ADVENTURE 2:

I don't know how I forgot to put this in the last ADVENTURE post but I love it:

ADVENTURE!

Following in the footsteps of Day-of-Spontaneity 2005; that glorious day which saw Jeremy, Anna and me to a renaissance faire in Cambridge, WI and then, somewhat accidentally to Wisconsin Dells where these pictures were taken:

Anna and I decided that we needed to celebrate the beginning of the season with a day of ADVENTURE. We didn’t know what the day would hold, only that it would exist and that it would begin at 8 with breakfast at Sophia’s on E Johnson. After a leisurely breakfast, we got in the car and Anna asked the question, “Which way do you want to go?” You see, the only thing we knew was that we were leaving Madison and heading in a direction. So we picked a road and went for it. This particular road led kind-of West-Northwest (I think) after a few forks, we ended up in Mount Horeb, a place of legend and lore. Our first stop was at what we thought was an antique store but what turned out to be an antique extravaganza. It seems Mt Horeb likes old stuff. Or, maybe they don’t and that’s why it’s all in the stores? At any rate, we had a lot of fun with the crazy stuff for sale. These were some of our favorites:

On the left is a picture of me with a painting of some kid. This kid was quite possibly the scariest kid that ever lived. He may have been dead before this painting was made. On the right is a picture of a “New Era Scientifically Processed Potato Chips” canister we found which advertised the heightened amount of alkalinity in these chips and the fact that they were 95% digestible.

After an hour or so in Antique Mall #1, we climbed back in the car and headed for downtown. On the way, we noticed the huge amount of troll statuary. Anna and I are very open-minded people and we have nothing against trolls per se, we just thought it odd that there were soooo many troll carvings. On the way downtown the promise of a garage sale waylaid us. It turned out to be a bust so we hit the trollway. It turns out that Mt Horeb is the “troll capitol of the world.” Whether the statues are the cause of this moniker or the result of it is something we didn’t learn. I’m kinda glad that there’s still some mystery. So, we parked and set out on foot. The trollway has many shops and all of them look like this:

and were full of Norwegian stuff. The staff in these stores were the epitome of midwestern friendliness and were sometimes just a little too helpful. I needed to find an ATM and was given the following explanation:

so the ATM is in the AmCore bank on Main St in the 300 block. we're in the 100 block, so it's about 2 blocks down. so you're going to walk down Main St that way. The AmCore will be on your left; you'll see the sign, it's right across from the Mustard Museum. When you get to the AmCore, the ATM is in this little alcove to your left.

I listened to this explanation for longer than it would have taken for her to walk me to the ATM, nodding the whole time.

Anna and I headed to get cash. Upon turning, we made the amazing discovery of the infamous, world-renowned Mount Horeb Mustard Museum. For those of you not in the know, the mustard museum is a cool thing. We were greeted with a huge welcome and the concept of the mustard museum and its layout were explained. We started with a video presentation of “Mustard: Spice of Nations” but due to it’s excessive portrayal of rodeo and other non-mustard things, we moved on. The main floor contains a wealth of mustard history from around the world. Literally thousands of jars are on display and a lot of the accompanying advertising and paraphernalia. We browsed but it was pretty clear that we were just biding our time till we could hit the tasting room. The tasting room is like a car dealership but with mustard instead of cars. Tastefully arranged by world region or special feature (ie: Turkish, alcoholic, fruit, prize winners, etc) We found a few things we wanted to taste and headed back to the tasting table. Mustard tasting is a lot like wine tasting. Each mustard’s unique aspects were explained and we tasted, trying to pinpoint the subtleties of the mixed flavors and, sometimes the lineup of complex, multi-part tastes. We often had to “cleanse our pallets” and we were treated to more appropriate examples of what we wanted. For example, I had grabbed a brown sugar mustard but our moutardier knew that this wasn’t the one I wanted. She knew that the flavor I was looking for was more likely to be found in the Praline Pecan mustard (which was delicious by the way and will be bought in the fall for serving on Butternut squash) We also tried some special chocolate sauces and a dessert hot sauce which was crazy and awesome. In summation, go to the Mustard Museum!

After the mustard, we needed lunch and so, went to the Blue Skies Soda Shoppe. It was an old-style soda fountain place. It read. We had phosphates. Beautiful photographic proof of phosphates, taken by A.M.:

I also ordered a club sandwich and whipped out my new mustards, which totally read.

After lunch we needed more antiques. We found a sketchy sketchy place. We tried on hats. Mine was an old-school explorer hat. We also spent about 45 minutes looking at old postcards. Old missives are funny! Anna’s big find was a postcard that read, “Feb. 13, 1914 I am going to commit a robbery to-night. I suppose Gunners told you. ‘Riste’” We laughed. Anna also found a card with a picture of a camel that said, “My name Hubert Hump.” We laughed and through her laughter Anna explained, “There’s no verb!” I found the card below. I’ve pointed out the ruffnesses.

This is the back:

We laughed. Then we took a picture of us as a troll and his farm animal. After Antique Store #2, we found Antique Store #3 which was kinda lame except for its ridiculous cellar called, “Betty’s Basement”. Betty apparently didn’t ever throw any crap away; she just put it in this basement. Treasures abounded.

We left Mt Horeb and headed in some random direction, exploring the countryside. We were looking for some sort of abandoned building. It was harder to find than we expected. We eventually settled for a semi-abandoned building made of metal. This wasn’t really the aesthetic we were looking for but it was ok. We just kinda hung out and had fun in nature before heading off on a new mission to discover the Mazomanie nude beach. We didn’t want to be nude or even to really see nudity. We just wanted to know where the beach was. We never found it. We did however find a battle site and some Native American Burial Mounds in the wilderness.

I got a tick.

We had fun on our ADVENTURE.

"Make it look like a house."

Yesterday, in the parking lot of West Towne mall, Anna and I saw a van bearing the logo and web address for Habco Inc. and Burial Homes. I think you'll agree that this is more than a little creepy. According to the website, it's all very simple:

After being frustrated with the lack of alternatives to the traditional casket, I wanted to design a product that would help me as well as others who were also uncomfortable with the look of caskets. The solution was, "Make it look like a house."

Ummmmm.....there's something really strange about a coffin that looks like a doll's house! The site says, "The real beauty in going home is in being at rest." I don't like associating "home" with being dead. Within the "gallery of homes" there are some killer quotes. Ie: "Shutters Add Flair", "Homes are available in full and half-couch designs", "Reflect on the warmth and comfort of home and experience the peace found in our Burial Homes". Does that mean you can try your home before you buy it? CREEPY. They'll even design a casket special based on a photograph. Who would feel comfortable coming home at the end of the day knowing that one day they'd be cooped up in there forever?

Here are some creepy photos:

"Oh industry, whatever will become of me?"

I survived the Metals Industry Dinner Show! I drove to Chicago on Wednesday afternoon with only a slight amount of dread. I checked in to my hotel, the Hyatt Regency, with about two hours to spare. On the way in tho, I noticed all the business men bedecked in suits and got wholly nervous. I don't really read in a corporate, boy scout environment - happily. Nevertheless, on Wednesday night, I was supposed to read and I was supposed to wheel and deal and throw my business cards around and collect as many "contacts" as possible. I'm no networker and I didn't have a suit. I had brought a few options but on closer inspection I was worried that all of them were just a bit "too" fashionable. Steel men, as a rule, are not fashionable. My anxiousness was really getting to me and I needed some emergency help so, I logged on to AIM to consult with people and I called Laura and some others to get opinions on appropriate boy-scout-dinner-wear.

I eventually decided on an outfit and headed down to the grand ballroom for the cocktail hour. I needed a drink by this point and I hadn't even done anything yet. The lobby of the ballroom was crawling with industry-folk. I played it off like I was looking for someone. I'm sure this ploy was completely transparent but really, how do you start a conversation in this context? I did manage to meet a few people and have asinine conversations with them. That was the biggest help - I learned that they were as uncomfortable as I was.

Dinner time came and we all shuffled into the huge grand ballroom. I picked a table with a woman and some coats sitting at it. She said that two seats were taken but I was welcome to sit. Having seen this scenario in action, I figured the table would fill - it didn't. The woman turned out to be the wife of a steel dude. The other table-mate was their daughter. So, it was me and a family which was kinda awkward but also kinda cool since I didn't then have to talk steel the whole dinner. Naturally, we all rose for the national anthem, the pledge of allegiance and the opening prayer (!) After the "amen" we sat to a delicious dinner and listened to the muted strains of the Bill Pollack orchestra. We had a huge steak and grilled mahi mahi. The family finished first and were very ready to go. That left me sitting at a table alone which in any other context would have been fine. It did NOT read at a steel dinner. So I found a new table and had desert with some new dudes and then hastily made my exit before Act II started.

Laura and I had planned on going out after steel so I rushed up to my room and changed into something more apropos and called her to come over. The booze was starting to kick in by that point however and I decided I needed to show her the steel life so we crashed the party. We actually ended up having a great time oogling the crazy steel men AND women. The women especially were dressed in their finest business power outfits and mis-matched splendor. We kept pouring the free booze down our throats and slyly pointed out the ruffness to one another until we discovered the dance floor and then it was on. It's been a long time since I've shaken my booty like that. It was like we were at a steel wedding. The Bill Pollack orchestra was like an imitation Motown. There were four middle-aged black men in matching blue coats singing and dancing with the standard matching choreography. It was pretty great. There were a few incredible people on that dancefloor just shakin it for all the world to see. Laura and I really wanted to break in on one couple and split them off for our own amusement but we lacked the balls to go through with it. We also spent some time observing the collection of sports paraphernalia in the silent auction. Of particular note were the Arnold Palmer signed photo and the prints that "weren't worthy of a hotel hallway". Who knew steel could provide such entertainment. I regret that I'm not able to describe the night with nearly the hilarity that Ms. McClain did over at www.nicelifelaura.blogspot.com.

After sating our steel appetite we went out on the town for a brief beer. Laura took me to some trendy area and a bar called Rockit to look at the Chicago nightlife. It was like a clean frat party in there and I totally dug it. There were chandeliers made of antlers!

Thursday was my day of Chicago and I made the most of it. I met Laura at the Cheesecake factory for some lunch which was delicious as expected and was served up by my favorite deer, Nate. After lunch I set out for the Museum of Contemporary Art and satisfied myself with some much over-do culture. I was happy to check out the Warhol exhibit and I payed witness to the creepiest piece of art I've ever seen. The giant baby was creepy but had nothing on HIM. I walked into what looked to be a gallery but found it empty. On the far side of the room was another door into another gallery. I found this one just as empty but also with a second door. I walked into the third room and gasped. It was empty but for what looked like a boy kneeling in the center of the room, facing a blank wall. It totally freaked me out. Then, in the corner to my right, a sneaky security guard moved and scared me even more. The boy turned out to be a half-scale model of Adolf Hitler. Moral of this story: life-like models of people in sneaky, unexpected places is really CREEPY.

Anyway, this post is way too "my summer vacation" for anyone's good. I'm sorry that I couldn't make this more witty. I'll do my best in future.

A little Feingold lovin'

We in Wisconsin are lucky to have Russ Feingold as one of our representatives. Here are some new statements given by the Senator at a listening session in Kenosha:

“The proposed ban on civil unions and marriage is a mean-spirited attempt to divide Wisconsin and I indicated that it should be defeated,”

“It discriminates against thousands of people in our communities – our co-workers, our neighbors, our friends, and our family members. It would single out members of a particular group and forever deny them rights and protections granted to all other Wisconsin citizens. It would also outlaw civil unions and jeopardize many legal protections for all unmarried couples, whether of the same or the opposite sex. We shouldn’t enshrine this prejudice in our state’s Constitution.”

"gay and lesbian couples should be able to marry and have access to the same rights, privileges and benefits that straight couples currently enjoy.”

“Denying people this basic American right is the kind of discrimination that has no place in our laws, especially in a progressive state like Wisconsin. The time has come to end this discrimination and the politics of divisiveness that has become part of this issue.”

-from http://feingold.senate.gov/

All together now: Thanks Russ!

BSA - BS

I’m heading to Chicago tomorrow to attend the Annual Metals Industry BSA Dinner in Chicago. That’s right, BSA stands for Boy Scouts of America. I feel a lot of personal guilt about attending this event. I was personally invited to the dinner and, being a good employee I told my boss about it and also explained my reasons for not wanting to go. He though has heard of this event and has been curious and anxious to get someone to it. I’m the obvious choice since I’m so close. At any rate, I get a free trip to Chicago and get to hang out with Laura again. I just wish that I didn’t have to help the scouts in the process. Most of you will understand my contempt for the BSA but for those of you who may not, an explanation:

It is the policy of the Boy Scouts of America to refuse registration to, or remove openly gay scouts and leaders. They also refuse the children of gay parents. There is very little need for proof. In the past, they have acted on gossip, and have even carried out investigations. In defending their discriminatory policies the BSA’s leaders often quote the scout oath and law which say, “to keep myself morally straight” and, “A scout is clean.” They also indicate their support for “traditional family values” without ever saying what those might be. Statements such as these seem to imply that gay people have no morals or family values and they say explicitly that a gay person is unclean in either a physical, mental or spiritual sense. For these reasons, I am stridently against the Boy Scouts of America. To suggest that every gay person is alike is asinine and offensive.

In 2000, the Supreme Court upheld that the Boy Scouts are a private organization and, as such, are free to associate themselves with whomever they may choose – or not. The problem for them now is that, as a private organization, free to discriminate, they are no longer able to receive public funds. The choice then became, “Do we want to have money to fund our programs and help our kids or do we want to discriminate?” They chose discrimination.

This has been my little way of making amends. I really hate that in this particular instance I have to put work before scruples and money before principles. By voicing my opinion here and perhaps elsewhere, I’m trying to undo the little bit of help my presence will do them. I hope that you all, if presented with the option of supporting a discriminatory group, opt out.

Now, a picture of some straight scouts:

Slovaks

This video just makes me happy. It serves no other purpose. It was filmed at the SBB Christmas party, a few days before I left London.

some stories

#1 - I was on the square Tuesday night waiting for a bus in that gross stop at the top of State. There was some dude waiting as well. By all appearances he was slightly homeless but he didn't look crazy. Turns out tho that he may have been. Whenever I moved at all, crazy man would jerk suddenly and stand at attention. He never really looked at me but whenever I moved he would jump to attention. Then he started talking. The following came as one thought, "Father? Yes son? Daddy, what is sodomy? Sodomy is a form of rape son. Rape dad? Yes."

So, I found another bus stop.

#2 - On the bus Wednesday night, we were cruising along until - we pulled over, the bus driver stood up, turned around to address the passengers and asked, "Do any of you know where this bus turns?" I don't really require a lot of my bus drivers. I do prefer them to know where we're going tho.

#3 - After a wonderful night at the Shamrock with Becki I walked her home and she made me a grilled cheese. Then I called saferide for a cab. Saferide is a system set up by the University to supply free cab rides. As I work for the University I still get to use it. Anyway, saferide gets me pretty far but then they start charging after Midvale. So the cab picked me up and the driver said, "Ya know Porter's after..." Which made no sense to me so I said, "What?" and he had to repeat himself 4 times before I got him to say, "You're charged after Midvale...quarters!!" "Oh, yeah I know" I had thought he was making some sort of sports small talk...oops. So we drove off and picked up Hazel on the way. All was well the whole way UNTIL we got to my apartment’s parking lot. Cabbie (as he shall be forthwith known) announced the price of $4.50 and I handed him my debit card as I was told I could do when I made the cab request. Here is where the event went downhill. Cabbie totally freaked out, resulting in this exchange:

Cabbie: Don’t you have any cash?!?!
Me: No. I was told I could use my card when I called.
Cabbie: Well I’ll just take you back then!!
Me & Hazel: Wha?
Me: No! I asked before I got in this car if I could pay with plastic and was told it was fine.
Cabbie: Well, if I run your card the meter is going to reset and I won’t be able to charge her right.
Hazel: Listen, I’ll just pay for him.
Me & Cabbie: No.
Cabbie: (to me) You’ve been nothing but trouble since you got in this cab!!
Me: So you’re going to take me back downtown?
Cabbie: No but you’re not getting out until I drop her off so I can charge her.
Me: Fine! Drive! Can I have my card back please?

Cabbie kept my card and drove to Hazel’s place where she got out. Needless to say, I was seething but, I figured my eventual complaint would have more merit if I didn’t get violent or start swearing at him so, contrary to my standard procedure I kept my cool. We dropped Hazel off and while in her driveway Cabbie ran my card and handed me the slip.

Me: I’m not going to sign this until you take me home.

He turned around completely and just stared at me. I stared back and repeated, “I’m not signing yet. Take me home.” He got heated to the point that I thought I was going to get punched but then he drove.

Cabbie: Fuckin’ kids!! Oh, no, don’t trust the cab driver. Always expect the cab driver to fuck you over. You fuckin’ kids think this is great? You think I like driving snotty-nosed people all over this fuckin’ city?! You think you’re all so fuckin’ smart with all your fuckin’ classes. You’re too fuckin’ drunk is what you are.
Me: I’m completely sober.
Cabbie: Well you’re too fuckin’ tired! Fuckin’ kids are younger than my kids. You think I like this fuckin’ shit-paying job? You think this is so great? Oh, porters? Porters? Clean your fuckin’ ears.
Me: You need to communicate better if you want to get anything across. I had no clue what you were talking about.
Cabbie: Must be my fuckin’ accent huh? (He had none) That must be the problem, huh? You students would never consider that you’re the problem. What do you think you’re gonna do with your life? What are you studying?
Me: I have a degree and a certificate and two jobs.
Cabbie: … Get the fuck out of my fuckin’ cab.
Me: You want me to –
Cabbie: Get out, I don’t want your fuckin’ money!

I’ve been told that technically, if a cab driver doesn’t take you where you want to go, it’s called kidnapping. From here on in this story will be called, “that time I got kidnapped by a cab driver”. Needless to say I was kinda scared. It’s very intense to be in a moving car with a driver who seems nuts and seems like he wants to hurt you. I’m glad I kept my cool. When I got home I called Union cab and explained. They seemed genuinely concerned and promised that he would be called in and severely reprimanded. I hope the jackass was fired. It was intense!

It's very exciting...

On March 28, 1834, the United States Senate voted to censure President Andrew Jackson, saying, "Resolved that the President in the late Executive proceedings in relation to the public revenue, has assumed upon himself authority and power not conferred by the Constitution and laws, but in derogation of both." [emphasis mine]. Jackson had refused to provide documents pertaining to his plan to remove the government funds from an account at the privately run Bank of the United States.

Censure is provided for in the constitution as a way of scolding Senators and Representatives in the House. There is nothing in the constitution allowing for censure of a President but that didn't stop Congress from officially scolding Andrew Jackson in 1834 (although the censure was expunged from the record three years later). The precedent has been set.

Today, Senator Feingold announced that he will introduce a resolution to censure President Bush for misleading the American public about the legality of the NSA's secret wire-tapping program. It would also scold the president for directly breaking the law by authorizing the program; using powers not directly given him by the constitution and in violation of the 1978 Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act (FISA).

For those of you that don't know, the NSA program authorized by Bush allows the NSA to eavesdrop on the international phone conversations and emails of American citizens without a warrant if those people are suspected of having ties to a terrorist organization. Nobody ever really says what constitutes the suspicion. According to the administration, FISA is too clunky. FISA allows these wiretaps and interceptions after a warrant has been issued from a special Intelligence court. The program that he authorized smacks of 'Big Brother' and, as it was totally secret didn't even have a real mechanism providing oversight. In short, it's scary shit that has grave potential to invade our privacy.

Naturally the Republicans had a response to Feingold. Senator Frist is quoted as saying, "The signal that it sends, that there is in any way a lack of support for our commander in chief who is leading us with a bold vision in a way that is making our homeland safer, is wrong,". Apparently, nobody showed Frist Bush's current ratings: only 34% of Americans approve of the job Bush is doing as President and 50% of Americans think he's doing a lousy job "handling the campaign against terrorism" (according to a CBS poll). It seems to me that there is a very clear lack of support, thereby negating Frist's complaint about the censure. For some time now there have been reports of the dissatisfaction Republican members of Congress feel for Bush.

The really interesting question is the political fallout this could have for Feingold. I for one have never been more proud to be from Wisconsin but whether that sentiment rings for many is unclear. Feingold has largely been rumored to be considering a 2008 run for President. I think he'd be great but really, will the country elect a twice-divorced, currently single, Jewish, northern, liberal-Democrat? Is Feingold perhaps giving up on the Presidency with this censure resolution or is he showing his strength? Or, as I like to think, is he merely a good man doing what he should do despite the possible political fallout? Regardless of his goodness, we'll see how brave his colleagues are when it comes time to vote on the censure. Being an election year, many of the Democrats may not wish to sign their name to something so potentially huge. Many of the Republicans may wish however to sign on as a way of showing their distance from Bush. Oooh, I'm excited and I'm rooting for Feingold. You may wish to contact him and offer your support: (202) 224-5323 Or, contact your senator and express your wish for him or her to support the resolution by going here: http://contactcongress.blogspot.com/. They're your representatives, tell them your views.

Ruff/Rough...

Following Laura's request for a definition of "ruff" or "rough" as it is used by our group, I did some searching for "ruff" or "rough". Here's what I found. Hopefully the parts or the whole of this post will provide an understanding to any and all that were wondering.



















As you can see, "ruff" or "rough" works in many situations. It can be used metaphorically (Laura's ruff) or literally (This stone is rough). It can be positive (Nice earring Rach, you're ruff) or negative (Pride and Prejudice was ruuuuff). It can be serious (She's pregnant? That's ruff) or not serious (Molly in sequins is ruff). It's a very versatile word and I hope this has helped.

Good friends and drag queens...

Last night, being in a rather melancholy mood, I called Becki to hang out. Neither of us really knew what to do...so we went to Club 5. Club 5 for those of you that don't know is Madison's only real gay dance club. It's one of my least favorite places. We, however, the intrepid fun-finders that we are had a lot of fun. We stumbled, completely surprised onto a drag/strip show. I know it sounds as if drag queens were stripping and that would be a pretty intense/cool show anywhere other than Madison but no, there were drag queens and then there were strippers. Both groups were kinda funny in a semi-pathetic way. People-watching is one of the highest forms of entertainment in my world and last night was like the super bowl.

Drag queens in Madison are really nothing more than female impersonators and rather poor ones at that. Real drag queens should be, in my opinion, for lack of a better word, fabulous. Ours are pretty shabby at best. Below, on the left, you'll see a good example, on the right, a piss-poor Madison type.

The strippers also left a little to be desired. They suffered a different problem though. Rather than being really sexy, they were kinda cute and endearing which also made us laugh. The first guy, whom we've dubbed 'cowboy guy' was kinda cute but had no rhythm at all and the skinniest little chicken legs sticking out of his huge boots.

The people on stage though, weren't the only ones worthy of scrutiny. A few tables in front of us was a table of goth-gays and a girl. These guys were completely bombed out of their minds. At one point, while I was standing at the urinal, which is thankfully in an alcove of its own, one of the goth guys came in and announced his presence with projectile vomit. It's never a good idea to have your puke precede you. After this impressive display, escaping the rancid bathroom with the other innocents was a challenge. Trying to dodge the puke on the floor I grabbed the wall and my hand slipped on the upchuck there so I had to go back in, doing the crazy hop-over-the-puke dance to wash my hands again. Needless to say I got out and back to the table, ready for more people watching

Puking completed, goth/raver boi was back in action on the dancefloor. He and his matching friend were grinding with some girl. The moves went something like this:

Please note: everything seems to be in order:
#1 - we're dancing
#2 - we're dancing
#3 - uh oh, we're bending back
#4 - how low can she go?

Everything is still ok until we get to step 5 however:

#5 - ooooops, I dropped her! on the dancefloor...
#6 - no worries though, I'll just come down to the floor and we can continue dancing there.

So, we laughed about that and then we laughed about "springy gay" who was trying desperately to get onto the box to dance. He was just a little too energetic though and kept overstepping the box, falling to the floor with perfect comic timing. Getting back onto the box also proved difficult and springy gay accidentally somersaulted over it. We laughed. Then one of the strippers came over trying to shake money out of the people. Becki and I however are quite above putting money in thongs (at least last night we were) and we were having none of it. Sensing this, stripper man let his guard down and complimented (?) me on my look, saying, "Has anyone ever told you you look just like Quentin Tarantino?" There's something strange about a man making small talk while standing in tiny leather underwear. So we laughed and then left.

We left but the night was not over. After Club 5 as most people know is "Perkin's Time". Becki and I headed to the famed University Ave. Perkin's for some late-nite vittals. The usual suspects were in full effect. I made my way to the bathroom and discovered the-man-who-loved-paper-towels. Perkin's has a motion-sensored paper towel dispenser. I walked into the restroom and found a strange man slowly moving his hand up and down in front of the paper towels, seemingly unaware of the towels already hanging out the front. I gave a concerned look and went about my business. When I got to the table Becki told me all about "toothless-man" and his disturbing stares. We were served by a young man who we only know by the name on his name tag-Steve the Pirate. Naturally we had to work pirate talk into everything, ie: "Steve, arrrrrrrrr there any lemons?" There were. Seated directly behind Becki was a table of tragically gay men. One man in particular talked without seeming to pause for breath about his cousin who still lived in Jamaica and the unfortunate incident of when she went slightly crazy and decapitated her new husband on their honeymoon. The story kept spewing until suddenly, in a puzzled voice, he asked, "Hey, what happened to my m & ms?"

What happened indeed?!?

Back in London, in December, I saw Rachel in a panto at her school. I made a movie and I know everyone loves to see their friends on film so, for those of you who know her or know of her, enjoy:

This made me happy (courtesy of Jeremy Wetherald):

I'm not a conspiracy theorist but...

there are some gaps:

• Cheney didn't have the right license for the game he was hunting
• he has yet to speak publicly of the the incident
• the press was not informed right away
• was the VP drunk while hunting? is that why he didn't issue a statement or head a press conference right away?
• why are White House doctors still attending to the patient?
• why did the local sherrif call the case closed even while saying he hadn't talked to the victim yet?
• why all the jokes from the White House itself?
• why all the "blame the victim" rhetoric?
• we've seen "the west wing"; when something like this happens, you immediately go to the white house press corps. why did the vp think it best to have a private citizen leak the story to the press? is it perhaps because there were lies being told and having the press sec. tell them would be much more serious than a private citizen?

What could have been a minor blurb is now major news because of the White House's poor communication and extreme ineptitude. Or, perhaps it's a major story because there's something fishy going on... my money's on the drunkeness.

the loss of engagement...

As most people are aware, right before the State of the Union address, Cindy Sheehan was arrested for wearing a t-shirt in the House's gallery that read, "2,245 Dead. How many more?" It is apparently illegal to protest, demonstrate or otherwise disrupt the proceedings within the Capitol Building. Most people know this story but it bears repeating. Also, read this article. Sheehan is quoted as saying,

"That's when the enormity of my loss hit me. I have lost my son. I have lost my First Amendment rights. I have lost the country that I love. Where did America go? I stated crying in pain.''

I'm sure I'm not the only one who recognizes those feelings and indeed knows them intimately. Sure, I've never lost a loved one to this war but we've all lost something. What's become of our country? What's become of our prized rights? What's become of our so-called, "moral responsibility"? Where is the American Dream now? What is the American Dream now?

I've been bemoaning for a while the complacency that has slipped into our society. Short of implementing a draft, how do we recapture the passion that accompanied Vietnam? Nothing is capable of shocking us anymore and even the most disgusting corruption fails to bat eyes.

Earlier this week there was a speaker on the stage of the Union Theatre; Francis Bok is from Southern Sudan. He was captured at the age of 7 and forced to work as a slave for a full decade of his life before escaping "to the U.S." His speech would normally have grabbed my attention and held on. The struggle for freedom and the human propensity to never give up would normally have pulled me in. This night however, I found I wasn't able to listen. Not because I wasn't interested or felt no compassion but rather because I felt (feel) full. I felt that I couldn't bear to hear any more of the world's woes or any more tales of suffering and injustice. My inability to listen has worried me a lot.

So, how do we get back? What do we have to do? How do we engage? The "American Dream" has gone from a dream for personal betterment and a dream for our children to a dream to regain those freedoms that we once took for granted. Our nation was founded on the principles of equality and freedom but those ideals have been sacrificed in the search for safety. How many of us find ourselves wondering now who's listening to our conversations? Who's reading this post and jotting down notes? Who doesn't like what I had to say about Iran? Who's reading my emails and is it making us safer? Is it making us more engaged or turning us off. I can't listen to stories of struggle because the struggle we're all in is too all-consuming. So I ask again, how do we engage this struggle and how do we pull in the troops? We can't continue down this trail. We can't go into the future longing to first regain the past. I've felt like many, that we're waiting for the hurricane to end so we can assess the damage and think about rebuilding. It feels as if the storm is raging and all we can do is sit it out; we can do nothing to lessen the damage. We, like this post, talk in circles with no conclusion while the foundation is uprooted. What do we do?

Cindy said, "I think the state of the union is very perilous. President Bush is fighting an immoral war, and all I did was wear a T-shirt, and I'm the one who got arrested.'' It's bigger than that tho. We've all become suspects; guilty until proven innocent. We need to raise up before the damage is irreparable.

Odana Rd...

has long been an enigma for me. I've heard it mentioned, I've even been on it once or twice but the over-all idea of Odana Rd had escaped me. That was, until I took an extended walk on Thursday afternoon. Ostensibly, the walk was to familiarize myself with my extended neighborhood and it did. Odana Road turned out to be nothing more than urban sprawl at its most disgusting. It's ALL strip malls and car dealerships as far as the eye can see. I did find a few things of note however and it's all within walking distance. I spent some time looking at a couple different furniture stores just for fun. There's a cheap-o movie theatre to check out. I found a Nicaraguan restaurant that I'm eager to try and 2 very tasty-looking Indian restaurants. In addition, there is an Indian supermarket that looks very promising and a Christian Family Store! There are a couple different paper/scrapbook stores and another that specializes in crap, floor-to-ceiling. All-in-all Odana Road is revolting but hiding a few gems. ANYway...nice life.

In other news, you're all urged in the most emphatic/homo terms to check out "The Entertainment Beat with Frances Gumm". It's a podcast featuring some dude doing a spot-on impression of Judy Garland. Judy Garland hosting a radio show is hilarious. I've spent a few hours convulsing with giggles. You need to check it out if only to appreciate the impression.

it's sad but inspiring...

I'm at work, listening to a bunch of brave kids speak about their experiences with HIV/AIDS. Every year I see these inspiring children and counselors speak about their lives either living with the disease themselves or how they were affected by the infection of someone else. What they're doing is trying to raise awareness and money for Camp Heartland. It's a place in the Minnesota woods where kids come together to share their experiences and feel community that is perhaps lacking in their home lives. There is still so much prejudice and fear surrounding people with this disease. Camp Heartland works to dispel that fear and foster understanding. Check out their site: www.campheartland.com

*also, blogger did not recognize the word 'HIV' and suggested a few replacements-that's ruff

kinda...

-knock, knock!
-Hello?
-Hey, just wanted to stop by and say 'hey'! We took over the place next door and figured you should know.
-Aren't you those guys that we don't get along with?
-Yeah, but we like everyone to think we're friendly.
-We didn't get along with the last group over there either.
-Well hey, we kept a bunch of people that don't really like you, they're just under new management. Hope you don't mind-we're gonna go ahead and keep a bunch of weapons right there, just for storage. Oh and don't worry about all those weapons on the other side either.
-umm...
-Hey, what're you wear...you guys aren't heathens in there are ya?
-...
-Shit man, my boss doesn't really approve of that lifestyle.
-...
-Anyway guy, it would be great if you didn't arm yourself.
-We just want to turn the lights on.
-Dude, I bet you got lotsa oil tho.
-Yeah but we like to sell it to you and your friends.
-Yeah man, it'd be ruff if you stopped selling - can you just use candles?
-So, you're saying, you have a history of not liking us, you kicked next door's ass, you're gonna keep your weapons all around us, your boss appears to dislike our beliefs, you want our stuff and you want us to just chill without any protection?
-Totally, so we're cool then?

us. iran. extremely simplified.

Variety is the spice...

One of the things I love about my job at the Union Theatre is the sometimes dada-ish arrangement of events. On Friday evening I worked a performance by "internationally recognized" Canadian tenor Ben Heppner which was really great. That was followed up on Saturday with a beat poetry competition and a concert by Daara J, a hip-hop group from Senegal. Usually when I know I'm working a hip-hop show I get a bit apprehensive. This is based solely on previous events that have just sucked. Daara J however was really amazing and the guys were great backstage. Go to this site and listen to the selections. Tonight I'll be at work once again for the CD release of a local Irish/Celtic band called Rising Gael. Anyway, it was a great weekend of some really really cool music from opposite ends of the spectrum.

Little things make me happy...

I got home after a less-than-stellar day on Wednesday to find a package waiting for me. This package was from Germany and instantly put me in a happy mood. My wonderful friends Sabine and Niklas took the time to send me a few things to remind me of my time with them. Sabine found a gorgeous picture book entitled, "Deutschland; so schoen ist unser Land". It's so nice and will give me an excuse to practice my language skills. Also included were some Milka pralines which I believe is a brand only found in Germany. Niklas also got involved with a drawing he'd done for me and a paper airplane and boat he had made. He also made me this Christmas card which I think may be the most adorable thing ever. I feel like some sort of proud uncle. Anyway, I was in the best mood for the rest of the day after getting a package from Europe.