I'm as true as I try to be

Chronicle writes editorial about lack of violence from right-wing extremists, fails to mention violent right-ring extremism

2010-04-21T05:51:00.001-07:00

Last week, Bill Clinton spoke about how if you spout violent rhetoric, it can incite violent action. Crazy, I know, but the right-wing media has their panties in a bunch about it, saying "no way, Bill, our folks are fine peace-loving folks. Just because we say we think it's time for revolution doesn't mean we really want people to take up arms." Insert wink and nod.

So, predictably, the Augusta Chronicle took up the issue in an editorial in today's paper.

Bill Clinton purports to be worried about conservative speech inspiring anti-government violence. Again.

Odd. We've had plenty of conservative speech since the Oklahoma City bombing in 1995 -- in fact, conservative thinking is the most popular product on both talk radio and cable news, and it's mushroomed on the Internet. So where's all the violence?

Here's what they apparently forgot:

1) Richard Poplawski guns down three cops in Pittsburgh because of the "Obama gun ban" (his words)

2) Scott Roeder kills abortion doc George Tiller;

3) James Von Brun opens fire at the DC Holocaust Memorial

4) Jim David Adkisson opens fire with his shotgun at Unitarian Universalist church because of his hatred of the "liberal movement" (his words)

5) Hutaree militia members plot to kill cops with IEDs, the same group who sponsored a Tea Party protest.

So maybe none of that live up to the fine example good ol' Tim McVeigh set, but to claim crazy folks aren't listening to the words of the Tea Partiers is nonsense.

Clever, clever copy editors

2009-01-07T10:32:00.000-08:00

In my head, I imagine lovely little Alice Wynn slaving away at her Metro Spirit desk day after day, praying (or whatever she does to constitute summoning a higher power--sacrificing goats, maybe) for the chance to write a headline like this one, from The News-Enterprise in Hardin County, KY.

Pot 'syndicate' to have joint trial
One defendant's testimony weighs heavy before trial

Fret not, Alice, for your day will come.

Mr. Christian goes to Augusta

2008-08-25T08:41:00.000-07:00

My Metro Spirit press badge offers me rare glimpses into the inner workings of local government. OK, so anyone can attend the meetings, but cut me some slack, OK? My badge really isn't good for much other than opening doors when I'm locked out (that lamination is first-class). But regardless, this photo is an interesting study in local government at work.

Pictured, left to right: Joe Bowles, Betty Beard, Don Grantham and Alvin Mason. Ass only, behind Beard, is Sylvia Cooper, working on her City Ink column.

Vienna sausage, anyone?

2008-08-06T05:13:00.001-07:00

No...that's not a canned meat treat, it's my left pinkie toe. Getting up off the couch yesterday, I smacked it on the ottoman as I was walking. Thinking I had just stubbed it, I walked it off. But then I looked at it, to check it for blood and noticed it was bent at a weird angle. After the waves of nausea passed, I called my doc to get it reduced. Went in 45 minutes later, but he didn't want to take a chance with it and referred me to my sports med guy. So I've been dealing with a bent, swollen toe for about 18 hours now, but an appointment in 6 hours to get it fixed.

Hopefully, I can get that 2 hour trainer ride in tonight.

It's the mini-marsmallows, honey, I swear

2008-06-05T05:03:00.000-07:00

So last night, I'm on the Soul Bar message board looking for info about Sky City's pre-opening tonight. Amy comes over from where she's been watching What Not to Wear (which explains why I was on the internets--I'm not that gay...I don't care what anyone tells you).

"Whatcha lookin' at?", she asks.

"Soul Bar message board. Looks like they're open tomorrow," I cleverly retort.

"Cool." she says, walking into the kitchen.

I follow her in, always hungry at that time of night. I'm standing behind her as she reaches up into the cupboard...

...and pulls out coco(a).

Kind of a Freudian pick, I think.

Which is it?

2008-05-14T06:12:00.000-07:00

So do I get four sticks with chicken on it? Or a stick with four chickens? Seriously, I'm imagining pulling up to the drive-thru window and them handing me a broom handle with four entire birds, and then gnawing on it two-handed while driving down Washington Rd. steering with my knees.

And, probably, with a window rolled down and a chicken-or-two sticking out. Getting cold fast.

Party's over before it began

2008-05-09T04:46:00.001-07:00

This guy totally busted it riding the wrong way on W. Buena Vista in North Augusta, carrying two cases of Bud Light on his bicycle. If my phone shot video, you'd hear the decidedly family-unfriendly words coming out of his mouth as he gathered the runaway beers up. Oh...and did I mention this was just after 7 in the AM? Probably lots of lessons to be learned here, kids. Not the least of which is always wear a helmet when transporting 48 beers the wrong way in traffic.

F*cked up

2008-05-08T11:39:00.000-07:00

So, browsing through my triathlon blog I found this jem. It's in there, if I remember, because it predates this one. Guess I'm gonna have to scour it for other gems.

From May 2006:

So Amy sent out an e-mail yesterday to a bunch of people asking how they relieve stress, for some story she's working on. She said be creative. I said does creative = truthful, and she said "of course not." So I started writing, only to later find out she wanted brevity. I'm not so much with the brevity so, long story short (ironically), she's not using it. Which means I can post it here.

(fictional work to follow)

Being a trauma surgeon can be very stressful. I'm presented with emergent cases and many, many times I am the only thing between those critically-injured peoples' lives and deaths. In any given night I may see gaping head injuries, gunshot victims with sucking chest wounds, little kids who've been mauled by pit bulls, impalements, amputations and everything else you can imagine. And some things you can't.

And the thing is, the patients aren't people to me. They are just injuries. I focus on their vital signs and what's bleeding, and that's about it. My only concern is to stabilize them and fix what's broken, torn or severed. It sounds harsh at best and inhuman at worst, but trust me--it's the only way to do my job. If I get caught up in them as people, then I'm distracted. And if I'm distracted, well, game over. So I never hear their stories. Oh sure, I sometimes hear about how they got to be in the condition in which they are presented: the drive-by shooting, the fall from a ladder or the car accident. But I don't hear about their families, their jobs or their problems. I don't get to hear those stories.

Nor do I want to. Those stories, the things that make them who they are simply don't factor into the equation I must solve in order to fix them. But I save their lives regardless. When I do, it's intensely rewarding. I'm the hero, almost Godlike, at least in their eyes.

Sometimes--too many times--however, they don't make it. Their injuries are just too severe, they'd lost too much blood before they got to my OR. For whatever reason, sometimes they just die. And when they die we have the unimaginable task of telling their families.

And that's when it becomes real. That's when, all of a sudden, their lives mean something to me. Gone is the surgical field, replaced by this group of people, pleading with their eyes and their words to give tehm any semblance of good news. BUt when ther eisn't any, there's this pat speech I use, along the lines of "Your son/daughter/wife/husband was critically injured. He was brought to the ER where we did everything we could to stabilize him/her. But his/her heart stopped and despite our best efforts, he/she died. I'm very sorry."

And I've delivered that speech to those shocked, disbelieving family members so many times it has become rote. Inside, I'm distant as I repeat it, dissasociated. I do it with apparent compassion, but in reality it's cold and unfeeling. Because, unlike other doctors, I have no relationship with these people, apart from their now-dead loved ones. I've never met them before this moment, yet I am required to deliver this horrific news. And it's hard. You have no idea how hard.

People in my profession deal with this stress in many different ways. A lot of us play golf, run, paint, play music. Usually to obsessive levels. Some of us find solace in religion. Some of us drink too much, or seek out the companionship of similarly nameless, faceless souls. Just to feel their warmth; to embrace something living.

But not me. I guess you could say I follow a different path. Not often, but once in a while, when all of that stress mounts to the breaking point, I relieve it by going downtown, late at night. And savagely murdering homeless people.

I think Amy sort of regrets sending me that e-mail.

Lost in translation (I hope)

2008-05-06T05:23:00.000-07:00

So this morning on Stacy's blog, there's a comment from "bobo81" on one of her posts. Actually, it's sort of an uncomment, because this person said literally nothing. But, being the curious person I am, I click the link to his profile and discover (which you already know if you clicked the link associated with his blogger name) that he has more than a few blogs. Among them such fascinatingly disparate topics, like: "star war", "south beach diet", "cat t-short", "ornish diet", "Russian hi-tech shock" (wtf?), "Amazing free sex stories", and "fish catalogue."

Five bucks says you can't guess which one I clicked first. Ok, it was "Russian hi-tech shock" (apparently an homage to bobo81's computer mouse collection--I want to party with this guy), and after that "fish catalogue" (including a post titled "My cat eat golden fish!"--the post in it's entirety reading "My cat Putin eat my gold fish!." Damned good for nothing Putin.). But after that i was drawn like Porkchop to his food bowl to "Amazing sex stories." And I swear, finer erotica has never been written. Take this excerpt (warning...not for the feeble):

An apartment is one-room, but a room is very large, all of walls in shelvings, windows are curtained off. From furniture only the large polished dinner-table and bed, it is defiantly empty, in spite of the fact that can contain persons five. Suddenly from a bathroom a scream is heard. Max and Denis exchange glances. Taking initiative in the hands (only in an order to pass, rocking thighs), sent in a bathroom. I open a door. Our third friend is Dmitry, upright under a shower, voraciously sucks the papillae of young girl. It looks years seventeen.

I need to read further to see if Dmitry eats her golden fish.

Life lessons at the world's greatest mexican restaurant

2008-03-31T05:54:00.000-07:00

So yesterday, after the ING marathon my aunt and uncle took Nola, Amy and I to this Mexican restaurant out somewhere west of Roswell (Georgia...not where the aliens crashed). A little blip in a tiny strip mall, smack between a dry cleaners and a Tae Kwon Do studio, Vallarta was totally unremarkable in appearance. I asked Uncle Joe how he found it, in such a random location a pretty good distance (even for Atlanta), from his house. He said it was his poker buddy Grover's favorite place. Joe said Grover could never play poker on Friday nights, because Friday was margarita night. Then, laughing, he said he always thought "margarita night" was a euphemism for Grover getting...and then he stumbled, realizing our 7 year old was along for the ride. I rescued him saying "yeah...we know what you thought Grover was getting."

Anyway, apparently Vallarta is the home of the bottomless margarita. They had like five different sizes on the menu, from small to "fishbowl," but apparently, if you're in the know you just order "margarita" and they bring you a glass. And as soon as you half-way empty it, up shows the waiter with a pitcher who refills it. And that repeats until you slur "no mas."

And even then, they give you more. Bueno.

Add to that a free bowl of chicken soup and free desert at the end with perfectly edible food in the middle and I can't believe these guys are still in business. But this wet dream of spice and liquor wasn't without its quirks--both nestled neatly in the menu. No...not the food. The food was pretty standard stuff. What was interesting was the lunch menu (and the lunch special on the board). Both notable for the fact that they are only open from 5pm during the week and 4pm on Saturdays. Maybe there's some secredt lunch cabal at Vallarta. Who knows. It's weird what you think about after your fifth glass of limey-tequilla-y goodness.

Then there were the instructions for eating Mexican food, at the bottom of the menu page describing what tacos, burritos and enchilladas are. I haven't seen that in years, and figured that by now, people just knew. I've also seen before, and also not in years, that sentence saying it's cool to pick a taco up with your hands. I mean, seriously, does anyone go all George Costanza-with-a-Snickers-bar and try to slice into a crunchy taco with a knife and fork? I've never seen it. I'd like to, but I haven't. But what was interesting about this disclaimer was what was apparently lost in translation:

"It is perfectly acceptable and expected to teach tacos with your hands."

Cause, ya know, spare the rod and spoil the meat in a tortilla and all.

Tired

2008-03-18T06:04:00.000-07:00

Corey Pein recommended me to write Land of the Blind when he left for the gloomier, but arguably greener pastures of Portland, Oregon. And when he did, man was I flattered. I mean, Corey's the man...before he's done he'll have a Pulitzer or two in his backpack (cause I'm pretty sure they don't have mantels at whatever youth hostels he's staying at). Now, I'm starting to think he either doesn't like me very much or is just kind of a sick bastard that finds some pleasure in inflicting misery on his friends.

Because this column is becoming a burden of Atlasian proportions.

OK, it's not that bad, but I'm in a hyperbolic mood today, so humor me. I should have seen the signs, though. Before he left, when he was still writing the column, he told me more than once that he hated it. I thought he was kidding, because, c'mon...a forum where you get to screw with the media establishment, and weekly at that?

Well, it sounded pretty awesome.

Corey never elaborated on why he hated writing it, and I never asked him. Mainly because I was afraid he was serious. I told myself that he was just overburdened, and needed to have some of the weight lifted. Nine months later, I know he hated it. Here's the thing. It was pretty cool, at least at first. Especially for an ordinary person with bare minimum qualifications (i knew that journalism minor would pay off some day). It was fun, taking the best of the worst Augusta Chronicle columns and shredding them to pieces. What no one told me was there was this reputation that went along with it. And while Joan Jett may not care about her bad reputation, turns out I kind of care about mine.

Lately, I've taken a whipping at the hands of the folks all over town. I've been called "sanctimonious" and "negative" by people who've never met me. And, normally, that wouldn't bother me a lick. Get to know me, and I might change your mind. But what does get me is when people who *do* know me tell me that what I write doesn't reflect the person I am. That may be a subtle distinction, but man. It hurts a little; it tells me I'm not being true to who I really am.

I mean, I know I've got this sarcastic streak, but I swear I try to use it in a good-natured way. In print, though, it's hard to pull off sarcasm in a good-natured way. You can't see the upturn of my mouth into a half-smile. You can't see my eyebrows raise as I try to get a rise out of you. You can't hear me laugh a little. If we're having a beer together, you get to take my words in context with my tone, inflection and gestures. You don't get those luxuries when reading my words.

I've heard that tone is set by the writer, but I believe that's only a half-truth. Yes, you can try, and probably better writers than me can pull it off successfully. But, ultimately, unless you're having discourse, tone is set by the reader. You make of the writer's words what you will. You bias them with your experiences or expectations. If you didn't, there wouldn't be classes in school where you try to get at the writer's true meaning. There wouldn't be debates about what Melville's whale really symbolized. Not that I'm putting myself in that category, but if the true meanings put forth by good writers are constantly in question, why would it be expected that I would do any better?

So, Like Atlas and Ahab, I have this burden.

You want cheese with those quackers?

2008-02-25T05:52:00.000-08:00

Se went and had Mexican last night at Teresa’s on Boy Scot road—Nola loves it because there’s this pond out front full of ducks and geese, and the girl loves the birds. So we were eating, and all of a sudden the geese, probably 8 of them, parade up the driveway going who-knows-where. So, as we’re leaving, we see all the geese and by now a bunch of ducks, all waddling around in this big field. And, of course, it looks like a party, so I start singing “ain’t no party like a goose par-taaaaayyyy…” And I’m trying to figure out why it sounds so familiar…but then I figure out it’s because there ain’t no party like my Nana’s tea party.

Hey.

Ho.

A man of several words

2008-02-20T07:38:00.000-08:00

So I'm in a hurry a couple of days ago to pick Nola up from school. I've left work a bit late, and so I'm scrambling trying to make red lights and avoid trains on the way. I *hate* being late. So, cruising down Laney Walker and I'm happy because there are no trains in the distance. Thanks the iron gods!

But that happieness is shattered soon enough when the giant Escalade in front of me lumbers to a crawl in advance of the first set of tracks. I try to cut right, into the other lane to get around the guy, but there's a school bus stopped there, the driver apparently looking both ways. So my attention is focused on the big shiny truck. Finally, he inches across and speeds up. But for literally 2 seconds, because there are more train tracks to come. Brake lights. Blood pressure rising. C'mon! You're driving a huge truck!, I think. But my telepathy doesn't register with him so he continues inching his way across the second set of tracks.

And by now, even though I'm being delayed mere seconds, I'm seriously getting angry. And if you know me, you know that's something I just don't do. Unless, maybe, I have to pick up dog poop at 5:30 in the AM (but that's another story).

But angry I am, and especially so because I know there's still one more treacherous set of parallel iron bars set into the asphalt for this guy to navigate. So when his brake lights come on yet again, I've had it. Down goes my window, and out comes this:

"Goddammit...you're driving a huge truck! Not...eh. Not...uh..... Not...um, not something that can't withstand the stress of driving over railroad tracks at a decent rate of speed!"

Needless to say, my window went back up.

Nola say what?

2008-02-01T18:39:00.001-08:00

"Daddy...don't come in here. It might make you sick. I'm doing the monkey one."

Taken out of context, those are words that don't deserve to come out of a seven-year-old. Unless, possibly, it's the progeny of Britney and K-Fed you're talking about. But, when said in reference to Super Monkey Ball Banana Blitz, it makes perfect sense.

Note to journalists: this is why it's evil to take quotes out of context.

Shut your trap

2008-01-18T08:25:00.000-08:00

Over on my triathlon forum, there was a thread started by a guy who had a disagreement with his swim coach. Coach told him to do thing "A", guy wanted to do thing "B." Coach told him to shut his trap and do thing "A." Oh, and by the way, the coach is my wife the guy said. Not surprisingly, the consensus from the group was "shut your trap and do what your coach/wife tells you."

So that brings me to today's hilarity. I'm in the unique position of having an editor who's also my wife. OK, maybe it's not unique, because I'm sure somewhere in the universe there exists someone in a similar position. But at least it's an interesting situation. So anyway, I submit my column this morning with the following request:

"Not to question your editorial prowess, but can we keep the bolded headers? So much easier on the readers…"

To me, it makes sense. I write a column that often features short, unrelated snippets. Without bolding the first few words of each paragraph, the unassuming reader thinks (naturally) that it's all related. But then they see this rapid shift of topic and they think they're either missing something or I'm an idiot. Regardless, it trips them up, and tripping up you're readers is never a good thing. Like elementary school students and Michael Bay film fans, once you've lost their attention, there's no getting it back.

This is the e-mail I got in response:

"Writers do not get to make demands of the editors. Have I not made this clear?"

Damn! I sure got the smack-down. Of course, she meant it as a joke (what better than a snarky wife?), but she's right. We've had this discussion many times before. And I get it: Writers write, editors edit. Now, were I to have a different relationship with her (namely, if she were not the woman I often have sex with), that would totally be the end of it. Oh sure, we might have some respectful, possibly even scholarly conversation about the merits of my point of view, versus the pointlessness of hers. Like "if we did that for you, we'd have to do it for everybody" or "it's a style thing for which we have no flexibility" (cause style is so much more important than substance).

But, being that my relationship is so much more, well, familiar, I can be more to the point. As I was with this follow-up email:

"Did you not see the punctuation? That was a question. For reference, this is a demand: Shut it!

Clear?"

If I weren't her husband, that kind of backsass would get me canned in about three seconds. But since I have a different relationship, I can send her crap like that with no fear of retribution.

Until I get home, of course.

O'mazing Gray

2008-01-17T07:30:00.001-08:00

Crack in the communion wafers? Why yes I will have some!

Rhetorical question

2008-01-10T09:14:00.000-08:00

So I've fallen asleep on the couch, watching the third episode of the night of Veronica Mars, from the 1st season DVD Amy got me for Christmas (awesome). I'm just waking up, and Amy comes over and picks up the remote to turn it off so we can go to bed:

A: How does this work?

J: Press the "stop" button.

A: (irritated) I know how it works!

Robot overlords, pt.2

2008-01-08T10:16:00.001-08:00

LotB #27

2008-01-08T09:44:00.000-08:00

It’s no secret that the Augusta Chronicle has a conservative bent, and that’s of course readily apparent on the editorial pages. You can find evidence elsewhere in the paper, but you usually have to dig. That wasn’t the case, though, on the Dec. 30 front page, amidst the “Faces of 2007” collage. Amongst the 38 photos represented, the republican and democratic presidential candidates were all there, but the placement was questionable. I’m sure it was just a coincidence that the republicans were at the top left, right under the banner, while the democrats were relegated to the very bottom right, below the fold. On a positive note, they actually did represent Ron Paul.

Along those lines, there’s a lot of buzz about how the media is not only ignoring Paul, but that they are actively suppressing information about him. Charges have been levied both against Fox News and ABC, for example, for ignoring polls in which he has done well, and he’s being left out of debates left and right. All of this despite his evident popularity and the fundraising records he’ setting. A quick check of the Chronicle archives shows that Paul has been mentioned in stories in the paper exactly twice in the last month: once in the above-mentioned “Faces of 2007” and once noting that he actually won a straw poll in Aiken county. And where was that presented in the paper? Way down at the bottom of the “Across the Area” section. By comparison, Rudy Giuliani (who Paul beat handily in the Iowa caucus), showed up in five stories. Time will tell, of course, whether all this will hurt, or possibly actually help Paul. He was strong in Iowa, and it seems like the more he’s ignored by the press, the more it emboldens the Paulistas.

Bizzarely, the Chronicle webforums were taken down for a good two days after what seemed to be a robot porn attack. You’d think I’d talk here about how that break may have actually given Barry Paschal some time to devote to his actual job, but no. Because there may be something more insidious afoot. Now, I’m not normally much of a conspiracy theorist, but pornbots attacking webforums, coupled with a Houston Chronicle story about the future of sex and relationships with robots makes you think about the inevitable. Soon, robots will make us their bitches. Stage one: distract the humans with robot sex. Next: rule the world! The only question is whether it will be a benevolent or oppressive robocracy to which we will succumb.

So the R. Kelly show scheduled for at the James Brown Arena last week actually went off as planned, without one of the late cancellations that has been plaguing the venue of late. That’s good news, since it shows that the coliseum authority actually has the ability to pull off headliner shows. I haven’t heard, though, whether or not any underage girls on sitting in the front row needed rain coats.

Note to everyone: Jason Barron is not to be referred to by the name “Jason Barron”, without Jason Barron’s permission. Jason Barron must only be referred to as ”Suzuki Man.” Alternatively, you may refer to Jason Barron as “The Jason.” Never, ever call Jason Barron “Jason Barron”, unless you want to incur the wrath of Jason Barron.

Jason Barron.

Sneak peak...

2007-12-19T05:30:00.000-08:00

...at next week's column:

Suddenly, selling yourself is cool.

Sitting in the audience during last week’s great “12 Bands of Christmas” concert at the Imperial, emcee Jason Barron came onstage and introduced himself. But not as “Jason Barron” or even as his apparently-former persona, Freakboy. But rather as “Suzuki Man,” the sort of amped-up, vaguely Japanese car shiller he’s playing on Augusta Suzuki commercials. Not once did I hear Barron refer to himself by his given name. He did talk about the great Suzuki he drives, though. So I guess that’s all it takes for a person to give himself up—a shiny new car.

But it doesn’t stop there. The tire company, Dunlop, offers a free set of tires for folks who get their logo tattooed on themselves. That’s right—permanently disfigure yourself with a corporate logo and you get free tires! One set per tat, though—one guy has five. It’s pretty brilliant marketing, actually. The program itself drew nation-wide publicity (the Augusta Chronicle reported it a couple of weeks ago), and, in exchange for a set of tires that may last a few years, the company gets walking billboards for life.

But what Dunlop has done pails in comparison with the “Ironman” brand. You’ve seen it on Timex watches—the blocky “M” with the dot above it signifying triathlon’s greatest race. It’s the symbol that the Ironman Corporation owns, representing the 2.4-mile swim/112-mile-bike/26.2-mile run triathlons they put on all over the world. And it’s become a ritual for finishers of the race to get the brand tattooed, immortalizing their accomplishment. Off hand, I’d say there are more then a few people walking around Augusta sporting the mark. And there are thousands-upon-thousands of the tattoos on calves, ankles and shoulders all over the world. Genius. They’ve created a walking army of super-fit, unpaid advertisers.

So what does this all mean? Slowly, as a society, we’re becoming walking testaments to consumerism. What started not-so-innocently enough as brand envy (remember that Izod alligator all the cool kids were wearing?) has morphed into something more sinister. No longer is merely wearing a logo good enough. Now it’s about permanence and totally giving yourself over to the Man. Jason Barron as “Suzuki Man.”

“Coco Rubio brought to you by Budweiser” may be next.

Now I know that broadcast journalism isn’t about writing stuff down, but if you’re going to interview a media critic, don’t misquote him on the web version of your story. That’s just what WJBF did last week, after Fraendy Clervaud spoke with me on-camera at the post office downtown, about the rush of packages the posties deal with the week before Christmas.. I was a good sport and played along (although, I really should have asked “is this news? Really? Are you sure?). But the transcribed quotes on the website didn’t match the words that came out of my mouth. Online, they made me sound like an Augusta commissioner—“..I got them (packages) tracked (yee-doggies!)…,” I reportedly said. But the video shows me saying “I’ve”. Sure, it’s a little thing, but if you’re going to attribute an ungrammatically-correct statement to someone, make damn sure they actually said it that way before making them look like an idiot on your website.

“Next, put your junk in that box.”

Nice work Breaking News editor!, pt. 2

2007-12-17T13:54:00.000-08:00

Also a slow news day right here in Augusta, apparently. Turns out, the week before Christmas, lots of people ship stuff at the post office. Also, sometimes in winter, it's cold! WJBF was there to capture it all.

I'm pretty sure I didn't say "I got them tracked..." Need to look at the video to confirm it, though.

Note to journalists: don't misquote the damn media critic!

Update: just saw the video. I don't speak like an Augusta commissioner. It was "I've got them tracked."

Nice work, Breaking News editor!

2007-12-17T13:38:00.000-08:00

This, from cnn.com today. No link when it was posted, just this headline:

Birds gets into Senate briefing room, eludes bird catcher

First of all, breaking news? Really? Slow day on the Hill, I guess. Later, there was no evidence of the "story" anywhere on the site. And secondly, nice grammar.

Messy

2007-12-06T06:59:00.001-08:00

Guys, at all costs, avoid laughing while you pee.

Creepy

2007-12-05T06:29:00.000-08:00

You know how when you walk by restrooms, especially in public places, and if the door happens to open as you're walking by, you can't help but glance that way? It comes off as creepy, cause, well, you're peering into a pretty private place. But it's human nature. And I'm not even talking about natural curiosity. It's just that, as animals, we're in tune with movement around us. So while walking down a hall, eyes ahead, we're drawn naturally to, say, a door opening next to us. It's not that we want to be creeps, but rather that if it's a tiger coming out of that door, we want to maintain a bit of self-preservation.

If you do it right, you instinctively turn your head and then, realizing people generally don't like to be gazed upon while exiting restrooms (I *know* what you were doing in there!), you look the hell away and continue your journey.

So, all that being said, here's what you don't do: you don't freaking speak to that person. I guess you could make the argument that if you're intimately familiar with them you could get away with it. Or maybe, if it's your kid coming out. But if the level of acquaintance is wife's coworker or less, you just keep on movin'.

Consider the stage set.

Monday, I was at the Spirit office, coming out of the restroom after cleaning up a bit after my downtown run. I drop Nola off at the office on those days, because it's deadline day for Amy, which means working late for her. And generally, dropping the girl off at mom's work is better than leaving your seven-year-old to fend for herself at home. Plus, she gets to run around like a crazy person (OK...she does that at home, but it's *so* much better to do it at mom's work). So, I think I'm pretty much alone in the back of the office, behind the big double-doors that separate that area from the action part of the building. And I also know that Nola A) like to play back there and B) love public restrooms more than do homeless people.

So when I walk down the hall from the men's room and the door from the women's room opens, I assume it's Nola. And since it's Nola, I know I can offer he a big, goofy "hello" without the fear of repercussions.

Door opens.

Turns head and says (inappropriately loudly) "heyyyyy....Stacey...."

And you know, no matter how innocent something is, if it comes off as creepy no amount of explanation ("...so you could see how I thought it was Nola...") really gets you off the hook.

He forgot to enclose my tinfoil hat

2007-11-30T16:42:00.000-08:00

I love getting feedback on my column. Sometimes it's complimentary, lots of times it's not. But regardless, it's nice just knowing people are reading. But the absolute best is when I get the nutty letters, like this one (presumable in response to this piece):

"Dear Jim,

I liked your critique of king-maker Austin Rhodes. The shameful klan he fronts for are truly immoral freeloaders who want to raise taxes again when Joe Bowles said we had a surplus! Beware for municipal projects as they raise takes to pay local "investors" their interest rates/profit. All govt.s (sic) keep 2 sets of books: one for the sheep; one on their portfolios on Wall St. You're doin' a great job. :)"

Cause everyone likes mexican food...

2007-11-29T09:36:00.000-08:00

I'm standing around after the Avett Brothers show a couple of weeks ago, waiting for the band to come out (cause I'm a geek). And Amy and I are talking with our friend Holly about the birthday she's planning for our friend Alice.

It's a surprise party, and the idea was to make it raunchy (it's a girls'-only party). So I feel a little weird even listening to the conversation, but whatever. Like that ever stopped me.

Holly: so if you guys have any ideas for what food to serve...
Jim: (half under my breath) I've got some ideas...
Holly: what?
Jim: I've got some ideas, but i'm not sayin'
Holly: c'mon! what?
Amy: Don't do it...
Jim: Well...how about tuna?
Holly: (snicker)
Amy: (hits me)
Jim: or tacos. how about fish tacos?
Holly: (surprisingly, laughter)
Amy: (hits me some more)

Apparently, I'm pretty classy.

Best. Petsitter. Ever.

2007-11-29T05:30:00.000-08:00

Stacey is awesome. She's the bee's knees all wrapped up cozy-like in the cat's pajamas. Next to Amy, she's the coolest mom I know. The only reason I have to dislike her is that she's funnier than I am (damn her). So when we go out of town, she occasionally pet sits for us. I think she does it to get access to the Wii and all the digital cable she can eat, but whatever. She can come over whenever she wants, cause she pet sits like no otha'.

I had a friend, Dena, who pet sat for another friend once. Or at least allegedly pet sat, because when the vacationing friend came home, her house reeked like a poop factory. Cat crap in the bath tub, literally a urine-soaked carpet, and probably emaciated dogs. They needed doggie IVs and a whole-house remodel to get back to some semblance of normal. But that's not how Stacey rolls. Stacey takes pride in her work, actually feeding the animals (oh...and there are animals...lots of them). And looking for them when they either seem to be, or actually are lost.

So anyway...here's her account of her last episode with Porkchop, Sydney, Stinky Pete, the birds and a couple of invisible fish. Beware...hilarity ahead.

And thanks, Stacey.

Brokebike Mountain

2007-11-28T08:53:00.000-08:00

SO I got a new bike, finally, to replace the one that was stolen from my garage a few months ago. And to be more precise, I got a bunch of parts that in the last couple of days came together as a bike. When I finally got it all assembled, I had a hard time adjusting the front gears (derailleur for you tech geeks). So I took it to Nate at Andy Jordan's, and when I picked it up--bad news. It wasn't the bike that was out of adjustment, but rather the frame that was, well, defective.

So yeah, that sucks. Especially since the guy I bought the frame from described it as "perfect." And not "perfectly defective," either.

So I brought the bike home, damned dejected and called the manufacturer to see if that bike had ever been warrantied before. It hadn't, but they had seen similar issues in "two or three" other cases. So then I fired off an e-mail to the seller, wondering if he had noticed the bent derailleur hanger when he had the bike. He hadn't, but he was really apologetic. Whatever.

So just to make sure that it was indeed the bike and not the derailleur itself, I put a different one on. And voila! It was fine. So I apologized to the seller for insinuating he had sold me a bad bike.

Flash froward a couple of days. I'm riding the trainer last night (that sounds dirty), and noticed that the front shifting wasn't working. Well, new cables stretch, so I get off and start adjusting...and I cant get it right. But then I notice it. See in the picture above, how the piece of welded metal above the front chainring looks bent? That's because it is. I'm thinking that it was bent slightly before, and the cable tension (again...dirty) made it worse and visibly noticeable. So I've got a call back into the manufacturer, hoping and praying that they'll warranty it. But I got voice mail, so stay tuned....cause if I'm gonna be stuck with a broke bike, well that's gonna be pretty gay.

It always comes to this

2007-11-23T07:11:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving at my aunt and uncle's house in Atlanta. A house full of people and alcohol flowing. Under these conditions, at some point, the conversation inevitably turns to "where I've peed." And, not shockingly I guess, this isn't about the small children.

Uncle Joe: sink at Macy's.
Aunt Nancy: Back of cab.
Mom: In chair, in middle of card game.

Lots of hysterical laughing on the part of my mom and aunt, and at some point, one or the both of them adds a location to the story. Mom: couch at her sister's house.

But this time, a new twist. After recovering, and changing of pants, the box of cold Krystal hamburgers is broken into.

Mom: Your dad always said if you eat Krystals you don't need laxatives. Your dad sure loved Krystals.

My dad. He loved his miniature hamburgers and poopin'.

Cajun skiing

2007-11-20T07:06:00.000-08:00

I was born in New Orleans, and until I was about 5 and we moved away, I lived with my family at the Golden Key apartments in Metairie. It's funny thinking back on it now, with a daughter of 7 of my own, how amazing and kind of scary the amount of freedom my brother and I had. I mean, at least from what I remember, we had the run of the place. Me and my 3 year old brother. Like this one time...

I was playing in this vacant lot at the apartments, with my brother...I couldn't have been more than 5 at the time (I know this because that's when we moved to Florida--I'm smart like that). So anyway, I was barefoot, running around that vacant lot with my brother when I stepped on a 2x4 with a nail in it, and it went through and out the top of my foot. I screamed and stepped down with my other foot. Onto another 2x4 with another nail, that went through the top of that foot.

My brother left me screaming and went running for help and came back with the maintenance man who took a look at my predicament and said "you goin' skiin', boy?"

Make that a long-winded pot-stirrer

2007-11-16T05:02:00.000-08:00

"Nice column this week, Jim."

"Thanks...kinda short."

"Yeah, that's good, too."

Tom Grant can talk your ear off, and that's a good thing, I think. I learn a lot from the guy every time I get to sit down with him. But when he's on deadline, the conversations are always to the point. So that's how it went down when I stopped by the office last night. Sometimes, you get the most out of the fewest words.

Yesterday, prior to that conversation, I submitted a grand total of 411 words for LotB, easily my shortest column in the 20 weeks that I've been writing it. Usually, I throw down a good thousand words and have to literally back away from the keyboard to keep it that short. So either there's a lot to write about, I have a lot to say, or I just haven't learned the sentiment expressed above.

And it's funny. Talking to me, at first glance at least, you'd never get that i had a lot to say. My MO, I guess, is to sit back and watch, to take it all in. My thinking is the less time you spend with your mouth open, the more you learn. Listening is a gift I've been blessed with, apparently, although Amy may differ (I'm really am *always* listening, baby).

By being a good listener (at least in my own estimation), I end up having a lot to say, when I get around to saying it. That's why I like blogging, I guess. It's a great chance to take five or 10 minutes and just get it all out. Blogging's kind of like beer to me--the switch for the floodgates of thought, and it comes without the associated hangover and belly, as added bonuses. And in this format, there aren't any editor-imposed limitations or restrictions. I can take my time setting up a punch line or developing a story. I don't feel like I have to strip out all of the adjectives just to make a particular word count.

But I suppose being a bit more concise is a lesson I could learn. I'm lucky in the sense that I write for a weekly, where I definitely get more column inches then I would in different formats. But there's always a limit. If I were to submit the 2000 or more words that I could easily write every week, Tom would quickly find someone else with a lot less to say. It's hard, though. Constantly I find myself feeling stilted by the constraints of the paper. How can anyone possibly get their thoughts down, and more than that, across to readers in so few words? It's learned skill, no doubt, and one I'm working on.

But until then, I'll always have you, my beautiful blog.

She's a little shy...

2007-11-13T08:27:00.000-08:00

The last time the Avetts were in town ( a year ago), Nola got a chance to meet Scott after they sound checked. She was so shy then that she hid behind Amy the whole time we chatted. Something's clearly happened between now and then.

More of a pot-stirrer

2007-11-08T06:08:00.000-08:00

Someone over on my triathlon forum posted that brilliant piece of photo editing in a thread I started about the Pat Robertson/Rudy Giuliani love-fest.

Wiseacre.

Scenes from Halloween

2007-11-01T05:03:00.001-07:00

"Uggh...paparazzi."

Will work it for candy. Nola's friend, Jett. There should be a clown rule for Halloween. Like, all clowns must be eaten by zombies.

By zombie dogs, at least.

Scariest scene of the night: re-elect an Augusta commissioner! Ahhhhhh!

Which one of you is my daughter? Glen Ave. is a freaking madhouse.

No candy for mama!

I am at work

2007-10-31T11:13:00.000-07:00

So suck it.

Please, try this at home!

2007-10-31T11:02:00.000-07:00

And not in your damn car.

I took this picture *after* this chick nearly drove into the median on Bobby Jones, doing 80. After correcting her swerve, she resumed applying her eye makeup. And she never noticed me taking her photo.

P-Funk's in town!

2007-10-31T10:55:00.000-07:00

Apparently.

This guy was walking down the street last week, just past 7:30 in the rainy AM. It's hard to tell from the picture, but he really is wearing nothing but shoes, socks and pink panties. Oh...and a big smile on his face.

Pure pork goodness

2007-10-23T11:11:00.000-07:00

On rainy days when we were young, my mom used to serve my brother and me sausage for breakfast. You see, the rain always made us gloomy, so we'd drag into the kitchen mumbling instead of talking, bummed by the immanent wet walk to the bus stop.

So it was sausage on those days, because mom liked to illustrate how we were better off than the pig.

The juicy, delicious pig.

Spamtastic!

2007-10-10T05:49:00.000-07:00

From Ariceli Self:

"Passport now has more than 200 million registered users although many accounts lie fallow because. The Passport service is key to Microsofts ambitions to get users signing up to webbased."

Is this some cryptic message about Bill Gates' plans for world domination? An invitation to join the heard? Is there Viagra involved somehow?

Don't feed the animals

2007-10-09T11:56:00.000-07:00

A city that bases it's very being on drawing as many people as possible to it's attractions has suddenly developed a very skewed vision of humanity to go with it's pre-existing skewed vision of reality. I give you Orlando, Florida, ladies and gentlemen, a city of magical kingdoms, greenery and more lakes than you can shake a stick at. And a city where it's now illegal to feed the homeless. That's right. In a city where generally being nice to people should be the norm, you can get thrown in jail and put on trial simply for, well, being nice to people.

Giving aid to those in need is a most-cherished human quality. Or at least it used to be, apparently. So now are parks are like zoos, except I'd be willing to bet that in Orlando it's perfectly fine to feed squirrels. Just not the people. Well fuck that. You can't strip people of their humanity. Well, I guess you can try, but it won't fucking work.

Just like daddy

2007-10-09T06:18:00.000-07:00

So I'm heading downtown to drop Amy off at the Spirit office, and as we're heading down Broad, there's a cop car with his flashers on, and a couple of cops are hassling a homeless guy on the sidewalk. Nola sees it and asks what's going on.

"I dunno, baby."

"Like, maybe he had too many beers or something?"

"(laughing a little) Yeah, baby, maybe so."

"And they're gonna make him walk in a straight line?"

"(more laughing) Probably so, baby, probably so."

Thw answer is 42 (redux)

2007-10-08T18:45:00.000-07:00

Apparently, joking about Dick Cheney's alleged baby-eating "isn't funny" and is "in poor taste." So, because I'm the sensitive, caring guy I am, I hereby apologize to the parent's of any babies whom Cheney has eaten. Allegedly.

The answer is 42

2007-10-08T13:17:00.000-07:00

Every day (I think) CNN has a reader poll where they ask stuff like "Should Britney get to keep her kids?" or "Does Dick Cheney eat babies for breakfast, or just as an occasional snack?" But today, they ask this:

"Do you think self-doubt limits your ability to live life to its fullest?"

That's some pretty heavy shit. Probably some cnn staffer is contemplating offing themselves, but wanted to do some research first. That's always prudent, I find.

Overheard at "Arts in the Heart"

2007-09-25T11:44:00.000-07:00

"This is my vacation money I'm spendin'. I'm squeezin' these nickles tighter than a jew."

"What do they have at the African booth?"

"Oh hell. I don't know...fried chicken and watermelon."

What are these people even doing at a cultural festival?

Petraeus: Surge working

2007-09-12T06:18:00.000-07:00

Well duh, of course it is. This week Gen. David Petraeus has been painting a rosy picture for congress of progress in Iraq, despite all contrary evidence. Think about it. Here is this guy, in charge of Bush's surge, reporting out on his "progress." Have you ever had to tell your boss how you were doing on a project? Have you ever said "look...this clearly isn't working out. I'm pretty sure I've fucked it all up." Of course not. You'd try your damnedest to spin it so you look good, right? Of course you would.

Yet we're supposed to bank on his report as some credible measure of how things are really going in Iraq. If only there were some other report we could look at to get a more, well, unbiased assessment. Say the government had some independent office that, well, accounted for things. You know, generally speaking. What? There is? No way!

The GAO, a week before Petraeus offered up his rainbows-and-unicorns report, published their own report. The General Accountability Office is a branch of congress whose mission it is to audit, evaluate and investigate programs for which taxpayer money is spent. Like the war in Iraq, cause I think some taxpayer money is spent there. It's head, the Comptroller General, is a non-partisan presidential appointee, ratified by congress. The current CG is David M. Walker, a Clinton appointee. Yeah, I can almost hear your hackles rising. "Clinton? Non-partisan my ass!" But he was ratified by a republican congress, so there.

So last week the GAO submitted its report on progress made by the surge, titled "Securing, Stabilizing, and Rebuilding Iraq: Iraqi Government Has Not Met Most Legislative, Security, and Economic Benchmarks." Contrast just the title of the report with the statement by Petraeus saying significant progress has been made. The GAO report looked at all of the benchmarks set in place 9 months ago when the surge started, benchmarks derived from promises made by the Iraqi government. Remember that the impetus for the surge was to quell violence to allow for the government to establish itself; without a thriving government, the surge isn't succeeding.

Of the 18 benchmarks, only three were met. four were "partially met" and 11 were not met. Knowing that, how can any reasonable person say the surge is working? If my daughter brought home a report card with three As, four Cs and 11 Fs, well, I wouldn't exactly be on TV telling the American people she's doing great.

So why is Bush buying Petraeus' pretty picture? Cause he helped paint it, probably. Remember that "surprise" visit he made to Iraq last week? I'm pretty sure his agenda wasn't all about troop morale. You can bet he had closed-door meetings with Petraeus on how to best spin the report. And no doubt that spin plan included enlisting the Bush propaganda machine--Fox News. A couple of days ago, Petraeus appeared on Fox with his shill, Britt Hume. Glenn Greenwald wrote about it over on salon.com and covered it nicely. Don't think for a second that it wasn't very carefully orchestrated.

But wait, you say, how can you impugn the character of this lauded 4-Star General? Petraeus has an, as far as we know, unsullied record of being a first-class officer. But you also know, of course, that Bush chooses his people veeeery carefully. His predecessor as Commander of Multi-national Forces, George Casey, was sacked because he didn't agree with Bush's surge.

"The longer we in the U.S. forces continue to bear the main burden of Iraq’s security, it lengthens the time that the government of Iraq has to take the hard decisions about reconciliation and dealing with the militias. And the other thing is that they can continue to blame us for all of Iraq’s problems, which are at base their problems. It’s always been my view that a heavy and sustained American military presence was not going to solve the problems in Iraq over the long term," Casey said at the time. In other words, more US troops means the Iraqi government drags it feet.

But in the Bush administration, if you're not loyal (meaning willing to bend over and take whatever the POTUS commands of you without dissent), you're out. And so Casey was out.

And so Bush was looking for a surge fan and a loyal Bushie, and apparently found one in Petraeus. He implemented Bush's surge and now nine months later all evidence suggests he's failing. But we're supposed to believe everything is fine and if we stay the course, we win! Despite the GAO's assessment that Casey's assertion before the surge was correct.

And it's interesting. Recently, Bush stated that it was a mistake to withdraw from Vietnam, because of the damage it did to America's credibility. And that's incredibly telling. Essentially, it means that the lives of American soldiers are less valuable than the country's--and by extension the President's--saving face. More than 58,000 Americans died in that war, and Bush is saying that it wasn't enough. Well, Mr. Bush, only 3,774 American soldiers have died in Iraq so far, so I guess we have plenty more to go, huh?

Bush apparently believes that no matter what, we will succeed in Iraq. But what if we don't? After more than four years, we're no closer now than we were than to winning this war. So what? We just keep going, keep sacrificing people until 10,000 are dead and the military is just crippled? It's like continuing to drive your car after the red oil light comes on--insanity. Insanity with a pretty high cost.

So, bottom line--can we trust Petraeus' report?

Of course we can.

Land of the Blind #1

2007-09-06T09:33:00.000-07:00

Another day, another letter to the editor at the Chronicle about Gay Pride Day at SRS. And scanning the online reader comments, you’d think the threat of the imposition of the homosexual “lifestyle” on America was the biggest issue facing God-fearers today. But really, if all sin is equal, why the hubbub? Why not attack sin that afflicts demonstrably many more people than does the scourge of gayness? Everyone loves shrimp, gay and straight alike. Yet there it is in Leviticus, right next to laying down with men, God says eating shellfish is a bad thing. So why isn’t the warrior Christian right yelping about the succulent, abominable fried shrimp special Rhinehart’s runs every Sunday (yes, Sunday!)? Maybe they’re too busy sitting down to a big basketful of sin themselves.

Channel 12 (I think. I wasn’t really paying attention) told us Wednesday that it was hot, and when it’s hot people like to go swimming. What I want to see is the story about the guy that beats the heat by tarring his roof or smelting copper.

Over on the Soul Bar message board (because even musicians and hard-core drinkers need a place to vent), Coco Rubio announced the “12 Bands of Christmas” lineup. A pretty innocuous posting, but it spurred a full 7 pages of responses challenging the fairness of the selection process. The discussion was definitely heated: “and to all you people who keep accusing me of whining, you're reading my posts with the wrong inflection..........you should be accusing me of bravery...........because i had the balls to speak my mind on this subject,” “Stak” said. But Rubio handled it in stride. Even though he may not have placated everyone, he certainly heard them out, made rational points about the selection process and left everyone concerned, if not happy at least feeling like they’d been heard and their points considered. If Rubio can handle a bunch of cantankerous musicians with such aplomb, think of the sanity he could bring to the Augusta Commission.

The Chronicle ran a wire story about Grey’s Anatomy’s Isaiah Washington crying racism over his firing. Cause, you know, we love a story about an uppity black man.

And on the editorial page the same day, the paper likened the immigration reform bill (had it passed) to the hurricane Katrina disaster, which is pretty cool in and of itself (cities destroyed, close to 2000 dead and thousands more people displaced equals, what, hard-working people get to keep the jobs no one else wants?). But it got better. “Well, U.S. senators narrowly voted - despite themselves - to avoid another disaster…,” they said. Despite themselves? As if the bumbling congresspeople somehow managed to do the “right” thing, despite themselves. Sheesh, Chronicle, they got the result you wanted but you slam them anyway? I guess Bush and the democrat-led congress going down in flames together confoozled them. So better to err on the side of outrage, I guess. They went on to poke the local boys, saying “In Georgia and South Carolina, three of our four senators essentially voted against the bill…”. How do you “essentially” vote nay? Maybe they voted in French. “Non!”

The Outsider: MIA?

Speaking of which, I sort of miss Ryan B.

Spamtastic!

2007-09-04T12:48:00.000-07:00

From "Diedre Ferguson", to my work mail:

"If you hope to be aware of an expert's advice regarding which way you may amplify another measure in (u know what :P)), buy the right stuff."

I deleted it immediately, cause, ya know, I already have a copy of the Wolfe book.

If you only knew

2007-09-04T12:41:00.000-07:00

From the "whine line" in Metro Spirit last week:

"Jim Christian is one hell of a media critic, except when it comes to commenting on the Metro Spirit. I guess he doesn’t want to bite the hand that feeds him… literally."

Which is funny for a couple of reasons, first since I've commented on the Spirit in three previous colums. But also because I actually get paid in food...literally.

You're welcome

2007-09-04T12:39:00.000-07:00

I got a virtual shout-out from a swimming blog run by a couple of Olympians. My giving has no bounds.

I'm dizzy, pt. 3: BPPV

2007-08-20T09:55:00.000-07:00

Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo. Basically, I get dizzy in certain positions, and when I do my eyes go crazy.

I saw an otologist today, and he at least knows what I have, and probably why I have it. Probably. He induced the dizziness by having my lie back rapidly and turn my head. When I got dizzy, he looked at my eyes and they were jumping around. He did it turning my head to the right, and the room swam. To the left, it was fine. It's a classic sign: the test is called "Dix-Hallpike", and it's positive when you exhibit paroxysm in your eyes. If you're positive, you have BPPV. so I have it.

Next is what causes it, and there are three choices: 1) calcium oxylate crystals floating around in your inner ear; 2) acoustic neuroma; or 3) brain tumor. He did a bunch of auditory tests and said my hearing is just fine, so that rules out #2. So most likely it's the crystals, but it's possible something's going on in my brain. He gave me some exercises to do where basically you induce the dizziness over and over until your brain starts trusting your eyes instead of your inner ear. And if that doesn't work in a couple of weeks, they start looking in my head.

He seemed pretty confident that it's the calcium oxylate crystals--if I was Dix-Hallpike positive on both sides, a tumor would be more likely. But if it's not better in a couple of weeks, he's going to do an MRI. So for the next two weeks I get to make myself dizzy as much as possible and hope things get better. I'm not looking forward to it.

I'm dizzy, pt. 2

2007-08-14T05:50:00.000-07:00

So here I am, 9 days since my first symptoms and there's no change. I saw my doctor on Monday, but predictably she diagnosed it as "sinus trouble". I swear, you could limp into her office with a broken ankle and two things would happen: she'd give you a tympanogram and tell you to get some Claritin. Now, normally, when she trys to sell me the tympanogram, I tell her to bite me (politely), because it trully is a big ol' scam. Insurance doesn't cover it, so it's a $40 charge, and seriously, if you don't have a bunch of pain in your ear, it's worthless. Kind of like going to the mechanic to get a flat tire fixed and them selling you a radiator fill and flush.

But I bit this time, since I figured the dizziness was from an inner ear infection (even though tympanograms only diagnose middle ear infections. But whatever. As usual, my ears were fine, so of course--sinuses. So of course, I left with about 10 prescriptions for Claritin, nasal spray, promethazone (for nausea) and meclazine (for vertigo).

I've been on the meds for about a week, and no change. The meclazine knocked me on my ass at first, but I'm dealing. And actually it doesn't really even seem to work much. I'm off the promethazone now, since the nausea is much better (guess I'm getting used to the dizziness). But I still get dizzy. Every time I lie down, every time I get up. And, when I'm lying down, every time I change my head position. But not when I'm upright. So clearly there's something going on with my inner ear.

Monday, I see an ENT. Stay tuned.

I'm dizzy

2007-08-06T07:55:00.000-07:00

And no, not from lack of posting, smartass.

OK...here's the situation. We went camping at the beach this weekend. I felt great up until Sunday morning, when I got up to pee. The mosquitoes were bad so I bug sprayed up and went back into the tent. After about 5 minutes, I started getting dizzy--I figured it was from the bug spray fumes in the tent. So I got out of the tent and felt better, still a bit nauseous, but better. An hour later I was fine.

A couple of hours later, we were at the beach. I spent about an hour in the water, then came up on the beach, plopped down on the blanket and instantly everything was spinning. It lasted about 30 seconds, but returned as soon as I sat up. But once the spinning stopped, I was fine. Back out into the water. Felt fine again until I lay down, and then wham--instantly dizzy again. After one more episode, I thought I was going to hurl, so we packed everything up and headed home.

So since then, every time I lie down (or lay down...f-you, grammar Nazis, I'll never learn that rule and you can't make me!), I get dizzy. Every time I sit up, I get dizzy. When I'm not doing one of those things, I feel better, but still off. Sort of fuzzy-headed, like I've been taking decongestants. When I'm walking around, I'm a little wobbly.

No drinking involved, no drugs involved (OTC, Rx or illicit).

So what the hell's going on? Brain tumor? Burst aneurysm? My politics finally catching up with me?

Positive dope testing for make shame glorious nation of Kazakhstan

2007-07-24T10:39:00.000-07:00

Man, is Borat gonna be pissed.

It was reported today Kazakh cyclist Alexandre Vinokourov tested positive for blood doping following his Tour de France time trial victory Saturday. He's been kicked out of the race, along with his entire Astana team. And this in the shadow of the race leader Michael Rasmussen's missing a bunch of out-of-competition drug tests. Which, had it been know at the start of the Tour, would have resulted in his being banned from the race.

Cycling sucks. I love the sport so much, but the continued doping issues all but render the entire peloton suspicious. It's like being a bodybuilder in the '70s: doping is so widespread that you have to assume everyone is doing it.

I have no idea what it would take for this sport, which has probably always been dirty, to become clean. But right now, I've lost all tolerance of it.

Weirdness in One Act (or Maybe She Should Carry that Bible Between her Knees)

2007-07-24T06:54:00.000-07:00

A man dressed for running in shorts and a t-shirt sits in front of a burrito shop at a wrought-iron table. He appears to be waiting for someone. A young couple sit, talking and drinking margaritas at another table, on the other side of the restaurant entrance. A large shabby-looking black woman carrying a bible approaches, enters stage right and approaches the runner:

Bible Toter: Hey baby! How you doin'?
Waiting Runner: OK.
(BT glancing down at WR's legs, which are propped on a chair)
BT: Oooh...them's some nice legs!
WR: Um...thanks.
BT: You shave your legs?
WR: Yeah...for cycling.
(BT still looking at WR's legs)
BT: Ooooh...I like 'em. That your real color?
(WR looks bewildered)
WR: Um...yes?
BT: Buy me some food, baby. (telling, not asking)
WR: I'm getting ready to go run. I don't have my wallet with me.
BT: I think I got knocked up.
(BT pauses, looks around, as if searching)
BT: I can't find the man who knocked me up.
WR: It wasn't me.
BT: Shit...I know it wasn't you, baby.
(BT walks to the next table)
BT: Buy me some food. (telling, not asking)
Young Woman: I don't have any money.
BT: You got a credit card. (telling, not asking)
Young Man: No.
BT: I got knocked up.
YM: Maybe you should read your bible.
BT: Fuck you, motherfucker.
(BT walks off down the street cursing unintelligibly, exits stage left)

Overheard on CNN

2007-07-19T12:31:00.000-07:00

Homer: What do you call that thing where a guy's gay for a woman?

Marge: Straight!

Overheard at work

2007-07-18T07:39:00.000-07:00

"He had gotten a quote on a 600-pound ball valve..."

Hopefully to have it excised. Maybe I'm a freak, but I prefer much smaller ball valves. Once you get past a couple of pounds, they just become unwieldy. Not to mention the chaffing issue.

It's not just the cyclists that dope

2007-07-17T11:23:00.001-07:00

Apparently, I spent last week on vacation at the Tour de France, working on my tan.

"Discontinue use...

2007-07-17T06:22:00.000-07:00

...if you have urges to gamble or f*ck compulsively" the drug commercial might as well have said last night. "Wha?" I thought as I looked up from my magazine last night to see an ad for a drug called "Mirapex". So I thought I must have misheard, so I googled "drug side effects" and "gambling" this morning, seriously thinking I'd find nothing but "Jim is crazy", but sure enough, I heard correctly:

"One of the side effects of Mirapex has been the development of compulsive gambling in people who have not had a problem with gambling before taking the drug. For example, a retired government intelligence worker lost thousands of dollars in slot machines before he discovered that gambling was a Mirapex side effect and stopped taking the drug. A 68-year-old man lost more than $200,000 before his medication was adjusted. A 41-year-old lost more than $5,000 in Internet gambling.

Gambling is only one of the pleasure/reward-seeking activities that can increase in patients taking Mirapex. Other obsessive behaviors include:

Excessive shopping

Overeating

Hypersexuality "

Sounds like a party. I wonder how hard it is to fake Parkinson's.

Strong is the pull of the dark side

2007-07-12T05:46:00.000-07:00

If the Athens Banner Herald is Morris Communication's “most liberal (paper) in the district” as they say, they must be running editorials suggesting aborted fetuses be used as pet food, because his home-town paper again slid further to the side of the defeatocrats. “The U.S. military surge may be working, but few are convinced of it. And can folks be coerced at the end of a rifle to live in peace together?,” they asked.

Only if you pull the trigger.

Secret agent man

2007-07-11T11:24:00.000-07:00

The Atlanta Journal-Constitution ran a column by Ken Silverstein defending a Harper's article he wrote earlier this year where he went undercover as a guy working for a fake firm trying to get DC lobbyists to improve the image of Turkmenistan--a neo-Stalinist regime--for the benefit of his fake energy trading company. The lobbying firms, of course, took his fake money gladly, and promised stuff like planting editorials, sending congressional delegations to Turkmenistan and arranging "independent" media events in DC. Of course, they got bent out of shape when the article ran.

But the interesting thing is so did a bunch of newspapers who took issue with the "ethics" of his undercover tactics, despite a rich history in this country of undercover journalism. It’s interesting that the Washington Post apparently thinks lobbyists should have the reasonable expectation to do their shady business without pesky journalists mucking about.

And it also begs this question: why no undercover journalism in Augusta? I guess the not about to plant someone inside the Augusta National, for example. But surely that’s Chronicle’s something the Spirit would love to undertake (we miss you already, Corey). Think about it: get someone hired on as a waiter, locker room attendant or even--the holy grail of insider positions--as a caddy. The insider would be privy to I can only imagine. It'd be the story of the century here in Augusta. But it's not just the National that's ripe for infiltrating. Think of the possibilities: a fly on the wall at Olin (how much mercury are they really dumping?), a plant at an apartment-leasing office (are they really renting equally to blacks and whites?), or even a mole intern at the Metro Spirit (do they really slay pigs at going away parties?).

I do some of my best thinking in bed

2007-07-09T06:38:00.000-07:00

Jim: You know what I'm tired of?

Amy: I have no idea.

J: Panini.

A: What?

J: Not the sandwich so much as the word.

A: Why?

J: It sounds too much like punani.

A: (snerk)

J: I mean, it doesn't sound like something you should eat.

(thinks for a second)

Well, at least not at a restaurant or out of a damn microwave.

I'm going to change the world

2007-06-29T06:27:00.001-07:00

Over in my triathlon website, an Ann Coulter discussion eventually devolved into a discussion of spanking, spurred on by a mention of the despicable Rev. James Dobson (lord how i despise that man). I'm no fan of spanking. I think that inflicting pain upon a defenseless child just so you can lord over them is lazy parenting at best, and out-and-out abusive at worst.

But in the discussion, a poster said the following:

"Listen, I make my v(olleyball) ball players who I coach do push ups as a penalty. They HATE it. It is painful for them. But they learn quickly to avoid those mistakes which are punishable by push ups."

And it got me thinking. What if parents, instead of spanking or even time-outing, used push-ups as punishment instead? How would the world be different? If your views of spanking are similar to mine, there'd arguably be a whole lot more happy, well-adjusted kids running around. But even if spanking really isn't harmful per se, you could easily make the argument that it does kids no inherent good.

So, what if, every time Nola did something she wasn't supposed to, she was made to do something that was actually good for her? Look around--kids today are fat and lazy. If you spank them, they more than likely can barely feel it because the blows are cushioned by their fat asses. And time out? Please. They're already doing nothing but sit on the couch playing Xbox. You really think more nothing is going to teach them anything?

But push ups. Push ups suck. They hurt like crazy, they make you strain, breathe hard and sweat. Nobody likes to do them. And...they're actually good for you! They strengthen your core, work a whole host of muscles including your chest, biceps and triceps, lats and traps.

Johnny hits his sister? 50 push ups! Susie's late getting home from school? 10! Didn't finish your homework? Give me 20, young man! If your kids are really bad, think of what great shape they'll be in, at least. And seriously, I think that after a few hundred push ups, the kid is going to think twice about taking that $20 out of mom's wallet.

Of course, as with anything, there could be a downside. There's the risk in using exercise as punishment that kids could form an aversion to it (after all, isn't that what I'm talking about?). But that's why I like the idea of push ups. If you instead had Sheniqua run a mile, she would probably associate running with bad. And I don't like that. Running should be something kids love to do. But push ups on the other hand are *supposed* to be despised, and it's OK if they are. After all, no one gets a college scholarship for calisthenics.

So who's with me? Who wants to change the world, 20 push ups at a time?

Normally, 3 lycra-clad women in the morning wouldn't tick me off...

2007-06-29T05:53:00.000-07:00

It's girls like this that give guys like me a bad name. Look closely at the picture...what do you see? I see three women riding abreast (heh) on a narrow, single-lane road. They were travelling pretty slowly, 15mph tops in a 35 zone (I think) down Broad St. In Augusta, at about 8am, and there were a good 10 cars backed up behind them. I'm all for cyclists' rights, of course, being one myself. But sheesh, in order to get any respect, cyclists need to follow the law and be courteous to the folks they're sharing the road with.

Section 40-6-294(b) of the Uniform Georgia Code states "Persons riding bicycles upon a roadway shall not ride more than two abreast except on paths or parts of roadways set aside for the exclusive use of bicycles."

While the ladies shown are within their rights to ride two abreast, they certainly aren't allowed three. But really, in this situation, they should be riding single-file to allow for cars to pass safely. Those people stacked up being the cyclists were probably much more pissed than I was, and the situation no doubt reinforced any negative opinions they may have already had towards cyclists. We cyclists have a duty to be ambassadors of the idea of bicycles as viable transportation, now more than ever. We need to follow the laws, and this means not blowing through lights, signalling turns, running lights at night--things I see cyclists neglecting all the time. So when I see crap like that, yeah, it ticks me off.

It's done

2007-06-29T05:47:00.000-07:00

The transition from fixed-gear road bike to single-speed cross bike is complete. It's now got a Kinesis aluminum cross fork (so I can run wider tires), a linear-pull brake in the front and a new black-as-my-soul paint job. I'm gonna ride her at the nude tri, and kick some naked ass.

BID: no parking tickets and a sash?

2007-06-28T12:00:00.000-07:00

A couple of provisions in the downtown Augusta Business Improvement District (BID) management plan, which will now be going before a commission vote, are for "Downtown Ambassadors Foot and Bicycle Patrol." And since these are included in the proposed budget, you'd assume that these would be paid positions. What a sweet gig!

Think about it...your job would be to walk (or ride a bike) around downtown, greeting folks, waving and generally looking, well, ambassadorial. A treaty needs to be discussed between the Ren Pub and Stillwater? You'd be the one to call. You know you'd get free drinks and, assuming you were single, lots of action. I mean, who doesn't want to get with an ambassador? Think how that would look on your resume.

I don't know why, but I'm imagining a handlebar moustache, top hat and a sash. A long black top coat, maybe striped jodhpurs.

And diplomatic immunity. Where do I sign up?

Chuck Norris facts

2007-06-28T06:17:00.000-07:00

Over on my triathlon website, about every couple of months or so, someone will invariably post "Chuck Norris Facts." I know you've seen them. There are entire websites devoted to them. There are t-shirts and coffee mugs out there with clever things like "Chuck Norris puts the laughter in manslaughter" or "Chuck Norris counted to infinity, twice."

God how I hate them. So whenever that jackass posts that thread, I rebut. And thus, here are the real Chuck Norris facts (unabridged):

"The only statistic Chuck Norris cares about is that with a 99.9% confidence interval, there is a 100% probability that Chuck Norris is a crying little girl who, when 24 comes on, has to hide in his closet with his favorite Teletubby plushie repeating "everything will be alright" over and over until the show is over, when he then has to change his underpants."

"Chuck Norris is Jack Bauer's makeup artist. But he's not allowed to look at Mr. Bauer in the eye, lest he wet his pants. Again."

"I thought Jack Bauer killed Chuck Norris by making his wee, girly heart explode by looking in his general direction?"

"Chuck Norris is a whiny little girl who once stayed in his dark room for a week because his shadow startled him when he turned his light on in the morning."

"I know another Chuck that would spend the entire swim cutoff crying on the beach because the water was too wet. Just like his pants."

"Chuck Norris' pick up line is "look, I didn't piss my self today. Uh...nevermind."

"Chuck Norris merely saw its shadow once and simultaneously vomited and wet his pants."

"Chuck Norris thinks 'cinco de mayo' is how hispanics order five servings of mayonnaise."

"Chuck Norris:Crying like a little girl::Jack Bauer: Killing terrorists"

"Jack Bauer challenged the President to a 'who has the most testicles' contest. Jack Bauer won by 5, and then pulled the Presidents 2 testicles off, slowly and with malice, and fed them to him. Chuck Norris, of course, has fewer testicles than Lance Armstrong."

"Chuck Norris has Herpes. He gets outbreaks on his wang and around his eyes, because when he churns his butter, he has to continuously wipe the tears from his eyes so he can see what he's doing."

"Chuck Norris Triathlon:
Cry for 30 minutes.
Get dope slapped by Girl Scouts.
Cry some more."

"What '5000' means to Chuck Norris:
Times he's lost a fight.
Nights he's cried himself to sleep on his pillow.
Bruises he gets just thinking about Jack Bauer.
Anti-defamation lawsuits he's filed against me (Chuck Norris can't fight, so he prefers to litigate).
Times he's crossed the street to avoid confrontations with "scary homeless people."
Letters he's received from the Wold Martial Arts Council pleading with him to take up arm wrestling, because they're tired of him giving them a bad name.
Doses of Prozac he's taken just to get through the day.
Doping tests he's failed due to elevated estrogen levels.
Employment tests he's failed to become a mall security guard.
Auditions he's been to for "Cabaret." (Chuck Norris dances surprisingly well, but unfortunately sings about 4 octaves too high for any of the male roles).
Slaps he's received from little school girls.
Times he's vomited at the thought of going outside alone."

"Little known fact: Chuck Norris was the one thing McGyver could do absolutely nothing with, because crying little girls are absolutely useless when you need to get yourself out of a jam."

"Jack Bauer killed 4 crying little girls today before breakfast. All of them were Chuck Norris."

"Everyone knows fluvial geomorphology kicks glacial geomorphology's ass. Chuck Norris doesn't know that glacial geomorphology is restricted by geography, whereas erosion from water can happen anywhere!"

"Chuck Norris has two cats, Fluffy and Mr. Puddin' Paws, or Puddin' for short. Puddin' got his name because whenever Chuck Norris makes pudding (and he makes it a lot--Chuck loves his pudding!), Puddin' sticks his feet in the bowl trying to lick the leftovers. Then, he runs all over Chuck Norris' house leaving little chocolaty kitty prints all over the place. Mr. Puddin' Paws is a little scamp. Fluffy routinely kicks Chuck Norris' ass."

"I told this joke to Chuck Norris once:
Chuck Norris walks in to a bar and orders a Zima. The bartender asks him for ID, but Chuck Norris says "I don't need ID, I'm Chuck Norris." The bartender says "I'm sorry, Mr. Norris, but I thought you were a crying little girl because of your red eyes and the tear stains on your collar." Chuck Norris says in reply "That's OK...it happens all the time." The bartender apologizes again and offers to buy him a whisky. Chuck Norris then says "thanks, but could I get it with some diet Sprite and a straw. And of do you have any of those little umbrellas?" The bartender, horrified, bitch-slaps Chuck Norris, who cries some more and sulks out of the bar.
Chuck Norris didn't get it."

"Chuck Norris thinks 'bird flu' is a new martial art, and that it involves ninja feather tickling."

"Chuck Norris doesn't trust chickens. He thinks it's their souless black eyes. Chuck Norris would rather starve than face down a chicken and then have to spend another year in therapy to get him back to his happy place (Chuck Norris' happy place is Bed, Bath and Beyond. So many useful gadgets)."

"Chuck Norris believes in intelligent design."

"Chuck Norris tried referring to himself in the third person, but he ultimately found it confusing and went back to calling himself Jenny. Chuck Norris looks prettiest in floral print sundresses. They hide his belly."

"Chuck Norris gets confused by complete sentences. They give him a headache, and make him want to kick things. But then Chuck Norris remembers what his mother told him: 'sugar and spice make everything nice, and if you misbehave I'm going to lock you in the closet for your birthday again.' And threats make him stutter."

"Luckily, Vin Deisel's little skirt is still plenty big enough for Chuck Norris to hide behind."

"In college, Chuck Norris tried out for girl's field hockey, but had to quit because he annoyed his teammates every time he shouted "owie" after getting hit in the shin by the ball."

"Chuck Norris likes Def Leppard, too. He also likes strawberry ice cream, sharing his feelings and crocheting intricate doilies."

"Sticks and stones don't break Chuck Norris' bones, but words make him curl up in the fetal position and shiver."

"When he's naked, Chuck Norris looks like an 11-year-old girl. With a full beard."

"If I see Chuck Norris pushing a stroller or riding his tricylce, I'll be sure and wave. You know, slowly, so he'll understand me."

"Chuck Norris only scares tiny babies, and that's only because he tries to steal their bottles, because Chuck Norris has only recently been weened from the teet."

"Chuck Norris gigggles like a schoolgirl when he hears the word "teet." When he listens to "Hash Pipe" by Weezer, he wets his pink panties every time."

"Chuck Norris drinks virgin Cosmopolitans. But only a couple, because they make him tipsy."

Sex parties, dope and smack: those lucky AIDS patients have all the fun!

2007-06-26T16:33:00.000-07:00

Overheard at the Chinese restaurant, while waiting for my take-out order:

Asian food connoisseur #1, and older Caucasian gentleman: There's so many people that are HIV positive today.
Asian food connoisseur #2, a younger African-American gentleman: Mmm hmm.
1:So many people. You know that's the precursor for AIDS?
2:Yeah.
1:So many people that have what I'll call AIDS. They're formin' these clubs. Clubs of people with AIDS.
2:Mmm hmm.
1:Isn't that terrible?
2:Yeah...that is terrible!
1:The man givin' the lecture said they're formin' these clubs. Cause you know you don't get better from it?
2:Mmm hmmm.
1:So they don't care. They're havin' these crazy sex parties. They smoke the marijuana. They shoot up.
2:Yeah! they shoot up!
1:You know the word "tout"?
2:Yeah. I know it.
1:The magazines is toutin' these clubs. Make is seem so glamorous. So you wanna get it so you can join. Cause it's so much fun.
2:That's terrible.
1:Like people get a cold and have so much fun, that other people wanna catch a cold, too. So they can have fun.
2:That's terrible.
1: Is this my glass of water or your glass of water?
2: It's your glass of water.

I got nuthin'...

2007-06-22T05:30:00.000-07:00

OK, so I know it's been a while since I've posted. But really, I just haven't had much to say. And like I said in a previous post, I'm a firm believer that if you don't have anything to say you're much better off just shutting the fuck up. Jam bands and David Oliver Doswell II, take note.

I mean, it's not like nothing interesting has been happening, but it's only been very mildly interesting stuff at best. And stuff I only think is probably interesting to me. So why blog about it? Case in point:

For Father's Day, Nola got me a Webkinz. Don't know what a Webkinz is? Don't have kids, huh? Well, they're these Beanie Baby-like dolls, but the twist is they come with a code that you enter on their website, for which you receive a virtual representation of your animal. You play games on the site and earn "kinzcash" with which you buy crap for your animal--furniture for their house, clothes, etc. And when you get a new animal, you get a special (virtual) gift when you register it. For example, Nola's raccoon came with a trash can-shaped refrigerator, her hippo came with a pond-shaped bathtub--things that are representative of their little animal personalities. Nola got me the Cheeky Monkey (draw your own parallels). So you want to know what the "special gift" for the little simian was? Do you?

A banana hammock. Really.

So there's that. Mildly amusing, sure, but blog-worthy? You be the judge.

Here's another example:

Amy and I were lying in bed in our room at the Partridge Inn last Wednesday morning, waiting for our room-service breakfast to arrive (yes...I know..."la dee da"). So it was supposed to be delivered between 9 and 9:30, and it was getting close to 9:30, so I started wondering when it was going to be delivered:

Jim: Our food needs to come soon.

Amy: What time is it?

J: (looks at clock) mmm...9:23

A: so we still have...
(pause)
(eyes roll up in her head, glazed over)

J: 7 minutes?

A: (laughing hysterically)

J: You're mathtastic.

So again, amusing, maybe, but maybe not worth taking 15 minutes to put down on virtual paper.

Let's see...what else? Oh yeah. I had a bathroom conversation at the Soul Bar with the singer from the Modern Skirts. He said Coco's awesome. But everyone knows that. He also said Coco would do great in Athens (promoting shows, I'm guessing, but he might have meant with the ladies. I'm not sure what he was talking about, now that I think about it).

Oh...and I registered for a nude triathlon. I actually think that is blog worthy. Probably more so after the event, though.

I almost forgot

2007-06-14T07:16:00.000-07:00

I promised Stacey my jam band rant, but it totally slipped my mind. So without further ado, here it is:

When you run out of song, just shut the fuck up, ok?

Admittedly, it's not much of a rant, being a mere sentence. But when I run out of rant, I shut the fuck up, savvy?

We can only hope...

2007-06-07T12:37:00.000-07:00

In explaining why he is "150% behind President Bush", Dennis Milligan, the Arkansas republican party chairman said:

"At the end of the day, I believe fully the president is doing the right thing, and I think all we need is some attacks on American soil like we had on 9/11, and the naysayers will come around very quickly to appreciate not only the commitment for President Bush, but the sacrifice that has been made by men and women to protect this country."

We should have named him "Corky"

2007-06-07T10:29:00.000-07:00

Last night's commercial-break conversation:

"Porkchop is like having a farm animal in the house."

(pause, thinking)

"A retarded farm animal."

Ok...so it wasn't so much of a conversation as me talking out loud. But Amy did laugh. I swear.

Office playlist

2007-06-06T06:54:00.000-07:00

Here's what's emanating from my neighbor's office:

"Freebird"--Lynyrd Skynyrd

"Walk of Life"--Dire Straits

(Now there's a loud conference call--door open of course--about transfer valves and militant atheists. I couldn't make this shit up. On the plus side, no crappy music.)

(More crappy music.) Hooray.

"Maybe I'm Amazed"--Paul McCartney

"Jane"--Jefferson Starship

holy shit...is there an 8-track Ipod I didn't know about?

"You Shook Me All Night Long"--AC/DC

"Hard to Handle"--Black Crowes

"Rock&Roll Band"--Boston

(Checking voice mail on speaker phone.) God how I love that. Like we all need to know that your dentist appointment is at 12:45.

"Dancing in the Dark"--Bruce Springsteen

Fucker.

"Ain't to Proud to Beg"--Rolling Stones. I guess there are worse Stones songs. Maybe.

Of course. Creedence.

"Have You Ever Seen the Rain?"--Creedence Clearwater Revival

Jimmy Buffett has to be next.

I was wrong.

"Legs"--ZZ Top

Kill me now.

my head hurts too much to come up with a clever title

2007-06-06T06:48:00.000-07:00

The person in the office next to me is cranking out "Freebird." Skynyrd make Jim angry. Jim smash! Seriously...what the fuck is up with that? Is there such thing as workplace musical harassment?

So many similes, so little time

2007-06-05T11:20:00.000-07:00

It appears that Augusta State University is taking the novel approach of adding a game room to its Reese library. You know, like with pool tables and video games. Maybe one of those crane-thingies where you drop in a dollar and try to liberate Sponge Bob from his fluffy mass-grave with a grappling hook. This is a really bad. Libraries, and especially college libraries are scholarly places, for activities like research, reading and studying. And picking up chicks. OK, so that's not so scholarly, but give me a minute and I could probably convince you it is. Something like anything in the guise of research.

But I digress. Sarah Miller wrote recently in the LA Times about how the austerity is gone from libraries, and I tend to agree. She said "These days, libraries sound a lot less like libraries and a lot more like the line for the funnel cake booth at a county fair." And she's right. Just try concentrating for 5 minutes straight at any library today. I dare ya.

Libraries aren't what they used to be. They're less about research and more about socializing, and that's too bad. Well, except for the picking-up-chicks thing, but hey, I'm willing to bend a little. This new recreational center model that ASU is proposing just furthers it. I mean, a game room in a library is like a bacteria-ridden plot of dirt in an operating room. "You know what this surgical suite needs? A mud pit!" It's like a Big Mac stand at a playground, or Sasquatch on the beach.

It's like Stephen King books in a library.

I heart puppies!

2007-05-31T07:00:00.001-07:00

Over on my triathlon forum, someone posed the question "what does 'I support the troops' mean"? And it touched off something I've been harboring for a long time. You can't drive anymore without tailgating someone sporting a yellow magnetic ribbon on the back of their car. "I support the troops" is about as empty a sentiment as you can have. You support the troops? Well golly, that's awesome!

Seriously, who *doesn't* support the troops? You may love or hate or not give a fuck about the war, but you'd have a pretty hard time finding someone who doesn't appreciate the job soldiers do. It's like having a bumper sticker saying "I love puppies." Or "breathing". Duh! Everyone does! You don't need to waste your breath telling us something that should be painfully obvious.

Now, if someone wants to float a magnetic ribbon saying "I hate the troops", now there's a position worthy of telling people. I wouldn't agree with you, but damn, a statement like that takes balls. Dare to share an original thought once in a while, and your life will be infinitely more interesting.

It's just common sense, part 2

2007-05-31T06:48:00.001-07:00

It's just common sense

2007-05-31T06:39:00.001-07:00

Everyone loves boners

2007-05-31T05:47:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Rhonda for this. I don't know if these boners are real or not (snopes is mum on boners), but really, I don't even care. If they're fake boners, it's interesting that someone would make the effort to so meticulously photoshop so many great boners into old Batman panels. And if they're real boners, well, I guess the opium was flowing freely when the boners were conceived--there are so many boners(!). But whatever, someone really loves boners.

So I've got that going for me

2007-05-31T05:38:00.000-07:00

Last night, Alice, the world's snarkiest copy editor (or a cuddly little ball of hate, depending on who you talk to) said Holly said I was the hippest parent she knows.

(bows deeply)

Exquisitely sufferable

2007-05-21T07:56:00.000-07:00

Amy (to Nola): Daddy's sense of humor is completely insufferable.

Jim: Obviously not, since you've been suffering it for 16 years. It's obviously entirely sufferable. Eminently sufferable.

Exquisitely sufferable.

A (to N): See what I mean?

Ann Coulter is awesome

2007-05-17T08:11:00.000-07:00

First of all, she's as sexy as a $5 whore (WWJD? He probably wouldn't get all tarted up to sell his books, that's for sure..). But really, the woman sure speaks her mind. And I love that, god knows I do. Opinions are sexy, even if you don't agree with them. Even if they're filled with hate, vile and vitriol. And mostly, even if they're not based in fact. But what's really awesome about Ann is her total lack of duplicitousness. As evidence, I present this, the disclaimer from the "forum rules"in her official forum, on her official website:

"All debate must be honest and fair."

If only...

When a god-fearing person dies, should we really care?

2007-05-15T12:09:00.000-07:00

Jerry Falwell died today, and to mark the occasion of his death internet forums everywhere are probably using it as an opportunity to either mark his life or rue his existence. He's obviously a polarizing figure as he's arguably done plenty of good with his ministry. But on the other hand, he'd come out in favor of segregation and apartheid (which he later apologized for). He blamed the terrorist attacks of 2001 on pagans, gays and abortionists. Currently, he had been a staunch supporter of DOMA. So plenty there for people to either love or hate--not too many fence sitters when it comes to Mr. Falwell.

So now that he's died, some people are talking about what a horrible person he was, and that he won't be missed. And those that revered him are talking about how horrible it is to disrespect him in the time of his death. But is that a good reason not to talk about the issues surrounding him? Just because he's dead, we should observe some indefinable period of reverence?

To me, that doesn't make a lot of sense. I mean, it's not like Falwell supporters would suggest that his death is a tragedy. I mean, his Lord has called him home. Isn't that a *good* thing? So why a period of mourning when they should be celebrating his heavenly reward? And if you're not mourning, why do you care if people talk about him?

Shouldn't his death be an opportunity for discussion, to talk about issues he cared about?

4th and long

2007-05-15T05:49:00.000-07:00

In an editorial in the Augusta Chronicle over the weekend, the idea of an Iraq pullout was reduced to football analogies:

"Can you imagine a football team's quarterback telling the other team at halftime that he would stop trying to win with 15 minutes left in the game?"

So the Chronicle favors a timeline, as long as it's 60 minutes instead of just 45? I guess I can live with that. They went on to say:

"Making it even sillier, suppose the quarterback did that against his coach's wishes."

Imagine if you had a coach that insisted on handing off to the cheerleaders on every 4th and long. Would you second-guess his judgement? Wouldn't you think your quarterback might want to try throwing to a receiver, just once?

It's not just that the analogies are silly, it's that they're used at all. Sports analogies play to an uninformed populace by reducing a complex situation to something that's easily digestible. They sound good, and they're familiar. So what if they're not accurate? Yee haw! Sports! I can identify!

If the Chronicle wanted to do it right, they could have spoken about how little league games have a mercy rule, or how sometimes coaches just suck, and you need to go a different route. But I guess they don't hate America like I do. Because, ya know, how unAmerican to fire your coach.

Get up. Get on down in a sarcophagus.

2007-05-11T08:33:00.000-07:00

At Nola's school this week, they had their year-end art show, and featured were a bunch of sarcophagi (papier mache, I think). There were a few traditional, pharaohsih ones, but others that bore the likenesses of pop-culture figures. One was the Godfather of Soul. It's a shame that the didn't do a better job of crediting the artists. Or any job at crediting the artists--there were no credits at all. I don't even know what grade level produced them. but regardless, this was pretty cool.

I woke up this morning...

2007-05-11T04:59:00.000-07:00

...to the sight of squirrels doing it on a tree limb outside my window. That's a good omen, right?

I also didn't study for my final

2007-05-10T11:46:00.000-07:00

I dreamed last night that I was doing a nude triathlon, but I was the only naked one.

So, ya know, just like high school.

Avetts do Conan

2007-05-10T06:50:00.000-07:00

The Avett Brothers will be on Late Night with Conan O'Brien this Friday night, 12:35am EST on NBC!

Apparently, I'm a strict constructionist

2007-05-10T05:24:00.000-07:00

The current gun control laws are unconstitutional. There. I said it. And before Charleton Heston rises up from the grave to slap an “atta boy” on my back, let me explain. Because in a minute, Mr. Heston will no doubt be rolling over in that grave.

Current gun control laws are unconstitutional because they don’t go far enough. To understand this probably radical concept, look at the text of the Second Amendment:

“A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.”

When the Framers wrote the Bill of Rights, there was no standing army and there was no police. So they wisely included a provision for the people to arm themselves, and by extension to have the right to defend themselves against those that would attack them. And it is this notion that most gun control advocates rail upon: the notion the right to bear arms is antiquated. We, of course have a standing army and police forces in place to protect us. So obviously the Second Amendment is dated. It needs to be amended to take modern life into account. That’s what most gun-control advocates will tell you.

But as anyone who suffered through the governmental failures of hurricane Katrina will tell you, there are times where there is no police protection. At dire times like that, citizens arguably need to be able to defend themselves, their families and their property. So it’s not the right to keep and bear arms that I take issue with.

It’s the “regulated” part. Ask any NRA member what the problem with guns in America is, and after they tell you there are no problems with guns, if you press them, they’ll tell you it’s the criminals with guns that are the problem. They’ll tell you that denying or controlling access to firearms to law-abiding citizens has no affect on criminals’ ability to get guns.

So, that being said, and taking the text of the Second Amendment into account, is the militia well-regulated?

I submit that it’s not. If you go to Wal-Mart or a pawn shop looking for a gun, you run into regulation. There is a mandatory waiting period and a background check to determine if you are eligible to purchase a firearm under federal law. Your criminal history is checked to determine if you’re a felon. If you are, no gun for you. Supposedly (although the system failed in the case of Cho Seung-Hui), if you’ve ever been found mentally ill by a court, you are excluded.

Sounds like pretty good regulation, until you consider the back channels. Georgia state law only requires the above-mentioned background checks if you buy from a licensed dealer. But if you go to a gun show, pick up the Augusta Chronicle classifieds, or cruise the internet, you can buy whatever you want without a background check. So I’ll ask you, if you have a felony conviction on your record and you need a gun for nefarious purposes, are you going to be able to get a gun? Boy howdy you sure are!

But does that make any sense? Why should it be so easy for anyone to go through back channels to get a gun, when we have pretty strict laws in place for background checks in “mainstream” sales? Why don’t laws exist to make it much more difficult for criminals to obtain guns?

So, is the militia well-regulated? Very obviously, it’s not. Therefore, the current gun laws, or more precisely the lack of adequate gun control laws are unconstitutional.

But what do you do? How do you lock down the back-channel purchases of firearms? I have a couple of suggestions:

1. Make it illegal for private citizens to sell guns to private citizens. But shouldn’t I have the right to sell my gun if I want to? Sure, but put a system in place where all private gun sales have to go through a licensed broker, where upon the federal background check can take place. Want to pass a gun down to your son? Sure, but register it with him first (and ensure that he passes the background check).

2. Make it a felony if a firearm registered to you is used in the commission of a crime. This gives the above law some teeth by putting a pretty big incentive in place not to subvert the system. Very few people, I’d imagine, would hand their gun over to someone if they stood a chance of going to jail. But what if my gun is stolen? Report it! And if you don’t, suffer the consequences.

3. Cut out the gun show loophole. It’s just silly to have a system of background checks in place, but to not use it in this particular circumstance.
The above suggestions sound pretty radical, but maybe not so much when you consider what we do everyday with the purchase of automobiles. If you buy a car through a private seller, you have to register it in order to operate it. Why shouldn’t you have to do the same with guns? All I’m suggesting is that, in the case of guns, you go through the registration process before ownership is transferred.

There is a problem with this proposal, however. Gun registration is tracked through serial numbers engraved on guns, and these are usually obliterated by criminals to destroy traceability. But guns could be engineered with indelible serial numbers, maybe in the form of microchips embedded in them in such away that removing them renders the gun inoperable. It’s a problem, but one that we’re smart enough to fix.The Framers were very specific when writing the second; in no other amendment is the term “regulated” used. They saw gun ownership as a necessary right, but also very wisely realized that it should be, to use their language, well regulated. This makes it a very special right, one that comes with special responsibilities. To only have flimsy, easily-subverted regulations in place is not what the Framers had in mind when they thoughtfully crafted the Second. So it’s time we did them their justice and put real gun-control laws in place.

TGI McScratchy's Goodtime Fooddrinkery

2007-05-09T09:55:00.000-07:00

Allegedly, there's a new bar going in downtown, directly across from the Metro Spirit office. That's no surprise, as it was bound to happen sooner or later. The Augusta Chronicle is right next door, so some bright entrepreneur finally put two and two together. You don't think the news machine runs on J-school ethics alone, do you? No, what's interesting about this is what they're (again, allegedly) planning on calling it: Tipsy McStumbles. Seriously. It's supposed to be an Irish pub, but I swear it sounds like it should be a Simpsons theme bar. I wonder if Moe Szyslak will be mixing Flaming Homers...

Bigfoot does laundry

2007-05-09T06:49:00.000-07:00

Email conversation between Amy and I:

Jim:
When is Alice’s party?

Amy:
This Saturday, 5-ish.

J:
Sweet! Babysitter? I could even afford it…

A:
Cool. You may have to loan me some money until I get paid!

J:
How does five dollars sound?

A:
Fan-freakin’-tastic.

J:
Excellent…if you want more, you can work for it…

A:
So what are you thinking, more laundry?

J:
Yes…cause you know the only thing on my mind is laundry. Speaking of which, one night when I couldn’t sleep I turned on HBO and there was an episode of “Real Laundy” on, and one of the vignettes was about fetish laundry videos, and there was this one video where this chick does laundry with a sasquatch. It was pretty awesome.

I'm as true as I try to be

Chronicle writes editorial about lack of violence from right-wing extremists, fails to mention violent right-ring extremism

Clever, clever copy editors

Mr. Christian goes to Augusta

Vienna sausage, anyone?

It's the mini-marsmallows, honey, I swear

Which is it?

Party's over before it began

F*cked up

Lost in translation (I hope)

Life lessons at the world's greatest mexican restaurant

Tired

You want cheese with those quackers?

A man of several words

Nola say what?

Shut your trap

O'mazing Gray

Rhetorical question

Robot overlords, pt.2

LotB #27

Sneak peak...

Nice work Breaking News editor!, pt. 2

Nice work, Breaking News editor!

Messy

Creepy

He forgot to enclose my tinfoil hat

Cause everyone likes mexican food...

Best. Petsitter. Ever.

Brokebike Mountain

It always comes to this

Cajun skiing

Make that a long-winded pot-stirrer

She's a little shy...

More of a pot-stirrer

Scenes from Halloween

I *am* at work

Please, try this at home!

P-Funk's in town!

Pure pork goodness

Spamtastic!

Don't feed the animals

Just like daddy

Thw answer is 42 (redux)

The answer is 42

Overheard at "Arts in the Heart"

Petraeus: Surge working

Land of the Blind #1

Spamtastic!

If you only knew

You're welcome

I'm dizzy, pt. 3: BPPV

I'm dizzy, pt. 2

I'm dizzy

Positive dope testing for make shame glorious nation of Kazakhstan

Weirdness in One Act (or Maybe She Should Carry that Bible Between her Knees)

Overheard on CNN

Overheard at work

It's not just the cyclists that dope

"Discontinue use...

Strong is the pull of the dark side

Secret agent man

I do some of my best thinking in bed

I'm going to change the world

Normally, 3 lycra-clad women in the morning wouldn't tick me off...

It's done

BID: no parking tickets and a sash?

Chuck Norris facts

Sex parties, dope and smack: those lucky AIDS patients have all the fun!

I got nuthin'...

I almost forgot

We can only hope...

We should have named him "Corky"

Office playlist

my head hurts too much to come up with a clever title

So many similes, so little time

I heart puppies!

It's just common sense, part 2

It's just common sense

Everyone loves boners

So I've got that going for me

I am at work