All toilet, all day. And my penis is an earlobe.

It's in landscapes like this where your mind has plenty of time to wander. And wander it does. Things like One Letter Off variations on signage and names, a habit I first heard named by Gary as eulexia. (like dyslexia, but instead of a prefix indicating disfunction, it indicates pleasure) Currently, the chuckles come from Sitarbucks. You know, the place where you can get overpriced mediocre coffee and gratuitously pretentious world music. But inevitably, in the world of long road entertainment, the process of elimination leads to... elimination. Administration of, planning for, and crude references to... poop.

With that, I bring you Phase 2 of the culinary adventures from last week. Long time ago in a midwestern state far, far away, Matthew and Sandra inadvertently showed me how completely easy it is to make seitan (yes, it's pronounced "say-tan", like the devil). So I thought I'd give it a try. Easy enough, but I have to say that if you're going to try it yourself at home, don't fashion the dough into cylindrical shapes, regardless of how much you might want to have round slices to cut up and pan-fry. What you end up with is a cylindrical piece floating in soy sauce/broth, and well, it looks like poo floating in the bowl. Tasty and good for you, but you have to get your head past the visual similarities.
--------------------
We move next to the metaphorical toilet, the Toilet of the Mind. It's the metaphorical flip side of that metaphorical tender pelvic region boys on bicycles know well as the perineum, but which Jethro or Bubba would refer to by colloquial nomenclature as "taint". You know, "tain't one, tain't th' other". Something I've been meaning to delve into because it's eminently bloggable, but just haven't gotten to.

It all started when I was chatting with a friend of mine who, among her many fine qualities, happens to be a woman, a scholar, and a post-second-wave feminist. In the midst of our conversation there was some reference to something in popular culture that was possibly phallic, which then led to a discussion of penises.

As a penis owner-operator, and (for the sake of conversation) representative of penis owner-operators everywhere, the question was posed to me "what does your penis MEAN to you?" [emphasis added]. Which easily led me to an introspective self-debate over what "mean" means. (thanks to Bill "that depends on what the definition of 'is' is." Clinton, for making epistemology acceptable in pop culture) We got back to the original question... eventually. Discussion ensued about penises as Instruments Of Oppression, references in art, literature, criticism/analysis thereof, and other meanings assigned in unrelated settings.

The crux of it though is that the best, most honest, most accurate answer I could come up with to describe my own is: "my penis is an earlobe". Seriously. While it's a happy, useful and recreational piece of my anatomy, it doesn't have any crucial day-to-day symbolism or significance. In a removed, academic sense, one can fetishize, iconify, celebrate, or demonize a penis, but on a personal level it doesn't guide me, it doesn't decide things for me, it doesn't define me any more than other parts of anatomy. It's like an earlobe. I use it, it's part of me, I would miss it if it were removed. But I don't think about it actively. Sure, I think sexual thoughts every 7-9 minutes just like every other American Male, but my anatomy plays only a supporting role in those mini-sodes; fantasy mental movies are more likely to have an ensemble cast of anatomy or epic drama of dialogue than be a superstar biopic. Other than it's critical participation in urination and fornication, my penis is an earlobe.
--------------------
And lastly, the words of others. I was riding somewhere on an errand and/or adventure with G and her sprogs E and O... adult conversation going on in the front seat, kid conversation going on in the back seat, two separate galaxies. It's where they crossed over that we'll leave off today. The point where the adult conversation ended with "did you hear what I think I just heard?"

You see, the kid conversation was mostly background noise until it got to a puzzling exchange.

O: "I'll be the hamster."
E: "I'll be the toilet."

... someone figure that one out for me and let me know what I must've missed right before that, mmmkay?

a day on the road

Wow, South Dakota is a big state, long to get across, and pretty damn boring. Yes, we're swinging North. If I never see another "Wall Drug" billboard in my life, I'll be ok with that. The "Corn Palace" was immensely disappointing. Sure, it had corn stuck to the outside of the building, but it's no longer made of corn, and basically just houses a basketball court, which also serves as a big assed gift shop. Annoying.

But they do have these nifty little ears of corn molded into the concrete of the bases of the streetlamps. There's that.

Emily is keeping track of states by which ones she finds a geocache in, and SD and MN were on her list. WY too, so we're there. So we made a couple of special-purpose stops along the way to find a geocache or two.

As a California native, she'd never been to a Cracker Barrel "Never? [gasp of a midwesterner]". "Nope." well, ok - here we go. Never got to finish the checkers though since the chicken-fried something-or-other arrived surprisingly quickly.


Took a slightly-nausea-inducing spin on a playground. Tip for kids out there - either close your eyes or look at the horizon - fussing with a camera on a spinning piece of playground equipment can make a body more than a little bit woogey.

dang, before I forget...

So I heard recently that The Shondes are coming to town again... It's a little bit of a deja-vu since they'll be back at TC's Speakeasy Wed September 3rd for She-Bang, but hey, it was an pretty damn awesome good time last time, so I'll definitely be there. I'd definitely recommend checking them out - they have some music and videos on their myspace page. And probably some music on iTunes too. The critics call 'em a cross between Sleater-Kinney and Rasputina. Enh, whatever. I thought they were fun. Check 'em out, they put on a good show with the makin' of the music.

go west, young man.

Blech. Been home for the past weeks and nothing felt blog-worthy, it's not until I leave town that I starts the blathering. Sheesh.

Anyways. Going to California. Adventure-buddy Emily is driving out to take friend's parents belongings out to San Francisco/Oakland/Berkeley area. Yes, convoluted origin/reason, but hey... what do I care, right? Free trip out West and all I have to do is some driving. I've always wanted to see SF/Oakland, so off I go. Bringing a bike, going to do some couch-surfing at friends of hers, then be back after a few days.

By the time I get back to some WiFi to post this, we'll probably already have seen the Badlands and Mount Rushmore. [ok, yup, we saw it. Gosh, I thought those heads would've been bigger. The pageantry and tacky touristy-ness of Keystone, SD more than make up for the smallness of the actual Mount Rushmore. The carved rocks are big in our minds, but it's the commerce that actually dwarfs them. Welcome to America.] And the talk in the truck right now is "hmm, when we hit the mountains, we could get a bike out and do some asphalt downhillling in the mountains near Tahoe..." I'm reminded of the California Death Ride where my top speed was 52 mph. I don't know if I'll be able (or willing) to do that on the single-speed with only a front brake, but we've got some time before we need to decide.

seems I'm feeling kind of snippy today

Never thought I'd see the day. I thought Cinderella and Warrant (and all those other hair metal bands) would always be out there to poke fun at. Seems like the end is near.
Luckily, UB40 is still going strong. Can't imagine why, though. Have they written any songs other than the Red Red Wine song?

At what point are they no longer "New Kids"? I mean, they're like... 30-40 years old or something.

god damn it

I was poking around in the Michigan Compiled Laws trying to see whether the situation described by Lou could happen here in the Mitten State. I didn't find any felonies for assaulting someone from the window of a moving vehicle, but did find that:

Blasphemy is apparently illegal. God fucking damn it.

Adultery is still illegal, and apparently a felony. The bad news: unmarried men are just as guilty as the married women they commit adultery with. The good news: a one year statute of limitations, and that it can only be prosecuted upon the complaint of the spouse of the adulterer.

One thing about that though... in the married man/unmarried woman situation, the unmarried woman hasn't committed adultery. All men (married and unmarried) could be guilty of felonious seduction, but apparently women can do whatever they want. So basically, an unmarried woman gets off scott-free. Where's the gender equality in that? Personally, I think that cougars shouldn't get a free pass if dirty old men don't.

rider down

A young guy got clipped yesterday on Packard in Ann Arbor... motorist turning right in front of a helmetless cyclist riding a brakeless fixie. From someone (avid, experienced cyclist) who saw the aftermath and paramedics putting him onto a stretcher... "It was the worst cyclist accident I have ever seen." Convulsions, paramedics, possible brain injury.

Fuck.

Helmets and brakes, folks. Seriously.

I gotta get me one of those

living the dream

I never really finished up on the rundown of the Toronto experience... because there isn't a whole lot that's really that noteworthy. I watched some polo until the tournament paused for the main race, then packed up and was already headed out of town right before the downpour. Cut to: montage of this boy driving through the Canadian countryside. Cut to: this upstanding citizen getting hassled at the US Border by his own border patrol. Cut to: this boy arrives home and gets (mostly) unpacked.

In the meantime, it occurs to me the fulfillment of a dream from long ago. Not exactly the plot of the dream, but the right scene. Could've been, but wasn't. You know how they say that, when you're studying a foreign language, the way you know that you've achieved proficiency (dare I say fluency?) is that you recognize that you are dreaming in that language? Well, this dream comes from a different bike-heavy period of my life. I don't remember the whole thing, but a moment, an image: for some reason I'm on a ferry as it's landing/docking (whatever the ferry-appropriate verb is), and as I'm walking down the ramp past the line of passengers waiting to get on the ferry, there's this amazing beautiful brunette woman with a backpack, and she's got this really really sweet bike. Chrome lugs, tasteful, elegant, functional, suave.

In the dream, the first thing through my mind? "Wow, cool bike." The second thing? "Oooh, she's pretty." That's when you know you've got bikes on the brain, and bad.

... so I got off the Toronto Island Ferry (a couple times over the weekend), and while there were no brunette hotties attached to pristine classic road bikes there to fulfill my prophetic dream, there were lots of people of varying hotness, attached to bikes of varying levels of awesome and not-so-awesome.

Maybe that counts as dream-fulfillment. Maybe I'll just keep an eye out on future ferry rides.

who knew faces were so loose?

by way of Stevil

(be sure to watch at least past the halfway point, btw)

not everything

I'm not going to go so far as to say "now I've seen everything", but in the news there's teenagers in bizarre pregnancy pacts (used to be TP-ing trees just a couple years ago, no?) and then people praying for lower gas prices (I thought they wanted the rapture, not cheap petrol).

I'm starting to wonder how much more wacky stuff there is out there.

quickie-'Ronto

On a lark, here I am at the Cycle Messenger World Championships in Toronto. I'm not a messenger, I don't 'messenge', but I do spectate on occasion.

So I put a bike, a change of clothes, and the laptop in the car yesterday, and hit the road. Why? Well, Toronto is only 4.5 hours away, and this is the closest the CMWC is gonna get to Michigan (I really doubt I'd go to spectate if it were in San Francisco or Philly or Dublin or Sydney). Oh yeah, there's a large format bike polo tournament (64 teams), and I not only am curious to see how other people do it, but want to see how big and bad the big shots are. Maybe learn something too. Impressions of the warmup Saturday, you ask? OK...
- lt looks like knee high socks are the new thing for all the cool people. Too bad my wardrobe lacks them. 'Cause I want to be a unique individual, just like everyone else.
- I'm unlikely to ever adopt "messenger culture". Sure, I saw Quicksilver, and messengers are the nouveau urban cowboy, but I'm not much of a joiner when it comes down to it.
- I continue to not understand what fascinates people so much about riding their bikes in backwards circles. I get it, it's a trick. Congratulations. But once you've learned it, doesn't it just get boring after the 20th time?
- From watching East Vancouver and Ottawa play (the guy organizing it predicted they'll play the finals), their movement is so different. Keep moving, move the ball quickly, dynamically, not by 'carrying it'. Maybe you get intercepted, but let it go. Then take it back. Oh yeah, and play both sides of the bike with the mallet in the same hand.

I found a hostel downtown Toronto after some wandering, and after checking in and stashing my car went for a walk to find a beer. Seems that Toronto has been non-smoking for a while, but they neglected to pass a no-cologne ordinance along the way. I swear, walking by open doors or the rope line outside some club, my eyes were tearing. Found an Irish-ish pub, plunked down my $7 for a Guiness, read my book for a little while, and then decided I don't need to buy any more over-priced beer and headed back to the hostel. Seeing some of the folks all dressed up in their 6" heels and super-fishnets and patent leather corsets , I thought "hmm, must be a fetish club around here somewhere" Yup - Goodhandy's is right next to the Irish pub. Again, not being dressed for the occasion, I was content just to walk around and wander back to bed and sleep.

making a stop at Kroger...

... I discover that not only is "natural" considered a "flavor" these days...



... but that apparently the marketeers at Kroger think that the food-buying public doesn't seem to know that there's a difference between calories from carbohydrates and calories from fat, regradless of how many there are.

quoteables

From David Brin's Earth :

"It was, indeed, a bad habit, this toying with people. But as the years flickered by it grew easier. They all forgave so, almost as if they expected it... demanded it of her. And because she tested everybody, taking contrary positions without prejudice, fewer and fewer people seemed to believe she meant anything she said at all!

Perhaps, Jen admitted honestly, that would be the world's long-term revenge on her. To attribute everything she said to jest. That would be some fate for the so-called 'mother of the modern Gaian paradigm.'"

[sigh] ... if I was worried that I was misunderstood before, now I've got one more thing to include among possible reasons why.

art

Next time you see an ad or street sign promoting "artisanal" anything, remember that with a different mix of spaces, or some different kerning, you end up with " art is anal ". I'm not suggesting that it's supposed to be a reference to visual or perfomance art, or someone named Arthur, or whether it's anal retentive or anal expulsive. That's up to you. And the sign maker.

But now, like the little black circle in the upper right hand corner of the movie screen that flashes to signal the change of reel, you will have a hard time NOT seeing "art is anal".

You're welcome.

sometimes...

I was over at a friend's house tonight at our weekly board game night with a bunch of folks. Loud, boisterous, fun. A dozen or so adults around, half-dozen kids playing various games, snacks, drinks, board games, friends.

In the middle of a conversation at the board where I'm playing (frankly, I don't remember the conversation, and isn't really important), my friend KO(S) who is playing at the other board turns and punches me on the shoulder 7-8 times. Not that hard, but firmly, and not a gentle mock-punch tap either. If we weren't both big sturdy people like we are, I might have interpreted it as actually hitting "with intent", but we've known each other for a while, neither she nor I are shy about things, and I don't take offense. The thing is, I'm not going to simply accept a half-dozen punches for no apparent reason. And I'm not going to go out and hire a mediator to resolve the conflict for us. We're both adults.

So in that moment I count the punches, turn and say "that was 7" and then audibly count out as I return the punches to her shoulder 7 times, in exactly the force which they were thrown at my arm. The room gets quiet. KO(S) pauses, and then hits me 8 more times. I count her punches out loud, and then turn back and give the exact same thing right back to her. At this point, the punching is over for the evening.

But that moment... the quiet. That's what's on my mind. Not because I doubted what I or she were doing, but how fucked up people's perceptions can be. So fucked up by bumper stickers and rhetoric that they are unable to judge for themselves what something is or isn't.

I'm curious about the silence happened when I threw a punch and not when she threw the first punch at me. Is it because "there's no excuse for violence against women"? It better not be. First: that statement is rhetoric that doesn't apply to this situation. Second: it wasn't violence. Third: I'm 6'3", about 210 lbs - she's 6', 200 lbs. We're similar size and neither of us was winding up... it was fairly clear the even if it was enthusiastic, it was "play fighting".

So again, I say - what is it about the shock of me punching her back? Why is it that her husband felt compelled to walk over and pretend-punch me in the face because of the perception that my response was wrong because the "assault" on me was from a woman?

It's because rhetoric has such a powerful hold over us. Market to us, sloganeer at us, poll us... we'll say back to you what you want us to say.

And ultimately, it's the lack of context. Thinking critically (and no, I don't mean a formal definition of "critical thinking", rather, a mundane, yet far more important one) matter all the time.

"Question Authority" ... oh really? Does that include the soapbox upon which the bumper sticker is metaphorically standing? "Love is never wrong" ? Are you so sure about that? Sometimes, love can be really wrong. Ask your local police department for a list of domestic violence responses.

"Well - that's not love, that's the confusion of a co-dependent abusive relationship."

"So, you mean just 'healthy' love then... are you putting any restrictions on that?"

"Naw... it's cool. 'Celebrate diversity' and all that..."

"Uhm... really? Do you really mean that?"

"Oh, sure, I'm down with alternative lifestyles. "


"Uh... well, ok."


Context matters. Don't assume that your assumptions are the same as everyone else's assumptions.

What is violence to you is not the same as what is violence to her. What love is to you is not the same what love is to him. Authority is only that which you accept (or cannot refuse). Bumper stickers will not guide you through your life on their own.

wow, that sure is ugly...

Regardless of the science of renewable energy of all different types, and the public opinion and policies thereof...

I've gotta say that this wind farm sure does make that ridge awfully damn ugly...

uh-oh. now I've done it.

Cranksgiving Ann Arbor 2008 is now officially a go. I've already got some prizes contributed to the cause, so I guess this means it's official.

No dates picked or course detailed, but this year, so that folks of all types are comfortable entering, there will be the "Appetizer Course" (lighter, less demanding fare for the recreational riding), and the "Buffet/All-You-Can-Eat/Super-Size Course" (challenging, demanding, rewarding).

Bitchin'.

pedestrian rundown

RBR Quote:

Overheard: "Drivers in America and Australia just have attitudes. I
don't necessarily say attitudes towards cyclists, but towards other
road users. People just don't realize the danger they're causing other
people." -- Cadel Evans, 2007 ProTour champion, admitting that
training on the road has its unsettling moments.

Blend this with the experience the other day of the F150 almost running over the pedestrian... I'm sitting there at a stop light when this fucking nob drives up next to me in the right turn lane in his big ole' truck. The dude in the crosswalk is right in front of me, walking left-to-right, and as I'm sitting there, the F150 is creeping up and wanting to turn right on red. But somehow, he completely fails to notice that there's someone in the crosswalk. He's looking left, the guy is right there... I don't know how this is even possible to be so clueless, but the F150 driver either doesn't notice, or doesn't care, and doesn't stop until the pedestrian in front of his bumper gets freaked out and has to pound on his hood to get his attention and keep from getting flattened into the crosswalk. Somehow does F150 guy think he owns the entire road?

I was in the car a couple months ago when Mom and Dad were in town for a visit. There are a number of pedestrian crosswalks in the middle of loooong blocks on campus. They're not the most visible, but they're signed with high-visibility signs and have striped crosswalks. People use them. Thery're there for a reason. But when it was obvious that Dad didn't seem to be slowing down when there are pedestrians in the crosswalk, I had to repeat a couple times "Dad... pedestrians." before he clued in. After passing the crosswalk, he made some comment like "what the hell are those people doing?" to which I replied "They're crossing the street. They're in the crosswalk. They have the right of way - you're supposed to yield to them." to which he muttered "they just walk out there in traffic like they're flaunting it" to which the only thing I could think to say was "What, are you expecting them to yield to you instead of you yielding to them?" Sure, Alberto Gonzalez might think that the Geneva Convention is quaint, but hopefully the Rules of the Road don't end up in that same rubbish bin of quaintness.

Of course, the whole pedestrian crossing takes a more difficult turn when we start talking about mordern roundabouts. There's more of them coming to roadways in the U.S., and while they are safer than 4-way stops and signalled intersections for motorized traffic, they create significant challenges for people with disabilities.

randoms leftovers from Arizona

I never really wrote about the trip to Arizona this spring...

One memorable moment was the night of the Superbowl. Far from the stadium, at the bar in BBQ/TexMex joint with only 4 customers, talking with the 19-year old woman serving us food... She has lived all her life in the Phoenix area, but thinks about leaving to live somewhere else. No children, no spouse, no house. She's ready to go.

My advice: move to an old city. Phoenix is a bizarre mutant, and the world is far more interesting. Go to an old city. Live somewhere that geography shapes the way people live and dominates the culture, industry, and feel of the city. Rivers that have shaped Minneapolis, New Orleans, Kansas City. Ports and harbors that created Chicago, San Diego, Duluth, Baltimore, San Francisco. Mountains and valleys that dominate the landscape and shape the weather. Somewhere other than a sprawled suburb.

Somewhere that doesn't look like everywhere else.

And what is it about AZ state troopers? They just seem to like pulling people over. As I drive through AZ, NM, OK, TX, I see a lot more people getting pulled over in AZ than in the rest of the states. Are they looking for meth? Border-jumpers? Or do they just like pulling people over more than everyone else?

Extreme Apple Dream

Ever tried eating the entire apple? OK, not the stem, but instead of throwing the core of the apple out, just eat the whole apple. I've changed my habit: start at the bottom and eat THROUGH the apple. Like karate - punch THROUGH the board. You don't even notice that there's a slight texture change. Sure, spit out the seeds if you want, but if you aren't dealing with a "core", you don't get juice all over your face and hands, you don't have to look for a garbage can, etc. etc. Give it a try sometime.


From a book on population/resource issues called "The Ostrich Factor"... something that seems as good an explanation as any other for political/cultural division between communities, cultures, religions, nations: "Extremism appears to lead to clear cut decisions, whereas moderation embarrasses us by emphasizing problems that are yet to be solved."

A) There are lots of complex situations, unanswered questions, things we don't know yet. It's OK to admit that. It doesn't make anyone weak by doing so.

B) In negotiation you always have to ask for more than you want. In aspiration, your reach should exceed your grasp.

A and B are not exclusive. Doing both is tough. Doesn't mean we shouldn't try.


When did "owning a home" become the "American Dream"? Who sold us this load of bullshit?

The American Dream is a Superman-like "Truth, Justice, and the American Way" or the Ellis Island-like "huddled masses, yearning to be free". It's not a sales pitch from the real estate industry, and I resent the perversion that's been done.

Eco-rection

I don't really get it... Eco-rections, that is.

I get THAT they happen. I can understand that people have reasons. I just don't identify with them. There's plenty of reasons why people get aroused over "green-ness", being eco-friendly, trying to change the world.

I can understand that people really and truly believe that the single most important thing to do "in all the world, right now" is to clean up the environment. That they believe it is more important than all other political, economic, religious, technological, etc. issues.

I can understand that the pleasure of a personal crusade. How it gets ones nipples pert and erect with excitement over having a project, doing something, affecting the world. Some people want to make the world better, some people just want to affect the world. Others want to preach to others from a position of superior piety about how they are pure and proper and right in the world and therefore better than someone else who they've deemed inferior due to their different choices, or life, or situation.

But the thing that I really don't get is why people derive personal internal pleasure from "being green". I roll it over, looking at it from different angles, and it still doesn't trigger anything in me. If you choose to live your life in a way that consumes less, pollutes less, etc... that's fine. It's the way you live your life, and everyone lives their life, neh? You can make choices or have a plan for yourself and make changes. But if you're not actively organizing, or advocating, or trying to be holier-than-thou, or preaching-and-screeching, then why does "reducing my carbon emissions" become a source of pleasure in and of itself?

Where does all this come from, you ask? I was emailing with a friend that also rides a bike, and as the topic diverged from the original conversation, I made some sort of comment that "I just like bikes, that's enough for me". And she came back with how she loves that when she's riding her bike that she thinks about how good it is for the environment, and how it reduces traffic congestion, and all of that.

I'm trying to put myself in her head and understand what it is about that - what kind of pleasure or satisfaction she gets and how I can understand it by comparing it to my own experience. There's all kinds of pleasure that I can identify - a lively discussion, a job well done, a good cup of coffee, an elegant solution to a difficult problem, pleasant company, a delicious meal, swimming in the aromas of fancy beers, a hard workout, a beautiful vista, sex, friends, cool widgets, cool friends with sex widgets...

But the "I enjoy my reduced carbon footprint" pleasure? I'm just not built that way.

what's wrong with this pisser?

I get to scrappin' every now and then with G about public bathrooms. She has her own professional interest (not a plumber though) and rants about them in her own way here, here, and here.

The thing is, I don't have much sympathy for the feminist notion that men's bathrooms are fundamentally super-privileged. That men are institutionally over-served in a manner that discriminates against (i.e. under-serves) women? That urinals are a fundamental inequality, and that by having them, men are given an advantage in urination that women are not allowed. Along with men's fundamentally discriminatory garments (and anatomy) that allow them to zip, pee, zip, flush, wash, and go, the plumbing itself is unequal. That by virtue of the standing piss, men are provided more facilities than women.

I submit that wherever a urinal is properly installed, a stall/toilet could have been installed instead. If there's ever a case where men are crammed together more tightly, it makes for a non-pissable experience, and so the concept of higher piss-density per lineal wall-foot is moot.

So let's talk about some example facilities...

Cadieux Cafe in Detroit. For some reason, a mini-trough and a toilet. But they are crammed into such a small space that it's basically impossible to use both. The width of the toilet tank gives you a sense of scale of the trough. Note how it touches the wall on the right side, and the placement of the other fixture (sink, I think) in the lower right-hand corner. Only one guy can stand at this trough. And if someone is sitting on the toilet, it's unlikely that ANYone will be using the trough. Too close to trough back-spray. It's possible that two could stand and piss, one using the toilet and one using the trough, but there's room for two toilets side by side - so what's the difference between dual-occupancy women's room?


Haabs Restaurant in Ypsilanti. The width of the porcelain of a standard urinal is about 16-18". These two have about 2" between them. Take a shoulder width of about 20". When standing at one of these, one clearly overlaps the "frontage" space of the other urinal - it's simply not possible to squeeze another dude in there, let alone the question of personal space. So basically, one of these is wasted. Note the stalls on the right. Not that much wider than the urinals. (yes, there's perspective distortion from the crappy camera phone lens, but you can see roughly) You can apparently squeeze a stall in about the same space as a urinal, even in the case of ones that are too-close-for-comfort.

The greater of insults is when the squeeze happens without another guy being there. That the little privacy barriers squeeze you even if you're the only one in the bathroom.

Ah yes, and to all the women out there - I'm sure that there's a toilet stall door equivalent of the poster-in-front-of-you at the urinal, right? Do you have posters 6 inches in front of you? You know - advertising to potential customers during those "low-distraction-moments". Not only are there posters, but not apparently there's an entire industry of "urinal communication" where a guy can't even have a moment in quiet contemplation of having a piss.

And if that isn't enough, let's just say that this bullshit at the BW3 in Ann Arbor made me consider angry bathroom vandalism as justified for the first time in my life. There's all kinds of stupid things that happen to men's bathrooms in bars that have college kids as patrons - towel dispensers ripped off walls, soap dispensers smashed, stall doors bashed or ripped off. Until recently, I thought it completely unnecessary to smash and bludgeon bathroom facilities. But a TV? There's already 47 TVs in the restaurant - I don't need one shoved in my face when I'm taking a piss. Seriously, am I going to catch up on an episode of Lost while I'm taking a piss?

Schadenfreude Pie

It's dark, it's bittersweet, it's not for shiny-happy people. I think I'll give it a try one of these days.

that might come in handy...

Parking has always been difficult in Ann Arbor. It's a perpetual source of bitching and complaining (on all sides) when issues of urban development, transportation, downtown accessibility, etc. come up in public forums. Heck, I can't think of a single city where someone isn't bitching about not being able to find a parking space withing 20 feet of the front door of where they want to go.

Recently, Homeless Dave did a teeter-totter interview with parking professional Steven Smith, and later on shared some data. I never really thought of myself as a "parking nerd", but I guess I am. The graph on the right that I stole from Dave shows how many parking spaces are available in a certain parking structure over one week. Fascinating. I'm wondering if there isn't some data dropping out over the weekend though - surely the occupancy is not flat-line stable over the weekend - there's at least gotta be a bump on Saturday evening at the 4th and Washington structure. I'm sure of it. Anyway, if you're heading to Ann Arbor and needing a parking spot, you can check here before you leave to see how many spots are left in your intended lot before you go there.

Some might say "these people have too much time on their hands... don't they have work to do?" Well, for the City of Ann Arbor and DDA, it is their work. Besides, you're just reading blogs. Don't you have work to do?

oh yeah, and there's this cool map that links to the live data that shows little pie charts. Numbers are great, but pie charts that show how filled the lots are? mmm, nifty.

you're screwed.

... and just what did I learn at the county road commission meeting this afternoon?

If you're not trying to take it for yourself, someone else is going to try to take if for themselves. Sometimes that means taking from you. And what the hell are you gonna do about it? Hunh? Punk? Yeah, I'm talking to you.

It's not enough to expect fair and right - you have to overreach and overshoot, or else you get only what is left, which is nothing.

Call it Negotiation, call it Radicalism™... either way, all I can think about is the "he pulls a knife, you pull a gun" mindset. Sure, it's urban planning and transportation, but the sentiment is the same.

that is so awesome...

Big high five, ma'am.

... and fuck you, mister.

Kimchi

Good golly, I never had it so good.

My life had been sorely lacking, but then Brooke
got me all hooked up. I now have large quantities of Kimchi in my life, and life is so much better.

It's funny how the circles and patterns in ones life so easily become ruts. How many times have I rode or driven past the Hyundai Asian Market on Ellsworth? I've surely looked at the sign, but not seen it. But behind all the movie posters is a veritable bounty of mysterious seafood parts, kelp in all sorts of forms, the beloved Kimchi, and all sorts of other goodness in packages that haven't a single readable (to me) western character on them. Good thing they like to put pictures on the outside so that an ofay like me knows what they are. And good thing they don't sell baby food there.

There's a handful of other little shops over on Packard near Two Wheel Tango that surely have other delicious, economically priced delights just past their various Arabian-, Pakistani-, Indian-, and Japanese-awninged entrances.

I know it. I've been there. But I had forgotten. Sorry about that.

See you soon.

Blowout Breakdown

Quick, while G has no home internet connection, I'll beat her to the punch on the musical reviewings.

Went to the Metro Times 11th Blowout over the weekend. Er... I mean, Thursday and Friday. She took Thursday, I took Friday, and the drinking non-driver had the responsibility of picking the bands to see. Overall, I gotta say that I don't know if I'll be going back next year. (sheesh, is this some sort of habit forming of resolving not going to festivals again next year?)

So on Friday, in order:

Novada at the New Dodge: What... the... fuck... Can you possibly be more annoying? I mean, sure... you went to Rock Band School and you want your money's worth, but the frontman trying to channel Jim Morrison (by pretending to be moody and performing swinging microphone antics), Michael Hutchence (by paying too much attention to yourself and performing swinging microphone antics, and Pete Townsend (by full-arm-swinging strumming a guitar to no perceivable effect) at the same time... just comes off as cheesey. Maybe it impresses the high school girls, but the Fallout Boy haircuts (er... hair sculpting) just show the lengths to which you will descend to suck mightily. Next, please. (New Dodge is a pretty cool space though - too bad they only have shit yellow piss beer to drink)

We walked out loong before their set was over to get to the Painted Lady early. Caught the end of rapper Leaf Erikson who - by their own admission - weren't anything special. "There's some real musicians coming up so stick around - we're just a bunch of drunk freestyle rappers". Turns out Deastro isn't much either. Described by Metro Times as "Wunderkind", it was one dude playing samples on his MacBook. There was a drum set on stage, and he did a soundcheck with it, but I fail to see the musicianship of queueing up samples. It might as well be a recorded track at that point. Might as well have been DJing. Which is not what I came for. Next, please.

Screamray at Baker's Streetcar: Messy (in a good way) inaudible vocals, but at least there was some unaffected sincerity. I wasn't blown away, but after the three acts just seen, it was a welcome relief. I'll give 'em an "enh... not bad". I wouldn't pay $10 to see them play all night though.

Mazinga at Atlas Bar: Seen posters in Ann Arbor for years for these guys, and supposedly all punk and whatnot. The songs on their myspace page sound pretty good. They were pretentious and tedious. They dedicated their set to Gary Gygax (who died recently), but I think Gary would have been ashamed to be associated with the sad display they put on. The singer in the middle of the song wandering out to "check the mix" (as G assured me that's what he was doing... I thought he was "taking it to the people"), and then ineffectively trying to order a glass of water (took him 3 tries) from the bartender by putting the mic down and shouting across the bar and gesturing wildly in between verses of the song pretty much turned me off. Next, please.

Friendly Foes at The Belmont: ooh, now they were GOOD. Only saw the last three songs of their set, but they were together, had well-written music (reasonably full arrangement for a three-piece), energy on-stage without pretense... I would pay $5-10 to see them again for a full set. The Belmont is a weird venue - the band off in a hallway... but they had good beer on tap, so they get a tip o' the cap for that.

And lastly... Banana Convention at Jean's. Clearly the worst bar. Band at ground level, drums up on stage. Impossible to see. Don't need the drums at ear level AND mic-ed. Oh yeah, and I actually stooped to have a PBR just to see what's so special. What could be so good that all the hipsters and butch dyke hotties seem to gravitate to it? Well, it ain't nothin' but another tasteless yellow beer. Might as well be Bud Light or Keystone or Miller. They all taste the fucking same. Of course, here I am getting slowly hammered on Talon... ok, back to the music. Banana Convention was pretty damn good. If only the dude in the yellow coat could either be useful or get off the stage - couldn't hear a damn thing from him and the tambourine and toy accordion didn't make much sense. The frontwoman with a HUGE voice in a teeny-tiny little human. Guitarist with a weird expression, but clearly some chops. Bass player a youngun - babyfaced, but solid. Drummer with that jam band cymbal/high hat work and chops there too. They pass the $5-10 test. Winners of the "I'll go see you again" competition, but a close race with Friendly Foes.

my latest crusade

... takes shape slowly. Nevertheless, I hereby declare it to be my Official Rant of Note: Single-Occupancy Gendered Toilets (SOGTs).

A cafe, a bar, a restaurant has two single-occupancy toilets. Why ever would you label one for one gender and the other for another when they are identically furnished? It just doesn't make sense. I mean, if there's a urinal, there might be some sort of rationale to call it the men's room, but there's no reason why women can't use it. Heck, women should have urinals available to them too - case in point.

Anyway, the traffic jam outside a SOGT that sometime results, from one being occupied and the next customer being of the same gender, is so unnecessary. The example (here, last paragraph) that catalyzed my crusade repeated itself yesterday, at the exact same cafe. And in the latest episode, the guy waiting in line came back to the table, "got permission" from his girlfriend to use the women-labeled restroom, and proceeded relieve his need.

I can understand the need to label restrooms when they are multiple-occupancy and one should not barge into the other gender's territory for reasons of "decency" (or at the very least, adherence to societal norms). The casual user might not know whether the toilet is single- or multiple-occupancy, so it's understandable to hesitate. But the whole reason for my crusade is so that business owners start making sense with their toilets.

Because if you can't be reasonable about excreting, what can you be reasonable about?

interstitial moments

Those moments between, none of which are noticeable, that make up the whole. The thing that fits between the other things.

In a community - the rhythm of the day, the habits of the neighbors, the bus schedule, the street traffic. What makes it different from other places.

In a relationship - the moments that pass, small, and many. Quiet or routine. The pattern of them IS the thing.

Things you can't invent or intend. Experiences or history that one would never know if one hadn't put in the time and been there in the slack times as well as the pivotal "ich bin ein Berliner" moments.

A carpet as metaphor... for some, the carpet of existence is low-pile indoor-outdoor utility grade, where a pebble cannot intrude because it bounces off. There, the grit is meaninful and prominent because it's the only thing in between. In the deep pile shag existence of the murky messy wild, the cat hair mixes with the peanut shells, the spilled wine, and the spontaneous frenzied fuck-sweat, forming a soft rich patina over each day, and if there's a little grit, no one notices other than the spoiled little princess sleeping on the pea.

fairness, chaos, structure, transparency

So we're in those early stages of organization these days with the bike Organizing (the first usage being the "putting things in order" version and the latter being the advocacy-outreach/power-to-the-people version). It's a small group, with a limited agenda. I'd like to think that the most important reason for it to exist is to make it easy for friendly folks to meet other friendly folks and get out and ride together. But at last fall's inaugural group "event" ride (other than the weekly Sunday rides), the turnout was high enough that it seemed like there was reason, and motivation, and enough people interested/concerned that it could become something more than "just" getting together to ride.

In these early stages, it's a lot of ideas floating around. What to do, how to do it, who should do it, etc. And there's the rub. With a small grass-roots group of concerned citizens, everyone should have an equal voice. There's no authoritarian figure running the show, because the show doesn't exist without the small group of concerned citizens. But if everyone has an equal voice, the conversation is more like a crowded bar - lots of fragments of topics, dynamically floating from one to the other. And while a couple people hit it off, most people go home unchanged from when they walked in - other than having spent their time and money.

I was agonizing for a while about this. A sympathetic friend, to whom I would bitch and complain, would occasionally challenge me to show leadership/ownership and forge ahead in the group. Ostensibly, her thesis was that the chaos was because no one was willing to stand up and take responsibility, so no one knew to whom to look - thus the chaos. But the tradition of authoritarian organizations that shut out minorities (read: gender, race, sex, religion) won't work here. But "structurelessness" doesn't really work either. She left me a copy of an article that's apparently canonical when it comes to the organizational challenges of second-wave feminism. The Tyranny of Structurelessness by Jo Freeman makes good points about how intending a perception of a flat structure can easily lead to a structure more corrupt and elitist than one vertically/pyramidally organized. I found myself nodding along with it - it's not just the bike group, but the small companies I've worked for exhibit similar sorts of dysfunction.

While few people are interested in the formalities of by-laws and the like, sometimes they are necessary.

The criteria of participation may differ from group to group... All of these procedures take time. So if one works full time or has a similar major commitment, it is usually impossible to join simply because there are not enough hours left to go to all the meetings and cultivate the personal relationship necessary to have a voice in the decision-making. That is why formal structures of decision making are a boon to the overworked person. Having an established process for decision-making ensures that everyone can participate in it to some extent.

and when it's a group in the early stages, but with ambition, I find:

As long as friendship groups are the main means of organizational activity, elitism becomes institutionalized.

So what do I take away from the article? Well, secretly I whisper to myself "hey look, all this time - you're more than not wrong about the world, you were right again." But more importantly that there's no reason to try to subjugate my instincts just because they were the indoctrinations by the straight white male oppressor. And just because I'm perceived as the straight white male oppressor with a shave and a haircut doesn't mean that I need to endear myself by putting on a uniform of disconformity or antitraditional style to fit in. There are plenty of ways of being effective, including the ones already known. I've advised others to "just be who you are" - I should have been listening to myself more. I don't need to put on an affected display of fairness fetishization to be even-handed and respectful of peers. The truth will be known. Eventually, always. Structure and organization can respect the individual, and if the individual "wants in" to a particular part of the structure, the way in is obvious to all.

Winter Beer Fest review

Over the weekend was the Michigan Brewers Guild Winter Beer Fest out in Grand Rapids. While I do enjoy beer bunches, I was sorely disappointed this year. This year's Winter Beer Fest was terrible, horrible, and very bad. Not the beers, but the event. Basically, the venue was SO bad that it interfered and distracted from appreciating the beers...

It was a complete maze - the up-down-around-the-bend to find a booth was annoying. The narrow paths between areas made for congestion and a melee, not to mention icy slippery wooden decking. Some parts of it were blistering and freezing in the wind (i.e. central area near New Holland) compared to more inviting areas (i.e. upper deck near Arbor Brewing/Corner Brewery). Yes, I realize that it's a Winter beer fest, but it doesn't need to be a question of winter survival. There was no gathering space for friends to have a place to stand around and discuss the beers they had. (central or otherwise) It was shoulder-to-shoulder jostling all day. And lastly, there were just not enough bathrooms.

Lansing last year was, while more crowded, better. There was less space, but it was space you could move in. I know there was controversy over the move to Grand Rapids, and while I don't particularly mind the move, I do think that having a neutral city for beerfest (i.e. Lansing) makes more sense. But if it stays in GR next year, hopefully it will be at a different venue. If it is in the ballpark again, we probably won't go. Summer Beer Fest, however is a delight.

Along with the disappointment of the venue, back at the hotel, it seems the hotel room attempted murder upon me. A short nap with the heat on dehydrated the room so badly that I was raw and coughing uncontrollably. G and I had, as part of the grand plan, wanted to go to Founders to the Back Forty show after beer fest, so we struggled our way out in the cold, went to the show, and watched some barefoot neo-hippies twirl around while The Werks opened. Ran into Monica (of Monica and Kate - the Ann Arborites we recognized in the hotel lobby and ride-shared to the Fest) and she was kind enough to buy us a beer as a thank you for the ride. The bourbon-barrel-aged Kentucky Breakfast Stout is normally delicious, but it felt strange to my tongue that night, but the Dirty Bastard Scotch Ale was delicious. We only lasted halfway through the Back Forty set - it was just a long beery day, so we bailed and walked through the cold, and then through the warm skyway, and then back in the cold, where I feared for my survival in the hotel, but somehow managed to wake up alive and had a nice little Sunday drive back home (with a minor getting-slightly-lost diversion near Ada, MI).


So in the interest of posterity, I'll share my tasting notes below. Keep in mind that it was mid-beer jotting of notes while standing on slippery wood decking, or while walking, or while slightly buzzed from an afternoon of beer sampling. In the order of having tasted them, they were:

1. Schmohz Brewery Kiss My Scottish Arse Scotch Ale: Not a scotch ale. Bitter. Vile.
2. Schmohz Brewery Mad Tom's Porter: Tastes like their scotch ale. Crappy.
(Seems lie Schmohz went the way of Jolly Pumpkin - their beers all taste the same - like the same strain of yeast, which has a sour bitterness to it that I don't care for.)
4. Sherwood Brewing Leadbelly Oatmeal Stout: Lactose-y. Ashey. Good mouth-feel, but that's all.
5. Sherwood Brewing Alaskan Sister Wit: Bitter. Too heavy for a Wit.
6. North Peak Witley's Wheat: Too much like a Pilsner. Blech.
7. Copper Canyon Rye-PA: Solid IPA notion. Looong swervy skid in the later linger. Loooovely.
8. Grand Rapids Brewing Co. Tiramisu Stout: Nice sweet coffee nose. Unremarkable taste, but ok. Thin mouthfeel.
9. Michigan Brewing Co. Winter Warmer (Rye-PA): Nice malty smooth hop. Really quite good.
10. Michigan Brewing Co. Imperial IPA: Definitely imperial in the best way. Not ridiculous hop, but big and meaningful.
11. Michigan Brewing Co. Superior Stout: Smoky. OK. Rolls around a lot.
12. New Holland Cabin Fever Brown Ale: A bit coffee, malty, round.
13. New Holland Pilgrim's Dole Wheat Wine (2005): Makes me salivate at the end. Not too sweet. Delicious.
14. New Holland Red Tulip: Never did much for me. Wendy loves it. I really don't see what she sees in it.
15. The Hideout Chicago Typewriter Double Red: A bit bitter
16. The Hideout Smugglers Hazlenut Stout: Good nose, but distractingly thin mouthfeel.
17. The Hideout Midnight Oatmeal Stout: Smoky
18. Dragonmead Imperial Stout: Whisky kick at the end. Not sweet. Pretty good.
19. Arcadia Brewing Co. Hop Rocket Imperial IPA: hop flowery, nice. Not overbearing.
20. Arbor Brewing Co. HXL Double IPA: Damn that's good. Smells like barleywine, Drinks like IPA.
21. Arcadia Brewing Co. Cocoa Loco Chocolate Stout: Had it before. Usual thing. Fine. What you'd expect.
22. Dragonmead Imperial IPA: Not that Imperial.
23. Waldorff Brewpub Hopnoxxxious IPA: sucks
24. Waldorff Brewpub Bee Sting Honey Rye: sucks less
25. Waldorff Brewpub Old Woody Imperial Stout: sucks more
26. Black Lotus Generation X Porter: enh. [shrug]
27. Black Lotus The Gift Belgian Strong Ale: Nice. Very nice.
28. Black Lotus Hip Hops American Pale Ale: Super-dry hop
29. Grand Rapids Brewing Co. Barrel-Aged Barley Wine: Goooood. Scotchy (like the liquor, not the ale), which is nice.
30. Founders Porter: Dry. OK. Not that special.
31. Founders Black IPA: Black beer and IPA? Don't necessarily think that's a good thing.
32. Copper Canyon Big Time Barleywine: Wasn't sweet enough for me to identify it as a Barleywine.

gobble, gobble

My book list has been full of non-fiction lately - dry stuff that I put there because it would "be good for me." Things I've always wondered about, things I should know more about. Well, it's been slow-going.

Thus the sudden immediate contrast when I picked up Life of Pi. Immediately engaging, and it kept me up until 3:30 last night. You've surely heard of it, and if you haven't read it yet, you should look for it. Delightful. A little rough for kids because it's about a tiger (that, by its nature, bites and claws and rips flesh), but young teens by now have surely seen or read greater violence just by watching TV.

It's supposedly being made into a movie, but I have no hopes for that. I don't think the depth of the adventure will translate well. But in the meantime, it's a great little book to gobble up in a night or two.

Yum.

true, that.

I'm officially back from The West, but haven't been able to muster the wherewithal to pull myself up by the bootstraps and do the post-trip synopsis. But I just saw this little clip of David Lynch and since, while Driving The Long Drive, I was reminded of some of the monotonous camera-on-bumper-at-night scenes in Lost Highway, here's something to think about...

foodies, avert thy eyes

The one thing I've stooped to when on the road (and on the road I am, driving in search of the sun to hang/bike/etc. in Phoenix with Matt), is to stop at McDonald's. I'll admit, it's half fueled by the fact that they have started having free WiFi, and there's just something convenient about 700,000,000,000 McD's locations nationwide where there's internet access.

So it's with mixed emotions that I go in... I do love a synthetic milkshake every now and then, and it appears that the McRib is back. Again. But going away? What IS the deal with the McRib anyway? Apparently, it has only gone away 3 times so far. Perpetually to come back, like the alternating waves of pleasure, then nausea, it induces on its victims.

So it's with a growing sense of relief that I leave the... ahem... Great State of Missouri... with it's perpetual religious billboards (and apparently vibrant anti-porn/anti-highway-adult-bookstore movement) to trek across the dust bowl and beyond to the beloved desert. I'm sure the delight of smooth mouthfeel will pass like the miles, and that patented McDonald's Sense of Intestinal Unease™ will take up residence soon enough.

not bad at all...

A flurry, I guess. Not sure where the week went.

Got a new bike. Er, frame I mean. "...and why do you need another bike?" you ask. "dude... shut up" I say. Had parts around so I only had to buy a couple things - stem and brake levers, maybe some pedals in the future. Haven't exactly "finished" it - still intend to make it a fixed-gear, but need to decide on a hub. In the meanwhile it's a singlespeed that I took for a ride last night, and it's kind of fun. It's really quiet... kind of eery.

It's Burns Night tonight over at Andre's. Looking forward to it - not only was it fun last year, but it marks something of an anniversary. It was at that party a year ago where I met a lot of people that, in the time since, I've come to call good friends. There'll be haggis (veggie, but I hope someone makes some of the real stuff), Scotch (duh), and the poetry of Mr. Burns. Who doesn't love centuries-old scottish poetry that includes such chart-toppers as "Ode to a Haggis"? I'll be bringing some variations on Rita's Rum Cake (recipe below) - one traditional, and one fucked-with. As in, with different stuff in it - chocolate and cherries. And then there'll be the testers made with 12 year-old Isle of Islay Scotch instead of rum. We'll see how those turn out. I'm verrrry curious.

Bought a BOB trailer today from Ben. It's a Yak trailer, but I don't plan on taking it to the coffee shop like the dude in the BOBgear ad. (And I'm sure as hell not going to sip coffee out of a silly-shaped cup like that, either.) I was thinking something a little more blue-skies-and-scenic-vistas.

Ran the re-use/thrift/gauntlet today searching in vain for a proper pepper mill. One with a crank that sticks out. Not a knob that you twist - a crank that you spin. When I want to grind pepper into something I'm cooking, I want it now, and I want a bunch of it. And twist-twist-twist/squeeze-squeeze-squeeze isn't doing it for me. The Re-Use Center, which is right down the street from the PTO thrift store, which is right down the street from the Salvation Army store, poses a tough problem for folks like me that can find something to do with this, that, or another thing (or at least think we can). Everything seems like a good idea. But I know that I don't have room or follow-through enough for everything, so I restrained myself. Pretty wacky place, that Salvation Army. Huuuuge place. Tons of clothes, all seemingly in pretty good condition. Grey flannel suit for $8? Sure, why not. I realized my eyes were too big and my apartment too small, so I put shoes to pavement and left empty-handed.

Tomorrow's the Worst Day of the Year Ride, and we have some snow, so that's appropiate for the day. Monday is the Bike Ypsi meeting and the logo competition. Tuesday, I think I'll go to Arizona - Matt has an extra bedroom down at the proving grounds and extended the invite, so who am I to refuse a place to sleep and recreate where there's sunshine and shorts weather? And, I get to check in with the desert (howyadoin'?). Ride the bike a bit. Tromp around in the wild. Let the sun shine on in and have my skin make me some Vitamin D.

While the continuing list of not-bad-at-all things extends all the way down to the Rita's Rum Cake Recipe, in the meantime there's this surprisingly effective sitar rendition of a tune we all know and... uhm... well, we all know it, right?

Rum Cake
4 eggs
1 box yellow cake mix
1 pkg french vanilla instant pudding
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1/4 cup dark rum (maybe 1/3 or 1/2 cup if you want)
1/2 cup chopped pecans or walnuts

Rum Sauce
1/2 cup butter
1 cup sugar
1/4 cup water
1/4 (or 1/2) cup dark rum

Grease a bundt cake pan VERY well and sprinkle nuts into the bottom of the bundt cake pan. Mix the ingredients and pour over the nuts. Bake directly on the oven rack at 325 for 45 minutes.

Combine the ingredients for the rum sauce and bring to a boil. After the cake is done, pierce the top of it with a toothpick or fork or whatever you've got, and pour the sauce over the cake.

Important: Let sit for at least 2 hours before turning it out of the pan. Then call your cardiologist and make a reservation before tucking into this cake. Because you seriously just used 2 (or more if you're adventurous) sticks of butter (not margarine, you sissy) in this and will probably have a second piece of cake each time. What were you thinking? Ah, well it's good, isn't it?

the question that won't go away

Exactly when did I eat corn?

No, seriously. I don't remember eating corn. But yesterday I looked down, and there it was. Today I look down, and there it is again. I must be sleep-eating or something.

Was I abducted and the corn implanted?

I'm blaming the reptoids.

the making of sausage

There's those old sayings about making sausage - about how, like laws, you shouldn't learn what goes into it or how it's made. About how much less attractive it is the more you know about it.

Well, it seems I (metaphorically) don't agree. I mean, I know that politics and law are complicated and thorny bits, but the more I learn about my local government, the more intrigued I am. Lots of people get turned off the by the amount of bureaucracy and red tape that goes into even local government. I, for one, am ok with it.

It's easy to lean back on one's Libertarian Lounger or Republican Rocker or Democrat Davenport and snipe about the waste of time and energy and money that goes into government. Bound to special interests, lazy, corrupt, shallow, whatever you want to call them.

But here in Ann Arbor, I'm left with the overall feeling of a fairly well-run city. Sure, there's rough spots here and there, but that's the nature of compromise. And like the old saying goes: a decision that satisfies everyone's needs, but makes no one happy, is probably the fairest compromise possible.

No one gets exactly what they want, so everyone is unhappy in at least one way or the other. But that also likely means that it compromise serves the needs of the largest number of people.

Make no mistake - governing/government is a perpetual exercise in compromise (unless you live in a totalitarian dictatorship, incendiary criticism about the Bush administration ignored for now). It wasn't until recently that I saw the elbow grease/dirty fingernails of the workings of that at the Parks Advisory Commission meeting a couple weeks ago. The point of going was to show support for the Ann Arbor Skate Park, but watching the rest of the meeting was... interesting. It would seem that decisions made have reasons, and data to back them up (go figure!). Proposals in front of even modest groups like the Parks Advisory Commission still get bounced back when there's no data to support claims. There were multiple times I heard comments, criticism, discussion from commission members that showed that they did indeed have the interest of park users, taxpayers, and the future welfare of all of the city in mind.

Yes, I know... that's what they're supposed to do. I shouldn't be surprised when it happens. But still - it's nice to see that it actually happens in real life.

helllooo out there in TV land...

Well, not having had anything to rant about for a while, I guess I'm overdue. Today's topic of annoyance: morning TV culture.

I had the uhm... opportunity... today to sit in a waiting room while a friend went to to the doctor, and the waiting room TV had some apparently typical morning programming on. Regis and whoever, or Dr. Phil, or who knows what. I couldn't see it, just hear it, and I have to say that I was really kind of amazed at how much of it is essentially a full-length commercial. Commercials for other TV shows (with clips of the previous day's TV shows), promotion of fucked-up body image stereotypes, telling you who to trust and how to spend your money, accentuation of unnecessary anxieties. It's torturous. I don't know how people can watch it. And no, I'm not ranting from the high-and-mighty holier-than-thou perspective of the TV-free. I'm just reacting as someone who hasn't adopted this into their life. If it's not already something you do all the time, it is a weird-assed thing to see the constant performance of fake laughter.

Hours and hours of labor, millions of dollars worth of equipment to bounce a signal back and forth to satellites, all of it about... nothing. No wonder it's just one big ad.

It gets me all twitchy.