A Dip in the Inkwell

Ker-plat!

2008-10-15T11:27:00.000-04:00

da na na na na na na na
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da na na na na na na na
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da na na na na na na na

POW!

Oh Lordy Lordy

2008-09-20T20:02:00.004-04:00

What a whirlwind. I've been to Portland, Oregon attending a family wedding. We had an excellent time, until we went to the airport to fly home and realized that a communication error had led to us not being booked on a flight home. I spent more on the return ticket than I had spent on the rest of the entire trip.

The kitten was being checked-up on by Paws to Consider, a JP dog walking and pet-sitting service. She did really well. The pet-sitters left wonderful notes about how sweet and adorable she was, and she was very happy to see us when we got home. She hasn't acted ticked-off at us at all. She also had her first check-up, and things went well.

Now I just have to re-acclimate to work on Monday.

I wish I were this cute!

2008-09-06T17:13:00.007-04:00

This is Foot Foot (after the Shags song). She has one peanut butter colored foot (back right) and three chocolate colored feet, or paws I guess. We could call her Reese's. But we liked Foot Foot better.

Foot Foot was born to the feral colony that lives next to our house. When we first moved into this apartment, a litter had just been born. I occasionally see one of those cats lurking around. All of these cats are shy and even fearful of people. No matter how careful and patient I've been, I've never been able to get closer than a few feet before they've bolted. This summer another litter was born. I wish I had the resources to do more for this group, but getting one female off the street and spayed, innoculated and into a safe home will help, I hope.

Labor Day morning, we were looking through the chain link fence that separates our yard from the scrap yard behind the office building next door, and we saw some kittens and the mother cat. They all bolted. Except Foot Foot. She just pranced back and forth, just on the other side of the fence. If we walked away from her, she ran after us, mewling all the way. We hung out on the back steps with the door open and a bowl of water for her. Once she let herself in, we knew we were going to keep her.

When she came in, I left her with the missus while I went to the store for a litter box and some food (and cat toys, and cat nip, and litter). By the time I came back, she was passed out on the missus' lap. She sleeps with us, she follows us from room to room, and she purrs when we scratch under her chin. Ahhh contentment.

Annus Novus

2008-09-03T20:58:00.003-04:00

I am very connected to the academic calendar. Even though I am more-or-less done with formal schooling, living in Boston puts you on the September to August cycle. Everyone moves on September first, an odyssey I will never indulge in again.

September first this year marked one year in the new apartment. To celebrate, we adopted a kitten. It wasn't a conscious decision. The feral colony next to our house sheds a litter of kittens every summer, and usually none of those cats wants to have anything to do with people. They literally melt into the trees and scrap yards in the neighborhood. But one little kitten was being very brazen this weekend. She would take a few steps away when we approached her, but chase after us when we turned around and walked away. We gave her some water, and she followed us into the apartment. Once we closed the door behind her, that was that. She's a house cat now.

So, where's my money?

2008-08-21T21:15:00.003-04:00

When I was little, my family were constantly reminding me to not talk to myself. I've always done this, and still do. It isn't like I don't know what the answers are going to be. I just like to have a little company. But what I remember most is my grandmother telling me that people would think I had money in the bank if I talked to myself.

Still, no money in the bank. I'm going to keep talking to myself, though.

Blu.....bla...blacccckkk

2008-08-19T08:39:00.001-04:00

Blooorghh...Blahhhh. Blurp.

Ah. I feel better now. Sometimes my brain needs to upchuck, like my tummy.

I Was a Weird Kid...

2008-08-14T21:11:00.005-04:00

...and I haven't changed much.

When I was six or seven, I got a desk for my birthday. It was the greatest thing I had ever been given to that point in my life. I was ecstatic. When I was little, I played "office" the way some little kids play "school." I would just sit at my desk and pretend to do paperwork.

Today, I was working on redesigning a form that my office uses to process work, and I had to ask a coworker about some edits I was making. She commented on how well I approached editing the form as if I were someone using it, and I started waxing rhapsodic about forms in general.

"I love forms. They're like the artifacts of policies, and policies are how we express what our priorities and norms are. When you look at a form, you see what's important to people."

"...um...

...yeah...

...that's great, Kev. Let me know if you need my opinion on anything else."

Cripes. It's no wonder I always get pegged as the dork in the room.

Strong Bones and Teeth!

2008-08-10T21:28:00.002-04:00

The weekend is for fun. Rest and relaxation. And building strong bones and teeth. I do that with a nice cup of ice cream and a walk around the pond. August is when JP Licks goes all out with their flavors of the month. They have this chocolate chunk insanity madness type thing. It's got cashews and chocolate chips and it's yummy. Hooray for the weekend!

An Allegory

2008-08-08T22:54:00.002-04:00

If a man is addicted to heroin, and the increasing cost of the heroin drives him to burglary and theft in order to afford the heroin, cheaper heroin isn't going to solve his problem.

Topsy Turvy

2008-08-07T22:06:00.002-04:00

The last few summers I have made note of the fact that I hear cicadas either on or after August first. This summer I was surprised to hear my first cicada in late July -- it may have been as long as two weeks ago. What is really strange is that now that August is here, I haven't heard a single cicada. I'm getting all thrown off and disoriented.

Mixed Media

2008-08-06T21:51:00.004-04:00

I was reading the Boston Globe's new free monthly magazine, Lola, while eating my lunch today. The article I was scanning covered some suggestions for summertime activities. I'm not sure what the intent was, but many of the things listed were in boldface. I found myself lingering over the bold type, re-reading the sentences several times. For example, let's say one of the suggestions was, "summertime is a great time for a walk along the beach with an ice cream cone." My eyes would keep going over "ice cream cone" over and over. It suddenly dawned on me that I was waiting for a hyperlink. Like, where is the ice cream cone? Why aren't you sending me someplace where I can get more information about the ice cream cone? TOO MUCH INTERNETS!

Cozy

2008-08-05T22:06:00.003-04:00

When I was a kid, I had a very visual way of thinking. I guess that's pretty normal. I would picture certain things when I thought of certain words. The one I really remember is that every time I heard or read the word "cozy" I would picture two things: the scene in Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer when Rudolph, Herbie and Yukon Cornelius all settle down (together) in bed on the Isle of Misfit Toys, and the cover of my copy of The Cricket in Times Square. That was my favorite book when I was -- I think -- seven. I'm pretty sure my grandmother and mother read it to me, and I eventually read it myself when I was a little older. I've been perfectly happy living in small apartments in the city ever since.

What I Live (Here) For

2008-08-04T20:21:00.002-04:00

Twenty-one more days until September. Autumn is the reason I will never leave New England. And as far as I am concerned, Autumn runs from September 1st until the weekend after Thanksgiving. I know it isn't good to be living in the past or the future, but when summer starts to get a little boring (weather-wise) I really start to wistfully anticipate the cooler, drier weather.

Agnostic

2008-08-02T22:00:00.005-04:00

Here I was, thinking all along that the Sox weren't doing so well because I wasn't being a good fan and following along closely enough. See, there was a time when the West Coast trips were my favorite part of the season (and they used to happen later in the summer) because there was nothing better than staying up until 1 or 2 in the morning on a hot summer night watching or listening to a game. But those days are gone the way of my twenties -- and thirties -- and with the West Coast swing just before the All-Star break (and the break itself, which never really holds that much interest for me), I kind of fell behind in my support. I was still paying attention, but I wasn't really catching up on a daily basis.

I figured my sub-par support was responsible for their slipping in the standings. I mean, I knew Manny was up to some hi-jinx, but I didn't think it was causing much more of a distraction than usual. One thing I did think, though, was that the scuffle he got in with Youkilis a few weeks ago seemed really unusual. Yeah, yeah, pushing the geriatric travel secretary over in the clubhouse was kind of low class, but who hasn't wanted to punch a suit now and again? I mean, I am a suit, and I want to punch me all the time. Well, now Manny's gone and I'm off the hook. The new guy seems to be having an easy time finding that left field wall (both offensively and defensively) and Youkilis seems to be back on track. Hmmm, wait a minute. That all happened since I started paying attention again, didn't it?

Post-lunch Conversation, Friday Afternoon.

2008-08-01T15:13:00.003-04:00

Me: "I'm so glad they installed a sink in the break room. Now I can brush my teeth after lunch someplace other than the men's room."

D-- and N--: "Ewwww."

N--: "You can't brush your teeth in that sink. That's where I'll be cleaning the coffee pot and my lunch dishes."

Me: "So what?"

N--: "That's gross. You can't be spitting your saliva where I wash dishes and prepare food."

Me: "Where do you go to clean the coffee pot now?"

N--: "The ladies' room-"

Me: "And the sink in the public toilet is OK, but my saliva grosses you out?"

N--: "That's not the point-"

Me: "Besides, you can't possibly believe that no one has ever brushed their teeth in the ladies' room sink."

N--: "But it's not sanitary to be spitting in a sink where people will be preparing food."

Me: "People will be washing their hands there, too."

N--: "So."

Me: "Most people's hands are dirtier than their mouths."

N--: "Speak for yourself."

Me: "Really? Which one do you use to wipe your ass?"

N-- and D--: "EWWWWWW!"

(This is how most conversations among the three of us end.)

Splitting hairs. (Hares?)

2008-07-31T22:03:00.003-04:00

I was reading a book review this morning and the reviewer paraphrased the author's description of translation as being "more an art than a science." This is a pretty common phrase. I've always thought they aren't mutually exclusive. It's really more a matter of degrees. There's no rule that says you can't be systematic, disciplined and creative.

It's my idea and you can't have it.

2008-07-30T21:27:00.003-04:00

I had a great idea for a commercial for an exterminator service. Or, pest control service. I guess "exterminator" is a little strong for people nowadays. Anyway, I've seen the Orkin ads a few times, and had an idea of my own. It's pretty vague and needs to be flushed out, but this is the gist of it. A woman is following a trail of ants through her house. Of course it's a woman, because guys don't even notice ants in the house. At least not in commercials. Guys don't notice much of anything in commercials. Caked-on crap left on the dishes from the dishwasher. Foul odors. Skid marks. This stuff just doesn't catch a man's attention.

Anyway, Mrs. Housewife is following the trail of ants, and she is on the phone. She gets more and more agitated as she describes the scene: "They're in the bathroom. They're in the kitchen. Oh my God, they're everywhere!" The voice on the other end of the line says, "Stay calm, ma'am. You have to find the source. You need to find out where they're coming from."

She starts to tear apart some cabinets, and pops up into view with an anguished, almost maniacal look on her face. She screams, "Oh My God! They're coming from INSIDE the HOUSE. They're COMING FROM INSIDE THE HOUSE!!"

Get it? Well, that's my idea. MY idea. Don't you go stealing it.

Dinner

2008-07-29T21:02:00.010-04:00

2 tbs olive oil
2 cloves garlic, minced
~1 lb chicken breast, cubed
~3 cups broccoli crowns
~3 cups (uncooked) penne pasta
salt and pepper
grated cheese

Start the water for the penne. Anytime you make something with pasta, the very first thing you do is start the water. If it boils before you need it, just shut it off (or turn it down); it will wait for you.

Heat the oil in a heavy bottomed large pan. I have a large, stainless stew pot that works well. Add the garlic. Let it just start to get brown. Add the chicken. Put some salt and pepper on it. Cook it well on one side, then turn it. Cook it so it's a nice, golden color. When it's cooked all the way through, take it out of the pan.

Toss the broccoli crowns in the pan with about 1/4 cup of water, give it a quick stir, and cover. Turn the heat down to low. Let that steam for about 5 minutes, then toss the chicken back in, leave the lid off, and toss that around. The penne should be ready to drain by now. Toss that in with every thing else, turn off the heat and throw some grated cheese on top. Eat.

This is one of the easiest things in the world to make, other than a steak or a pot of boxed mac 'n cheese. Somehow, though, Lisa enjoys this as much as if it were 4 star cuisine. It's the gustatory equivalent of a bouquet of roses for me: no matter what I've done, I'm pretty sure I can get off the hook with a batch of chicken penne (not that I've ever needed it).

Some Things Are OK to be OCD About

2008-07-28T21:23:00.004-04:00

I have to do the dishes before I go to bed. If I wake up in the morning, and the coffee pot isn't clean and ready for me to use, my day is shot. I used to be a lot more of a slob, but nowadays a mess makes me nervous. Especially dishes in the sink. Now I need to develop some kind of neurosis about leaving a mess on my desk.

Good Eats

2008-07-27T15:54:00.002-04:00

I love tacos. Usually, I don't like things that involve cramming a bunch of different food together and eating it at once. I like to pick at things separately. I always enjoyed TV dinners when I was a kid, because everything had its own compartment. It isn't that I don't want my food touching; in fact I like to mix some things together. I don't normally like peas (I don't really do anything normally), but if you give me peas, mashed potatoes and gravy, I'll clean my plate. And if you put the peas in a vegetable samosa, I'll give you $7.95 and clean my plate. But I am not a big fan of burritos, fajitas or most casseroles.

Tacos, however, I love. And I love them crammed with all kinds of stuff. FULLY LOADED. GIVE ME THE WORKS! Meat, beans, lettuce, tomatoes, cheese, salsa, Tabasco sauce, sour cream and guacamole. Did you know guacamole was an Aztec word that means "sauce (mole) of the avocado (guavacado)?" At least I think that's what it means; I read it on Wikipedia. So, anyway, I love big, loaded tacos. And now, I am aided in my pursuit of fully stacked tacos by Old el Paso's "Stand and Stuff" taco shells. (Stand and Stuff - sounds like something I always wanted to do on an elevator). These shells have a wide, flat bottom (just like me) so they don't tip over when I add the fifth layer of toppings. Of course, they still promptly fall to pieces at the first bite, but that's part of the fun of tacos.

My Bright Idea

2008-07-26T22:24:00.004-04:00

Lisa and I took a walk around Jamaica Pond today. We saw geese and ducks and ducklings and dogs and JP's mascot, the albino squirrel. This little fellow is known far and wide in the neighborhood, and has even had a story written about him/her in the JP Gazette. I said to Lisa that there should be a flag for JP with the squirrel on it. I think it would be perfect for this neighborhood. A green background with a white squirrel with red eyes on it. Maybe there could be a slogan, too. Something like "Different and Happy" or "Stand Out In The Crowd."

Perfect Storm

2008-07-25T21:02:00.007-04:00

The stars have aligned to make this a costly summer. I dropped off my car for some routine maintenance and a sticker, and ended up needing lots of work. I wasn't going to bother, since I just signed up for a ZipCar membership, but I figure I can sell the car now and get at least enough to cover what I spent on repairs. I'm sure some college kid will pay a few hundred bucks for an old beater. (Comment here with an email address if you're interested in the details.) I am a little unsure if I want to be totally dependent on the ZipCar, but I work with a few people who live in the city and use it exclusively, and they say it's great. I can at least give it a try for a while.

On top of the auto issues, I spent three hours in the dentist's chair this afternoon. I wasn't even thinking about the cost of that, and when I went to check out, the bill was almost as big as the bill for the car. But I only have myself to blame for that (I only have myself to blame for any of my problems, really) so I ponied up the cash with a smile on my face. A nice, clean smile, too.

One thing to consider if you haven't been to the dentist in a while and are trying to find someone to go to: try to get a look at the size of his/her hands before you commit to any work. You don't want someone with mitts the size of Johnny Bench's trying to cram them into your tiny mouth.

Don't you need a license for those things?

2008-07-24T20:41:00.003-04:00

This morning at 8:10 I boarded the Orange line at Forest Hills and watched a woman feed her little boy Cheez-its for breakfast. When I got to work, the first story on CNN.com that caught my eye was about a judge in New Zealand ruling that parents could not name their child whatever they wanted. The parents in this particular case wanted to name their daughter "Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii." Actually, they did name the child that, and the judge made her a ward of the court so he could legally have it changed. The poor child was so embarrassed by the name that she never told any of her friends what it was, and asked them to just call her "K."

For the most part, I am completely noncommittal when it comes to raising kids. I don't have any of my own, so I am not about to tell other people how to raise them. But as I get older, I see more and more instances of blatant stupidity on the part of parents, and I have to almost bite my tongue to keep from saying something. Doesn't anyone with a shred of common sense know that Cheez-its are not breakfast food?

Like frikken Sisyphus

2008-07-23T19:50:00.003-04:00

On the evening of the 3rd of July, I chipped a molar. On a chicken tender, no less. A chicken TENDER. I didn't bite down on something hard and feel a crunch; it was more like something between my teeth. And when I went to remove it, it was my tooth. Long story short, I hadn't been to the dentist in years, and I found one the following Monday that was taking new patients. I went in, got a cleaning, and made about a half-dozen more appointments to have various issues dealt with.

Anyway, ever since the hygienist got my mouth nice and clean, I want to brush (and floss!) my teeth as soon as I'm finished eating anything. Suddenly, I am constantly staring at myself in the mirror, counting to thirty while I concentrate on going up-and-down and not side-to-side on each quadrant.

*Snoopy brusha brusha toothbrush, when you wake up in the morning...*

Learnin'

2008-07-22T22:29:00.004-04:00

Did you know that if you have rows or columns hidden in an Excel spreadsheet, and you select a big part of the spreadsheet and then press the control and semicolon keys, that you are selecting only the visible cells? And then you can copy and paste just the visible cells to another spreadsheet, and leave behind all the hidden stuff? Did you? You did?

Well, why didn't you tell ME, you JERK!? Coulda saved me a lot of time.

@#*&%!!

Ch-ch-ch-changes

2008-07-21T21:53:00.002-04:00

I don't remember the first time I noticed it, but there has been a dilapidated white Ford Thunderbird sitting in the driveway of a house on the VFW Parkway in West Roxbury for years. Based on the pictures I found on the web, I'm guessing it was a 1960, because the rear end (the only part I got a decent look at) didn't have the two big round taillights, but a row of smaller ones. A few months ago it got so rotted out that the trunk popped open and then the sheet metal on the deck lid slid off and left the frame sticking up in the air. On Friday, when we went to drop off some laundry, it was gone. I always thought I would end up watching it slowly melt into the blacktop of the driveway, and now it's just - poof - not there.

Anyway, no big revelation. Just thought I'd share.

Better than fireworks

2008-07-20T21:10:00.003-04:00

If you ever have the chance to ride out a thunderstorm on the bandstand at Jamaica Pond, you should - it's a great view and a perfect spot to take advantage of the cooling breeze that comes along with the storm.

Persistent Chauvinism

2008-04-21T10:41:00.004-04:00

The double standard applied to female athletes is an indicator of how little progress has been made in the realm of gender equality. I was very happy to see Danica Patrick finally get an Indy Car win. Auto sport seems like one area where the inherent physical differences between men and women could be evened out, and the sexes could compete head to head. Patrick has been criticized as not being a serious contender, because she isn't afraid to capitalize on the fact that she is an attractive woman when pursuing endorsement deals and marketing her racing career.

Why wouldn't the same criticism be levelled at David Beckham flopping around in his underwear? Or Michael Jordan, for that matter? In spite of all that has happened in the last 100 years, if you are an attractive woman, it is assumed that the only contribution you can make is as window dressing. If you do anything that isn't part of the regular program for a beauty pageant, you're tagged as either butch or an amusing novelty. It seems like most men are stil uncomfortable with the idea of a woman who would pursue anything more than a husband to make babies with.

Whooosh

2008-03-21T11:54:00.002-04:00

A whole month since I last wrote in my blaargh, and look at how much has changed. Okay, so I guess not that much has changed. (N.B. why does the blogger text editor tell me okay is a misspelling? Are you really supposed to spell it OK? OK; it doesn't treat that as a misspelling. That's crazy, but I guess technically it's correct.)

This whole early start to Daylight Saving Time is messing me up. I have a hard enough time saying "Daylight Saving Time" and not "Daylight Savings Time." Now I have to deal with it being at the beginning of March. It's too cold to be light out at 7:30 p.m. The only consolation is that I can feel the warmth of the sun a little more now than I could a month ago.

Another sign of spring was the big, fat gray and white feral cat sitting in my back yard the other morning. I don't know where they go or what they do, but you don't see them around from December to March. In the summer they come out almost every morning and sun themselves on the little patch of grass in our yard, or sit up on the fence and try to catch the birds flying in and out of the garage. I think this particular cat is getting fed, because he was almost chubby, not as scrawny and grubby looking as the other strays I see. Maybe he's my harbinger of spring.

No KO

2008-02-21T22:16:00.003-05:00

The debate tonight was what my father always described as "like kissing your sister." Not quite the real thing. We are getting down to the wire, and one of these candidates is going to be in the fight of his or her life (it's nice to be able to type that) in a matter of weeks. But tonight was a tame shadow of what the final election will be like.

The real fight will be on before Memorial Day, but the Democrats are still not sure who their horse will be. I think the nominating process is going to end with more of a whimper than a bang. If Hillary makes a comeback (and the Clinton machine is capable of comebacks) there could be an exciting horse race, but it will be over quick. If Obama stays on his roll, we will see the end come a little sooner and less dramatically. The best part is that regardless of who gets the nomination, the fact that the race lasted a little longer actually benefited the Democrats. Nobody is really interested in John McCain right now - he is probably happy for the ink he got from the Times today.

Evacuation Day is Coming

2008-02-18T16:28:00.002-05:00

You Are 88% Massachusetts

Wicked pissa! Now go down to Dunkies and celebrate.

How Massachusetts Are You?

One of the questions in this quiz is about Evacuation Day. If you look in the archives of this blaaaahhrrgg you will see that I am not only familiar with, but an enthusiastic celebrant of, Evacuation Day. In fact, I was just reading a book review in today's Globe of a biography of Henry Knox, the key participant in the events leading up to Evacuation Day (along with Ethan Allen and his Green Mountain Boys) and I thought, "that book would make a wonderful Evacuation Day gift."

I noticed that a few other people who took this quiz mentioned that they probably missed out on being 100% Massachusetts because of their dislike of Dunkin Donuts coffee. I think this is a mistake on the part of the quiz's authors. Nobody from Massachusetts actually LIKES Dunkin Donuts coffee, but they drink it anyway because the horrendous taste it leaves in your mouth keeps you wide awake through the morning traffic on 93 or the Expressway.

My Wife Calls it a "Wide On"

2008-02-15T09:57:00.001-05:00

That’s the expression she uses to describe female sexual “excitement.” Men get a hard on, women get a wide on. As in, “Boy, he had a hard on for that Lexus coupe,” or “That Fendi bag really gave her a wide on.” And right now, Ann Coulter has a wide on for the prospect of a Hillary Clinton presidency that you can’t imagine. She’s either going commando or changing her skivvies every ten minutes. (Personally, I hope it’s the latter, because the prospect of Ann Coulter going commando is repulsive – even more repulsive than she is under normal circumstances).

The last eight years have been pretty desperate ones for Fraulein Coulter. What’s a woman to do when the ruling administration is to the right of the Duke of Windsor and John Birch? She’s had to stoop to the level of the Joe Goebbels Handbook of Political Propaganda just to get anywhere near the front page of CNN.com. Not like the late 90s. Those were the days: ferried about in chauffeur driven limousines, four or five appearances a day, that bony face squawking out of every TV and radio in the land. And people actually listened to what she had to say then, too.

Just think, Ann, what another Clinton presidency could mean for you. A target you could slander at will, without fear of alienating your right-wing buddies. You and Rush could have a field day, what with a Democratic administration and Democratic majorities in the House and Senate – EVERYTHING would be their fault. Hell, you’ll even be able to blame them for the weather. So keep right on saying that you’d vote for Satan before you’d vote for McCain. Based on your past history, you probably won’t even vote in the right precinct anyway.

This Just In...

2008-02-08T10:06:00.001-05:00

Getting a PhD does not entitle you to show up at my office looking like you just rolled off the back of a Northern Pacific freight car, expecting me to treat you like the mayor, Albert Einstein and the Prince of Wales all rolled into one person.

Just thought you should know.

Stunner

2008-02-07T14:44:00.001-05:00

I just checked CNN and haven't had time to get the details, but my initial euphoria at the news of Mitt Romney's "suspension" of his presidential campaign turned to vile, bitter hatred when I read the reason he gave. Am I mistaken, or is he essentially saying that if you don't vote Republican, you are a terrorist or supporter of terrorism? This is the most asinine, arrogant, repugnant thing I have ever heard from any Republican. This is worse than when everyone was falling all over them selves calling that racist prick Strom Thurmond a great guy after he passed away.

I wouldn't be surprised if McCain offered him the Veep spot or a choice ambassadorship to bail out now. You know the Repugnicans are in trouble when they have to gang up like a bunch of thugs to win an election. (But when do they not act like thugs?) Ugh. I should be happy, but I am just disgusted.

I went to the POLL and I CAUCUSED.

2008-02-05T13:45:00.000-05:00

Well, I couldn't really caucus, since it's a primary. So I voted. But, I bumped into some friends who are neighbors, and we talked about politics, so that's like caucusing.

I am really nervous about this whole election year. I was supporting Edwards, and I think he dropped out too soon, which makes me think that either things weren't so rosy for him and Elizabeth in their private life, or some kind of deal was cut. The Clinton's make me nervous because they're shrewd, ruthless political animals, but I also have a lot of confidence in them because they're shrewd, ruthless political animals. The viral Obama music video/ad aggravated me more than it inspired me, because it is the kind of emotional-appeal demagoguery that makes me irate when the Republicans do it. It's the same thing as just showing the candidate in front of a flag with a caption reading "Americans are Great! Vote for me if you agree!"

The prospect of a McCain or Romney presidency really scares me, though. I think the Republicans are still attached to the concept of Manifest Destiny: "America is a world leader because she is mighty and powerful, and she is mighty and powerful because she deserves to be. Anyone who opposes this point of view doesn't just have a different opinion, they are wrong and dangerous. America's dominance and security are more important than things like free speech and civil liberties." I am afraid the transition from republic to empire has gone too far to be reversed.

Well, at least I still get to go to the polls and caucus.

Good Night Nurse.

2008-02-03T23:11:00.000-05:00

You won't see much written about sports in this blog. I was the kind of kid you'd find at the bottom of a pile of jocks, and I preferred books and science-fiction movies to tossing the ole pigskin or hitting the batting cages. I grew up believing that being a Bruins fan and a Red Sox fan was just what you did when you were from Boston, whether you understood what they were playing or not. I liked Fred Lynn, Carlton Fisk, Bobby Orr, Terry O'Reilly and Gil Gilbert (the goalie, not the keyboard player for New Order - although I like her, too). Nobody really remembers Gilbert. He used to come so far out of the net he was like a third defenseman.

Anyway, I was saying that I don't pay much attention to sports. So why am I up at 11:24 on the night the Patriot's had their "perfect" season ruined by Eli Manning, some guy named "Plasticon" or something, and the fact that Matt Light had his head up his ass? I don't really know. This was the first football game I've watched from beginning to end in a long time. And I actually found myself smiling when it became apparent that the Patriots might not (in fact would not) win. I have always liked underdogs. I only wish I had put some money on the hunch I had.

It's all in how you say it.

2008-02-01T10:22:00.000-05:00

I just wanted to start the month out by reminding everyone - it's not February, it's FABruary!!

That is all.

Prognostication

2008-01-30T14:11:00.000-05:00

So Edwards, who I liked because of his union position and his potential to have a good working relationship with Congress, is out of the race. I think Obama has a sincere desire to do good things for the middle class but might try to do too much at once and get off on the wrong foot with Congress, and Clinton has the machinery to get things running smoothly, although she's likely to show the same bias to the connected and well-to-do that was a hallmark of her husband's administration. I'm leaning towards Obama, but would put my money on Clinton if I were a betting man.

Giuliani has imploded, Romney is staying just this side of competent, and McCain is on an upswing. Huckabee is not going much farther, and most likely won't survive Super Tuesday. Maybe he'll stay in the race for the sole purpose of winning some delegates that he can pledge to his favorite. Two scenarios scare me. McCain getting nominated is frightening because I know there are Democrats that will vote for him. Romney is a little less scary because I don't think he'll hold his own in the general election, but if he does, and somehow gets elected president, he will probably go down in history as the next Herbert Hoover. That is, if Romney is elected, his plans for the economy will probably just exacerbate the problem.

The possibility that either party might actually have to go all the way to the convention to select a nominee is getting slimmer. I, for one, would find that fascinating. It's something no one in my generation can even recall. Sitting in front of the television until all hours, on a hot summer night, waiting for the 137th ballot. Hearing the roll call of the states' delegations as they declare for one or another candidate. Maybe a dark horse? Did somebody say "Al Gore?" The rumor mills and the smoke-filled back rooms. "I heard Mayor Bloomberg was on a train from NYC to St. Paul." As bad as it is for "democracy," the history buff in me gets a chill just thinking about it.

Anyway, it's not likely to happen. After next Tuesday, I'm thinking it will be McCain versus Clinton. A long, bitter and dirty general campaign. A late night/early morning wait for returns. Some surprises (McCain gets Michigan and Ohio, but Clinton actually pulls some of the Solid South back to the Democratic Party). Then, in all likelihood, a one-term presidency for whoever wins. George Bush has made such a mess of things that Solomon himself couldn't straighten it out in four years, and whoever "wins" this election is going to pay for that.

I am resplendent in divergence

2008-01-23T16:08:00.000-05:00

I am pretty sure that there was not another straight man at the gym today whose iPod shuffled from "Hot Rockin'" by Judas Priest to "Do You Really Want to Hurt Me" by Culture Club. I laughed out loud and the woman on the stationary bike next to the elliptical machine I was on gave me a funny look.

Judas Priest is (obviously) great workout music. The Point of Entry album is also great pop music. I got really snobby about "heavy metal" when I was in high school, because I was a highly evolved Mod who listened to post-punk and not that knuckle-dragging Neanderthal music made by big-haired loonies in make-up and denim. GobShiteWankerBollocks!!

Now that I go back and listen to it, a lot of that stuff -- especially the English metal like Iron Maiden and Motorhead -- was great music. Those bands were paying more attention to the songs than they get credit for.

Nancy Boy

2008-01-16T12:27:00.000-05:00

I have a confession. I like lattes. In particular, I like Starbucks' lattes. I like other places' lattes, too. I used to go down the street from where I lived and get them at a place called Java Jo's, and they were excellent. I'm not that picky. In fact, I think I proved I was a latte slut when I actually drank (and enjoyed) a Dunkin Donuts latte. It's the steamed milk. I can't resist foamy drinks.

My ex-girlfriend from many years back was an espresso fiend. She was the first person I ever met that made her own espresso, in one of those stove-top pots. But she would "steam" her milk by putting it in a small saucepan on the stove and whisking it with a wire whisk. Not quite a latte, but still, it was foamy milk. I wasn't a big coffee fan at the time. That probably had something to do with all the reefer I was smoking. I mean, it doesn't make much sense to drink something to wake yourself up when you just smoked yourself off to la-la land, right?

Then, she got a fancy espresso making machine. I think I might have even gotten it for her as a present. But the thing made horrible espresso. It was more like drip-percolated coffee. However, the little nozzle attachment did a wonderful job steaming milk. So the espresso maker became a fancy milk steamer, and she kept making espresso in the stove-top pot.

I got attached to coffee after I gave up the cheeba. My favorite cup of coffee is the one I make every morning in my stove-top percolator. It isn't an espresso maker, but a regular coffee pot. It's like the toy coffee pot I had with my GI Joe mess-kit. And I use half-and-half in my morning coffee. But later in the day, if I'm feeling naughty, I go to the Starbucks in the student center and get a Tall or a Grande. Then I mince back to my office and giggle like a schoolgirl while I try not to get foamy milk on my upper lip.

Resolutions

2007-12-31T17:55:00.000-05:00

In 2008 I will turn 41 years old, and will in no way be able to duck adulthood any longer. As such, I make the following resolutions in the interest of becoming a responsible, productive member of society:

I will endeavor to convince the English to stop spelling "orangutan" with a hyphen.
I will use the indefinite article "an" before all words beginning with the letter "h."
I will never end a sentence with a preposition.
I will lose ten pounds by exhaling twice as often as I inhale.
I will always tip exactly fifteen percent of the bill (before taxes).
I will learn to sign my name with my left hand.

Several years ago I resolved to double my weight, and then lose it all, in the course of the year. I didn't succeed. I am much more sanguine this time.

One Thing I Can Never Confess

2007-11-30T13:11:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I wonder why I stopped making music. I don't know.

Now I Get It

2007-11-23T19:09:00.000-05:00

I keep hearing "Ikea this" and "Ikea that" and I think, what the hell. It's just another store. People are such suckers. But, boy, I am as much a sucker as the rest of them. From the meatballs to the self-service furniture bins, I am a convert. For less than $250 we treated ourselves to an early Christmas. We came home with a Poang armchair and an area rug for the living room, four DVD bins, and lunch (actually, we ate lunch there). I put the chair together in the time it took me to make a cup of tea, and it is comfortably cushioning my ass right now.

The missus and I were joking about the "socialism for capitalists" approach. The restaurant has signs that explain why you need to bus your own table. You see, if you take care of some things yourself, and everyone pitches in, then you can pay less money for your lunch. And if you go and get your own furniture off the shelf, we can charge you less for that, too. Cooperation can actually bring the price down.

We also had the brilliant idea of combination grown-up/kids birthday parties at Ikea. Imagine if little Susie was invited to her BFF's party at Ikea? The kids can go play in Smålland and the grown-ups can take a lap through the store, then everyone can have meatballs, chicken fingers and mac and cheese for lunch. And you can finish the day up busing your own tables. Now that's something to be thankful for, comrades.

Five Things That Aren't About Me

2007-11-09T09:53:00.000-05:00

I've often thought of doing one of those "100 Things About Me" posts, but I just don't think I'm that interesting. And I hate the way most people fill them out:
87. I like dogs.
88. Except my sister's dog.
89. Which isn't to say I don't like my sister.
90. It's just that her dog smells.
91. Like, really bad.
You get the point.

So, instead, I thought of five things I think are important to remember. Aphorisms, if you will.
1. The satisfaction you get out of something is in direct proportion to the effort you put into it.
2. "Talent" is the ability to find enjoyment in something difficult.
3. God (if there is one) doesn't want us to answer only to God; God wants us to take care of each other.
4. It's "its" if it belongs to it, but it's "it's" if it is.
5. Laugh and the world laughs with you, but fart and you sleep on the couch.

That's it. Have a great day.

An Indulgence on this Rainy Day

2007-11-06T10:40:00.001-05:00

I would like to post something, but I haven't got any news to relate, I haven't had any particularly aggravating episodes recently, and I've only heard one good joke, which I cannot (and would not) reproduce here because it is insulting to every branch of my heritage. Furthermore, I am trying to spend more time at work actually working, and less in idle distraction. So, I am reproducing a wonderful short essay by one of my favorite writers. Follow the instructions below carefully, and the world will at once become a more sane and comforting place. (I stole the essay from www.booksatoz.com).

A Nice Cup of Tea
By George Orwell
Evening Standard, 12 January 1946.

If you look up 'tea' in the first cookery book that comes to hand you will probably find that it is unmentioned; or at most you will find a few lines of sketchy instructions which give no ruling on several of the most important points.

This is curious, not only because tea is one of the main stays of civilization in this country, as well as in Eire, Australia and New Zealand, but because the best manner of making it is the subject of violent disputes.

When I look through my own recipe for the perfect cup of tea, I find no fewer than eleven outstanding points. On perhaps two of them there would be pretty general agreement, but at least four others are acutely controversial. Here are my own eleven rules, every one of which I regard as golden:

* First of all, one should use Indian or Ceylonese tea. China tea has virtues which are not to be despised nowadays — it is economical, and one can drink it without milk — but there is not much stimulation in it. One does not feel wiser, braver or more optimistic after drinking it. Anyone who has used that comforting phrase 'a nice cup of tea' invariably means Indian tea.

* Secondly, tea should be made in small quantities — that is, in a teapot. Tea out of an urn is always tasteless, while army tea, made in a cauldron, tastes of grease and whitewash. The teapot should be made of china or earthenware. Silver or Britanniaware teapots produce inferior tea and enamel pots are worse; though curiously enough a pewter teapot (a rarity nowadays) is not so bad.

* Thirdly, the pot should be warmed beforehand. This is better done by placing it on the hob than by the usual method of swilling it out with hot water.

* Fourthly, the tea should be strong. For a pot holding a quart, if you are going to fill it nearly to the brim, six heaped teaspoons would be about right. In a time of rationing, this is not an idea that can be realized on every day of the week, but I maintain that one strong cup of tea is better than twenty weak ones. All true tea lovers not only like their tea strong, but like it a little stronger with each year that passes — a fact which is recognized in the extra ration issued to old-age pensioners.

* Fifthly, the tea should be put straight into the pot. No strainers, muslin bags or other devices to imprison the tea. In some countries teapots are fitted with little dangling baskets under the spout to catch the stray leaves, which are supposed to be harmful. Actually one can swallow tea-leaves in considerable quantities without ill effect, and if the tea is not loose in the pot it never infuses properly.

* Sixthly, one should take the teapot to the kettle and not the other way about. The water should be actually boiling at the moment of impact, which means that one should keep it on the flame while one pours. Some people add that one should only use water that has been freshly brought to the boil, but I have never noticed that it makes any difference.

* Seventhly, after making the tea, one should stir it, or better, give the pot a good shake, afterwards allowing the leaves to settle.

* Eighthly, one should drink out of a good breakfast cup — that is, the cylindrical type of cup, not the flat, shallow type. The breakfast cup holds more, and with the other kind one's tea is always half cold before one has well started on it.

* Ninthly, one should pour the cream off the milk before using it for tea. Milk that is too creamy always gives tea a sickly taste.

* Tenthly, one should pour tea into the cup first. This is one of the most controversial points of all; indeed in every family in Britain there are probably two schools of thought on the subject. The milk-first school can bring forward some fairly strong arguments, but I maintain that my own argument is unanswerable. This is that, by putting the tea in first and stirring as one pours, one can exactly regulate the amount of milk whereas one is liable to put in too much milk if one does it the other way round.

* Lastly, tea — unless one is drinking it in the Russian style — should be drunk without sugar. I know very well that I am in a minority here. But still, how can you call yourself a true tealover if you destroy the flavour of your tea by putting sugar in it? It would be equally reasonable to put in pepper or salt. Tea is meant to be bitter, just as beer is meant to be bitter. If you sweeten it, you are no longer tasting the tea, you are merely tasting the sugar; you could make a very similar drink by dissolving sugar in plain hot water.

Some people would answer that they don't like tea in itself, that they only drink it in order to be warmed and stimulated, and they need sugar to take the taste away. To those misguided people I would say: Try drinking tea without sugar for, say, a fortnight and it is very unlikely that you will ever want to ruin your tea by sweetening it again.

These are not the only controversial points to arise in connexion with tea drinking, but they are sufficient to show how subtilized the whole business has become. There is also the mysterious social etiquette surrounding the teapot (why is it considered vulgar to drink out of your saucer, for instance?) and much might be written about the subsidiary uses of tealeaves, such as telling fortunes, predicting the arrival of visitors, feeding rabbits, healing burns and sweeping the carpet. It is worth paying attention to such details as warming the pot and using water that is really boiling, so as to make quite sure of wringing out of one's ration the twenty good, strong cups of that two ounces, properly handled, ought to represent.

(taken from The Collected Essays, Journalism and Letters of George Orwell, Volume 3, 1943-45, Penguin ISBN, 0-14-00-3153-7)

Psycho Thriller, q'est-ce que c'est?

2007-10-26T23:19:00.000-04:00

Tonight I tried to get my "spooky" on by taking the missus to see Thirty Days of Night (N.B. I can't bring myself to type 30 Days of Night because you don't use numerals at the beginning of a sentence. Did you know N.B. is Latin for nota bene? That translates to "not important.") Anyway, I guess when it comes to horror films, I have a problem with the willing suspension of disbelief. Blood and guts stuff just does not creep me out. I was the kind of kid who would poke at road kill with a stick, and I was first in line to get my dissecting frog. I got an A+ in that. I once made the annual trip to the abattoir my grandfather brought his pigs to, and I was let down that we didn't get to go inside. I thought it was going to be like when my Dad brought us to the automatic car wash, where we walked alongside the car as it went through. In goes the pig, out comes the sausage, and every step in between. I don't particularly want to inflict harm on anything, but I am certainly not going to have nightmares about a simulated beheading.

I've always been more receptive to psychological thrills. Things that are out of place and unusual; things that should seem safe, but in unsafe settings. Like waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of a child's voice when you know there are no children in the house. The Blair Witch Project was the big fright several years back, but most of that was hysteria. Sobbing and screaming and "oh my God you guys I'm so scared" doesn't do anything but annoy me. But the one thing that totally wigged me in that movie (and even thinking about it now sends a chill up my scalp) was the scene toward the end when they were in the house and the lights were going on and off and the camera was flying all over the place. The chaos was just more of the same, but then for one brief moment you see one of the "film makers" just standing there, facing the wall, kind of slumped over. It was a real subtle tie-in to the back story about the house they were in, and the subtlety and evocativeness worked perfectly.

Thirty Days was like that. Lots of blood and guts, but almost too much chaos to be scary. Lisa and I agreed that when it did work was when it was subtle and evocative. One of our favorite creepy scenes was at the very beginning of the film. The "messenger" character is crossing the frozen tundra, with a large ship off in the distance. The shot pans out as he makes his way to the town, across the ice. That sense of misplacement, of the contradiction of there being nothing unusual about a man walking across the snow, but not this man in this snow, made the scene spooky. But then I get back to that suspension of disbelief thing. The premise of the film is that the town gets completely shut off from the rest of the world for 30 days because the sun goes down. Half the population makes a mad dash for the highway and the airport as the sun is setting for a month. But, uhm, the sun goes down every night here in Boston, and the last time I checked, planes fly in and out of Logan all night long. Airports and planes have these things called "lights." And then when Josh "not Keanu Reeves" Hartnett makes his "we live here because we're the only ones who can" speech it was feeling a little too Northern Exposure meets Buffy for my tastes.

Barney Frank Frank Frank, Barney Frank Frank Frank

2007-10-23T20:52:00.000-04:00

I don't know why that sounds so funny to me. It sounds like something I would chant with Scurvyann and the missus.

Friday night there was a dinner for the political science department at my school. It is the fiftieth anniversary of the founding of the department; kind of an independence day celebration, since the poli sci department was originally part of the history and government department. To us academics that's significant, since history is usually considered part of the humanities, while poli sci is a social science. But that isn't particularly interesting, and it is only peripherally related to Barney Frank.

Congressman Frank was the keynote speaker at the dinner. I was surprised by how...well...frank he was. At one point he was talking about the perception that politicians are really sneaky about raising money. He said, "You know, now that I'm committee chair, especially of a money committee," (Frank is chair of the financial services committee)"here's my fund raising pitch:" {holds out left hand}.

Another excellent point he made was the intrinsically political nature of Congress. In reference to the Terry Schiavo case, he said, "If you want a problem solved without politics getting involved, don't refer it to 535 politicians."

Most of his comments, though, were about the positive aspects of partisanship. The parties in America do have a purpose. They connect people to their government. The parties are how the average citizen gets involved, and people who participate in local parties are part of an intelligent, informed debate. On the other hand, people who do nothing but listen to talk radio or read political blogs that reinforce their own opinions don't do much of anything. In fact, they probably don't even vote. If all the people who listen to Howie and Rush and read the Huffington Post and the Daily Kos got off their asses and out from behind their monitors and attended a town Democratic or Republican meeting there would be no doubt whose hands the government was in.

Sometimes I type like Homer Simpson talks

2007-10-19T14:10:00.000-04:00

Sax-a-ma-phone. Here is a brief list of some of my most common typos. They're fun to say out loud:

Academcy
Ocotber
Fabruary
Pharmaceleutical
Promposal.

Carry on.

Quick Rant (One of Many)

2007-10-18T09:54:00.000-04:00

Citizens Bank - Not Your Typical Bank

Well, you can't fault them for a lack of truth in advertising. What should tip you off that this place is a giant repository of sub-par intelligence and utter contempt for customers is the fact that they can't even be bothered to use correct grammar in their name. Is it a citizen's bank, or perhaps several citizens' bank? No. It's Citizens Bank. Don't even get the idea that you have some kind of ownership or stake in this place - it ain't your bank, it's ours, and we'll do what we like with it.

The missus and I moved six weeks ago. Shortly after settling in to the new place, I sat down with the phone and called the Bank that is not of or for Citizens to provide my new contact information. I got the usual voice mail menu. I started pressing buttons. I got nowhere. In a fit of pique I started hitting the 0 button until I heard a ringing tone. After a few more minutes on hold I finally had someone on the other end. I went through several minutes of slowly spelling my new address, and wrapped up the call. If your typical bank is staffed by competent professionals, than yes, Citizens is (are?) definitely atypical.

Two weeks later I get a bank statement. It's got my new address on it. Yay! It's got someone else's name and account information on it. Booo! I guess they figure, what the hell, one citizen is pretty much like any other, right?

I tossed the statement aside and decided to be patient and see if my statement showed up. But I lost track of things and suddenly it was the middle of October and I haven't seen a bank statement since August. So this morning I call the bank. Once again, my only hope of addressing the problem I have is to hold down the 0 key until the automated voice says (with a hint of pre-recorded exasperation), "Please hold while we transfer you to an operator." I swear I could hear someone mutter "Troublemaker" under their breath.

Next I found myself on the line with "Dewey." Dewey seemed really confused, poor guy. He had my new information, but then, he didn't. It was correct on one screen, but not on another. I slowly (very slowly) spelled everything again, and got off the phone with him with a sinking feeling of resignation in my gut. Something tells me I am not going to see a bank statement any time soon.

Political Symbols in Fiction: A Comparative Examination

2007-10-16T08:10:00.000-04:00

Very academic title, that. In fact, I have always wanted to write about the characterization of politics in novels, but that is something left to a graduate student in literature, political science, although there are undoubtedly ample opportunities for cross-disciplinary work like this. While the academic literature in political science, works such as The American Voter, The New American Voter, Citizen Politics and Party Systems and Electoral Systems, provide facts from which we can draw inferences, works of fiction like Edwin O'Connor's The Last Hurrah contain as much truth about how political systems work. We can take all the cross-tabulations, typologies, and indices from the former and connect them to characters, actions and motivations in the latter.

There are four novels that I read in pairs, which would form a nice core of political fiction. The first two have a personal point of view, and would (in the academic parlance of political science) be from the rationalist perspective. The books are not deliberately or ostensibly political; they are both the stories of men at the point of middle age. The second two are books written deliberately as comments on American politics and, in fact, address the same essential question.

The first two are George Orwell's Coming Up For Air and Sinclair Lewis' Babbitt. These books work very well side-by-side, and are particularly good in comparing British and American culture. They are both set in that period of nervous energy between the First and Second World Wars, although Coming Up For Air occurs much closer to the war and uses the building expectations of conflict as a central theme. Both books have as their protagonists anti-heroes, both named George. (In fact, they have the same initials: George Bowling and George Babbitt.) These portrayals of men in the midst of a rapidly and violently changing world present real and believable depictions of anomie and alienation at the human level.

The second two books are Philip Roth's The Plot Against America and another Sinclair Lewis novel, It Can't Happen Here. These two form an obvious pair for comparison, (at least one review I read of Roth's book referred to Lewis's) as they are both "alternate histories" that examine the question of how far America was pushed toward fascism as a result of the Great Depression and the conflicts in Europe. The Lewis novel is not one of his best; the characters are a bit stock and the last third of the novel seems as though it were rushed to a conclusion. Lewis was an unreformed alcoholic, and several of his books have this problem. He would lose patience with himself and his creations and finish just for the sake of finishing. The Roth novel is, in my opinion, excellent. Some critics have complained that the historical scenario he paints is far-fetched and shows a poor opinion of the American public, especially rural America. History, however, has borne out more than one far-fetched scenario, and the American public only deserves the generosity it displays. In a country where a group of people (no matter how small) can make a practice of showing up at military funerals with signs saying "God Hates Fags" we need to admit we can expect the worst.

It was a pair of incidents from these second novels that gave me the idea (and the title) for this entry. In both books, the protagonists are having a hard time understanding the appeal of the charismatic political leaders who are vying for power. (In Roth's book that character is Charles Lindbergh, running for president against FDR on a "Stay Out of War in Europe" platform.) The pivotal episode for each, which allows them to see the grasp these men have on their audience -- if not succumb to it -- is a rally at Madison Square Garden. The similarities between the two episodes are striking and enlightening. One interesting difference is the perspective of the protagonists in each novel. Lewis has his hero attend the speech in person, while Roth's listens to the speech on the radio. Otherwise, the effect and the outcome are quite similar. Both stories show how appeals to emotion outweigh appeals to reason in the political arena. This is an important lesson more acutely and accurately conveyed in a novel than a textbook.

Lazy, lazy, lazy. Lazy all around.

2007-10-11T21:58:00.000-04:00

(The missus has Flashdance on in the other room, and Lady Lady Lady started playing just as I typed this.)

I was going to write a letter to the Globe, but I haven't had a chance to sit down and compose something nice and organized and well thought out, so I am just going to rant quickly in here. I am never surprised when Jeff Jacoby's op-ed pieces in the Globe piss me off. The guy is just the paper's token conservative and it is almost guaranteed that whatever issue is at the top of the news during any given week, he will be spouting the (Republican) party line.

Yesterday, though, his piece was odious more for its lack of effort than anything else. He decided to jump on the Obama-bashing wagon because of the flap over the Senator's decision not to wear a flag pin on his lapel like every other lock-stepping automaton. Barack's statement was (and Jacoby quoted him) "I noticed people wearing a lapel pin and not acting very patriotic." Jacoby then spends six paragraphs excoriating Obama for daring to utter disparaging words about all the wonderful, patriotic Americans who wear lapel pins. Jacoby's vision of America (like Ann Coulter's) is one where we all go along. If a symbol can stand in for a sentiment, then by God you better have the symbol on your chest like everyone else, and don't dare question the sincerity of anyone sporting the same symbol.

The most aggravating thing is that Jacoby, a graduate of the BU School of Law, would make such a logically fallacious argument and use it for the basis of an entire column. It's insulting. Does he think that the readers of the Boston Globe aren't intelligent enough to know the difference between Obama saying some people who wear pins might be misrepresenting themselves and all people who wear pins are misrepresenting themselves? Of course it's completely unverifiable but I would be willing to bet any amount of money that, had John McCain or Rudolph Guiliani made the exact same statement, Jacoby would have broken out his Roget's and found every synonym for brave he could (and made some up) and written ten paragraphs about it.

But I'm one to talk; I was going to write to the Globe but I blahrrgd about it instead. I'm too lazy to send a letter out.

P.S. Has Ann Coulter completely lost her mind, or is she just so worried that she's gone a month without making the front page of CNN that she had to say something completely ridiculous?

"You've never been anywhere, have you ahss-hole?"

2007-10-09T22:51:00.000-04:00

Death is a strange and difficult thing to deal with for everyone. One perspective I recall reading is that death is the only supernatural event with which everyone has experience. We all lose someone at some point in our lives; we all have to come to grips with a life, a soul, leaving forever.

I've been fortunate in that I really haven't had too much loss in my life. My parents and siblings are all still alive. I even have one surviving grandparent, which is remarkable for a forty-year-old. My family just celebrated my paternal grandmother's ninetieth birthday two weeks ago. My only experience with the unexpected loss of a close family member was the sudden death of my aunt at the age of fifty.

Last week, though, my close friend's father passed away. Adam and I have known each other since we were fifteen, and I spent a lot of time at his house. His father was a friend to me, too. In fact both his parents were. I always felt that they were the kind of people who were a phone call away if I ever needed them. They were nice enough to open their house to our band and let us rehearse there for years, and made us feel welcome every single time we showed up.

Freeman was a teacher and a raconteur, and he loved the sound of his own voice - but with good reason. He was the most successful debate coach Melrose High School ever had (and ever will have), and had a love of American history that infected those around him (at least it did me). He also had a bizarre, absurdist side that came, I think, from not being afraid to be unusual or conspicuous. Every group of friends has "in" jokes; sayings, quotes from movies, Freudian slips that came out at just the right time. The jokes among me and my band mates, who were exposed to Freem on a regular basis, are filled with "Freem-isms." After dinner one night, Sally announced that she had made coffee jell-o for dessert. I'd never had coffee jell-o (I didn't even know it came in that flavor) and said as much. Freem looked at me as if I had just said "Really, the Pope isn't a Methodist?" and exclaimed "Never had coffee jell-o? You've never been anywhere, have you ahss-hole!?" He was forever calling me an ahss-hole and a horse's ahss and (my personal favorite) a touch-hole. And always with a great, big smile on his face. Probably the strangest Freem-ism was a complete non sequitur. We were eating pizza and somebody mentioned Taco Bell. Freem was finishing off a bite of pepperoni (his favorite) and with a big grin on his face said, "Taco Bell, mon! My brudder been down dere." !? Whatever he meant, it's a mystery he has taken to his grave.

When I got the news that Freeman had passed away, I was stunned. I hadn't seen him in almost a year, and the last time I saw him he was in relatively good health and spirits. He had had his share of health troubles, but it seemed like things were turning around. But this year wasn't a good one for him, and there were more setbacks than advances. In one sense, I was glad that I had a memory of him frozen in my mind from better times; but that seems almost unfair. The people who meant the most to him had helped him right up to the end, and they couldn't replace the reality with a softened version of the past. He got sick. He got sicker. And he died.

I didn't know what to expect at the wake. To me, this seemed like such an untimely and unfair loss. A man, perhaps old and ill, but still vital, was "suddenly" gone. In my universe, Freem was there one minute, calling me a "horse's ahss" and telling raunchy stories, and gone the next. But when I talked to his sons they told me no, this was expected. Yes, he was still himself right up to the day he died, but he was tired. I got the impression that he went out on his own terms. And at the memorial service the next day, Adam gave the most touching and eloquent eulogy I have ever heard, with equal measures of remorse, respect, irreverence and humor. After that, I heard a story about Freeman's last day from Cal and Adam and it all started to feel like less of a sudden departure.

There are a lot of things I'll miss about Freeman Frank, and I am sure I won't miss him even half as much as his family, but his life was whole and complete. So, really, nothing is "gone." Freem was there, and is there, and will always be there. And I'll always be a horse's ahss.

Some comments that I've heard recently that can only be described as stupid:

2007-10-05T10:40:00.000-04:00

Listening to NPR this morning (I know, I'm turning into a stereotype, but 'BZ has too many frikken commercials), there was a story about Donald Rumsfeld being named to a fellowship at the Hoover Institute at Stanford. Several faculty and students started a petition expressing their dissatisfaction with the choice. After all, Donald Rumsfeld is the primary architect of what will have to go down in American history as the first big blunder of the 21st century. And even the people in his own administration are attributing the failure of the war in Iraq to his misjudgements. But do you know why the faculty and students are protesting his appointment? Because liberals are intolerant and dismissive of alternative opinions, according to Greg Lukianoff and Roger Kimball.

In class last night, we were discussing states where the government had no authority outside of the capital city. One of the students actually said, "isn't that just like the situation in Harlem, New York?" ??!! Watch a little too much Law and Order lately, pal?

This morning, the train was crowded - quelle surprise - and a man who got on felt it was just too unfair for him to have to deal with this. He leaned up against a pole with his rather large posterior right in the face on a woman sitting in one of the seats. She said, "Excuse me!," and he replied "Snooty Bitch!" I was stunned, and just stared at him (he was right in front of me). I'm always shocked that people can make it to adulthood with such ignorant attitudes. He noticed me staring at him and said, "Well, she is a snotty bitch."

Ummm...

2007-09-19T09:57:00.000-04:00

...I was in a coma for seven months...

...I was thinking of joining the priesthood and went to a seminary, but earthly temptations proved too much to withstand...

...I spent most of my time doing utterly boring and mundane things that have no business being blarrgghhed about.

One of these statements is a fact, or what a philosopher would call an objective consensus on a fundamental reality. I'll let you decide which one.

In the meantime I will tell you that it is also a fact that I have a Master's degree in public policy and am now officially a PhD student. I will probably take my comprehensive exams next fall and submit a dissertation proposal, at which point I will be a doctoral candidate, or what is referred to as ABD (all but dissertation). This will be a step up from my usual state of ADD, ADHD and ASSHOLE.

Lisa and I are in new digs closer to the center of JP. The apartment is beautiful, newly renovated and wonderfully spacious. The only drawback is a lack of closet space. All our dirty little secrets are out in the open, like the fact that we own no less than seven guitars, two amps, a drum kit, a keyboard and enough assorted percussion instruments to do a live version of Don't Stop 'til You Get Enough. I think we even have a Vibra-Slap. Dirty.

I was talking with somebody about how clothes are an extension of the image you want to project, and we agreed that your house/home/apartment is (or can be) an extension of that, too. Moving out of the old apartment has had a good effect on my psyche. The old place was a decent apartment. Lots of closets. But the rooms were all separated from each other by tiny little doorways. As you walked from the living room at the front of the apartment to the kitchen in the back, you had to do a kind of psychic compression through each doorway. In the new place, the living room and kitchen are connected by a great big doorway. In fact they're almost one big room. I can stretch my head a bit.

We still have a lot of boxes to empty out, and I need to get rid of a few dozen books if I can find that many I can part with, but we immediately felt at home here. Now I have to get over the inertia that has settled in and get the last of the stuff unpacked and in place. It's funny how stuff you thought was absolutely essential to your life can sit at the bottom of a box for a month and you don't even miss it. What more proof do I need that it wasn't so important in the first place?

You Can Not petition the Lord with prayer!

2007-02-17T20:50:00.000-05:00

I was reading an article on crisis pregnancy centers in Time magazine this afternoon. The abortion debate is truly one of those intractable discussions that may never be completely settled. I have my positions on the issue, which I won't go into here. I assume most people who know me know how I feel about this, and I am not one to proselytize. The comment I read that got me thinking was an opinion expressed by the CEO of a "pregnancy services" center in Asheville, NC. She says, "the Bible clearly states that sex outside of marriage is against God's will for our lives."

This seems like a reasonable and widely accepted point of view. Most people, believers or not, would say that the Bible does not support pre- or extra- marital sex. But if you really study the Bible closely, it is not so clear. People often point out that the Bible sets many standards that could not be followed today. Slavery, polygamy, and indiscriminate slaughter are all condoned at one point or another in the Bible, but no reasonable person would argue that they are acceptable in today's world.

My point is that whenever anyone says those four words -- "the Bible clearly states" -- what follows is invariably a subjective statement of what that person believes. Furthermore, it is usually a prelude to some statement that the speaker thinks is a fundamental moral law that no one could argue with. The Bible does not clearly state anything, and in fact just about any position that the Bible can be used to support, the Bible can also be used to refute.

The other statement that always sets me off is "I only answer to my Lord." One virtually universal sentiment in world religions is that whatever diety exists is primarily concerned with how we treat each other. It is inherent in faith that we have a responsibility to each other. You can't do whatever you feel like and justify it by claiming to "answer to the Lord."

What marriage means to me.

2007-02-08T14:37:00.000-05:00

The missus, like many missuses, asks me to confirm that what she is wearing for the day looks okay. She will sometimes use the classic "Does this make me look fat" but usually she has a specific and perfectly reasonable concern that I have no qualms addressing. Often it's just a matter of making sure something isn't too wrinkled and that she doesn't have a stray sock or pair of panties stuck to her skirt. I occasionally ask her to return the favor.

This morning I was contemplating my wardrobe and had a small problem. It's been bitter-ass cold all week, and I don't own too many sweaters. I was down to the last sweater in the closet, a straightforward crew-neck in a boring shade of brown. The trouble is, I was planning on wearing my brown pants, too, and I thought the outfit was going to make me look like a UPS driver (not that I have a problem with UPS drivers). So I caught her attention as she was getting ready to leave and said, "Hey, do you think this brown sweater will be okay with these pants? Cause I don't want to, you know, look like a..."

"Big turd?" she interjected.

"...uh...yeah, that or a UPS driver. Do you think I'll look like a big turd?"

"Oh no, honey. Of course not. Bye."

Hhm.

2007-02-01T16:34:00.000-05:00

I am at work with the "radio" on KEXP, and the Stranglers (or is it just Stranglers) "Golden Brown" just came on. I've always liked this song, but I never really knew the lyrics beyond "never a frown, with golden brown." Now that I've listened to them closely, I realize that it's basically (as far as the lyrical message is concerned) the same as "Brown Sugar" by the Rolling Stones.

Unless it's about heroin.

It's already happening!

2007-01-26T14:24:00.000-05:00

See, it's already Groundhog Day (practically) and this is only the second time I've written here. I am keeping ahead of things for the most part in the rest of my life. I need to write an essay to get into the PhD program at school, even though I already wrote them an essay eighteen months ago. I wonder if they'd notice if I sent the same essay?

I went searching on Amazon yesterday for books on finding freelance research work. I know I could buy one of those Writer's Market books for technical writing, but I was hoping to find something that would give some tips on finding clients and pitching yourself to companies. I am not sure if I want to pursue that or not, but it is an option as I get further along in my education and can convincingly bullshit -- I mean sell myself as a capable researcher/analyst.

Right now I feel like I spend most of my time (the time I'm not goofing off on the Internets) figuring out shortcuts to transform Excel spreadsheets into workable data files. The more computers become central to everything we do, the more we all become glorified code writers.

I think I'll try and hold my breath for 2007.

2007-01-04T11:16:00.000-05:00

I know it's so commonly said as to be a cliche, but 2006 went by ridiculously fast. I made resolutions for last year that I didn't so much break as just never got around to. I feel like I spent the entire year catching up: catching up on school work, on office work, on friendships and family time. There were coworkers and friends who I literally didn't talk to all year.

So, for 2007, my one simple resolution is not to let myself get so far behind in things. If I can control things a little better, maybe this year won't fly by like the last.

Changing topics, I have been following all the flap that new Congressman Keith Ellison has caused by using the Koran to take his oath of office. It amazes me that people, and more specifically another Congressman, would be so ignorant of the principles of religious tolerance that they would take issue with this. Unfortunately the kind of rigid, xenophobic, narrow minded dolt who equates "Muslim" with "terrorist" will not be convinced otherwise by any argument, no matter how eloquent the words or unassailable the patriotism of their source. That the Congressman who represents the district in which Thomas Jefferson was born would stoop to making fear-mongering statements about the need to tighten immigration restrictions or risk the prospect of more elected officials taking the oath of office on the Koran is sickening.

Noise noise noise noise

2006-12-17T20:57:00.000-05:00

I finally put pictures of the Christmas tree up. They're at my Flickr site, which you can link to from the bookmark over on the right. The one that says "My Photos."

I spent most of this past weekend with family members, especially many small children. And some not so small children. I know this is something everyone says, to the point of sounding trite and cliched, but kids really grow up fast. I have a mental picture in my mind of my step-brother changing my niece's diaper on the floor of my father and step-mother's house on Christmas eve. I can here all the sounds and conversation going on around me, I can smell the food that was being served in the kitchen, and most of all I can remember thinking how silly she looked getting her diaper changed. She was just kind of looking up at my step-brother and waiting for him to be finished (she was probably about two and wasn't going to be in diapers too much longer). I don't remember the exact year, but it had to have been well over ten years ago because I saw her yesterday at my step-sister's house and she is three inches taller than me (in heels) and a sophomore in high school.

Having the chaos of children around reminded me of something I though of in church a couple of weeks ago. The Episcopal parish I go to does Sunday school in the parish hall up to the point in the service where the congregation exchanges the peace of Christ. As we shake hands and get ready for the Eucharistic part of the liturgy, the kids pour in and join their parents in the pews. They help with the collection, and then generally buzz and hum about until the end of the service. This means that while the vicar is telling the story of the Eucharist, and blessing the bread and wine, and during the recitation of the Lord's prayer, there is a lot of giggling, chattering, wandering, and occasional squalling going on. The more experienced parishioners make no attempt to hush or huddle their children.

I can imagine some parents going crazy with this type of activity going on during what is the most solemn and important part of the service, and I have often imagined a kind of dialogue in my head between a more strict parent and the parents of St. John's. Two things occurred to me, which made it clear that not only does this method of dealing with restless children in church not do any harm, it adds something very useful to the experience.

First is what the distraction of children's voices and footsteps during the Eucharist provides for adults. It is a challenge of sorts. We are constantly distracted and preoccupied in our daily lives, and yet Christ (or God or whatever your flavor of faith is) expects us to stay focused. We acknowledge the distractions, we deal with what we have to, but we get our minds back on the task at hand and stay connected to our faith. If we concentrate and find balance in our minds, we will hear the most important parts of the message of faith through the din of the everyday world.

The second realization I had concerned the children themselves, and my response to someone who felt that they should be compelled to pay attention during the service. The benefit children get from going to church, especially very young children, is hardly in the specific lessons and words they hear there. What is most important is the model of behavior they see being set by the adults around them. If they are being scolded by parents who are focusing more on being in control than they are on the transcendence of the moment, they won't come away from the churchgoing experience with any sense of the peace and reassurance that regular worship brings. After all, how many kids who were forced to attend church every Sunday throughout their childhood abandoned it the moment they had the freedom to? And how much good is it doing for those people who go only because it was programmed into them?

After spending the last two days surrounded by tumbling, chattering, squawking, crying, laughing and questioning voices, I have reached a sort of indifference to it. Not an indifference to the kids, but an ability to squelch the noise and filter the distractions and not lose my mind. I imagine this is what most parents learn to do, eventually. When I think of all the adults in my life when I was a child, I am amazed at what they accomplished while my brother or cousins or friends and I were raising a ruckus. They carried on conversations, played card games, read books, watched television and a host of other things. You must just get used to it after a while.

O Tannenbaum

2006-12-12T15:29:00.000-05:00

After six years in school, I am beginning to associate the holidays with panic-stricken paper writing. With the exception of one fall term when the school fiddled around with the schedule -- and the term ended after the new year -- the Christmas season has also marked a period of multiple assignment deadlines. I'm actually enjoying it this year; it adds to the whole intense, expectant, anticipatory mood of the season. And I would like to think I am getting better at slamming out papers, so it is getting easier (but I'll wait to say that with 100% conviction until after I get this term's grades.)

Right now I am trying to decide whether I am going to go out shopping tonight, or finish the last of my papers. I really need to get some presents for a family get together this weekend, and I can write during work hours tomorrow and Thursday (when the paper is due). But tonight I just don't feel like shopping. I have no idea what to get, anyway. I need some presents for little nieces and nephews that I don't see very often, so I'm not sure what they're into. And I am looking forward to writing this paper.

The whole process of writing is getting easier and more enjoyable for me. I outline things in my head and literally visualize the paper coming together. I picture a body, like a lizard or a cat, and the main idea is the spine. The head is the introduction, that has a little bit of everything in it. The legs are the specific points I want to concentrate on, and the tail is the re-statement of the most important point I am trying to make. Once all those parts are filled in I can sit down and knock off how ever many pages I need just by adding to each part.

The hardest part of writing academic papers is digging through sources for references. I have to develop a system of keeping quotes and citations easy to access, so I can drop them in at the appropriate place and not spend 45 minutes flipping through a book or article looking for the few relevant words I know I read somewhere. I'm sure there are software tools for this, but I have to get used to using them. I have a nice outlining software for Mac that was free, but I never use it. The university also licenses EndNote software for bibliography writing. If I were smart I'd start a database of my sources now and save myself all that typing come dissertation time.

Last but not least, we got our Christmas tree up this past weekend. I'm going to post some photos later. It is a great tree - shaped like a perfect triangle, and decorated to perfection by the missus. She's kind of particular about it. I try to help, but I usually end up doing a crossword and watching "A Christmas Carol" while she agonizes over ornament placement. I do the take down. It used to depress me, but I get as excited by the end of Christmas (and the start of a new year) as I used to get by the beginning of it.

T-day plus 2

2006-11-25T20:20:00.000-05:00

I made pie. And cranberry chutney. And broccoli bake. The broccoli bake is like the classic green bean casserole, with the French fried onions and Campbell's soup, only you use broccoli instead of green beans and cream of broccoli soup instead of cream of mushroom soup. The cranberry chutney is one of my favorite things to cook and eat. That's made with shallots, ginger, garlic, sugar, cider vinegar and cranberries. Savory and sweet, and it is great on a turkey sandwich.

The masterpiece was my pie: buttermilk pecan. Two cups of sugar, one cup of buttermilk and one stick of butter (among other things). It is one of the richest, sweetest things I've ever eaten. Good thing I only make it once a year.

The leftovers are almost gone. The weekend is almost over. The season is in full swing now. Blink and you'll miss it.

Remembrance Day

2006-11-11T22:55:00.000-05:00

It was a bright, warm November day, and I took a walk around the pond. I noticed a lot of empty jackets forgotten on benches; it must have seemed like a good idea when you left the house, but sixty-five degrees is too warm for that micro-fleece knit pullover. This time of year, the sun is always low in the sky, and shadows and glints of light bounce around and keep me squinting and distracted. I can't focus on any one thing for too long, but I never could, even under the best of circumstances.

Saint Martin, according to legend, cut his cloak in half to save a freezing beggar. A period of warm weather on (or near to) his feast day is often called St. Martin's little summer, and it is believed that there always is a spell of warm weather in honor of his kindness. In America, these warm spells are called Indian Summer, in honor of the opportunity they provided for the savage brutes to squeeze in one more attack before the winter settled in for good. Imagine the audacity! Such a crass lack of hospitality. And after we gave them all those blankets to keep them warm.

Today a WAR MEMORIAL was dedicated at the school. WAR MEMORIALS strike me as misleading and contradictory. This one is not very imaginative or subtle: black granite with etched, coarsly photo-screened images of war on one side, stainless steel plaques like over-sized dog tags on the other. Inflexibility and strength. And a too-human tendency to replace memory with an archivist's ledger. Shouldn't the point of every WAR MEMORIAL be a compelling persuasion to never let this happen again, and not some macho promise of immortality? Dulce et decorum est, indeed.

I remember realizing, in a history class I took two years ago, that the anniversary of the abdication of Kaiser Wilhelm and Kristallnacht were one day apart. How you remember is just as important as what you remember.

"Fellas, it's been good to know ya."

I'd Rather Be Wrong and Happy...

2006-11-10T12:58:00.000-05:00

I will continue to make gloom-and-doom predictions, but at least my mistakes aren’t too difficult to swallow. Regarding my post at the end of September, I stick with my assertion that the Massachusetts Democratic Party didn’t really get behind Deval Patrick: he won this entirely on his own. Or, more correctly, Kerry Healey lost it. She would have had a chance with a low-key campaign that stuck to identifying Patrick as the tax-and-spend liberal he admits he is. Instead she went with tactics more reminiscent of the national GOP and got blown out of the water. Thank goodness.

On the national level, I am also pleasantly surprised. I think this reaffirms the assertion that pundits and political scientists make: high voter turnout is good for the Democrats and bad for the Republicans. You’ll also notice that in the two close Senate races – Montana and Virginia – the (losing) Republican candidates didn’t do too much kicking and screaming or make accusations of voter fraud and improprieties. Because Republicans are mature and statesmen-like losers, right? No, because they know if anyone is going to use any hanky-panky to nudge a close race over the edge it will be them, and not the Democrats! (Okay, settle down, I’m just kidding.)

Also, for the first time since 1994, more state legislatures are in Democratic hands than Republican. This was also the first time since 1994 that all the chambers that switched hands from one party to the other went from Republican to Democrat. This reinforces the notion that what we have seen is a change on the same scale as the Republican Revolution of 1994. Both chambers of the New Hampshire General Court are controlled by Democrats for the first time since 1874. (That’s supposed to be an 8, it’s not a typo.) For the first time since Rutherford B. Hayes was president New Hampshire is a “blue” state. So much for the Libertarians taking over.

So, the ignorant Americans who get all their political information from the TV news think that we are going to either (a) abandon Iraq overnight, turn all their children homosexual and raise the tax rate to 50%, or (b) pull out of Iraq overnight, fund universal health care, and institute 100% public financing of elections. I was surprised that a fellow graduate student reacted to the election results by saying “hold on to your wallets – the Dems are in charge.” People have such over-simplified views of the world, it’s no wonder we can’t have an intelligent debate about anything.

Pranksters and Wiseacres

2006-11-02T12:07:00.000-05:00

I've been reading Lisa Crystal Carver's Drugs are Nice lately. I mostly read it in bits and pieces when I'm on the can, because I don't have the luxury of spending long periods of time reading for enjoyment. I was aware of Suckdog and GG Allin in the late eighties when I was a nice, polite, shoe-gazing indie rocker. I always thought that any fool could get on stage and take a crap or insult people and pass themselves off as some kind of unique, demented genius. I had some respect for the guts it took, and the originality of it, but I always thought it would be better if it were done with a little more subtlety. Where’s the shock value if everyone shows up expecting you to shit onstage and flail yourself with the mic stand, and that is exactly what you do?

Another person mentioned in Drugs Are Nice is Lisa’s ex, Boyd Rice. He likes to piss people off by using quasi-fascist symbols and spouting social Darwinist ideas. But when you’re that ham-fisted about making people uncomfortable, you only attract people who either misinterpret what you’re doing (e.g. actual white supremacists or fascists who will eventually kick your teeth in once they figure out what you’re up to) or only have a fleeting attachment to being with the most “out” group they can find but will drop out as soon as they find something weirder or more shocking. Holding an opinion because it will make some people mad is no more original than holding an opinion because it will make some people happy.

Sometimes I do wish I was more of a rebel. But I’ve never felt like my life would be better today if I had managed to insult more people in the past. The people I’ve met who “aren’t afraid to say how they feel” and who “don’t hold anything back to protect other people’s feelings” are always the first to get insulted when you tell them to their faces that they aren’t clever because they are brutally honest, they’re just assholes. Not that anyone is going to accuse me of being too nice anytime soon. Maybe too safe, but not too nice.

Five Random Confessions

2006-10-20T14:34:00.000-04:00

Here, in no particular order, are five things about myself that I am not particularly proud to admit.

I got into the Clash because I heard "Train in Vain," and I got into the Jam because I saw the video for "Town Called Malice." Yeah, I'm a faux-punk poseur.
I avoid people I know in public. When I'm commuting to or from work or just out and about, if I see someone I know I will usually avoid them. I'm not talking about people I don't particularly like, or people I don't know well. I just don't really like making small talk. The only people this doesn't apply to are my wife and the few people I am close enough with that we can sit quietly together. It takes a certain level of intimacy to transcend verbal communication.
I have a touch of OCD when it comes to the order that I open the applications I use on my work computer. We use Lotus Notes for email, so I always have to open that first. Then I have to open FileMaker Pro, the database software I work on. Next, I open Internet Explorer, then iTunes, then the scanning software I use regularly. If I screw up and close my Lotus Notes window, I have to shut everything else down and open them back up in the right order. Otherwise they aren't lined up along the bottom of the task bar correctly. This isn't a problem for me at home - I use a Mac there.
I am very rarely in the moment. I have a secret life more rich than Walter Mitty, although many of my "daydreams" are just mundane monologues and imagined conversations I'll never have. I am talking to myself almost constantly, and sometimes out loud (or just under my breath). I'd like to be more focused, but it's a good day when I can spend an hour concentrating on any one task.
I can be ridiculously delusional. I have occasional spells of insecurity where I think my friends are all just pretending to like me.

Pro-cras-ti-na a-tion, it's keepin' me waiting.

2006-10-15T14:45:00.000-04:00

So, I am once again immersed in work-avoidance Internet use. I should be typing up a summary of all the books and papers used as sources for my big paper, and I can't stay focused for more than ten minutes at a time, what with MySpace and YouTube and the happy chickens message board around to distract me.

I went to Ad Frank's birthday party at the Middle East Friday night. I was originally supposed to play one of his old songs to him (that was the entertainment theme of the evening), but that didn't work out. It was another one of those nights when I stood in the crowd and longed for the days when I was only in a club like that because I was going to be on stage at some point. *Sniff sniff* I miss my rock star days. I don't miss load-in, load-out, hauling amps through snow, sleet, rain and hail, hanging around empty clubs through sound checks and generally busting ass for $3 and a few drink tickets. The two things I really do miss are the writing process - spending hours on a piece of music with two or three other people and the feeling of satisfaction when you knew you were playing something that was having an effect on people - and being in the studio. I actually miss having all that guitar gear, too. I used to give stuff away just to have an excuse to go shopping for more stuff.

For some weird reason, when I was rehearsing the song I was going to play for Ad, I got "Temptation Eyes" by the Grass Roots in my head. I would not be satisfied until I learned it, so I downloaded in on iTunes, and then Googled the guitar tablature. I wish I had this stuff when I was first learning the guitar. It sure beats picking the needle up and putting it down on the same measure and a half of "Accidents Will Happen" over and over. (Am I dating myself?)

Here I am...

2006-10-12T12:29:00.000-04:00

I am very busy, and the deadline for my NEPSA paper is fast approaching. But I was sitting here listening to KEXP and I was reminded of a bon mot I made at a party a few weeks ago that I meant to share with the world.

We were talking about cliques in college and my friend Ad Frank mentioned that his college was so small that the punk, hippie and deadhead groups all conflated into one (and he did use the word "conflated" because we talk like that). I said that that happened at a lot of small colleges in the mid 80s. That's why we have Camper Van Beethoven.

See, I can be clever when I want.

Prognostication.

2006-09-26T21:34:00.000-04:00

I am just here for a minute - I've got too much work to do to spend time bllaarrrghing. I just want to share a thought I actually had about a month or two ago. All the anger and discouragement people were feeling against the Republicans (on a national level) peaked way too early for the Democrats to make any use of it. And the Democratic Party is defined by an inability (and maybe even a lack of willingness) to manipulate the voters the way the Republicans can and will. I'm predicting only slight changes in the balance of the House and Senate, with a more than likely continuation of the status quo as far as majorities are concerned.

As far as the election for Massachusetts governor goes, I said all along that the Democrats squandered the opportunity to get out in front when they went with this touchy-feely, let's-all-bring-something-to-the-table strategy of running three candidates through the summer and having a primary. Deval was it at the convention. Deval was it at the primary. Deval should have been it all along. They'd have several million dollars to spend (instead of a little over $1 million), and the Healey campaign wouldn't be able to say things like "even Tom Reilly called Deval Patrick soft on crime." Way to go Massachusetts Democratic Party. You now have 42 days to overcome the political inertia of an electorate who are probably a lot more comfortable voting for a Republican woman than a black man, or who are more than likely going to stay away from the polls altogether. Not than an extra three months of one-on-one campaigning was going to change the minds of the many unenlightened folks who vote for the candidate they would prefer to have a beer with, but it could have given Patrick more time to convince voters that he has more on the ball than Healey. Instead we got to listen to Reilly and Gabrielli snipe at each other over a moot point.

I am still completely convinced that Sal DiMasi and Bob Travaligni have no interest in sharing power with a Democrat in the corner office. Why split the spoils and the patronage when you already control the approval process for the most important appointments? When you've got the kind of overwhelming control that the Democratic Party has in two of the three branches of government, taking the third branch becomes more of a liability than an asset. And the executive branch is the easiest to concede without actually committing to any substantive changes in policy. Vetoes can be overridden, rulings can be overturned, and executive agencies can be investigated to the point of impotence. Think of this: Massachusetts has had Republican governors since 1991, and we are still the national touchstone for liberal government. Don't think for a second that the Massachusetts Democratic Party is embarrassed by that characterization, or is trying too hard to change it.

...And How Sad Is That?

2006-09-19T11:00:00.000-04:00

Busy busy busy. I've got a church yard sale, two graduate seminars, a paper/presentation for a professional meeting and about a half-dozen overdue social commitments to cover. But what made me so excited I just had to take a break and update my blaarrggh?

Today, when I got to work (after a 30 minute delay caused by those mentally defective chimps collectively known as the MBTA)I found in my mail box a brand new, "professional series," Swingline stapler. It has a staple remover...built into the handle! This is the best thing that's happened to me since I played a Miles Dethmuffen gig in Cleveland and got a barbecue chicken sandwich...with coleslaw right on the sandwich! Delish!

So, the staple remover, it's one of those pinchy kinds, and it slides out of the back of the stapler. Totally cool. And the stapler itself goes through, like, 25 pages at once. Beefy!

Plus, I voted this morning, and that's always cool. Then I got the paper and saw that Ed King died. I try not to speak ill of the dead, but I'm not going to pretend to like the guy just because his number came up, you know? It can be said for him that he worked really hard for the things he believed in. Too bad he believed in things like execution, bare-bones social welfare programs, a tax structure that favored the rich, and a lot of other social-Darwinist crap that became popular thanks to the Goldwater-Reagan Repugnocrats. Minimum sentencing requirements, terminal injections, and bigger prisons aren't going to make the crime rate go down, boys. People will stop robbing and stealing when the alternatives are more attractive. As long as half the population is forced to exist in dead-end jobs on subsistence wages, jacking a suit for his wallet is going to be a lot more appealing than emptying the garbage at BKs.

Color coding.

2006-09-02T14:18:00.000-04:00

I was involved in a conversation recently about the whole "red state/blue state" comparison. People from blue states make sweeping generalizations about people from red states, and vice versa, and the whole thing is based on such a small sliver of political information as to be useless.

Imagine this: a man is arrested for murdering his family. He is a brutal sociopath with no remorse. In the course of the investigation it is mentioned in the media that the last thing he did before committing these atrocious murders was sit down to his daily morning cup of coffee. The same day, it is announced that an extremely wealthy philanthropist has decided to hand over all his wealth to a charity organization for AIDS orphans. Billions of dollars are going to be made available to these children; it will positively affect the rest of their lives. In the midst of the story, the philanthropist mentions that the idea came to him over his morning cup of tea, which he has every day. Do we jump to the conclusion that all coffee drinkers are murderous, raving lunatics and all tea drinkers are saintly, generous humanitarians?

It appears that the American media would answer "yes." Based on one political characteristic of a state - which presidential candidate was supported by a majority of voters - newspapers, TV networks, political bloggers, columnists and others have grouped the entire population into two categories. You're a red stater or a blue stater. Forget the fact that you could come from a state that supported Bush for president, but that also has Democratic majorities in both houses of its state legislature. Or a state that supported Kerry for president but has had a Republican governor for fifteen years. And forget the fact that participation of eligible voters ranges from approximately 49% to 77% across the states (http://elections.gmu.edu/Voter_Turnout_2004.htm).

This oversimplification of the political dialogue in the United States is one reason people give up voting in the first place. I know it sets me on a ranting rampage, but that could just be the coffee talking.

In a completely unrelated note, a friend of mine used a term at lunch the other day that was new to me, and I wanted to share it (he may have coined it himself; I googled it and didn't come up with anything in the context he used it in): business roadie. This is a person who sets up audio/visual equipment and/or catering materials for business functions and meetings. I don't have anything to say about this (other than the fact that I've done some of this kind of work as an administrative assistant), I just thought it was a useful and interesting turn-of-phrase and I wanted to pass it on.

Difficult passage.

2006-08-27T16:57:00.000-04:00

I did the readings at church this morning. Both lessons were difficult: the Old Testament lesson was about the exclusiveness of Israel as God's chosen, and the New Testament reading was about a husband's and wife's duty to one another. This was the second week in a row that the pastor (a visiting priest covering the regular rector's vacation) mentioned the fact that these difficult and often controversial readings are placed in the liturgical calendar in the middle of August, when everyone is on vacation and can "miss" them.

He then went on to preach about the need to analyze and contemplate what these difficult passages mean to modern Christians. These are lessons that have been interpreted literally and used to maintain the legitimacy of reactionary or conservative power structures, particularly sexist, patriarchal hierarchies. However, the story of Christ is certainly not about maintaining the status quo. Thus, there is an obvious contradiction here. One explanation, the reverend said, was that the revolutionary rhetoric of early Christians was tempered by language in the epistles to demonstrate that Christians were not threatening to turn the world upside down. Another approach he suggested to these lessons is to alter the assumptions about the very language used, and to see the imagery of the writings more broadly. The point is, the sermon challenged us to think carefully and contemplatively about the lessons.

This addresses a problem I have from both ends of Christianity. On the one hand, as a (nominal, at least) Christian, I do get frustrated with people who assume that all Christians are creationists who hate science. On the other hand, I often want to put as much distance as I can between myself and fundamentalists who see all questioning of scripture as heresy. Faith is not the negation of inquiry, it is the starting point for it. I got interested in the Church because of the intellectual discipline and philosophical examination that are an integral part of it. I do not think that we are obliged by our faith to accept the conclusions that earlier observers came to regarding the interpretation of scripture, the nature of God, or the questions of how we get along with one another. The observance of faith, that is the practice of religion, does not give us answers to life's problems, it gives us an approach to use in figuring things out for ourselves.

Am I missing something?

2006-08-26T16:41:00.000-04:00

I just read a news item about the young woman who recently freed herself from captivity in Austria after eight years. The police investigators on the case are trying to determine if the sexual contact her kidnapper had with her was "consensual or forced." I always thought Austria had a fairly advanced legal system, so I can't imagine under what circumstances anything done by a girl abducted when she was ten years old could be considered consensual. Not that it matters much, now, since the cowardly bastard who did it killed himself.

Drastic change of topic.

I just got back from a long walk around JP. I was surprised to see that the real estate office that had burned down last week re-opened in a new location. They were obviously ready to open before the fire. I'm not sure what relevance this could have to the fire, but I found it curious that it wasn't mentioned in any of the news stories I read.

Also, I had a couple of pints and picked up some take out from my favorite neighborhood place last night. Aside from coming home smelling like I had spent the night inside a wood burning stove, the place was back to its old self.

"Clutching forks and knives"

2006-08-24T10:34:00.000-04:00

On this day in 1967, Abbie Hoffman and some friends disrupted trading on the NYSE by tossing dollar bills onto the exchange floor from the gallery. The traders rushed to collect the falling manna from the skies, evidently deciding that a buck in the hand is worth ten on the big board.

On a completely unrelated note, it has always struck me as odd that underperforming public schools are threatened with having their funding cut. If a child comes home from school with a "D" on her report card, you don't take away her books.

Doubleplusungood.

2006-08-22T11:03:00.000-04:00

I saw a very disturbing item in the national news briefs yesterday. Evidently, the Bush administration is “retroactively” classifying the number of nuclear weapons the United States had stockpiled during the cold war. According to the story (in the national news briefs of the August 21st Boston Globe), documents that reference the number of nuclear weapons held by the US during the Cold War now have the numbers blacked out. These figures were formerly public information. (See this story in the Times.)

I find this discouraging in two ways. First, it is frightening in the Orwellian sense. When politicians start manipulating and obfuscating historical records, we take one step closer to the memory holes of 1984. Soon we will see high school history books that talk about the US, England and Germany fighting the French and the Soviet Union in World War II.

Second, this kind of pointless secrecy has been the hallmark of every incompetent employer I have ever worked for. Discretion is one thing, but playing everything close to the vest simply because you don’t actually know what you can and can’t afford to reveal shows a lack of vision. Who knows what the Bush administration thinks it stands to gain by suddenly making history secret? The disturbing truth is that even the people responsible for this decision likely don't have a clue.

Both ends burning

2006-08-21T10:31:00.000-04:00

I think somebody is trying to burn my city down. Over the last year there have been two firebombings targeting properties owned by Greek-American landlords. Then last week there was a fire right around the corner that put my favorite pub out of commission for a few days, and completely destroyed a dentist's office and a pizza parlor. Now (last night) a suspicious fire destroyed a real estate office and a nail salon at the other end of JP. (Granted, the fire closest to me is the only one that I haven't heard any speculation about regarding arson.) I'm pretty sure the most recent one was also a property owned by the same Greek-American family targeted in the earlier two fires.

I keep walking past charred out shells of formerly thriving businesses; I feel like I'm living in Detroit.

Alone in the crowd

2006-08-17T11:29:00.000-04:00

I went to Bill's Bar last night to see my wife's cousin's band (The Herocycle) play. The band sounded great, and in spite of being seven people crammed onto a tiny, crowded stage they managed to put out a good amount of energy while playing.

What drove me bat-shit insane (an expression I've appropriated from the missus) was the ridiculous volume at which the club pumps the between-band music. No one needs that. Between sets is when people are supposed to be able to have a little conversation with each other and the bands are supposed to schmooze with the crowd. I spent most of the night trying to read people's lips. I finally gave up and sat at a corner table with a dopey smile plastered across my face waiting for the band to come back on.

Hint to Bills' Bar: It shouldn't be easier for people to talk over the band than it is to chat between sets. And don't get me wrong - I love loud music. I've stopped going to shows at places like the Tweeter Center and the Bank of America Pavilion because those big corporate tent places tone it down so much I end up hearing more of the conversations three rows away than I do of the band. I miss Bunratty's.

Just a test

2006-08-10T15:23:00.000-04:00

I just want to test something. Can you see the bear?

Hey. Looks good. I just wanted to see if that worked. Back to your regularly scheduled summer.

Summer summer summer

2006-08-09T17:39:00.000-04:00

It's probably as close to a perfect summer day as you can get in New England right now. Almost no humidity, 73 degrees, and not a cloud in the sky. I've got about three hours of sunlight left, so I'm going to get out of this office, pick something easy up for dinner (to cook, that is - not for company), and wait for the missus to get back from the gym.

It's been a good summer so far, and it should segue into a nice fall. I'm doing my back-to-school shopping this Friday, and I hope to be house (or condo) shopping in January.

What else do you expect me to do?

2006-07-16T23:06:00.000-04:00

Agh. It's hot. I can barely type. I am sweaty. I am running fans in every window. I am so glad I am not a hairy animal, but so sad I am not a dolphin or an otter. That's all I can say/type. Hot. Sweat. Agh.

Bad Start, Good Finish

2006-07-02T12:31:00.000-04:00

This was the first week of 9:30 services (moved up from the usual 10:30 time) at church. It's also the first day of the month that I have had to go anywhere on the MBTA. And, I forgot to pick up my T-pass at work last week, so already I'm off to a bad start.

Now, I've been a supporter of the new Charlie Card system since the T announced it. I remember using a similar system on my trip to London years ago and it worked well. Of course, the average citizen of London is about three times as intelligent as the average T-rider, and the average Tube employee is Albert Einstein compared to the glorified welfare recipients that work for the MBTA.

I get to the station, with a little extra time because I have never purchased a fare ticket from the automated machines. Everything looks straight forward and self-explanatory, which is good, because there's no one around to answer your questions if you have one, and people started asking me what the fare to South Station was. The machine rejects my ten dollar bill. Twice. Three times. I go to the collector's box, and it's empty, with a handwritten sign taped to the window saying "No Cash No Change." The useless moron on duty in the station tells me I have to get change from the donut shop. She tells me not to blame her, they aren't her machines and it isn't her system. It must be nice to feel so good about what you do for a living. She stormed off in a huff, going through one of the gates to the platform. I followed her through the gate.

My opinion of MBTA employees is that they are basically unemployable parasites. Seventy-five percent of them can't even be bothered to tuck their shirts in. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. Whether I'm right or wrong, this is a crappy way to head to church, and start my day. So, I sit through the service, and by the time we get to communion, I am feeling contrite and repentant and generally bad about myself for letting any of it bother me, and for taking it out on the woman working at the station, and I'm ready to commit myself to being more patient, more humble, and so on.

On the way home from church, I walk through the station. (I don't ride the train because there's no time concern, but it's on the walking route back to home.) The same woman is still standing next to the empty booth, completely inept and useless, chatting on her cell phone. And I decided that I was right - I shouldn't let it bother me. If someone makes the decision to be useless, it's their life they are going to have to look back on.

Catching up to God

2006-06-18T20:46:00.000-04:00

I attended the Boston Pride Day parade with the contingent from St. John's in Jamaica Plain last Saturday. Aside from a thorough soaking, I was able to take in some good camaraderie and conversation. Reverend Anne Fowler, the rector at St. John's, mentioned that Bishop Shaw said when it comes to love and understandinng of others, "the Church has always had to catch up to God."

Now the Episcopal Church USA has elected a new presiding Bishop, and the conservative element is unhappy, because they haven’t gotten their way. Much like political conservatives, they seem to think that compromise means giving them everything they want and then thanking them for it. On the selection of Nevada Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori, the Reverend Eddie Blue of Maryland said, "I can't help but consider the peculiar genius our church has for roiling the waters. I am shocked, dismayed and saddened by the choice."

It seems that those who would like to see things stay the same should not have to suffer the indignity of having their choices questioned, but those who would like to see the Church try to “catch up to God” do not deserve to have their feelings considered. In regards to Reverend Blue’s remark, quoted above, my first reaction was that I could think of someone else who had a particular genius for roiling the waters, and He didn’t think that was such a bad thing.

“Gallia est omnis divisa in partes tres”

2006-06-04T17:53:00.000-04:00

I don't understand the logic of the Massachusetts Democratic party. Whatever Deval Patrick's odds of winning the general election in November are, they must now be divided by three. Any party that works the way this party is working in this election does not want to win, with any candidate. I mean, what's with this? If you want to win a race, you get momentum behind one candidate. How many candidates are the Republicans fielding for governor in the primary? One. How many are the Democrats? Three. Does that sound like a good strategy to win an election? No.

Sure, you can argue that the Democrats are the more "democratic" party, because they're giving the voters more choices, and attempting to vet the candidate in the November election with solid support. But what's really happening is that all those voters who vote for whoever doesn't win the primary have one more excuse not to vote in the final election. And then Sal DiMasi and Bob Travaligni will get exactly what they want: another Republican in the corner office to be their scapegoat when things don't go their way.

All the complaints I heard about the unfairness of the 15% rule in the past week came from people who are happy to see the gubernatorial election stay what it has been for 16 years: a referendum on who wins the Democratic award for "political pariah." Has anyone heard from Scott Harshbarger or Shannon O'Brien lately?

P.S. Don't get me wrong, I'll be voting for Patrick in September (and probably November). But I have no illusions about the likely outcome.

"All I know is, I'm not a Marxist." -Karl Marx

2006-05-13T18:42:00.000-04:00

Your Political Profile:

Overall: 15% Conservative, 85% Liberal

Social Issues: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Personal Responsibility: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal

Fiscal Issues: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal

Ethics: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Defense and Crime: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal

How Liberal Or Conservative Are You?

Radical Ideas

2006-05-05T12:06:00.000-04:00

The Episcopal diocese of California will be electing a new bishop this weekend, and three of the candidates are openly gay clergy members. The Episcopal Church of the United States (ECUSA) already has one openly gay bishop, the Rev. V. Gene Robinson of New Hampshire. You might have also seen his name in the news as a result of his stay in an inpatient alcohol treatment facility in February, 2006. The election of Bishop Robinson to head the diocese has led the Anglican Communion (the worldwide organization of various Anglican Churches) to the verge of schism over the issue of homosexuality. Some ECUSA congregations have even put themselves under the leadership of foreign bishops who support a more exclusive vision of Christianity. Those conservatives who insist that Christ’s servants be of a more traditional moral stripe criticize the supporters of an expanded church for espousing an ideology of “radical inclusivity.”

I recently began attending an Episcopal church in my neighborhood. I went back to church because I wanted to do something that would connect me to the community I lived in, provide an opportunity to work for the “common good,” and perhaps teach me some humility and patience. I figured spending time around unselfish do-gooders might teach me a thing or two about seeing the good in everyone around me. This particular church appealed to me because I knew the reputation of the rector, Anne Fowler, as an activist for social justice issues, such as gay marriage and immigrant rights, and because some co-workers of mine attended and were enthusiastic about the people who went there. Nobody talked about the light of Jesus’ love glowing in their hearts or the glorious joy of salvation filling them with love for mankind. I have found it to be a very open, young, interesting and diverse group of people. At least half the people I’ve met are gay couples, many with adopted or biological kids.

Many of the gay men who attend this church were raised Catholic, and the similarity of ritual and liturgy attracted them to the Episcopal Church. They found their comfort in being allowed to practice and participate without any conflict of conscience. No one here talks about “loving the sinner and hating the sin.” If you have faith in Christ, and practice the one commandment He put above all others (“Love each other as you love yourselves”) you are welcome here. I got the sense from some of the young men I’ve met here that the need for this faith is so strong, that they suffered when they were separated from it by the conflict of their nature with their religion. How can anything good come of the constant message that the very impulse to follow Christ’s commandment was a sin?

Now, I realize that there’s a difference between loving your neighbor and “luvin’ your neighbor” (wink wink, nudge, nudge). There are many forms of love, and the love we are all supposed to feel for each other is different from the love Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee have documented for all the world to see. But there is a common element to them. The love we feel in partnership or marriage is the foundation and model for the love we should try to share with everyone. This is supposed to be the basic teaching of all Christianity. This is the “radical inclusivity” Christ brought to the world.

The COOLEST Month

2006-04-29T11:58:00.000-04:00

So, April has been okay for me. Some good, some bad, but overall I'm coming out on top. Finished my second semester of grad school, and I think I will be getting decent enough grades to get me into the PhD program in the fall. I also got the okay to work on a directed study over the summer with my advisor/mentor. I actually hate using that word "mentor," but he is not technically my faculty advisor, so I have to use something to differentiate him from my assigned mentor, whom I haven't even met with since I stared the program.

I'm still dressing like an adult (some would even say "old man") every day at work. And people are starting to get used to it. I'm starting to get used to it, too. I forget that a bow tie isn't something people are used to seeing every day, so when someone on the street does a double take and starts to smile (or smirk) at me, I am tricked into thinking, momentarily, that I know them. Then I remember that they're probably just thinking to themselves that I look like Orville Redenbacker.

I am wondering if all the immigrant staff is going to participate in Monday's May Day action. It would be interesting to see the campus brought to a standstill by all the food service workers on strike. The whole issue brings a question to my mind that I haven't seen investigated much in the media. We all know that America is a nation of immigrants, but the people on the more rigid side of the argument insist that there is this chasm of difference between "legal" and "illegal" immigration. Their ancestors might have been immigrants, but they did it the "right" way. Well, how different are immigration procedures today from 50 or 100 or 150 years ago? I don't think people who showed up at Ellis Island to join the husbands, wives, fathers, mothers, sons and daughters that were already here in, say, 1848 needed to go through the rigmarol that is required now.

My understanding of "legal" immigration in the nineteenth century is that you basically showed up, stated your name and country of origin, declared your intention to become a citizen, and you were in. You still had to go through the process of becoming a citizen, but there weren't the kinds of border security issues back then. Of course, I also realize that at the start of this century, "great" citizens such as Henry Cabot Lodge were fighting tooth and nail to keep America white, Anglo-Saxon, and Protestant. As recently as 1902, laws were being passed in Congress that barred the use of "Mongolian" labor on public works projects (Newlands Act 1902).

Yikes! Lost track of the time. I gotta go get my hair cut. See you in another couple of weeks.

A Non-Normative Evaluation of Database Design and Utilization

2006-04-21T11:37:00.000-04:00

I read. I write about what I read. I try to make intelligent comments about what the author of what I read thinks about what other authors think about what they write. Graduate school is fun. And to think I could make a living doing this.

On the day of my last update, I went to church. It was the very first time I went to church entirely on my own, without being compelled by a wedding, funeral or baptism. It was Ash Wednesday, and I figured, from what I read in my slight research online, that it was an appropriate time to start a relationship with God. I have gone every Sunday since, and a few days other than Sunday. The church is a nice, political, open-minded Episcopal parish in JP. Lots of gay ex-Catholics. Very good music. I go for the company, really.

I never liked the term "Yankee," but then I'm a Red Sox fan

2006-03-01T12:57:00.000-05:00

Your Linguistic Profile:

40% General American English

40% Yankee

10% Upper Midwestern

5% Dixie

0% Midwestern

What Kind of American English Do You Speak?

I'm kind of a blueblood snob, but "Yankee" always conjurs an image of Bing Crosby in the movie adaptation of Twain's novel.

Damned internet thingy!

2006-02-05T19:01:00.000-05:00

I was supposed to spend today getting all caught up on my school work. I am taking a comparative constitutional law class, and we are responsible for two case briefings per week, but the professor doesn't want them passed in until the end of the term. At first, that seemed great, but I think I would prefer to have them due each week, because, fool that I am, I am already three weeks behind. Today I was going to get all caught up. So I sat my butt down at my new 14" iBook G4 and promptly started surfing the internet. Facebook, Myspace, Livejournal, Friendster; you name it, I was on it. And everything is more enjoyable on my 14" screen than my old 12" screen. I don't know how I stood it for two years.

I had managed to get my first case brief 3/4 completed when I broke to fix dinner. I was doing the washing up before hand and thinking out a plan to get more writing done tonight and it dawned on me. This professor is going to have seven students pass in nineteen two-page case briefs on the last day of class. And being graduate school, you know a bunch of these over-achievers are going to give him three, four or even five pages on some of the cases. His grades are due six days after we are supposed to turn the briefs in, and he is looking for a ten-page research paper at the end of the term as well. Just how thoroughly do you think he is going to read 266 pages of briefs? I figure I can type pure gobbldeegook and as long as I throw in a few key terms from each case (proportionate accommodation; undue burden; stare decisis; two-part Oakes test) he's gonna check 'em off and move on. Of course, I won't do any less than a completely thorough job on each one. I'm not saying that to boast; it's a fault with me. I'm a wee bit too deferential to authority figures.

In a final note - Deval Patrick, y'all. Nice job. Tom Reilly is another Scott Harshbarger. He's as bland as tapioca and not quite as firm on the issues.

Ketchup

2006-01-03T11:09:00.000-05:00

Happy Thanksgiving, Merry Chirstmas, Happy New Year, Happy Hannukah, etc. etc. etc.

Once again, I am wondering what I want to use this "blog" for. What do I have to say, who am I expecting to say it to, why does it matter? When I go so long without bothering, I have a hard time getting back up to speed. I should just convince myself that there is some purpose to this and keep at it.

I am looking forward to 2006, because it is a congressional election year, a gubernatorial election year, and there will be some interesting local races in Boston as well. As much as I prefer academic, theoretical political science, I enjoy the campaigns, too. I just get a little bored with the breathless gossip that passes for journalism these days.

I just finished reading the review of Ana Marie Cox's Dog Days in the New York Times. It's a novel by a blogger about a blogger who writes a novel. It could be a masterpiece and I would still feel ripped off for paying for a book about writing a book about writing a "blog." This is the kind of crap that people assume I am interested in when I tell them I am studying political science. Primary Colors, Wag the Dog, Bill O'Reilly, Anderson Cooper, Ann Coulter, Tim Matthews: all this noise based on the idea that reporting the news and being the news are the same thing. I guess I shouldn't count on pundits to give an accurate portrayal of the media's role in the political process.

But I am sure I will find myself following along in the funny papers as 2006 rolls along. I'll listen as candidates scream at each other over issues of no substance, while being egged on by journalists who care nothing about the process other than that it continues to protect their ability to make a living.

Framed!

2005-11-21T15:08:00.000-05:00

Mitt Romney feels that John Adams would be surprised (and, I take it he also means disappointed) that the Supreme Judicial Court found that the Massachusetts Constitution protects the right of homosexuals to marry. Well, Adams would probably be mortified that women leave the house in flip-flops, tube tops and cut-offs, but I hardly think Romney would like to see them outlawed. Adams et al did not write constitutions with the intention of solving every public policy debate once and for all. This is high school civics, and Romney should be aware of it. (Oh yeah, high schools don't teach civics anymore.) The framers did not try to answer all of posterity's questions in one sitting. If they had wanted to do that, they wouldn't have left slavery unresolved so it could tear the country in two seventy years after the constitutional convention. What's true of the U.S. Constitution is true of the many state constitutions. They provide a framework for the process to settle public debate.

This issue among many others, such as abortion,illustrates why the Bill of Rights was not included in the original Constitution and why many framers and politicians of the day did not want to delineate the rights of citizens in a list. They were concerned that future governments would use the inverse assumption (i.e. if you do have the rights we listed, you don't have any others) to hamper personal liberty. At the time many people had the wild idea that all people were born with unlimited individual liberty, and that governments, rather than existing to grant limited rights, existed to determine what few limitations on these unlimited rights could be agreed upon and enacted under common deliberation. They weren't proclaiming commandments, they were providing guidance. That's why constitutions were written on paper, not in stone.

I could be disappointed, and it would be okay.

2005-11-16T14:31:00.000-05:00

Every fall, there is one day when it goes from summer/fall to fall/winter. The temperature usually hits 70 sometime in the afternoon, then drops 20 or 30 degrees by 8 p.m. Today is supposed to be that day. The cold is finally on the way. I like the winter (until about February) so it doesn't bother me that much. I start looking forward to the bone chilling cold, although I have not been such a big fan of snow since I started having to shovel out a car. Although I promised myself I would go sledding if we got a lot of snow this year.

There weren't any big surprises in last week's election. The May-ah trounced Maura Hennigan, unfortunately. And Patricia White lost. And it looks like Flaherty is safe in his council presidency, although Arroyo made a good showing. Now let's see if Hizzoner tries to make good on his pledge to "get the universities to pay their fair share."

I'm not sure I can make it through the holidays without cable TV.

Happy Election Day!

2005-11-08T15:07:00.000-05:00

Get out and vote! I got dressed up nice and everything. I wore my old favorite shirt that I forgot I had and a bow tie. Then I walked the four blocks down to my polling place where I didn't even have to stand in line. There were a few people already in the "booths" filling out their ballots. I miss the old mechanical voting machines, and I am always afraid that my vote is going to get invalidated because I go the tiniest bit outside of the lines. And did you know that November 8th is the latest day that election day can fall on? It is the first Tuesday after the first Monday, so it always falls between the 2nd and the 8th. Congress did this to keep it from falling on All Saints Day (according to wikipedia).

I am still suffering from my cold, feeling congested and a little light headed from blowing my nose so much. I hope I don't get too stuffed up, because I can't take anything for it with all the medicines I am on. Feh. I was in the doctor's office a couple of weeks ago and overheard one of the nurse practitioners talking to a patient who I assumed was an elderly woman by the tone and volume of the conversation. It sounded like she was calling in to ask what she should do about her cold. (How do you get to be an old woman and not learn what to do about a cold?) After a few preliminary questions about fluids and medicines I heard the nurse say, "Oh yes, we call that a 'Hot Toddy.' Sweats it right out of ya."

I'm going to go spread my germs at the campus cafe and get a "Virgin Hot Toddy."

Blatant Time Wasting

2005-11-06T13:32:00.000-05:00

It's 1:30 on a Sunday afternoon, and I haven't even gotten one tenth of the reading I need to do for my classes this week done. It's a dreary Sunday afternoon and I feel like wasting it on foolish noodling about on the internet and in front of the TV. I will probably call in sick to work tomorrow, using the slight scratch at the back of my throat and the touch of congestion in my head as an excuse. I'll keep busy then, but today I just want to goof off. Isn't that what Sundays are for?

I went out last night, but I cut the night short. The missus and I just couldn't get excited about being in a loud, dark nightclub all night. I was feeling a little under the weather then - probably the first signs of the cold I am getting now - and we skipped out before the second band even got started. Probably the best thing to do in the long run.

I wish I had a fireplace. I'd toast marshmallows now if I could. Maybe even make s'mores. Tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow is Monday. Monday is a good day to start from scratch.

Trick or...or...or what!? What!!??

2005-11-01T21:52:00.000-05:00

My first Halloween with diabetes and I wasn't a very good little goblin. I'm lucky that I don't have too much difficulty managing my blood sugar. I've been going to the gym 3 or 4 times a week for about a month, now, and that's helped keep me in control. But last night I went to bed with a pretty good spike in the glucose levels. Phooey - no more treats for me, and every candy dish I pass is overflowing with chocolate.

This Halloween hasn't been particularly spooky. I think it's because all the leaves are still on the trees. There aren't any creepy shadows following me around. Another thing I've noticed this autumn is a distinct dearth of squirrels. I've seen a few, but nowhere near as many as last year. I literally tripped over them on campus last fall as they dashed from trash can to bench to bushes. This year I have to keep my eyes peeled just to catch sight of one, and they're skittish and shy and skinny. Now, the missus and I are convinced (Yankee weather prognosticators that we are) that you can predict the severity of the coming winter by the girth of these little rodents. Last year they were porkers, and we spent the better part of 5 months under a more-or-less permanent blanket of snow.

I am not sure whether the paucity and puniness of this years crop is a good sign or a bad sign. Maybe whatever instinct tells them to fatten up also tells them not to bother reproducing if an even harsher winter is following on the heels of the first.

Phucking Dumb

2005-10-22T17:11:00.000-04:00

I know this is so overstated as to be a tautology, but, as an employee of a large university in the Northeast, it never ceases to amaze me how completely unassociated one's level of education is from one's level of intelligence. Of the three people in the "chain of command" above me, one has a master's degree and the other two have PhDs. Yet they are completely incapable of communicating with each other, and make decisions with no thought about the ramifications of what they are doing.

I generate reports that are distributed to the deans, chairpersons and administrative directors of all the colleges, departments and various little affiliated research entities in the university. Six months ago my boss's boss's boss sent me a two-line email that said, in effect, stop sub-dividing all these numbers up into such small entities. Assign everything to the larger departments. On the face of it, it sounds like a great idea. It simplifies things and it creates the impression that the departments are doing more work (because the activity that is being reported is chopped up into larger pieces.) But anyone who knows anything about universities knows how political everything is. I know my boss's boss's boss, and I know there is no arguing with him, at least at my level, but replied to his email with a copy to my boss, essentially saying I would do what I was told but they might want to have a discussion about the effects of such a decision. (I won't get into the whole side issue of how annoying it is to have someone three steps up the ladder from me send emails directly to me asking me to do things without informing my boss and his boss. I spend most of my day explaining to my immediate supervisor why I've done half the things I've done, because he has no idea what's going on.) No discussion happened.

Fast forward six months, and there is a veritable shit-storm of ill will flying around because all the directors of these various entities are no longer seeing their names listed separately in the reports. My boss starts hounding me, and I bounce his boss's boss's email (always save every email you get) to him. The offended party goes to my boss's boss's boss, raises a stink, and all of a sudden I am being told, "No, we didn't mean it like that. We meant keep doing it the way you've been doing it all along, but uhm, make it look a little different or mumble humblecoughsputterewhatever just fix it."

So not only are these people Ph.ucking D.umb, they've got no balls. Makes me want to chuck it all and go into landscaping.

Confidence Man

2005-10-03T13:54:00.000-04:00

So, part of the reason I post so infrequently here is that I am constantly flip-flopping about how I will use this blog. The big thing taking up my life right now is graduate school, and I am not sure what kind of friendships I will develop over the next couple of years. I have plenty of things to say about school, fellow students, instructors, etc, but I don't know if I would ever have a reason to make this thing more "public." As it is, I don't think any of my schoolmates, workmates, or instructors would ever connect this with "the real me." I've read a few very interesting stories about blogging issues in academia, and in the course of Googling blogs of graduate students I even came across a published retraction of one blogging students remarks, with a complete removal of the blog. Of course, that student was using a university-provided server and web space to publish a blog that was basically accusing his PhD program of being completely full of shit. You get what you ask for.

I'm in my fourth week of classes, and as much as I lke my schoolmates, it looks like will be keeping more or less to myself. So, this brings me to what I have wanted to write about here for a few weeks (since starting graduate school). I was so nervous on my first night of classes that I almost blew it off and skipped out on the whole thing. I was convinced that I was going to get to class and sound like a complete idiot the first time I opened my mouth. I was sure that I was going to be surrounded by brilliant intellectual prodigies who were going to be speaking an entirely different language. I and my night school, discount BS-with-highest-honors would be exposed for the fraud we were.

Boy, was I let down. The first class didn't reveal too much. The instructor, a professor I knew from working here at the university, gave us a run-down of what the class would involve, what he expected for the assignments, and asked the students to sign up to lead class discussions (the class is a seminar format discussion of interest groups). The students were all young, and asked the same kinds of questions I had gotten used to hearing in undergrad classes:"So, are the readings due on the week that they are listed on in the syllabus, or the week after?" "We're doing a take home final and a paper?" "Can we email our homework?" No Sweat.

The next week, we held the first class discussion, and by the middle of the class, I had the same feeling I had when I was in many of my undergraduate classes. I was frustrated that people were focusing on each other's opinions, instead of the thought processes that were used to arrive at the opinions. Everyone was trying to upstage each other with topical knowledge of the latest political scandals, and partisan sniping, but no one really knew whether the book we had read for class used rational choice theory or game theory or pluralist concepts of influence or neo-Marxism, etc. And finally, one young woman spoke up and said the word "like" five times in one sentence: "I was, like, surprised to, like, find out that that stuff, like, still goes on in, like, Congress after all the, like laws and stuff that were passed."

Talk about mixed emotions. On one side of my brain, I cringed at the butchering of the language and the complete lack of eloquence; on the other side, I was relieved to find I was in no danger of being laughed out of class, unless it was for being the teacher's pet.

Ooooh! October!

2005-09-30T14:01:00.000-04:00

Every year, I have this problem with the month of October. I constantly type Ocotber, instead. Pretty minor problem, I grant you, but it gets to be wearisome by the end of the month. I am not a particularly swift typist, I don't use the correct fingers on the correst keys most of the time, and I am never sure how I am actually supposed to operate the shift key. Sometimes I am tempted to break out my old Sears electric (a gift from my older brother) and bang away for practice. I would type October over and over until I got it right ten times in a row. It's fun to just say "October over and over" over and over.

I love October in New England. If the missus and I do pick up and move to Montana, I think October is the only month when I will miss the weather. But even with the brilliant colors, the crisp fall air, the whiff of wood smoke and the slight scent of salt water in the evening breeze, I end up congested and watery-eyed from allergies. I am not sure that deciduous trees affect me more than evergreens, but since it is always the height of the foliage season when I suffer the most, it's a safe bet.

I also like October because it's spooky. Oooh! spoo-kay! Boo. I like ghost stories. Especially New England, haunted forest type stories. I think I am going to try and freak out my office-mate with the one about the widows in the mansion.

Toot toot!

2005-09-21T15:31:00.000-04:00

So what, exactly, is so stressful about Kate Moss's life that she has to turn to drug use to get through the day? I'm baffled. All that walking, and posing, oh my.

Other than that I still don't have much to say. Too busy with schoolwork. Maybe I should sneak off to the loo for a little toot, eh?