up again. Lots of mulching and stuff occurred during March.

The self-imposed fast-food fast lasted until April 20-something-or-other, when I had a root canal, and needed to eat something with the pain killers so I didn't pass out during the 10 minute drive home. The root canal also put me in contact with a great new dentist who I really like a lot. Why? Because even without having seen me on a regular basis, he provided me a referral to have a root canal done at the endodontic clinic at SLU.

April also provided me with my favorite interaction with my boss (Joel) so far this year:

Joel: I hear you had a root canal!
Bob: Yeah, sure did.
Joel: Where did you have it done?
Bob: At SLU.
Joel: I didn't know they had a dental program there.
Bob: They don't.
Joel: (Silence, accompanied by a horrified look on his face.)

I should explain that they do have a school for advanced dental education at SLU, but not a traditional dental school. This is where dentists go to become specialists, such as endodontists, orthodontists, periodontists, etc. It's an awesome place, the care is excellent and affordable, and the staff is very friendly.

April also brought my friend Liz into town. She stayed for a couple of days. It's always good to see Liz. Too bad she lives far, far away.

May brought more lawns, which was good, as I now had a root canal and crown to pay off. Yes, I have dental coverage. It just sucks.

June, July, and August were pretty much uniform -- I sat behind a desk from 8 to 5 and walked behind a mower from about 5:30 to 9. Oh, I also had to have some more dental work done -- several new fillings and others that needed to be replaced.

By September, my dental coverage was maxed out.

In October I turned 31. Huzzah. I also Halloweened it up. That was fun. I like Halloween. A lot. I was a jellyfish. Doc was a shark.

Speaking of Doc, I had to have him put down in November. He was very old and very sick. I spent the first few days after putting him down crying almost constantly whenever I was at home, alone. I still miss him terribly, as he was my best friend. However, as time passes, I'm realizing that I absolutely did the right thing. The right thing isn't always the easiest.

December has been full of lights and tinsel and other holiday shit, all of it belonging to other people. I don't decorate. Who do I have to decorate for? Seriously. December has also had a lot of awkward conversations when someone will ask me how Doc is doing. I am viewing this as an opportunity to become a gracious individual, and not as an opportunity to flip out on someone because how could you not freaking know that I had my dog put to sleep and it was the hardest thing I've ever done you insensitive prick?!?!

Ahem. Pardon me. I should point out that it's a work in progress.

I also bought new windows this year. It's much quieter in my my house now. And not at all drafty, so that's cool.

My family has been up to some stuff. My mom had some sort of surgery on her eyes, I think. She doesn't wear her glasses anymore, so maybe it was a lasik surgery? I don't know. Maybe she just lost her glasses. Who knows? My brother lives with her, which is good. My sisters also still exist. My niece turned 16 and was given a brand new car for her birthday, which I'm pretty sure she thinks is perfectly normal. Also, the gift has set an expensive precedent for the person who bought the vehicle, since I also have two nephews who will be turning 16 in the next few years.

Let's see... Did I forget anyone?

No. No I did not.

Merry whatever.

Doc

2010-11-20T09:52:00.000-08:00

Today I did the most difficult thing I've ever had to do. I had Doc put down.

Jill went with me. She offered to go with me. I didn't have to ask, which was awesome, because that's a rather strange favor to ask of someone.

I did okay at the vet's office. Yeah, I cried. How could I not? Doc was my constant companion. The furry friend who, until recently, greeted me with a wagging tail when I came home from work. He was also my bodyguard -- always putting himself between me and anyone else. Above all else, he was my friend. We loved each other very much.

I adopted Doc almost exactly two years ago. He was old. The rescue group from which I adopted him said he was between 10 and 12. The first vet I visited said he was probably about 14 or 15. The second vet I took him to said he was definitely at least 16. However old he was, his previous owners lost their home and could no longer care for him. He ended up in the Jefferson County animal shelter, and when they couldn't find a home for him, they called the St. Louis Senior Dog Project, who took him in, for better or for worse.

They set his adoption fee at $50 because of his age. And his cataracts. And his "selective hearing." And his arthritis. And his senility.

After our vet visit today, Jill and I stopped to get something to eat. We figured he had at least six chronic conditions -- diagnosed or otherwise -- based on his behavior. Over the last month or so, he spent most of his time sleeping. It took him two or three days to eat what he would have normally consumed in a day. He would scratch at the door at 3 AM until I got up and let him outside, at which point, he would just stand there, seeming to forget why he wanted out so badly in the first place. He sometimes barked and growled at me like I was a stranger. The daily greetings at the door were all but gone.

Except for the last few days. After weeks of agonizing over this decision, I called the vet and made an appointment to have him put down. Every day since making the appointment, he would be waiting for me at the door, tail wagging. I'm not going to read into this at all. I'm just stating that after I made the appointment, he met me at the door every day when I came home from work.

I was hoping he'd just die quietly in his sleep. I was hoping we'd be able to avoid that one last car ride. But that wasn't in the cards.

I could have very easily let him keep on living for however long he had left, but he was in pain. I had to wake him up every morning and pick him up to carry him outside. I would have kept doing it, too, if I knew he wasn't in any pain. But he was in pain.

He was constantly rubbing his eyes, which had a constant stream of what I can only describe as snot seeping out of the corners. The vet had given me medicine for that a while back. I gave it to him weekly. It would clear things up for a day or two, but it would just get worse again. He took thyroid pills every day to give him the energy to get up, walk around, and eat. I went for about a week once without giving him any pills -- I needed to get more from the vet -- and most of that time, he just slept.

As Jill drove off, I walked in my house, Doc's empty collar and leash in my hand. I saw his food and water bowls, his blankets, bits of his fur that were constantly falling out. I broke down and cried.

Even though I know in my heart that I did the right thing, the responsible thing, it's still the hardest thing I've ever done.

Violence... With a side of fries

2010-11-17T10:24:00.001-08:00

My friend Mike pointed something out to me today. There are a lot of videos on Youtube of groups of people fighting at chain restaurants in the San Francisco Bay Area.

First example: two women in line at McDonald's start a cat fight that turns into a brawl. The logic behind it: one woman was offended because the other was using foul language near her daughter.

Apparently only words can be a bad influence. Not actions.

Second example: the setting is Denny's. This time there are two groups, throwing things at each other. I'm not quite sure how this one got started, but does it really matter? I can guarantee you it was something stupid.

Oh, also, it was Halloween. You may have figured that out, though.

Third example: Burger King parking lot in Oakland. I'm not really sure who started what in this situation.

Seriously, what kind of trashy individual gets into a brawl at a chain restaurant? And why does it take the cops so long to show up at each one of these? Crazy.

If you do decide to take the risk of going to a chain restaurant in the Bay Area, don't take the bus.

Election 2010

2010-11-01T18:31:00.000-07:00

Here's how I'll be voting tomorrow:

U.S. Senator:

Robin Carnahan - she is a far better choice than Roy Blunt, a.k.a., Tom DeLay's butt boy, and father of former Missouri Governor Matt Blunt, the Boy Blunder. It's too bad Robin probably won't win, though.

Also, a note to the person who told me "I'm never voting for a Carnahan, not after Missouri elected Mel even though he was dead." -- that's a completely ridiculous argument and you know it. That was ten years ago. Get over it already. There are plenty of legitimate reasons to vote for a certain candidate, but that's not one of them.

State Auditor:

Susan Montee - Montee has done an excellent job as auditor so far. There's no reason not to keep her in office.

U.S. Representative, District 3:

Russ Carnahan - Sure, Russ is about as charismatic and charming as a dead fish, but his views are in line with my own, his office is responsive to my inquiries, and he's a much better choice than Ed Martin, who as the Boy Blunder's chief of staff, cost Missouri taxpayers quite a bit of money through e-mailgate.

State Representative, District 108:

Jacob W. Hummel - Jake is a friendly guy, and his campaign materials didn't have any misspellings, like his token Republican opponent's did.

Constitutional Amendment 1 - re: requiring the office of county assessor to be an elected position:

YES - I'll be honest, this amendment only affects a small number of counties, and as such, should not be a statewide issue, however, I'm in favor of making public servants more accountable to the public, and this achieves that.

Constitutional Amendment 2 - re: property tax exemptions for former prisoners of war:

NO - don't get me wrong, I appreciate everything our troops have done for us, especially those who were captured and held by the enemy. However, our state is in a bit of a budget crunch, and now is not the time to start granting tax exemptions to specific groups. First it's the disabled former POWs, next it's all veterans, then soon it's everyone over the age of 50. I see this as a slippery slope issue.

Constitutional Amendment 3 - re: real estate transfer taxes:

YES - first of all, let me acknowledge that this is a solution without a problem, as no politicians are even thinking about imposing a real estate transfer tax right now. However, I'd like to sell my home someday, and when I do, I don't want to pay a transfer tax on that sale. Nor do I want to pay another one when I buy a new house.

Proposition A - re: municipal earnings taxes

NO, NO, A MILLION TIMES NO! - billionaire Rex Sinquefield has spent millions of dollars of his own money to put this issue before voters tomorrow, and to sell his libertarian ideology, the groups he's funding are saying that passing this proposition will "let voters decide" on taxes. This is a lie. Voters already decide. It's called the Hancock Amendment. This would actually take away the ability of voters to choose an earnings tax -- one of the most equitable forms of taxation -- by outlawing it for every municipality in Missouri except St. Louis, Kansas City, and St. Joseph. And for those cities, a vote would have to be held every five years to decide to keep the earnings tax. And once it's gone, it's gone forever.

If this passes, St. Louis' bond rating will almost certainly plummet, because 1/3 of its revenue will no longer be guaranteed.

Proposition A is awful. Simply awful.

Proposition B - the "puppy mill bill."

I've heard lots of arguments for and against this measure. All of the arguments for it are very well-founded. Only one argument against it is, though, and that's the one about enforcement. There are laws on the books right now regulating the conditions in which breeders can keep dogs, but because the Missouri Department of Agriculture is responsible for the enforcement (and because of a lack of funding for enforcement), puppy mills still exist. There simply aren't enough people to enforce the existing laws, and Proposition B makes, at best, a minimal effort to address this, by enabling local law enforcement agencies to enforce it as well. Either way, the state will not be spending more money on the MDA's efforts to enforce whatever dog breeding laws we'll have after the election.

Some opponents complain about the 50 dog limit. Others say this is a deceptive effort by PETA to try to get us to stop eating meat. Others simply say it's a lie without elaborating further.

I've played the part of devil's advocate on this one quite a bit over the last couple of months, and as I said, I have only heard one legitimate concern about this bill, and that's with enforcement. However, because (as I understand it) it will enable other law enforcement agencies to enforce the law -- as opposed to MDA agents only -- I will most likely be voting for it. If you are a responsible breeder who keeps your animals in clean conditions and makes sure they see a vet when necessary, you should have absolutely nothing to worry about. If you are running a puppy mill out in the woods somewhere in rural Missouri, you're probably going to keep doing that anyway -- at least until you get caught. And hopefully that will be sooner rather than later since the MDA agents won't be the only people looking for you now. It's not a perfect solution, but it is a step in the right direction, and maybe, just maybe, the knuckleheads in Jefferson City will finally acknowledge the puppy mill problem and increase the MDA's funding accordingly.

Park51

2010-08-19T09:20:00.000-07:00

Park51 (also known as the "Ground Zero Mosque" even though it's not at Ground Zero and is more of a YMCA than a mosque) has been stirring up some controversy lately.

So, naturally, here's my opinion:

It's a municipal zoning issue. That's all it is. Seriously. It's not an attack on America. It's not an affront to the victims of 9/11. It's not a training ground for terrorists. It's a municipal zoning issue.

Does the developer have a right to put it there? Absolutely. Should the developer put it there? At first, I was with a lot of people and said, "maybe it's not wise," but after seeing the other establishments that exist a similar distance from the WTC site and learning that there is a mosque nearby that predates the WTC, I say go for it.

The September 11th terrorist attacks were tragic and cowardly event carried out by extremists -- extremists whose actions were condemned by the vast majority of Muslims around the world. If we are going to judge entire religions by the worst offenses committed by its most extreme sects, then by that logic, no churches, synagogues, mosques, or temples should ever be built, anywhere. No religion has perfectly clean hands, as countless atrocities have been committed in the name of religion over the course of history. The Romans fed Christians to hungry lions as part of a public spectacle. The Christians embarked on the Crusades. The Catholic Church, specifically, had a little thing called the Inquisition. Then there was the Cave of the Patriarchs Massacre where a Jewish gunman opened fire on unarmed Muslims who were praying, resulting in 29 deaths and over 150 injuries. Even the Mormons got involved with the Mountain Meadow Massacre.

Some of these atrocities are worse than others, but my point is that a lot of bad shit has happened in the name of God/Yahweh/Allah/whatever.

By the way, Muslims died in the 9/11 attacks. And I'm not talking about the hijackers. I'm talking about regular people, like you and me, including a police cadet and EMT whose body was found, with his EMT bag -- he was trying to do what he could to save others.

A lot of talking heads -- particularly of the right-wing variety -- have worked tirelessly to unfairly lump the extremist cowards who were behind 9/11 into the same category as the rest of Islam. They make it seem like Osama bin Laden is a spokesperson for the entire Muslim people.

I have a handful of Muslim friends. They are American citizens. They are honest, decent, hard-working people who love America. They're not all that different from you and me. They, much like the people who want to open Park51, are representative of Islam in America. Not every Muslim is an extremist. In fact, very, very few are, and most of those are in the Middle East.

When the Pilgrims landed on our shores in 1621, they were here to escape religious persecution, and as a result, we now live in a country where the freedom to worship however you see fit -- or not worship at all -- is a fundamental right.

And if the opponents of the Park51 project get their way, and the community center (which happens to include space for prayer, but no minarets or anything like that) has to go elsewhere, who is really the winner in that situation?

After all, the people who attacked us on 9/11 were against religious freedom. So what does that say about the desire of so many Americans to deny Muslims the right to gather and worship where they wish in this country?

I'd say that makes us just as bad as the terrorists.

The penguins in my head

2010-08-17T12:44:00.000-07:00

This morning I woke up feeling not so great. See, I had gone out to dinner on Sunday and ordered a salad, because this restaurant's house dressing was supposed to be phenomenal.

And it was. The salad was great. And by great, I mean both delicious and huge. I took half of it home with me.

Unfortunately, I let it sit in my truck -- creamy house dressing and all -- for nearly three hours before bringing it inside. That was not a mistake. The mistake was putting it in my refrigerator instead of the trash can.

Last night, without giving much thought to the potential blowback, I ate the rest of that salad, heated-and-then-cooled house dressing and all.

When I woke up, my stomach was quite angry. I'll spare you the details, but what eventually occurred was me sending an e-mail to my co-workers saying I'd be staying home this morning and going back to bed after taking some pepto.

After drifting off to sleep, I began dreaming of a trip to the zoo. But this was no ordinary trip to the zoo. This one ended with a pregnant penguin stowing away in my truck to come live with me.

Now, I realize that in real-life, penguins lay eggs. However, this is my dream, and in my dream, penguins reproduce very quickly and without any sort of birthing or hatching process whatsoever. They were doubling in numbers, over and over, until my house was filled with penguins.

They were everywhere, gentle readers. Everywhere.

I'd open my sock drawer. Penguins. Look in the microwave. Penguins. Under the sink. Penguins. In the dryer. Penguins. In the fridge. Of course there are penguins there. They love the cold. My air conditioner was running at full capacity. The water bill was sky high. I couldn't sit on the couch anymore. There were too many penguins on it. At one point, I tried putting them all in the basement, but they just crawled up through the ducts.

And they'd peck at me with their sharp little beaks because I was in their way, ignorant of the fact that this was MY house. Not theirs. You can't reason with a penguin.

I tried calling every zoo in the country -- nobody wanted the penguins. They had plenty already. Sea World didn't want them either. I thought about shipping them to Antarctica...

And then I woke up.

The moral of the story: never welcome a penguin into your home. They are nothing but trouble.

An Occasion.

2010-07-30T08:12:00.001-07:00

This blog turns seven next month.

And, let's face it, out of those seven years, there have really only been about two worth reading.

I think this calls for cake.

Wow...

2010-06-23T22:21:00.000-07:00

I can't believe it's been five years. Time sure does slip away, doesn't it?

The sadness is long gone. The tears have dried up. Grass has grown over dad's grave. Time kept on progressing without him, just as it will after each of us is gone. I still think about him, though. Every day. I guess that's to be expected.

In the last five years, I've come to realize how fortunate I was to know that dad's time with us was very short. I was able to make the most of it. I was lucky, unlike many people I know who have lost loved ones since that hot Friday in June of 2005.

I've grown so much in so many ways since dad died. A lot in my life has changed -- my job, where I live, my general outlook on life -- but I'm also thankful for the things that have remained the same. In particular, I recognize that I'm at a time in my life where friendships tend to fade away. I've definitely lost touch with a lot of people, but I'm really thankful for those people who helped me through that tough time who are still in my life today. You know who you are. And most of you don't even know this blog exists, honestly.

Still, though -- thanks.

A couple of things...

2010-06-14T08:20:00.000-07:00

1. I stopped at the grocery store on my way to work today. I do this about once a week, to buy stuff to make for lunch. I have a fridge in my office, and it saves me money and time.

Anyway, it was before 8 AM, so there was only one register open. The lady in front of me was shopping, baby in tow, and one of her purchases was a loaf of bread that proclaimed "NO HIGH FRUCTOSE CORN SYRUP!" on the package. She then proceeded to tell the cashier about how terrible high fructose corn syrup is for you, and how it will kill you, and how she never buys anything containing it.

Also in this lady's purchase were two boxes of Lance brand cracker packs (one cheddar cheese and peanut butter, the other peanut butter and jelly), a dozen donuts from the bakery (most of them topped with icing and M&Ms), two gallons of Hawaiian Punch, and nine -- yes, nine -- Moon Pies.

The only marginally healthy thing in her cart was a bunch of five or six bananas. I guess those bananas canceled out all the HFCS in her other purchases.

2. Many NFL players are total morons, but Vince Young takes the cake.

I have a general theory about why NFL players are so stupid. For starters, it doesn't take a lot of intellect to play football. You basically just run whatever play the coach tells you to run. Secondly, most of the NFL players who went to college were able to coast through -- especially if they attended a Division I school. Third is the schedule. NFL players work for like six or seven months, tops. I mean, sure, they need to keep in shape, but that's an awful lot of free time. You don't hear about professional baseball players getting into trouble nearly as much as NFL players. Why? Because professional baseball players are playing for eight or nine months, and during those eight or nine months, their longest period of time off is four days during the break around the All-Star Game.

And then there's the money. NFL players find themselves in a position where they have more money than they ever fathomed. That much money, combined with that much free time, is an excellent facilitator of bad decisions.

What's really sad is that the average NFL career lasts three and a half seasons. It's no wonder there are so many destitute retired football players out there. I'm no financial planner, but jeez, even I would make some sort of long-range plan.

Why you shouldn't boycott BP stations

2010-06-09T09:18:00.000-07:00

You're driving down the road and are about to run out of gas. You have to fill the tank, and quick. You find two stations, right across the street from each other. One has a BP sign, the other is a Motomart, Quiktrip, or some other big regional chain.

The BP sign brings to mind oil-soaked pelicans, mucky beaches littered with tar balls, and the image of oil gushing from the floor of the Gulf of Mexico. As an act of protest, you choose to patronize the non-BP station.

Where do you think that gas you just bought at the non-BP station came from? Quiktrip and Motomart don't explore for oil and refine their own gasoline. They buy it on the wholesale market from whoever has the lowest price.

They call this "unbranded gasoline." You'll notice that QT and Motomart don't have any particular oil company's logos displayed at any of their stores. That's what makes them unbranded -- the fact that they don't sell just one brand of gasoline.

Of course, because of shared pipelines, that gasoline you're buying from the Shell station may not necessarily have been produced by Shell. And the BP station may not be selling BP gas, either. It's really hard to tell what you're actually getting, as all gas is pretty much the same (before additives, anyway.)

So if you're interested in boycotting BP, you should just boycott all gas stations, period, since you can't be entirely certain that what you're buying at QT and Motomart isn't BP gas. Heck, you might even have a better shot at getting non-BP gas at a BP station.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm no fan of oil companies whatsoever, but I do recognize that, at present, oil is a necessary evil. I'd boycott all gas stations if I could, but my life runs on 87 octane gasoline, and yours probably does, too.

There's another reason why you shouldn't boycott BP stations: they are independently owned. It's very likely that they are owned by people in your community. They have nothing to do with BP, the company. They were just unfortunate enough to sign a branding agreement that involves the use of BP logos. As I said earlier, they may not even be selling BP gasoline. But the big chains almost certainly are. They just don't have to tell you where it came from. That's because they probably don't even know where it came from.

Quiktrip, Motomart, and the other big chains are just that -- big chains. They're not franchises. They're all company-owned and managed, unlike the mom and pop BP station across the street.

So, if you still insist on boycotting BP stations, just know that by doing so, you won't be hurting the guys who ruined the Gulf of Mexico nearly as much as you might be hurting your own neighbors.

Just to put this out there...

2010-05-28T12:41:00.000-07:00

Gary Coleman died today.

Gary, you died of an intercranial hemorrhage -- a type of cerebrovascular accident or CVA. Most of these (about 80-90% according to a friend of mine who works with CVA patients) are ischemic in nature. In other words, most of the time, the blood supply to the brain is cut off. But Gary, you chose the path less traveled. Your blood wouldn't clot.

You truly died of a diff'rent stroke.

Rest in peace, Gary. You had a hard life. At the very least, I hope you appreciate the irony of your demise.

Dad's mail...

2010-04-11T22:19:00.000-07:00

For years now, I've received junk mail with my dad's name on it. As you probably know, we had the same first and last name, and lived at the same address when he died. I finally got around to writing this letter to the company that sends out a Knights of Columbus merchandise catalog. Something I am very much not interested in:

April 12, 2010

To the fine people at The English Company, Inc.,

My father – whose name was the same as mine – is the intended recipient of your catalog. He was a Fourth Degree member of the Knights of Columbus, a former Grand Knight, Faithful Navigator, District Deputy, and Missouri state council officer. He definitely enjoyed your catalog, and probably made many purchases over the last few decades. Unfortunately, he passed away in 2005. While this was indeed a sad occasion, it did give us an opportunity to see many of the products featured in your catalog, as there were nearly 60 Fourth Degree Knights participating in the honor guard at his visitation and funeral. It was quite the to-do. Apparently he was a popular guy. Who knew?

With that many honor guard members in one place, there were feathers everywhere. That’s another thing – your chapeau plumes tend to shed. Just a heads-up. I suppose that’s why you sell replacement plumes, though, so maybe it’s a moot point... Also, you may want to make the tips of the honor guard swords a bit less sharp, as the average Fourth Degree honor guard member is approximately 78 years old, tends to hold the sword with the points near eye-level, and not very sure-footed. There were several close calls.

Regardless, while your catalog does provide regular reminders of my father’s love of the Knights of Columbus, I somehow came into possession of his cape, chapeau, sword, medals, and other miscellaneous regalia, all of which will undoubtedly make a wonderful Halloween costume someday. Because I share the same name as my deceased father, and because we were living at the same address when he passed away, when I did move out less than a year later, a lot of his catalogs and other pre-sorted mail followed me to my apartment, and then to the house I purchased a year and a half ago.

Money is tight for everyone right now, and I would like to help you save some money on postage and printing by requesting that my father’s name (and my address) be removed from your mailing list. I manage a large mailing list at my job, and I understand that the majority of the time, you do not receive notification when someone on that list passes away – unless, of course, someone writes to tell you. And it has been my experience that those letters are often less-than-friendly. I understand why I’m on your list, but I also want to play a part in increasing the efficiency and effectiveness of your company by opting out of it. At your convenience, please remove my address from your mailing list. I have enclosed the address from the most recent catalog I received, as this may be of some assistance to you.

Also, I’m not even a member of the Knights of Columbus. I think the guys in New Haven might get a bit nervous if I started ordering service award plaques and travel mass kits for myself.

Thank you for your cooperation, and I wish you all the best!

I figure this will be more memorable (and therefore, more effective) than a standard angry removal request.

Easter, Schmeaster.

2010-04-04T07:39:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty much non-religious, so Easter doesn't mean a whole lot to me. I mean, sure, I'm always interested in whether or not he sees his shadow when he comes out of the tomb. That means six more weeks of guilt and fish sticks, right?

I think that's how it goes.

Anyway, given the large number of Christians in this country, I understand why most businesses shut down for the day. Most businesses, that is, except for the largest, most soulless one out there -- Wal-Mart.

Because I was lazy yesterday, I needed to go get groceries today. And, of course, the only place open was Wal-Mart. I got the things I needed and found an open register. The cashier was a woman, probably in her 70s, who was telling every single customer how horrible it was that she had to work on Easter. The lady was almost in tears. Even though I'm not religious, I empathized with this woman.

"I didn't even get to go to church!" she wailed to the mother and three kids who were ahead of me in line.

At that point, Wal-Mart had won my not-so-coveted Jerk of the Day award. But then the mother in front of me came in for the upset.

"Well," she said to the cashier, "at least you have a job. Lots of people don't, you know."

Wow. That's pretty low, even by my standards. I say some pretty dumb things, but even I wouldn't have said that. I mean, let's stop and think about this for a minute. Wal-Mart is a business. A huge business. Wal-Mart has stayed open on holidays like Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas for the last several years. That being said, it should have been no surprise to the cashier that she may have to work on Easter Sunday. I imagine if she hadn't shown up for work that day, she would have probably lost her job. After all, as the mother in front of me pointed out, lots of people are out of work. It sucks for the cashier, but she knew this was a possibility. She was probably unable to find someone to take her shift for the day. I've worked at Wal-Mart. That's how things go, sometimes. I do know, however, from my time at Wal-Mart that working on a Sunday or a holiday means extra pay. Sure, it may only be an extra $8, but it's something.

The mother in front of me, though, was out of line. As anyone who has had a shitty job will tell you (myself included), being reminded that lots of other people could be doing your shitty job and you could be unemployed is never comforting. It actually makes you feel worse.

So if you're out doing stuff today, and you come across a cashier who is upset about having to work on a religious holiday, don't be a dick and tell them they're lucky to have any job at all. Just shut the fuck up, say thank you, and be on your way. They don't need you to put things in perspective, because I guarantee your perspective is not the same as theirs.

Easter, Schmeaster.

An Open Letter...

2010-03-09T07:09:00.000-08:00

Dear fellow St. Louisans (and other people who aren't St. Louisans but live in the metro area so they say they are, because apparently proximity counts for such things),

It rained last night. That's cool. I don't mind. It's part of nature's process. We need rain. Rain has been occurring since before humans evolved into the fleshy bipeds we are today.

Over a century ago, some of our fellow fleshy bipeds invented such great things as automobiles and paved roads.

Given that cars and roads and rain have coexisted for so long, why the fuck don't you know how to operate motor vehicles on wet roads?

Seriously people. If there's one thing I've learned from living on the south side and working on the north side, it's that if any form of precipitation whatsoever falls from the sky within 12 hours of rush hour, you are instantly rendered totally incapable of operating a car without hitting someone else, flipping it over, or running off the road.

While I've grown accustomed to your collective incompetence, and have begun scheduling my commute to avoid being on the roads at the same time as most of you, today really took the cake. It wasn't raining. It wasn't snowing. It wasn't even cold enough for frost to form on my windshield. It wasn't sunny, either, so you can't blame the sun for being in your eyes. The road wasn't even really all that wet. It was moist. Not wet. Moist.

I left my house at 7:30 -- about ten minutes later than usual, but I've got a busy day at work, so I wanted to make sure Doc had all the time he needed outside. And then I got on the highway and proceeded to go four miles in 45 minutes. There are plenty of people who can run faster than that. I'm not saying I'm one of them, but I am saying that those people exist.

I turned on the radio to hear that one jackass wrecked in the depressed section, blocking all but the right-hand shoulder in the process. And if that wasn't enough, two more jackasses had also wrecked, one at Madison and another at West Florissant -- both of which are on my route, mind you.

So really people, what the hell is wrong with you? You act like you've never seen rain before. There are some places in the world that receive so little rainfall that when the rain finally does come, it shuts down the entire town, because people don't know how to get around in the mud.

I think those folks are on to something: if you can't handle the rain, or if you can't evolve to deal with an inevitable natural phenomenon, just stay the fuck home.

Sincerely,

Me

The Oscars

2010-03-07T21:19:00.000-08:00

My thoughts on the Oscars:

Thanks to the Academy for giving Avatar exactly what it deserved: some technical and artistic awards and that's all. As my friend Tara said, "I liked Avatar a lot better the first time I saw it, when it was called Dances With Wolves." She's not alone in that opinion, either. Also, my faith in the Academy was restored by the simple fact that they didn't give the top honors to James Cameron just because he broke every single box office record. To do so would be demeaning to the art and science that is cinema.

I was disappointed to see Up In The Air get completely shut out. Sure, some of that is because most of it was filmed right here in St. Louis, but also, I think if we were to pick one movie to sum up our society in 2009, Up In The Air would be it.

The Hurt Locker was clearly the year's biggest winner. While I have not seen it (yet) all reports are that it is an incredible movie, and given the subject matter, notably non-political. It must be good, since it received a Tomatometer rating of 97%.

Things I liked about the show: not much, really. Although the tribute to John Hughes was kind of touching. Oh, and Neil Patrick Harris. He should open every awards show.

Things I didn't like: where to begin? I guess I'll start with the Best Actor/Actress introductions. I don't care about what great people these performers are. They're being honored for pretending to be others. Just read their names, show some clips, and be done with it. Or do it the same way as the Best Picture, with each nominee getting his or her own short highlight reel throughout the show. Also, what was up with that stupid dance number during the Best Score category? Lame. That whole category should get, at most, two minutes. We don't need a whole freaking dance troupe performing their interpretation of the scores. Oh, and the In Memoriam segment was botched yet again. Every year they screw this up. They cut off the first couple of people by showing the musician or the audience or whatever, and the only people who end up getting to see every single person in that slideshow are the people right there in the theater. So yeah, Academy, stop it.

I guess that's all I have to say.

Oh, and The Dude abides.

I've got a secret...

2010-02-21T21:05:00.001-08:00

I actually like the Winter Olympics.

Like, a lot.

I don't like any one particular sport. I think what I really like about the winter games has a lot to do with the first ones I remember - the 1988 games in Calgary.

I think we had a very, very snowy winter that year, and as a result, I had lots of snow days. I remember it being the only thing on TV, and sitting in the family room, falling asleep to the sounds of the games while my mom watched.

Ever since then, I have always watched the winter games -- and ended up falling asleep during the late night broadcasts, feeling cozy, warm, and safe.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go drift off to the dulcet tones of Bob Costas.

Desiccant...

2010-02-06T15:39:00.001-08:00

Remember how I needed desiccant a couple years ago?

I ended up buying a dehumidifier. And then, just a little while ago, my friend Carrie (a regular reader of the Craigslist missed connections page) saw this and immediately sent me the link:

You had a very humid office... - w4m
Date: 2010-02-01, 11:42PM CST

You posted in here quite some time ago about your humid office and your hope that silica gel packets could remedy the situation.

I must say, I was quite impressed by your wit and, well, the fact you came up with a mathematical formula for the problem.

So, I was wondering if you got the problem taken care of? I'm sure you have, it's just that I really have nothing else to say. It's rather difficult to generate a conversation out of thin air, ya know?

Anyhow, just wanted to say I was intrigued by you. And if you should see this, feel free to respond and maybe we can get together for an evening of robbing shoe boxes.

What will come of this? I'll keep you posted.