So I went ahead and read it, and afterward decided to send the following message to everyone I could see in the thread who had forwarded it down the line (only 9 people) -- none of whom I know personally. I considered sending it to everyone to whom it had been forwarded, but I'd like to think of them as innocent bystanders in the whole mess.
I'm interested to see what kind of responses I get.
( My letter to strangers ... )
- Mood:pugnacious
So the Wife just finished reading it, and here's what she had to say: "I'm working on a theory that Alan Moore's fans have sucked all his common sense out through his dick."
- Mood:
cheerful

- Location:The Burrow
- Mood:
nostalgic
"Wow. Overcrowded, poorly organized, with ridiculously unmarked and unsupervised parking. I suppose I should have expected it from a free event, but the lines for ANYTHING and EVERYTHING were amusement-park long with very little in the way of satisfactory payoff. The toddler egg hunts were fine, but the older kid ones were essentially rude, sanctioned stampedes where children and adults trampled each other mercilessly. Maybe my standards are too high, but I saw very little in the way of polite or charitable behavior from anyone of any age, including the organizers and volunteers."
Here's where I think they went wrong: brand-new bicycles as raffle prizes. And the raffles were free! Sorry, but if you need a mountain bike as a bribe in order to spread the Word, you're doing something wrong.
- Location:Randolph Park Hotel & Suites
- Mood:
tired - Music:Blues Brothers 2000
That is all.
- Location:The Burrow
- Mood:
disappointed
That is all.
- Location:The Burrow
- Mood:
annoyed
Anyway, she wouldn't be here right now if not for the sad circumstance of my grandmother's passing last Friday. So in an odd way I have to thank grandma for kicking the bucket and giving us another chance to try and be father and daughter instead of long-distance ... whatever.
*sigh*
Sometimes I hate being The Man, because I'd really rather be Atticus Finch. Fictional characters have answers for everything.
- Location:The Burrow
- Mood:
drunk
Nap
Watch series finale of BSG
The Wife: Why?
The Man: Because it just sent me an email telling me themanabides' birthday's coming up on Friday.
The Wife [to the Younger Son]: What should we get themanabides for his birthday, son? Say "pussy".
The Younger Son: No, I don't like those.
The Wife: [spit take]
- Mood:
drunk
- Location:The Burrow
- Mood:
amused
---
This is a fun survey, but also an activist survey. Please repost this to your email list, blog it or use it in a group setting. Have fun with it but also let the point be made.
( Read more... )
- Location:The Burrow
NPR: Home Prices Hit California County's Tax Base
The selfish Californians of 30 years ago have my continuing thanks for Proposition 13, which fucked my educational funding, fucked my children's education funding, and is now fucking my county's prospects of serving the underprivileged for the next several years.
- Location:The Burrow
- Mood:
angry
( Wherein I wax reminiscent. )
- Location:The Burrow
- Mood:
pensive
But, oh, such a couch! Soft and cushiony, with a fold-down center console that contained not only cup holders, but a speaker phone as well. Each end reclined AND had built-in massaging vibrations. So what if the brownish-gray, faux leather upholstery was a bit worn? This was the King of Couches! As it turns out, we never did take advantage of the phone or massagers. The couch was too far away from a phone jack, and the vibrations were more annoying than pleasurable or relaxing. It sure was nice, though, to put our feet up on a lazy Friday night for a movie or the Sci-Fi Channel lineup, laying back comfortably as the Wife knitted and I drank a beer.
(If you are reading this and are a parent or a pet owner, by now you've already heard the other shoe drop.)
Unfortunately, within about a year the couch had begun to show significant signs of wear, such as screws occasionally, inexplicably falling out of the undersides of the foot rests. By this evening, it was in an extremely sorry state. Large areas of the upholstery were worn down to the underweave, many of the seams torn and resewn with my heavy-handed stitches. Because of its construction, things that had fallen down under the seating required a Cirque du Soleil-level contortionist's skills to retrieve -- or just declaring them lost. Stains from countless spills, colored markers and crayons made the original color impossible to recall. And just this morning a 3-inch rip appeared out of nowhere near the center of the seating area.
The last straw to which this story's title alludes was at about 8:30 tonight, when the Younger Son spilled (or purposefully poured?) an entire bottle of Power Ade (never mind where he got it) onto -- and into -- one end of the couch. We spent about 5 minutes fooling ourselves into thinking we could salvage this sinking ship, but finally resigned ourselves to a Craig's List search after I lifted it up and disgusting blue electrolytes poured down and out of the other end. Considering (a) how difficult life has become recently and (b) the fact that the couch had always taken up a huge amount of floor space, I decided that tomorrow's big project while watching the inauguration will be to dismantle the monstrosity and get it the hell out of our lives. I will likely take pictures.
Problem. Solution. That is all.
- Location:The Burrow
- Mood:
determined
As a woman quoted harrassing remarks that included the notorious N-word, here's what the captioning said:
"You knitters move on, now."
- Location:The Burrow
You know, the one that didn't suck?
- Location:The Burrow
- Mood:
nostalgic
My phrase in English: "I am the mayor of Cranky Town."
Translated into Spanish: "Soy el alcalde de la ciudad irritable."
Translated into French: "Je suis le maire de la ville irritable."
Translated into Greek: "Είμαι ο δήμαρχος της οξύθυμης πόλης."
Translated into English: "I am the mayor of [oxythymis] city."
Hooray for Telephone 2.0!
- Location:The Burrow
- Mood:
depressed
My final report was called "Life of the Apache", and it was the worst piece of teenage-produced academic trash I've ever seen (with the possible exception of the Koala Report -- the Sister can post a link). We were required to include various key pieces of information about our chosen Native American tribe, such as Weapons, Food, Homes, etc. Although the overall report is impressive for 15 pages thrown together the day before it was due, the Religion and Conclusion sections are really where I proved just how much of a wienie asshat I was. I have left the spelling and grammar exactly as they were, but added italics for emphasis of true brilliance:
"There is no real name for the religion of the Apaches and, through research, I have come to the conclusion that it is to complex to include in my report. Though I will tell you that some Apaches took christianity as their religion."
When I read that passage out loud to the Wife tonight after having found the report in my garage scrapbox, she looked at me incredulously. Here's the part that made her tell me she wanted to hit me:
"I think I have learned a lot about the Apaches but I am disappointed at myself. If I had started my research sooner, I could have done a much better report. But as it is, this is my report, and it's not the best. If you, the reader, ever has to read one of my reports again, I will try to make it better."
I should have been a fucking journalist, man. That certainly could have passed muster at any of our local community weeklies. Or USA Today.
- Location:The Burrow
- Mood:
embarrassed

( More photos behind the cut. )
- Location:The Burrow
Given the current crisis between Israel and Gaza, I thought this might be a good time to post the story below. I've been meaning to for some time, not only because it's an interesting tale, but also because it gives an insider's perspective on "neutral observers." Although it has nothing to do with Gaza itself, it does reveal some historical context that may be welcome to those interested in international law and politics.
My grandfather (really my stepfather's dad) joined the UN on New Years Day 1948 (61 years ago today), and retired in 1978 from his final positions as Director of the General Legal Division and Deputy to the Legal Counsel (positions which, today, are on the Under Secretary level). He saw many things during his tenure, and contributed greatly to the establishment of many treaties and resolutions. In 2005, he published a limited run (essentially for family and friends) of a short book entitled "United Nations Memories," which included among other things a two page "name dropping" section of people he'd met and worked with (George H.W. Bush, Roy Cohn, Jimmy Carter, etc.). It also included the following story.
(NOTE: Having spent several hours transcribing everything below from one of my copies of Grandpa's book, I now realize that I should simply have scanned the pages themselves, and saved myself the aching wrists.)
( The Barrel Story )
- Location:The Burrow
- Mood:
thoughtful
