the new old hell-yeah

Dear Ann Arbor/Ypsi Beer Enthsiasts:

If you haven't been to Arbor Brewing Co. in the past month or so, you REALLY need to stop there and have a pint. I don't know what it is they did, but 3 months ago I was wondering whether the beers were just going to continue a downward spiral into boringness. But then KA-THWOCKO! Just the other day I was there, and boy howdy... they sure did do something about the beers. Put some new stuff on the menu too (hooray for the IPA Chicken with goat cheese sammich)

Three new ones I hadn't had before, but fully endorse: Downtown Brown (not a diva beer, but very drinkable pint after pint). HXL - a nameplay on the Huxell, but XL because it's a high-gravity double-strength version of the Huxell Best Bitter. Too heavy to have lots of, but tasty fer sure. And saving the best for last: the Duggie Style Rye. Fuckin' hell, y'all. Even it's smells have temporal complexity. The smell has a start and finish, and they work together so well. Taste? Well, that's even a better part you'll have to discover yourself.

And not only the new stuff, but it seems they've freshened up the Porter too. I used to think Grizzly Peak had a better porter and ABC had a better stout. I think ABC has re-taken the Porter crown on this one. Smoky and with a little bit of a snap on the tongue. Niiice.

I know the brewmaster is unlikely to be reading this, but on the off chance he is: An absofuckinglutely STELLAR job with these brews. Keep 'em coming. Glad to see new stuff. Glad to have ABC again be a destination for me and not just "when I'm in the neighborhood".

Grizzly Peak brewmaster? You'd best sharpen up your game if you don't want to get dropped.

LRB Personals

There's actually a book of the best personals placed in the London Review of Books (current ads can be read here)

Enjoyable excerpts from this week:

My psychotherapist suggested I place this ad. Woman, 43. Not mental, despite whatever a fear of open spaces, the colour red, the sound of rain, plastic containers, beards, percussionists, birdsong and cornflakes may suggest Box no. 01/03

Anybody seen in a bus over the age of 30 has been a failure in life." M, 43, failure, seeks F anywhere on the Arriva 333 route between Oare and Maidstone, for evenings cut short and diesel-choked embraces (the last bus leaves the Chequers Centre at 1817 and it's a long walk). Box no. 24/10

When eventually calming down after a heated argument involving smashed plates, thrown cutlery, insults directed at your circus side-show of a family, and emotionally destructive sex, you should know now that I’m very unlikely to participate in that ‘no, really, I’m sorry, it was my fault’ charade. You accept all of the blame all of the time or you grow gills to breathe in the stale, bitter soup of my angry and eternal silence. Cuddly F, 36, brown hair, green eyes, degree in geology Box no. 01/05

what to look forward to in asymmetrical warfare

Golly, what do you think is in store for us over the next 3-5 years in Iraq... let's look at some examples from history in which a global power tried to fight in an asymmetrical war against an opposing force that was distributed (not concentrated in one place), in their native environment, and filled with the enthusiasm of their own righteousness:

- Afghanistan. The USSR tried for 20 years to occupy/convert/take over Afghanistan. They moved in, but were constantly harried and the costly effort eventually failed. They pulled their soldiers out without succeeding in doing anything other than ruining the property values in Kabul.

- Vietnam. Didn't go well. Ended only when the invading forces gave up after thousands died and billions wasted. Never really did unseat the opposition. 30 years later, trade relations are "normalized", if that really means anything.

- Northern Ireland. Been flaring up, though it had been quiet just previously. 205 years of conflict with an imperial power doesn't just dry up.

... oh yeah, and there was this little clump of colonies across the Atlantic that declared their independence from England a few hundred years ago. They were fairly successful at defending themselves against an imperial army based thousands of miles away.

So what makes anyone think that this asymmetrical war is suddenly going to be radically different? Well, the price tag will be higher - more zeros after the dollar sign than ever before... that'll be different, I guess.

disturbing-funny, disturbing cute, and disturbing *disturbing*

Back from holiday visit to the fam in ChicagoLand, and though I have a bountiful list of comments to expound on ad nauseum from thoughts during walks, drives, sleeplessness... they require more focused thought than I can give them right now. In the meantime, we have:

Disturbing-funny

where can I get some of this? are there other savory flavors? how about lobster bisque?

Disturbing-cute:

It's not a causal thing, is it? That running with scissors makes children slow... or that you drive slowly because the children in this neighborhood have a tendency to run with scissors and could be doing it at any time?

And then, disturbing-disturbing: Michigan House Bill 5882 which, among other things... makes the sweeping statement about where life begins "'Unborn child' means a live human being in utero regardless of its gestational stage of development." (Section 2E)

Of course, it would also make it a crime for the "supposed" father (though paternity may not be known) of a child of a pregnant female younger than 18 to change cohabitation with her (Sections 3D and 4D). Meaning... a 18 boy lives with a 17 year old girlfriend. She finds out she's pregnant and it could his, but also could be someone else's... if he moves out, he could be imprisoned for up to a year, based on interpretations of "intent to compel". Intent to compel doesn't even seem to require an action... "Intent"?

Does this ever happen to you? (the generation gap)

My parents had me pretty late in life... while most breeding couples start really feeling the biological clock tick at about the age of 30, my folks were closer to 40 when they had me.

So basically, as a youngster, I've served as the Ambassador of Technology in some form or another to my parents. (there is still a rotary phone installed on the wall of the kitchen - at this point not a sign of lack of progress, now it's cool vintagey) In 1999, after years of Dad asking about "what the internet is like" and what it would take to "get on it" with the 486/Windows 3.1 he had, I finally just decided that the gift of a modern computer and a dialup account would set them on the path. Today, the same 7-year old Win98 box is chugging along on the dial-up. It's fair to say that access to technology/media hasn't made them any more adventurous/inquisitive about developments in said technology/media. In 2003, it was the humble cell phone. Bought them a pay-as-you-go phone since they might not want to have to deal with a contract... Only in the past year have they gotten comfortable with the notion that they don't need to call FROM a cell phone to reach some one else's cell phone.

I'm not saying all this just to rag on my parents for avoiding the cutting edge... I'm saying this all as background for this brief, yet far overdue observation:

Whenever I go to visit over the holidays and I sit down at the computer to check mail, browse about, etc. etc., eventually either Mom or Dad will wander over and stand over my shoulder, watching what I'm doing, not as surveillance, but "just to learn something new". And I don't know how to say it in a way that will be convincing on this, the 522nd time - there's nothing to learn by watching someone browse the web on a dial-up connection. Waiting for pages to load is not a learning experience. There's nothing to see. And ultimately, if I do do something on the local machine at my normal speed, they eventually shuffle away shaking their heads muttering something about never being able to follow what I'm doing, it's just too complicated. So then the frustrated teenager in me huffs and puffs "well why do you keep staring over my shoulder then?"

Ah, children and their parents. No matter what age, you'll always be your parent's kid, oppressed by their protective parenting, and always doing something that their parental wisdom considers foolish. So stop picking things up off the ground and putting them in your mouth. I mean it. Right now. I'm going to count to three, and don't make me come over there...

the Patron Saint of Venereal Disease and Hemorrhoids

not kidding... there really is one: Saint Fiacre. Along with a patron saint of locksmiths and bombardiers. (thanks Wikipedia!)

Happy post-solstice, Norteamericanos

In case you didn't notice, yesterday was the winter solstice and from here on out, the days get longer and the sun is out more and more. I, for one, am glad for this. It's about frickin' time. And that rain? In December? It kicks ass. Why? You don't have to shovel rain.

first three thoughts

Woke up this morning at an uncharacteristically early (for me) hour, with three simultaneous thoughts/sleep remnants:
- If Chicago can ban foie gras from being served/sold, and NYC can ban trans fats, and ____ cities can ban smoking in all public places (bars and restaurants included), I want there to be a ban on having to see obese people shovel french fries into their maws in public. If there's going to be a health/cruelty argument for smoke/trans/foie, then let's not stop there...
- If pro-lifers argue that life begins at conception/fertilization, then in-vitro lab technicians that drop test tubes with blastocysts in them should be prosecuted for negligent manslaughter and women who smoke during pregnancy should be charged with child abuse.
- The opening of PJ Harvey's song Oh My Lover which, though PJH "rejects the notion that her songs are autobiographical," is kind of funny seeing that it starts of with an affirmation of polyamory, and the artist's first name is... Polly.

It seems my sleep was one of of personal freedoms offended by the hypocrisy of zealots, with a soundtrack from 1992.

Neither child, nor adult.

Among the things I'm unfamiliar with, the boundaries of childhood and adulthood can be counted among them, but not for the usual reasons. Is it that I am more like one, the other, both, or neither? Today I went on my first guardianship investigation trip (a volunteer program through the Washtenaw County court system to periodically check in on the health and welfare of children/elderly/disabled that are wards of the court). While I know that my conversation skills with children isn't well developed, it seems that I'm also unacquainted with the conversation skills of adult non-academic professionals that are not engineers/businesspeople - in this example it's lawyers, social workers, etc. I kinda felt a little lost and uncomfortable for a bit, and it was weird. Maybe I just approach "serious life issues" with either complete aplomb or heightened tension (this would be my all-or-nothing approach to so many things), and the idea of calm pseudo-non-chalance in the face of health-and-welfare issues, (while maintaining vigilance I might add) is sort of an interesting trick that I don't quite know yet.

It's a lovely segue some of the other childhood/adulthood identification pet peeves of mine. Chip on my shoulder and opportunity to rant? You bet:

Why is it that somehow because I haven't married, bred children, or bought real estate that I'm somehow considered a non-adult? It's nothing overt, it's just that good ole "when you've lived as long/had the same experiences/had to go through what I've had to, you'll understand." holier-than-thou shit that bugs me.

Responsibility as a parent... what, you mean getting your girlfriend knocked up at 22? (a case where a history of safe sex is retroactively held against me) Or do you mean marrying someone out of familial pressure, or chronological pressure, or inability to live a life of your own? (a case where strong sense of self is held against me) Or that your incessant financial pressure is because you're in debt up to your eyeballs because you don't have a clue about the idea of saving for the future or spending less than your income, or other forms of consumer self-restraint? (a case where my sane financial choices is held against me.)

Don't worry, this isn't some sort of persecution complex shining through. This is just me having a moment. Bear with me, it'll pass...

I hate Packard

In the spirit of the holidays, I'm embracing not only my rage, but my hatred. Where I live in Ann Arbor, my most often traveled street is Packard Rd. Going downtown? Packard westward. Going to Ypsi? Packard eastward. Going grocery shopping? Packard. Going to the West Side? Packard. Driving to Detroit? Packard. I have come to hate the familiarity of it. For some, familiarity is comforting. But for me... in this... it has bred the cliched contempt. I've started to go out of my way and intentionally engaged more traffic, or crappier roads, or riding hills, or whatever to avoid it. Who thought one could start to hate a road and the monotonous landscape it represents?

Sung to the tune "I Hate Music" by the Replacements (circa 1981)...

"I hate Packard
Sometimes I don't
I hate Packard
It's got too many notes

I hate my high school
Sometimes I went
I hate Packard, man
Never heaven sent"

Radiolab/morality

Michigan Radio has been re-broadcasting old radio segments from WNYC's program RadioLab on Monday nights. I caught the one on morality (origins and development), and while I think the editing/production of RadioLab is a little too snarky for my tastes, there were some interesting points to be made. Specifically: that fMRI studies have shown that there's an area of the brain that mediates those instinctual vs. analytic thoughts (id vs. superego). That there's a cooperative evolutionary basis to "moral" sharing behavior (it improves the survival of the community and therefore the species). That even children as young as 2 can tell the difference between rules that are rules for rule's sake and those that are because of a deeper underlying meaning. Check out the audio archives here.

late for this year...

Picked up some holiday greeting cards recently that just totally hit the spot on my holiday sentiments, and as it turns out, the company makes all kinds of nifty other stuff: improve your vocabulary of slang, sex, therapy, and corporate america with flashcards. Dial-an-excuse, or choose-a-religion with wheels. Heck, can't beat that, with a stick or otherwise.

FINALLY... *ugh*

After many, many, MANY charitable contributions to the weekly 9-ball tournament, I finally actually got somewhere with it... As in, I won enough matches to win my entry fee back. Nothing special at 8th place, (particularly since 1st place pays out 10x the entry fee) but it's a landmark for me. I've been making $20 donations forever, and never getting into the money has been aggravating, especially for a tournament that is handicapped to equalize stronger players against weaker ones (instead of an open tounament where the winners are champions who are easy to spot even before the first match).

So yeah, I'm not *too* proud of it - I wasn't really playing that spectacularly. I broke a spot ball in, made the cheese 5-6 times, shit the 9 in twice, and was fortunate to have opponents rattle the spot or 9 ball 3-4 times. A lucky tournament, but it's about time - after all those tournaments where I was generally feeling and playing well, either got a string of bad rolls or had my head stuck up my ass and couldn't make a 9-ball when it counted.

hate to say it, but I told you so...

Shiny-happy people are doomed. To live a longer life, try being honest. With yourself and other people too.

"Every time a person is forced to repress his true feelings there are negative consequences for his health," said Professor Dieter Zapf, a researcher into human emotions.

Fake-smile practitioners take note: don't say I didn't try to warn you.

Spelt

What is it about spelt bread these days? I seem to be seeing it overflowing the bread shelves in quality food stores, and so I got some. Pretty crappy bread, if'n ya ask me, which you didn't, but whatever. Weak texture, no crust, non-existent flavor (puhleaze don't tell me "oh, it's *subtle* flavor you have to appreciate"), and not exactly very sturdy, either. The stuff I got falls apart easier than the Great Harvest crap-bread (that I don't like either). Makes crappy grilled cheese, that's for certain, too.

Must be another one of those "wonder plants" like hemp that is supposedly the cure for all our ills from acne to global warming, but really isn't that remarkable of a raw material unless you're making rope or smokin' up. Shee-it... even Zingerman's can get bread right... now if only their bread didn't harden up before I can finish what I bought.

"prompt and highly motivated escape behavior"

What the hell is this? I mean, other than a device for cooking people?

in touch with my inner rageaholic

Tonight, with nothing really going on, I strapped on a bike and went tooling around - with no real destination in mind, I guess I was literally out looking for trouble. Returned a movie and some library CDs, then out to Ypsi, thinking I would do some exploring of places to plop and read a book and drink a beer or a coffee... but then I realized I'd forgotten my book (In the Company of the Courtesan, which I'm really enjoying) at home. Ok, fine - I'll just poke around town then. Went into the new vintage toy store Rocket downtown Ypsi and got a Morton Salt salt shaker for nostalgia, but without my literary entertainment and places I would have like to go into closed, I headed back westward. Hungry as hell, I stopped at Whole Foods and picked up some Muesli bread that I grazed on while browsing the magazine rack at the Barnes and Noble nearby. From there, it's into town, with thoughts of a beer on my mind. And that's when I passed through campus....

North on State St., and from out of a car window, I hear something ending in "... should ride on the sidewalk..." as this car full of yougsters passes me. That shit pisses me off to no end - people in cars thing they are strong, anonymous, and invulnerable. Well, I'm not your grandma - say that to my face, asshole. Peaceful co-existence between cyclists and motorists? I try to most of the time, but not tonight. No, not me.

Hitch my britches, jump on it a little and check back - no traffic. Skippedy-bip, around the pedestrians, up to their bumper, but can't get around... ah, the lights turning 3 blocks up... biding time, and luckily the window is still open... it's a car full of youngsters. 5 of 'em, can't be more than 19. Rolling up, blocking in the door, back of the bike blocking the rear door, my 6'3", 200 lbs of my serious angry face in the window...
Rageaholic Me: "you got something to say to me?"
Pimple Farm: "uhh.. no. nuh-uh"
RM: "you seemed to have something you wanted to say to me a mile back."
PF: "who me? no, I didn't say anything..."
RM: "oh, that was maybe some other red buick with 5 kids in it? try again. you seem to have a lot to say when you're feeling tough driving along, but when I'm right in front of you somehow you've got nothing to say. you got something to say to me, say it." (I somehow managed to avoid the "go ahead and say something, you pussy" cliche)
[a couple breaths of glaring staring here, it's clear that he's brave in the car when he thinks he won't have to account for his behavior and weak in the knees when pushed back against. the light turns green, we go our seperate ways]

I feel a little bad about instigating on what are basically kids out for a ride, but if they promise to think twice next time, I'll promise to try to forget that I have a heavy lock and they have a glass windshield. It didn't have to go this way, it really didn't. But I'll be a cliched rage-filled asshole cyclist some day if this keeps up.

livin' large? .... livin' huuuuge

A Confession: I swear, I don't know shit about wine. It's easy to know I like something when I taste it. Alternately: "I can't tell you what art (or pornography) is, but I know it when I see it." When I'm it comes to picking out a bottle based on information on the outside of it, I'm completely hopeless. But not as much today as I was on Monday.

Yesterday, G came over with some wine and we had a little mini tasting party. 4 wines, 4 cheeses, good conversation, music loud enough that the neighbor knocked at the door (but I swear officer, it wasn't very loud). It is quite a fine experience to have multiple wines side by side to compare back and forth, to figure out what you like and don't like. Bop back and forth across the mini-spectrum, try them with food or not... Yes, I realize this is not a new thing. "Wine People" have tasting parties all the time, I guess. New for me then. What I *did* find out though is that it seems I really like big, young, woody Zinfandels from Cline Cellars. Damn that was some goodness. Looking at their other offerings, I'm definitely going to have to try the Big Break Zinfandel too. Bring on the power. Bring on the 800lb. gorilla of wine, that shoulders its way through and says "oh yeah, wanna make somethin' of it? well, do ya?"

Oh, and cheese? Well, get me some o' that 18 month gouda, or the salty stinky cheese, and I'll be putty in your hands. Goat cheese? Yup, some o' that too - even if it happens to resemble a twinkie in the photo.

Flav/Bettini. fo' sho'.

Flavor Flav interview of 2006 World Champion roadie Paolo Bettini

dude.

I... uh... well, let's just say that I'm frickin' impressed. This guy can ride a bike, fo' shizzle.

how scary...

This video of an interviewer on the street asking "who should America invade next?" - and the inability of interviewees to identify countries on a map (he mislabels Australia as Iran, Korea, etc. and they go ahead pointing to the island continent as Iran/Korean without correcting him) Of course, it could be that these are actors... but the notion that I can believe people can be that clueless is what scares me more. Heck, there's even a game show that focuses on the ignorance of everyday American passers-by for comedic effect.

Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (winter edition)

I have no idea where this is from, but it gives me ideas for when we start to get some real snow falling...

apparently, my seduction style is....

Go ahead... take the quiz for yourself (go to the page below, and then the "extras" button on that page)

maps-n-stuff

I confess - I dig maps. I dig visualization tools. I really dig cool maps. And GIS? Well that just gives me a full-on-chubby. Representing data spatially is just flat out cool (that's really what a map is anyway, no? the abstract representation of relevant space and information, while hiding irrelevant spaces and information.)

So though I haven't done much work on my map of "additions to stop signs" lately, I'm re-inspired by a art/engineering project called Blue Puddle that just happens to be based here in Ann Arbor. Check out the outdoor electricity map and "making-of" video. Something that Zack makes a good point about: "part of the fun of this is just going out there and seeing your city in a way that you don't usually get to see it." How true.

oh.... fuck. not this again...

I've been feeling a little sickish the past week - nothing terrible, just coughing, chest congestion, a little bit of sinus congestion. It seemed to be clearing up today, even so much that I was thinking about making social plans for the weekend. And then, just 15 minutes ago, I felt an itch. On my wrist.

And now I'm worried.

You see, this has happened a few times before... where in November/December (right around Thanksgiving-ish) it starts with itchy arms - I'd get hives on the inside of my forearms. Every day they would go away for half the day, and every day they would come back. One year they would build up during the day and clear up over night, the other year they would come in the evening and start to clear out when I woke up. Either way, it starts on the arms... then legs... then back, neck, face, etc. That puffy eyelid, wide-looking nose, and red blotches you see ain't because of waking up from a nap...



Two years ago, it kept getting worse, and after 4-5 days, they were appearing on my face and lips. When I looked up articles online it said that if they appear on the lips or tongue, that's a danger sign to warn of airway constriction and anaphylaxis. The next night as it got worse and my throat was bothering me, I drove myself to the emergency room. Ever thought you were ignored in the ER and told to wait? Next time try telling them you have hives on your lips and your throat is bothering you - that gets you rushed inside, 2 IVs, and LOTS of attention to make sure you don't die on them. Oh yeah, and having a camera shoved up your nose and down your throat is no fun either.

------ not-so-minor side-trip here -------
So here's the freakout moment of the day... as I'm writing this, I'm thinking intensely about my bodily status. How do I feel? Itching? More? Less? How's my throat feel? And maybe because I've been trying ignore the discomfort of coughing, I suddenly am aware of how raw my throat feels. Is it tight or just sore from coughing for the past three days? Is it getting tighter? Holy Shit... is this real or am I just freaking out? Suddenly, I'm wondering where my Epi-Pen is. Upstairs to the bathroom, rummaging around in the drawers, getting a little more worried, hyper every second... "I'm not like this, really," I say to myself, "I don't freak out. I'm not the panic-ey type. No, not me." But the idea of dying of anaphylaxis alone in my apartment with no one to discover my body for days would be really pathetic, and if I'm motivated by anything, I'm motivated by the desire to avoid being pathetic. At least I can take some Benadryl... slow acting, but better than nothing while I look for the Epi-Pen. A little worried, hands shaking as I try to pry the little capsules out of the blister pack. (No matter what the packaging is, the more in a hurry you are, the more impenetrable they are, and the frustration and a little sweating now doesn't help.) Sip water, and down with the Benadryl. Fuck, where is the epi injector? I know I had it with me in Utah... oh, is it in my backpacking first aid kit? No. Shit. Travel toiletries? No. Shit. wherewherewhere... backup travel shaving kit? No. But I found the old expired Epi-Pen, so at least that's something. Downstairs to the storage area, rummage through my backpacking gear to find the fresh Epi-Pen, and I suddenly don't mind the fact that my health insurance didn't cover jack shit and it cost me $120 out of pocket.
------ not-so-minor side-trip ends -------

I don't know if the Benadryl is kicking in, or if just knowing that I have the epi injector calmed me down, but I'm feeling much better right now. It did get me thinking though... do I know any of my neighbors and if they know CPR? If I found myself unable to breathe, what would I do? call 911, sure, but they would never get here in time. Suffice it to say that I'll be carrying the Epi-Pen with me for the next few weeks.

Back to the non-threatening, non-ER side of this - after the emergency room trip three years ago, I haven't had any problems. I went for an allergy screening afterwards, and everything was negative (indoor/outdoor/food/whatever). My environment hasn't changed, and besides... I've had these flare-ups even when I lived other places, over the past 10 years. Seems to always be in Nov. though. After the UMich hospital found out that they has screwed up the allergy screening (old allergens/lab mistake, something like that) they invited me back for a free comprehensive re-screening (40 different allergens tested this time), and STILL they didn't find anything that I'm allergic to.

So it's still a mystery. I just hope this damn thing doesn't come back again this year, because going through all the stupid gyrations to eventually find out nothing sure was aggravating. And cost money, too. I should have at least gotten something out of it better than "Well, we don't know what it is, but be sure to keep an eye out for things that might be causing it. Keep your Epi-Pen handy, and good luck." Fucking quacks.

because it needed killin'

As I found myself flipping channels, I finally decided "enough is enough". If I can't control my own behavior on this, I'll just have to work around my own weakness. Take myself out of the loop, as it were.

BEFORE:

... and AFTER:

Shadow Art Fair

Went to Shadow Art Fair today at Corner Brewery in Ypsi... saw some nifty stuff, and bought a little too. It was pretty chock full of people at the fair, but I heard that Friday was ridiculous busy - as in how-many-people-can-fit-in-this-building full.

Stuff I liked...

Miranda Tarrow's "Circus Peanuts" (which now hangs on my wall)

...and there's just something about "A Half-Sucked Egg" (Miranda Tarrow & Howard Forbes) that I really like. Didn't buy the work, but got the postcard...


Chris Sandon, a part of Dirty Bros. had some alluring/disturbing work available, and lastly, I think I'm going to get all my greeting cards from SappyCards from now on.

the problem, as I see it

Today was yet another disappointing sandwich at Zingerman's. I'm pretty far up on my high horse, and this is the last time I will rant about it. But I'm going all-out, with graphic assistance and everything.

Zingerman's Deli, as I've heard it described: "good food, mediocre service, mercenary prices" has a problem in their sandwich department. For the past 10 years, as the prices have increased 40% (the $13 sandwich of today is exactly the same as what you used to get for $9), they STILL can't get sandwich assembly right.

Take Exhibit #1:


Sure, the ingredients are tasty, but the softball-shaped blob of meat in the middle of the sandwich? It's impossible to manage without it sliding out the maw of the bread with the coleslaw or mayo or mustard greasing the way. Needless to say, that after negotiating this sliced-meat speedbump, you're left with plenty of meatless bread.

Not only the flavor, but the texture of the sandwich is uneven. When you have a ham and cheese, do you want a bite of ham and then a bite of cheese? No. You want a bite of ham AND cheese at the same time. And before you respond "oh, you're just being picky... quit whining and just enjoy the food" - well, with the hype that Zingerman's puts out there, and the ridiculous prices they are charging, one would reasonably expect to get an Exceptional Sandwich, not an exercise in aggravation.

Are you hearing this Ari? Probably not. Chances are that you don't give a shit because you're too busy stacking up all the cash you're making off of these disappointments of meat on bread. When you can fix "the sandwich problem" I'll come back, but until then, you've lost my business.

random notable stuff :
--------
Non-Thanksgiving food note: ever tried Peppadews? Next time you're in a grocery store, have a look and see if they have an olive bar/antipasto selection. Not hot at all - pickled and sweet. Almost like the gherkin of the pepper family - give 'em a try.
--------
Mobile PET/CT/MRI facilities? How cool is that? Take a gagillion dollar device based on anti-matter (you know, positrons) and put it on a trailer so that it can be taken to places that can't afford to have one installed.

Thanksgiving "did you know... ?"

The standard Thanksgiving turkey, the flagship product of Butterball - the "large-breasted white" is a turkey which, through breeding, has produced an animal which has such a large breast and such short legs that it is no longer able to reproduce naturally and must be artificially inseminated. The turkeys are too fat and pudgy to fuck.

Isn't that sad for the turkeys? (aside from the notion that they are born with the sole purpose of becoming a centerpiece of holiday gluttony) At least that means that if ever there's a genetically modified version getting loose, it won't be able to take over the world. Likewise, extreme disabling obesity among humans should prevent the propogation of that as a genetic trait if IVF ever disappears from our skill set... Then again, if we enter a Brave New World and are synthetically produced, that might be a problem for our own breed.

Everything I Really Need To Know I Learned In A Pool Hall

I've got a cue in my hands again these days, and as I get comfortable at the table, I always have to go through the range of old memories, thoughts and such to get back into the groove, the right mind-set. It's a periodic thing where the first few times reminds me of all the other times and I need to dispel, among other things: days of presumed arrogance, the ghosts of pool people I've known but who've disappeared from my life (Erin, Johnny, other random hauntings...), depressing losses at the table, and failures ignored by wasting time in a hall. And every time I come back to the table after taking time off, I have to dust off these old memories. Run through them one more time as I warm my mind up back into the roll of things. Before I can start to make progress again, I have to go through and remember where I've been before. Only after that am I able stop reminiscing so much and start making balls and winning games.

All this, just to bring you to one idea that I swear I'm going to actually do some day. Along the lines of the famous book, I will bring you Everything I Really Need To Know I Learned In A Pool Hall - microcosms representing real-life lessons. Concepts to be explored:

• You must be present in the moment
• There is no past or future, there is no escape - you must deal with what is here right in front of you
• You cannot deny the Reality of Things
• If the shot is not going to get past the corner of the side pocket, it's not going to go - wishing it won't make it happen, and ignoring reality leads to harsh reality-checks.
• Likewise, ignoring bad credit/obesity and spending like a moron/eating like a glutton, while wishing for a miracle fix won't improve your credit/waistline.
• Nothing matters, only Results
• "There is no second place, only the first loser"
• In a complex situation, context matters - who cares about the battle... Win the War.
• Everything matters, not just Results
• Complexity? Contradictions? Puzzles? Deception? Yes, there are, and the fool ignores them at their peril.
• Keep Your Eyes on the Prize
• Ignore your regard for your opponent's appearance. Whether they be suave high-roller or greasy redneck, you never know when someone might be putting on airs or laying low.
• Don't be lulled into a false sense of security. Do what you came to do.

One square foot at a time

Seen while riding out to Chicago Critical Mass this past Thanksgiving weekend - a fine way to make your neighborhood a little nicer, one square foot at a time. Wondering if the local constabulary haven't seen, don't care, or even might like such community embellishments. Heck, as vandalism goes, it's the nicest form I can think of.



... and as I sit here in a cafe in Evanston, coffeed to the gills, the random shuffle of music in the headphones turns to some Hüsker Dü, then some fast punk hardcore, and all of a sudden I'm transported back though to memories of high school days. Nostalgia - an indicator of stagnancy, or just a natural temporary condition? Hell, I'm not even that nostalgic - maybe just that it is a thing I can be certain knowing when life these days has so many undecideds, unknownables, unrevealeds, etc.

Of course, it could just be benign annual mid-holiday reminiscing, too.

just in time for the holidays

The seasons roll on, and the notions come 'round in a predictable cycle. A wonder it's taken this long to notice the pattern: the leaves fall, the goes cold, and not long before Thanskgiving... "The Lull". When a numb stillness falls around my head, nothing really seems interesting, let along exciting. Content in my sitting about, am I. But then like the proverbial fog lifting, right during Thanksgiving week, the stores of mental fat are released and everything in the world is new and fascinating again. I notice this mostly because ON Thanksgiving, it becomes most obvious - there's a million things I want to do, places to see, and nothing is open. My jonesing for art, beauty, billiards, academia, ... it returns all at once. But desire is greater than capacity, and can never be properly fulfilled. Days, weeks... time.. passes, and like the drunk swerving around the deer in the road, I find myself overcorrected and suddenly on the other side of the balance - disappointment about fulfilling desire - a sense of overcapacity with nowhere to spend it that energy. By then: schedules past, opportunity wasted, memories made, and the feedback loop damps the signal to it's setpoint - a stable point, but a quiet middling mediocre blah.

between a rock and a... verbose place

After buying groceries at Busch's, I stopped by the new toy store a couple doors down. A small place, packed with games of a learning nature and interactive electronic gaming stations (clearly a business started by child development professionals?). This'd be the same place where I happened to have a lovely time chatting with a really really cute saleswoman with the auburn hair and the blue eyes, and I can honestly say that I was really kind of hoping that I'd happen to run into her again. Alas, no love connection was made tonight, but that wasn't my mission. After getting soundly spanked playing Boggle the other week over at Laura & Pete's, I'm thinking some magnetic poetry might be just the right thing for my ailing brain.

So after I picked up some magnetic poetry, I remembered from summer one of those coolest damn things in garden accessories:
Poetry Stones. How cool is that? Now it CAN be written in stone. Get your deluxe starter kit for only $49.95 . I just wish I had a garden to put them in.

all roads lead to California

It seems like everywhere I turn, California is staring me in the face. I don't know what it is, and maybe this is just a question of "because you think about something, everything else reminds you of it", but it's like Cali is calling. Sure, part of that is weather. Who wants grey skies when there's blue? And sure, housing is expensive (stupid expensive), and there's taxes, and Cali traffic, and... but still - it's close to the Colorado/Kaibab Plateau which I've come to love so much this year, and it's green, and near an ocean, and warm, and all kinds of other cool stuff. I'm not packing to move just quite yet, but it sure looks pretty from here. Maybe a short trip to visit there first.

Babel movie

Saw Babel last night (new movie - the Brad Pitt/KateWinslet movie about connections between people all over the world to a single bullet). Like some of the other work by director Alejandro González Iñárritu (21 Grams, Amores Perros), it definitely is an ambient film. There are characters, plot, setting, and all that, but were it succeeds is more by setting tones than any of the above. The transitions from heartbreaking anguish to moments of sublime tenderness are so smooth you don't even notice... until it goes back to grief. Something of an emotional marathon not unlike 21 Grams. Good visuals, too.

Brad Pitt was unremarkable, and Kate Winslet spent most of the movie half-conscious and bleeding incoherently on-screen, but the less-recognizable actors made up for the deficits. One regret - that there wasn't more resolution to Gael García Bernal's character. I don't know where this guy came from, but ever since Amores Perros and The Motorcycle Diaries,
it seems like he just doesn't ever disappoint. Along the lines of my thoughts on Arcadia Brewing Company and Tim Roth - they just always seem to do no wrong in their work.

more cheating on day 5

ok, I cheated. Here at Panera as I park and take up valuable lunchtime table space with laptop, I cheated and have had a cup of coffee. Not because I was jonesing... just because it's habit. For what it's worth, I'm ok with this, and don't think of it as a fundamental flaw in my character. Make me wonder then - why did I feel compelled to confess it? Ah, me.

coffeeless: day 4 (a little bit cheating, a little bit rock-n-roll)

I'd love to say something profound about this coffee experiment I'm doing on myself - either the agony of withdrawl or the ecstatic clarity of caffeine sobriety. The truth is far more mundane. I haven't noticed much. I still have chunks of time when I'm incredibly distractable from one thing to the next, and with no caffeine.

I'll admit to a little bit of cheating - a couple days ago I grew tired of herbal tea and had a single cup of Irish Breakfast, and I'm having one today too. If that's cheating, then I'll just have to bear the consequences. In the meantime, my coffee grinder is hopefully not getting lonely or bored as it gets a much needed rest this week.

circular shock

Ever have one of those moments - you're in a room by yourself, no one else around, something you see startles you so much you go "wahh!" and then look around to see if anyone saw you do that? (even though there's nobody around)

Today it was the circular connection... starting with a friend's post that lead to another, and then another and another until I'm out on the coast and reading DJMermaid who used to be poly and now isn't (why would that matter? relates to new nifty friends I'll tell you about some other time...) and then there's a cool add-on thingie called iLoupe which turns a digital camera into a portable field microscope, and how cool is that? And I just so happen to HAVE a Canon SD600, so where can I get the rest of the stuff? Oh, it's made by Aven, Inc. ... which just happens to be about 1-2 miles from... well from right here. I've ridden past there a dozen times and have totally meant to go in to check them out... and then here it is, a blog loop (a bloop?) that takes me out 2000 miles and back, right into my own backyard. For some reason it was incredibly shocking, thus... the outburst.

bunny of the moment

What kind of happy bunny are you? My first one was

you are the "I hate you so bad" happy bunny. You hate everyone and eveything and your not ashamed of it.

But that was before I noticed that you can check more than one box at a time... turns out that at the moment I'm a bunny more like:

you are the "you suck, and that's sad" happy bunny. your truthful, but can be a bit brutal.

coffeeless: day2

So far, so good. Monday was a coffee-free day that went without incident. While I was a little sleepy (more likely due to not sleeping well the night before) and did in fact nap at one point, I'd like to think I was more coherent. Really, I swear, this'll be a good thing for a week... right? I figure the worst thing that could happen on Day 8 is that the sudden infusion of the first cup of coffee will cause my brain to burst and my heart to explode, leaving quivering, jittery blobs of meat, skin, and hair all over the floor.

current lack of attention span

It's really starting to bug me, this lack of attention span I've got going on. It seems that I can't help be distracted by this, that, or the other thing so much that something requiring more than 10 minutes of concentration while sitting in one place is unlikely to happen. (hell, it just happened right there - mind wandering off to the "hmm... where to go hang out this afternoon?")
But you know, I think it has a simple source - the fact that I drink many cups of coffee each day. So in the tried-and-true technique of experimentation on one's self, I think I'll drop the morning pot-o'-coffee for a week. "How about switching to decaf?" nahhh, can't stand the taste. "Maybe reducing intake? Only one cup per day?" I'm not that fond of half-measures.

the guy must burn through a lot of shoes...

A guy who rides messenger(?) in San Francisco on a single-speed with no brakes. No, not a fixed-gear... a freewheel. Uses the Vans as a brake. Go figure.

new addition to the flock

I resolved my paint issues... I went to a local auto body paint joint, picked out a color, and had them do it up... They (Ideal Collision) did a pretty good job (a couple of dirt-type defects and a minor chip), but the $75 price was good and the 3-day turnaround was quick. Of course, I did give it to them stripped and masked, so it's not like it was that difficult to just spray and bake.

Anyway, I got it back from paint on Monday, took it to the local bike shop to have the headset pressed in and got it back on Tuesday. Built it up Tuesday night. Rode it around today and ran some errands just to get miles in the saddle, and I'm just stoked about having it all put together. It's a big/tall bike (standover height), even for me. It definitely rides different than its brothers in the family. I think because the bottom bracket height is almost an inch higher than my roadie bike, and I put a high-ish stem on - feels I'm not stretched out and a little top-heavy, but every bike is a little bit different, no?

It's a commuter, so the lights are going to stay on permanently, and even better - now I have a place for my extra-obnoxious dino-squeaky to warn people that I don't want to hit them when they blunder out into the road.



I'm not really sure about the state of the bullhorn bars right now... I like the hand positions, but integrating brake levers has been a little awkward based on where the bends land. I don't know if I totally like the way it is, and it does smack of the Pretentious Bullhorn Bar wanna-be messenger fixie vibe. But for the moment, it'll do.




The only outstanding thing is a name... I was thinking of an O-name when it was going to be orange (Oscar, Owen, etc.), but since the color turned out more brownish/goldish, "Brian" comes to mind, but other than the brown/brian commonality, I'm completely bored by those names. It's a T-Rex dino-squeaky, right? Maybe he'll just be Rex.

damn cool libraries

Places I wish I could teleport to just to see them. (the cost of the plane tickets is too much, just for the scenery)

[not] supporting the habit

You might recall that I have a problem with TV. Something I saw recently explains some of the more subconscious aspects of it, which make quite a bit of sense about how TV attracts ones attention.

I'm not going to go and dump the TV, since I don't think that's a solution, for a couple of reasons:
- It's more likely to just replace one habit with an other. The actual behavior is somewhat independent of the object. It's more of a tendency to overindulge than the indulgence itself.
- And I think that it is important to be aware of popular culture (i.e. what's on TV). I don't endorse, or agree with, or engage in, lots of aspects of pop culture, but being aware of it is important to being informed citizens. I don't watch American Idol, but I know what it is. I don't care for baseball, but it'd be better to avoid downtown Detroit traffic when the Tigers were playing World Series games instead of blundering into a traffic jam and wondering "hmm, I wonder what's going on downtown?"

reading the fine print

How often do you read the fine print on something you sign? Always, sometimes, never? Well, ever since the first time I rented a car, I've had this thing about fine print. When there's a lot of it, there's all the more reason to read it and understand my liability, not just give in to the clerk behind the counter who is impatient to get back to the episode of Maury they were watching.

A couple months ago when I was at the oral surgeon (just a consult for a dental cyst, but thank you for being concerned), one of the stack of forms I filled out included a privacy statement. And normally, you'd think that it's something that protects the patient, right? One of the statements in it was worded "... with certain exceptions, the patient's complete medical records will be made available to the patient upon request." Hunh? Why on earth wouldn't I be able to see my own medical records?

You'd be surprised at the insult and indignity it caused among the office staff when I asked about it:
me - "Hi, I was reading this form, and it has this statement in it, and I was wondering what those exceptions would be".
clerk - "Well, I'm not a lawyer." [sneering]
me - "Yeah, but you handed me the form. Do you know what the form is, or what it's for?"
clerk - "Of course I know what it's for it says right at the top"
me - "Yes, I saw that. I'm asking about this part right here."
clerk - "look, everyone just signs that, and it's required before we provide any medical care, so why don't you just sign it."
me - [I wasn't initially angry about this, but by this point, I was pretty pissed off] "I don't really care what other people do or don't sign. I'd want to known what kind of exception would make my own medical records unavailable to me. If you don't know, find someone in this office who does." (important note: this is a large multi-surgeon office, with at least 5 nurses behind the counter, and 15 people in the waiting room. Not a mom-and-pop shop. At least someone that works there should know what's on the form.)

So after a while, the office manager and I go in to a room to chat about the privacy agreement. Though my curiosity was only barely sated concerning the medical record exception, what was more interesting was that she told me that, in the 6 years she had been there, this was only the second time anyone had asked about that or anything else on that form. Everyone else just signs it.

That's my own story of the month in the real world, but next time you install software on your computer, try actually reading the EULA. See if clicking the "I Agree" button means that you allow Microsoft to audit the contents of your computer, looking for things they don't think you should have. Looking for entertaining/scary examples of other EULAs? Try here and here.

It was all going so well... until it went bad.

This evening, I really and truly screwed the pooch on my latest little project. Pissed about it, yes I am. Only at myself, but combination raging/angry and sullen/depressed, all at the same time.

I picked up a decent road bike frame (in my size) a while back for super-cheap ($50, I think). An old Trek 620, no fork, a chain-suck gouge in the drive side chain stay, but otherwise sound. Couldn't really decide for the longest time what to do with it. It had "rideable art project" written all over it, but I didn't have much for inspiration. Maybe I could make gargoyles or figurines and braze them to the frame? Some sort of other metal embellishment? Well, after stripping the old boring grey metallic paint off it,

months of it sitting around waiting for me to be inspired, I finally decided to get off my ass. Decided it would become a touring/commuting (maybe cyclocross?) cantilever-braked road bike, with various handlebar options in the future. I got out the torch, filled in the gouge with silver solder, bought some cantilever studs, made a jig and torched them on. Added some seat-stay embellishment too, and primed it.

Since my new favorite color is orange, the overall theme became orange with details in black...


Black lugs, black Surly Cross-Check fork. I'll rebuild my old road wheels at some point and ultimately they'll be black-spoked too. Chris King headset in orange (ok, "mango"), black stem, orange bar tape, black Paul Motolite brakes with orange-red Kool-Stops, the whole deal.

I had primed and base-coated the orange, spent hours masking off the lugs and details, painted them black, and was ready to take it out to the LBS to have the head tube faced and reamed and headset pressed. The last thing to do before that? Clearcoat. This is where it all went wrong. Little did I know that the clear coat would swell and bubble the base coat, leaving it crackled and raised. Shitfuck.

Maybe the auto plant paint experience should have taught me that you lay down the base, let the solvents flash off, then the clear right after. Maybe letting the base dry overnight was a mistake. Maybe I just picked two different paints that weren't compatible. Either way, I fucked myself.

From having finished and rideable project tomorrow, I'm back to step 2, and multiple days away from it being rideable. Sure, the metalwork is done, but the paint needs to start all over. I'm torn between doing it myself again, spending money on spray gear, or dropping the $180+ for the "professional" paint from Assenmachers, or going half-way and finding a local auto body shop to do a single color for around $100.

Ain't shit happening tonight now. I'm pissed at myself about the whole fucking thing. It's time to drown my sorrows in some beers and more beers.

Fear of walking (no, white lady, I am not going to steal your purse)

A long time ago in a little town in central Illinois, one of my roommates went off to a summer internship. His girlfriend Beth, needing a place to stay during the summer, moved into his room for the summer and became a substitute roomie for a couple months. Now Beth and I had always been friends, but we hadn't had a lot of deep conversations - so it came as a surprise one evening as we're talking and something she said stuck out at me "... and so I had to leave the library to get home because the sun was setting, and ..." It turns out that Beth (and apparently other young women on campus as well) wouldn't walk anywhere on campus alone after dark.

This really surprised me. Being from Chicagoland and used to Big Cities, I'm well and truly accustomed to walking wherever and whenever, and never really paying attention to whether it was day or night, swank neighborhood or sketchy neighborhood. I realized in that conversation that one difference might be that I'm male, 6 ft tall and not exactly a "target of opportunity" for a would-be mugger, and that might be most of the difference... but honestly - Champaign-Urbana isn't exactly Cabrini Green. (for that matter, Cabrini-Green isn't Cabrini-Green any more) But that was the first time I realized that friends and neighbors might not feel as safe and secure in life as I do. Ok, it was eye-opening 13 years ago to a college-age youngester.

But of late, I've noticed even more fear, and if you'll permit me a cycling segue: Riding along Fuller/Gallup Park path, one would assume that standard Rules of the Road should apply - walk/jog/ride on the right, pass on the left. But over and over again, there are these people, iPods firmly emplanted, blithely walking/jogging/riding slow on the left hand side of the path, ignorant of everyone around them and thinking that they are the only ones on the path. It's fairly unavoidable that I'm going to blast past them, but they can't hear me give them the "passing on your left" shout because of their iPods, and it's dodgy to blast by on the right (they might get freaked out, confused, jump the wrong way... and then we're a-crashin'). It was after a few times that I realized that this happens mostly in certain spots where there's vegetation on the right side of the trail, and I got to thinking "is this some sort of 'avoid the mugger who might jump out of the bushes' kind of thing?" Since all these walking-in-the-passing-lane people were women by themselves, that's the best explanation I can come up with. (either that or they're ignorant of their surroundings and selfish about sharing the road) And the thing that's remarkable about that is that it's Ann Arbor... in the middle of a Saturday afternoon. Sure, we have crime here, but it's not like it's Detroit or D.C. crime rates.

More about just walking: when I'm walking by myself, what do I have to do to to put other people at ease?

All I'm doing is walking. I'm not going to murder anyone. I'm a clean-shaven, clean-clothed, suburban cracker going for a walk, relaxed and non-twitchy. When I make eye-contact with fellow pedestrians, they get skittish. When I don't make eye-contact, they swing wide on the sidewalk as if I'm about to draw a six-shooter on them. And forget about smiling or saying hello to people in passing - that only gets the "ugh, that's creepy... what kind of sick weirdo is this guy that he doesn't have a cell phone jammed into his ear whenever he's walking down the street?" look in return. I'd like to think that maybe it's just my social skills that are the problem, but what I'm really worried about is: maybe people constantly fear the world that they live in. That would be a pretty shitty life, for sure.

if only there was something...

I'm camped out in the library figuring out the hoosies and the what-sits of the photo gallery application on the web space that I'm playing with, and it's getting on in the evening. Not late, but getting to the dinner hour. So I'm thinking... "hmm, Jerusalem Gardens is always a tasty meal, and less than a block away". I do the mental pre-standing-up-from-the-chair inventory of whether I have everything I want to take with me... and realize "damn, I didn't bring my book to read while waiting for food, I guess I'll just entertain myself otherwise".

It only took about 3 seconds for it to dawn on me that I was sitting in a frickin' library. Surrounded by books. What a moron.

Fear. (prologue)

Something that's been on my mind for some time... Fear. Not my fear of the unknown, or anxiety at high altitude... societal fear.

How people don't seem to make eye contact with each other as they walk down the street. How they don't even walk down the street any more. How a bloke going for a walk in park gets dirty looks from parents who have seen too many episodes of "FOX News at Eleven: To Catch A Predator". How there are all these ridiculous "gated" communities to give a perceived sense of security, when there is no exceptional need for security ("This is reflected in an increasing fear of crime that is unrelated to actual crime trends or locations") and, most amusingly, when they don't even have functional gates (photo coming soon...)

How everyone seems to be afraid of their neighbors and whether they are ex-cons or not. How there's a registry for this and a registry for that. How all of this only serves to isolate one from another in little huts at night while being captive to American Idol and 24-hour re-runs of Law and Order.

And it's not just how we isolate ourselves from each other but every other way we live in the world. How we drive around in metal boxes with the windows up tight and the air conditioning on with our mocha-chinos in one hand, raging at the injustices on talk radio as we road-rage our way back and forth between the office and the subdivision. How we're somehow able to give up on personal freedoms in exchange for a color-coded Threat Level. How we play both roles - as Predator and as Prey, aggressor and victim... depending on the mood of the mob at the moment. Afraid that gas prices will go up. Afraid that the interest rate on the home equity loan will go up. Afraid that Johnny will fall off his skateboard. Afraid that Suzy will get picked last for the cheerleading team. Afraid that the appraised value of the house will fall.

It seems that so much of what we do is controlled by fear. Trying to keep away the things we have been taught to fear instead of drawing near the things we cherish. 150 Suggestions for Giving a Shit About Your Neighborhood ... #54, #61, #85 and #118 seem like pretty easy ways to start.

Mead, I tell you, mead

At the local upscale liquor/deli/lotto, I stumbled on some mead from Redstone Meadery. Never having had it, I thought I'd give it a try. Very, very tasty and drinkable. I'm kind of feeling like a viking right now and wish I had a horn to drink it out of. Go and try some sometime soon... of course, assuming you don't hate honey (who hates honey?).

other people's good stuff...

Nifty art by Thomas Keeley.

the pink collar

My neighbor appears to have moved out, so there's people rustling around there, sounds like they're painting... which gets me to thinking again about the notion of Pink Collar jobs (mentioned briefly in this previous post). What are the odds that the painter is a woman? Painting isn't a job that requires testicles or any other male anatomy... right? Then why aren't there more female house painters? Is it because of oppression in industry? The painting industry? I thought the interior painting service industry was dominated by the labor of students and part-timers... surely there's no institutionalized sexism there, right? So I'm wondering - why aren't there more women with jobs as painters? My only workable theory is that of self-selection and de facto gender segregation - the same concept that results in the categorization of pink collar jobs.

I got in trouble recently at Book Club when the topic came up. It's hard to say something meaningful in 30 seconds about gender equality in mixed company when it's part of pre-discussion chit-chat. Especially when one can be perceived as a chauvinist pig for not automatically echoing PC dogma. How can we have real and meaningful conversations about equality of the genders (or sexes, whichever you prefer - looking for a definition I can I can finally agree with? Try here) when we're limited by a Least Offensive Vocabulary? Me, I say fuck it. Say what you mean and mean what you say, and let's get on with it.

sucks to be...

... any lettuce or spinach farmer/processor/packager living in any state OTHER than California. They must just be hating the Californians who let the E. Coli get into the spinach.

... hating them so much that the bags of leafy greens I saw in the grocery department had to have stickers hastily put on them "grown in Colorado" just so that they would sell.

Feelin' a little Retro...

I don't recall from where I heard of it, but there's an open source (and free) application out there called Audacity which is a really, really handy utility for audio track manipulation. Sure, there's GarageBand for Mac, but what is there for Windows without having to steal software or pay money? Audacity is the way to go.

And who would really care about crap like this? Well, for sad schmucks like me who have been taking a stroll down Memory Lane via their cassette or LP collections, how else do you get them onto your MP3 player and take them with you in the car or wherever? Take that stereo output, plug it into the Line In jack on the computer, adjust levels, start recording, and then hit Play. Sure... you have to chop them up later and convert them to MP3 using either Audacity and the LameLib MP3 encoder or iTunes (or whatever), but still... how else could I listen to those old tapes of Minor Threat, The Smiths, The Replacements, and my new/old/new again fav-o-rite home-town heroes: Naked Raygun. (which, as I check out the link... appears they're going to be in Chicago Nov 5th for a reunion tour! How cool is that! ...just gotta get me some tickets now.)

Just like smells trigger specific memory, music I haven't heard in a while reminds me of everything that happened the year that I first heard it. So lately I've been walkin' my way through high school and college, one cassette at a time. Welcome back... to 1991.

what happened to Bird Flu?

I was tidying up at home and came across a free bi-monthly rag that I picked up in Moab. The general topic for that issue is the looming fact that this nation's population will reach 300 Million this month. That's a lot of people, especially when you consider than the last 100M were added in the past 35 years. The organization formerly known as Zero Population Growth is now known as "Population Connection" and has some interesting/surprising facts here. True, the USA doesn't have as high a population growth as developing nations, and some western european nations actually have negative growth. But the situation... well, it ain't good, folks. Developing nations, some of them gripped by famine, civil war, insufficient infrastructure and lack of clean water, are just churning out children like crazy.

Some would say that this might all be because we haven't had any population-adjusting catastrophes (i.e. Mathusian Catastrophe) which otherwise would act normally on the population. So was bird flu the potential bubonic plague of the 21st Century? And what the hell happened to the Grand Pandemic? Could it be that some other Fear Politicking took the stage? Yeah, I guess so.

Examples of population excess closer to home: (ok, it's just animals, but anyway) transmission of bovine TB to wild deer, and how diseased Michigan's deer population is. Did you know? The population of does is more or less ballooning, for two reasons: 1) Many hunters want trophy racks (does ain't got antlers, don't ya know) and so few hunters even go after does, and 2) Suburban sprawl produces an excessive amount of "edge habitat" which is where deer live, and where residents like to bait deer to attract them to their backyard. That bait brings deer closer to each other than they normally are in the wild, increasing disease transmission. My suggestion to you? Either go out and get a doe permit and control the herd, or STOP BAITING DEER, you fucking morons [sheesh].

Michigan is a cold, cold place.

Yes, I know. Master Of The Obvious, that's me. But I was so not ready for it to be cold. Got back from Utah, well... about two weeks ago. From beautiful red sandstone against achingly blue skies



and stunning views,



to gridlock and billboard-mania, just in time for the weather to start sucking. Depressing grey days.

Shitfuck.

back to UT

... been off the grid for a while, literally. Backpacking in SW Utah, where just finding water is something to spend time thinking about, and cell phone coverage and internet access are nowhere close. That, and I've been using cash, so if the FBI was looking for me, they probably would've had a harder time than usual. Not that I'm hiding from anything. In a Freudian sense we probably all are, but let's not go there quite yet.

Anyway, I've found plenty of reasons to delay and delay my return, hang around in Utah (who'd've thunk it?) for a while longer. Damn but if it ain't pretty out here.

argh.

I was so in the groove, and now I'm not. Traveling along, making my way to pick up fellow backpacker Richard in Denver on Friday morning, then overnight at somewhere with fascinating and/or stunning terrain/views, to arrive in Escalante with plenty of time to spare. But stupid-assed me totally forgot the text message exchange where he's not coming in until Saturday morning. So I was camping in the Denver area at Golden Gate Canyon State Park (their website doesn't do it justice - camped overnight at 9000 ft, had to drive up 19% grade roads to get there, etc. etc.) and got up at 6:30 am to be in Denver for the 7:30 am train arrival. Running late, I called Richard at 8:30 - left a message, and when he called me back, reminded me that we changed the pickup to Saturday. Shitfuck.

So now I have a day to waste in Denver. It's hazy and dreary (associated with smoke from wildfires in Montana, I hear), I'm tired because I didn't sleep well (stupid herd of Elk started bugling at 3am), not showered, and generally without purpose or plan for the day. I feel like a homeless person, not trying to attract attention and hoping I don't smell too badly as I sit in a Panera hogging the free wireless.

Fuck it. I'm going to go see a movie, then I'll find a new campsite this afternoon. Drove all the way to Denver to see a movie - go figure.
----------
And in the intervening 30+ minutes, struck up a conversation with a fellow Panera customer who was just fun to talk to - though the various topics included: overinflated real estate prices in Boulder/Ann Arbor, the Cold War, Israel/Palestine, etc.

A little animated conversation did me right to snap me out of the "it's a depressing grey day" funk. I'm still going to see The Illusionist though.

dude... I am, like... SO high right now

I'm sitting in my hotel room in Boulder (Colorado) with a stupid-assed grin on my face. Just got into town, it was getting late, so the first thing I do is find a bike shop to ask where to go riding. The guy draws me a little map, and on the way to the start point, I find a hotel, drop my shit, put the bike together, and off I go. It's about 7:00pm, so I'm hurrying to beat the sunset. Turns out it gets cold in the mountains, but it was a short ride.

I'm so enthralled with my little GPS thingy that I immediately got back, plugged it in, and here's the track...


Let's not focus on the fact that on the climb there are spots where I was sucking wind at 5 mph, and two clip-out-and-stop-for-a-second-before-my-heart-pops-out-of-my-chest spots. Let's focus on the ass-puckering 47mph downhill. We ain't got none o' dat in Michigan.

I kid you not, the thought "OhHolyShitDidILockDownMyStemAndSkewersTightEnough" went through my head more than once. And brother, I am not ashamed to say that I was on the brakes more than my manly ego would like me to admit to. I had no idea where this road went or if it suddenly became potholed, oh yeah, and I have approximately ZERO descending skills. So yeah, it took a while to un-pucker from those spots.

So yeah, I'm riding high on some endorphins right now, for sure.

And get this - on the hairy-assed descent back to the hotel, this motorist in a burgundy Ford Expedition passes me really closely right before a tight turn (yes, I was out in the middle of the lane, but I'm sure I was going at or above the speed limit). So I'm thinking "what an asshole" and then I see him stopped 300 feet ahead, blocking the lane. Asshole, right? Turns out there were 3 deer crossing the road. Around a couple more hairy curves and he's stopped again - but he's even with (splitting the group) of three more - the two on the left shoulder and one on the right. And as I come up on him, it seems like he was totally stopped and started going when I caught up. He could have driven on, but it seemed like he waited for me to make sure that I saw the deer.

How cool is that? I felt like he was escorting me a little bit. It might have just been coincidence that he was trying to not hit the deer, but the optimist in me would like to think it's people looking out for other people. Thanks, Mr./Mrs. Burgundy Expedition Driver.

So yeah, am I going riding tomorrow morning? You bet your ass. And am I coming back here after the Utah backpacking? Looking that way - I just might make a side trip out to here on the way home.

On the road again...

I just can't help but chuckle - the rest stops in Iowa have free WiFi internet access. I don't have any particularly pressing e-business to take care of, but I just gotta try it out. Seems to work, but why at a rest stop? To entertain the kids in the car? An oppurtunity for advertising? Or is it just the modern-day equivalent of having a pay phone?

In other news - I'm stoked about the fact that there's a Strategic Air Command Museum in Omaha, and I'm about to be there in a few hours. Gonna go see me some missiles, fer shure.

does it seem like a strange pairing of requirements?

I started browsing some pages of Department of Energy technology transfer, and somehow as I was browsing randomly, I ended up flipping through the job postings at National Securities Technology, LLC. (a.k.a. Bechtel Nevada).

Explain to me how is it that they list as job qualifications for one position:
- "Professional experience in event investigation highly desireable..." (where "event" refers to one involving radiation exposure)
- "working knowledge of ... 10CFR835" (which is Code of Federal Regulations, Article 10, Part 835) ...
- "Computer Skills with software applications such as MS Office"

Which of these seems like you shouldn't have to list it? If you are in the government business of dealing with radioactive substances (whether it be medical sources, energy creating, or weaponry making), I would think that you are savvy enough person that MS Office doesn't pose much of a challenge.

Or should I be worried? Are there people out there in the Department of Energy, or contractors, or on site at production/processing facilities who investigate "events", but who... have difficulty with MS Office? That would be a little bit scary.

so much for dental success

36 hours after a long, yet seemingly successful root canal, I was awakened (again, at 3:30 am) with pain. This time, in the tooth next to the dead one. Somewhat different pain, but just as intense as the pain from a week ago, which had abated, or so it seemed.

Definitely bummed out by this - I thought it was over, but now it seems like it's going to drag on and on. [crossing fingers and hoping that it's not going to need surgery of the slicin' and choppin' kind]

The Ditziest of the Animal Kingdom

I can't figure it out - are squirrels dumb as rocks, fatal procrastinators, or just plain suicidal?

Surely you've had encounters just like this: a squirrel on the edge of the road, or maybe even in the middle of the lane, sits frozen. You drive/ride/walk unperturbed since the creature sitting on side of the road, is safe from your wheels/boots. At the last instant it darts out, gets to the halfway point between it's former resting place and future certain death, does a double-pump-fake stop/start, and with just barely perfect timing, scoots under the bumper right in front of the wheel of a car going 45 mph, probably brushing tail against the rubber of the tire. Of all the places and times to be on that stretch of road, they pick exactly that time and place. The threat of a crushing death only exists at that spot for 100 milliseconds, but somehow they wait for and find that point exactly.

Yesterday it went a step further - riding the bike up and down the hilly spots on Huron Parkway (on the wide path), a squirrel 100 feet ahead of me runs across the path, and perches on the brickwork ledge between the path and the 4-lane road - about to cross the road. But not until I'm right up even with it does it turn back, right across the path and into me. Too quick to react physically, the flash through my mind is of seeing my first ever bike roadkill with the front wheel rolling over and breaking either neck or back of the creature. Well, in Typical Squirrel Fashion, he/she managed to hit the gap behind the front wheel and back wheel, but didn't count on the rotating uphill Pedal of Death. So for a nails-on-blackboard, sudden-wave-of-nausea flinch-worthy moment, I feel something on top of my right foot as I make half a pedal revolution. The rough part of this: the squirrel was moving left-to-right across the path, which means that unless he jumped THROUGH the frame to land on my foot, he got around the front of the sharp chainring, was on my foot starting when the pedal was at about 3 o'clock, and either got forced off by the returning chain at 7 o'clock, or had incredible reflexes to recognize and avoid the impending doom.

I clipped out and pulled both feet off the pedals to let him out as quick as I could, but I swear, for half a second I could have sworn that I had snapped the back of the little guy/girl. And like that [poof] it was gone. I turned back to look for the wreckage, tufts of fur, blood, or body parts, and found none. Not on the trail, not beside the trail, and nothing formerly squirrel stuck to me or the bike. That squirrel, while apparently having amazing reflexes and/or flexibility, and/or luck, sure is going to have a good story to tell at dinner tonight.

MegaChurches - cults in the making

Having been a creeped out by MegaChurches for a while, this article just pushes it over onto full-blown heebee-geebees. As they grow and grow and encompass more and more of their parishoner's lives - how is it indistinguishable from a cult? I understand that people may want to live a religious life, but how exactly do some of these things in Table 3 make any sense mixing with a church, unless it's the need to influence or control every minutia of parishoner's lives? Auto repair clinic? (let's say a prayer so that Jesus will bless this carburetor rebuild) kickboxing class? (Who Would Jesus Roundhouse Kick?)

The closing of the article says it well:
"The megachurch phenomenon is, above all, an awesome tool. I fear the day when its wielders decide just what they mean to use it for."

Panama Canal opening anniversary

As feats of engineering and logisitics go, the Panama Canal is a pretty good one. It also turns out that today is the anniversary of the first day it opened to traffic - courtesy of Wikipedia's "On This Day" section. Interesting thing - I had no idea that that canal had so much competition out there. I would have thought it posessed a fairly unique purpose and position in the world. Goes to show - there is no such thing as job security, even for geographic features.

as if taking your shoes off wasn't knee-jerk enough...

I'm sure you've been hearing about all the heightened security at airports and on planes lately in light of the foiled terrorist plot in Britain. But with all the heightened security, have you seen the list of new items that are now prohibited in carry-on baggage? Even rougher is the British list of allowed items (and my favorite quote "nothing may be carried in pockets"). Note that books and children's toys will not be allowed. There are going to be some REALLY cranky airline passengers in the air over the next few days. Imagine the screaming infant that just can't be soothed/distracted from crying it's head off - all the way across the Atlantic.

It's like the whole taking-shoes-off-at-security-checkpoint thing. After Richard Reed (shoe-bomber) did his thing, now we've got thousands of people taking their shoes off at X-ray checkpoints - but if shoes are such a threat, where was the TSA in thinking of that threat beforehand? It's a response to something, not actual prediction/prevention.

Now that you can't bring toothpaste on the plane, and you probably can't brush your teeth with baking soda ('cause they'll probably think it's cocaine or anthrax)... there's gonna be a bunch of people on long international flights that are going to arrive at their destination with some fuzzy teeth and stinky breath. Of course, maybe this is an opportunity for a new product - toothpaste in dissovable tablet form. And the prohibition against gel shoe-inserts? Bummer for Dr. Scholl's... "you gellin'?" "nope."

Funny consequence - among those who travel as part of their job, one trick is to pack luggage/clothing so that everything fits into carry-on-able luggage to avoid having to check baggage. Now, the simple toothpaste prohibition means that everyone traveling overnight has checked baggage. Stupid Conspiracy: it's all a plot by the baggage handler's union and cosmetics/toiletries industries to either make jobs for the bag throwers, or sell more travel-sized toiletries when arriving at one's destination. Gotta wonder - will the increase in checked baggage mean that the amount of luggage that gets lost will increase, or decrease? hmm....